The Bodyguard (19)

“Today, I didn’t know. We were planning to hire you before, though. Then I changed my mind.”

“And then the studio changed it back.”

“Something like that.”

Jack was still assessing me, and I can’t begin to describe how strange it was to be the watchee rather than the watcher.

He went on, “I guess I thought you’d be more of a tough guy.”

I was not a tough guy. I was the opposite of a tough guy. But I wasn’t telling him that. “Nothing about this job requires you to be a tough guy.”

“What does it require?”

“Focus. Training. Awareness.” I tapped my head like I was pointing to my brain. “It’s not about being tough. It’s about being prepared.”

“But a bodyguard, you know? I just feel like you should be larger. You’re, like, tiny.”

“I am hardly tiny,” I said. “You just happen to be enormous.”

“What are you? Five-four?”

“I am five-six, thank you.” I was five-five.

“So what would you do if some massive guy tried to beat me up?”

“That would never happen,” I said. “We’d anticipate the threat and remove you from the scene before it ever came to that.”

“But what if it did?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“But just—hypothetically?”

I sighed. “Fine. Hypothetically, if it did—which it wouldn’t—I would just … take him down.”

“But how?”

“I’ve done jujitsu since I was six, and I’m a second-degree black belt.”

“But what if he was really big?” Jack lifted up his arms like a bear.

I squinted at him. “I don’t think you understand how jujitsu works.”

He squinted back.

“You don’t believe me?” I asked. “Do you realize how sexist that is?”

“It’s not sexist…” he protested. “It’s just … physics. How does somebody your size take down somebody my size?”

“That’s not physics,” I said. “That’s ignorance.”

“Show me,” he said.

“What?”

“Jujitsu me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “You want me to take you down? Right now?”

“I mean, not really. But I do think I’d sleep easier if I knew for a fact that you could.”

“You’re saying you want me to hurt you? For real? Because if I do what you’re suggesting, I’ll definitely knock the wind out of you—and possibly dislocate your shoulder, too.”

This was a genuinely bad idea.

But I guess Jack did want me to hurt him, because he grabbed my hand and dragged me out his back door, across the patio, to a patch of grass by the pool. “Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea,” I said, as he tugged me behind him.

“See how easy it is for me to manhandle you, though?” he called back.

And I guess that’s when I gave in. I was never a big fan of being underestimated. Especially by a guy who thought I was the cleaning lady.

He wanted me to hurt him?

Fine. I’d hurt him.

When we reached the grass, he let go of my hand and jogged off a little further. Then he U-turned and came back at me, launching into a run.

I guess we were doing this.

Sigh.

By this point, there was no decision to make. Once a six-foot-three guy starts running straight for you—there are no decisions left. You just do what you’re trained to do.

As soon as he reached me, I grabbed his left wrist with both hands, yanked it down, and rammed my hips into his. The trick here is to get a rolling motion. You’re pulling his arm and shoulders down while you’re shoving his lower half up—and then forcing a roll over the pommel of your butt.

It sounds more complex than it is.

To sum up: You tuck your head, and over he goes.

That’s physics.

In less than a second, he was flat on his back.

Moaning.

“You asked for it, buddy,” I said.

As I stared down at him, his eyes found mine. And then, for the first time since I’d been there, he smiled. A big admiration-saturated smile. “Oh God, that hurts,” he said.

“I told you,” I said.

He cradled an arm around his midsection, panting. Or wait—was he laughing? “You’re such a tough guy!”

“I’m really not.”

“You’re awesome,” he said.

“That was never in question.”

Next, he flattened out and spread his arms wide, staring up at the sky. “Thank you, Hannah Brooks! Thank you!”

Why on earth was he thanking me?

Then he shouted at the clouds. “You’re hired!”

But I refused to be amazed with him about something I’d done a thousand times. It wasn’t amazing. It was just training. “I was already hired,” I said.

“You’re hired again! You’re double hired! You’re hired with great fanfare!”

I shook my head and walked back inside to get him some ice.



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