Casey stood in front of the full-length mirror. She had just finished a long hot soak in the tub and was wrapped in a fluffy white bath towel that covered her from her breasts to mid thigh. It was the most excited she had been in the five years since she started her private security business.
Out of college at twenty, and with a BS in business management and a black belt in karate, she took an evening class in personal security. She became so intrigued with the idea, she took courses in small arms use, defensive driving and under cover surveillance. At twenty-two she took a job with a professional security firm in Seattle. Her three-year internship ended when a male associate had made improper sexual advances toward her while on nighttime surveillance of a city councilman suspected of having an affair with a young waitress who worked at the 'Sundowner Bar'.
Knowing it was possible she might have to enter the bar undercover, she had worn a tight tee and short skirt. They were setting in the front seat of a Silver Crown Victoria, her in the passenger seat, when her associate had put his hand on her exposed bare thigh. Casey had no reaction except to look at him. When he didn't remove his hand she sent the palm of her right hand into his nose, breaking it. He grabbed his face with both hands and screamed out a string of obscenities at her, his greatest and last error in judgment. Her right fist crashed into his windpipe causing his head to snap backwards with such force that the side window shattered.
She dialed 911 while standing at the curb. She hailed a taxi as she was dialing her boss to inform him of the evening's events and to head off the inevitable by submitting her resignation. Finally she had told her boss that the suspected waitress was in fact a middle aged gay man named Chester Anderson who was a frequent patron of the 'Sundowner Bar'. After all, she had been paid to do a job and she did it. By the time the taxi stopped in front of her apartment building she had formulated a plan to start 'C. A. Wright Security', Casey Ann Wright, owner and sole employee.
That was five years ago. In those five years she had relocated to Los Angeles and since then, struggled to make a name for herself in a very competitive industry. Three days ago she took a telephone call from the personal assistant of Erin Sanderson, wife of Robert Ames Sanderson, third generation CEO of Sanderson development. The firm was, among other things, a major player in downtown LA land development. The family was reportedly worth more that three billion as of the last Forbes report.
The Sanderson's were interviewing for private security for their daughter Chloe. Casey had an interview for this afternoon at the Sanderson home. Casey pealed off the towel tossing it into the bathroom. Rummaging her drawer of underwear she selected a pair of black bikini panties and matching silk bra. She pulled on the panties and snapped on the bra.
Casey fanned through the limited offering of her closet and took out a gray-striped suit and a white blouse. With the blouse buttoned, she stepped into the slacks and pulled them up, tucking the top in as she did so. She looped in a thin black belt and buckled it. Casey went to her bedside table and pulled open the top drawer revealing a brown leather shoulder holster. She slipped it on. She took out a thirty-eight revolver with a three-inch barrel. She flipped the carriage open, checked the cartridges, flipped it closed and inserted it into the holster. The handle hung downward and forward providing easy access should it be needed. She put her jacket on and checked to make sure the gun was not readily visible.
Black lace-up rubber soled shoes completed her outfit. She hated the shoes but given her occupation and possible need to run across broken terrain or kick an attacker she was willing to make some fashion concessions. She stood in front of the mirror and admired herself. At twenty-eight she presented a tall, lean and quite stunning reflection.
She would have described her 09' silver Toyota Camry as looking suspicious setting in the round-a-bout of the drive in front of the Sanderson's mansion. Brick pavers, stone center fountain and extensive landscaping each costing more than the car. But, she thought, it blends in where it needs to.
The door opened as she stepped up onto the marble entry landing before she could try out the large brass doorknocker with a lion's head. She really wanted to bang that shiny devil. "You would be Ms. Wright." A fresh faced twenty something with dimples and a Prince Valiant haircut greeted her with a sincere smile.
"Right." Casey replied.
"I'm Ellen, Mrs. Sanderson's assistant. We talked on the telephone on Wednesday. It was good of you to meet her on a Saturday. Please come in." The girl said.
Casey wasn't sure which statement to respond to first. She decided to ignore all of them except to say, "It was no problem at all. I'm happy to meet you, Ellen." Casey stepped into a foyer large enough to hold her apartment. Three stories rose to a glass ceiling. An octagon shaped room surrounded her. "If you would follow me." She said. The girl walked ahead of her down a wide hall. The girl was wearing a dark blue skirt that fell to just above her knees with a matching jacket over a light blue blouse.
They entered a parlor with floor to ceiling windows along one wall. The room was over furnished with antique furniture and there were many large potted plants arranged in front of the sunny windows. Casey set down in a straight back Queen Ann chair. 'One more thing that cost more than my car' she thought. As Ellen stood in front of her, Casey saw that she had on a dark blue men's tie with a gold tie bar attached in front. "May I get you something to drink?" Ellen asked.
"No. I'm fine." She replied. The girl turned and left the room turning down the hall and farther into the enormous house. Casey heard a door open and then close only a few seconds later. Casey spent the next twenty minutes looking over the room and deciding that building skyscrapers in the center of a major metropolitan area could have been a better life choice than private security.
"Ms. Wright?" A voice said. When Casey looked to the doorway, a forty something woman stood with the personal assistant standing behind her with only her face visible.
"Mrs. Sanderson. Please, call me Casey." Casey held out her hand as the woman approached her and took it.
Mrs. Sanderson sat on a love seat and ushered Casey to set back down. They were just five feet apart. "Thank you for coming." The woman said. I know you have been told that this position involves our daughter. What you were not told is that I believe she could be in danger." The woman hesitated. "At least at risk." She added.
Casey was watching the woman's face but was aware that the PA had walked up to the seat where her employer sat and was now standing behind her again. She had placed her hands on the back of the small sofa. "I have done some research." Casey offered. "I am aware that your family is quite wealthy and may very well attract, shall we said, a criminal element." Casey waited. "Mrs. Sanderson, I run a very small office and I am not sure if I am the right fit for your needs." Casey sensed that Mrs. Sanderson was not used to being told what she needed.
"I am aware of your business." She said. "I have done some research my self." Your size along with your training and history is exactly what makes you a good candidate."
"My history?" Casey asked.
"I have a report her that says you severely injured an associate while at your last job." Mrs. Sanderson said.
'It wasn't that severe." Casey offered.
The woman raised up her hands palms out. "Oh, don't get me started." Said Mrs. Sanderson. "If you had killed the bastard it would have made no difference with me."
"Yes, well unfortunately, if I had of killed the bastard I would not be here to help you now." Casey offered. "But I'm still not sure what you want me to do." The PA smiled at Casey's bluntness toward her boss.
"I want you to protect her." She said. "I want you to be there to protect her when ever she leaves this house, until she returns." The woman was leaning forward placing emphasis on her words. "I want you to be with her at concerts, shopping malls and restraints. I want you right next to her in the gym and while she's jogging or walking down the red carpet at one event or another, which she loves to do so much." Mrs. Sanderson looked directly at Casey. "Keep my daughter safe."
"Mrs. Sanderson, I would have to drop every other client I have to do this." Casey said.
"If your negotiating for a better deal financially I won't work. I never negotiate." She said. "And besides, your last client was more that a month ago and they have yet to pay you." She looked at Casey. The job pays two thousand a week and I won't listen to complaints about long hours." She leaned and looked out of the window presumably at her car. "Chloe has a limousine available to her whenever she leaves home. It will be available to you also. Any expenses you incur will be reimbursed so please keep your receipts."
