How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(28) Let's Not and Say We Did

I shut the door behind Vlad and his bulky body guards and locked it. I even relocked it so I could lock it again and feel safer. I still didn't feel safe.

                  "I seriously hope you mean God is watching us, and not a psychotic serial killer who rhymes with Miley," I said, then peered cautiously through the curtain of a window outside, "because that would definitely not be ok with me..."

                  Vladimir only stared at me.

                  I leaned in closer to him. "You seriously think he's watching us? Smiley?"

                  Still, without saying a word, Vlad motioned for me to follow him with a crook of his finger, and started walking towards the dining room like he owned the place. Well, if he gave my family the house, maybe he did.

                  Before I physically entered the room with him, one of Vlad's bulky body guards with a very square head, a lot like a cereal box, patted me down. His hands were on me to fast for me to react, and when I did, I felt violated and was angry as hell, but was immediately pinned to the wall by many meaty hands and unarmed of my small hunting knife before I could even say, "You've just been Peppered, amigo!"

                  "Armed," Bulky said, displaying the knife for the rest of the guards. "Looks like a tooth pick. Definitely a weapon designed for a woman."

                  The suited men laughed.

                  "It's actually a specialized hunting knife," I said. "It's relation to the typical hunting knife standard is similar to what a regular fork is to a salad fork, except that particular "tooth pick" that you're holding in your hand can slit your neck with one slice, and clean between your teeth after mom's stringy corn beef."

                  Bulky grunted.

                  "Check her sports bra, there's room in there for another Play-doe knife," one of the others replied, still chuckling.

                  "I check," another guard said, sounding like a caveman. His voice was thick with an unknown accent.

                  I ripped my arm from Bulky's grasp. "Touch my breasts or anywhere near my breasts, Bulky or Caveman, and I'll touch your nuts with a curling iron. Comprende? I don't have any other weapons on me. So back off."

                  "Fine. Try anything and I'll put this toothpick through your head," Bulky said, then shoved me into the dining room. Vlad was already situated at the table, his hands folded over a stack of papers. He was definitely easy on the eyes, with sculpted features, fair skin and hair, and defined shoulders that made him fill out his dark red sweater. However, the scar running from his lip to his ear on the one side of his face made him look sadistic, like he was always smiling crookedly.

                  "Your men are perverts," I told him.

                  Vlad bit back a smile. "Not every man knows how to react around a beautiful young voman."

                  I rolled my eyes. "Cut the crap, vamp. What's going on?"

                  "Vell, let's see. Are you avare that your parents are a part of the vorld's most elite group of vampire hunters?"

                  I awkwardly stood on the opposite side of the table. That was a lot of substituted V's for W's in one sentence. "Um, wow. No, not exactly."