Okay, so I had this idea for a story and I know that the whole FBI agent and damsel in distress story line is really overused, but this one is gonna be different. I'm also trying out third person point of view, so please tell me what you think of that! If I don't get any response, I don't think I'll continue in this... it was just kind of a random idea, so if you DO like it, please tell me so I won't get discouraged! Thanks so much everyone!
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Underneath the Mask
Chapter One
Lyndon awoke with the worst headache ever. It felt as if the little drummer boy had lost his drum and decided to use Lyndon's brain as a replacement and it was definitely not a pleasant feeling. He lifted his head up from the pillow which was disgustingly covered in his drool and what looked like cheeto dust and looked around. He was in his apartment, which looked like had recently been hit by a level 5 tornado. Empty bottles of booze were everywhere along with clothes and pizza boxes and other sh*t. His best buddy, Hank, was facedown on the floor wearing nothing but a pink th*ng, which was a little disturbing especially since Hank was like the most serious and tough of all the guys. Brendan, another friend of Lyndon's, was sprawled out on the floor by the coffee table with his arms and legs both spread out like a starfish. His face and n*ked chest were completely covered in black sharpie pictures. The only one Lyndon could make out was the word D*CKLICKER which was written on his head in big, block letters and the drawing of a p*nis right by his mouth.
Lyndon lifted up his body from the couch and sat down with his head in his hands. What the hell had happened the night before? All Lyndon could remember was leaving the police academy after receiving their diplomas and coming back to the apartment.
Lyndon honestly could not remember a thing. So, he got off the couch, standing still for a little bit so that he could gain his balance and so the room would stop spinning in front of his eyes and walked around his apartment. He passed his two sleeping friends and walked into his bedroom where he found his other three friends: Mark, Jose, and Kenny, all sleeping on the bed n*ked and handcuffed to the bed. What the hell, Lyndon thought, blinking his eyes a few times to make sure he wasn't just hallucinating.
He walked over to Mark and knocked him in the head to wake him up, but all Mark did was moan and say, "Do it again, baby, it felt so good."
Lyndon almost gagged and went to the other side of the bed where Kenny was. Lyndon knocked him in the head and Kenny's eyes shot open. He blinked a few times and looked up at Lyndon. Kenny groaned, trying to move his hand, but realizing he was handcuffed to the bed, "What the f*ck? Why are my hands handcuffed?" He looked down to where Jose was sleeping with his head on Kenny's shoulder. "What the f*ck?!"
Jose jumped awake and lifted his head a little. He looked around and his eyes widened. "Why am I handcuffed to the bed with these two b*tches next to me?"
"I was just about to ask you the same question," Lyndon said, massaging his temples with his fingers, "Do you guys remember what happened last night because I have no clue?"
"Uhhh... didn't we graduate?" Asked Jose, shutting and opening his eyes.
"Yeah, but what did we do after?"
"We went to the casino," Kenny said. And it all came rushing back to Lyndon.
The day before had been their graduation from the L.A.PoliceAcademy. The morning consisted of all of the guys receiving their diplomas and getting their badges and guns. After the ceremony was over, the boys ditched the after party and went to the casino instead where they won fifty thousand dollars in Blackjack, but lost almost the same amount when you added all the expenses together. While they were sitting at the table, Lyndon remembered that these hot girls came over to them and the rest was history. The girls came home with the boys and invited all the people they knew over for a party. All the guests brought booze and Lyndon had had so much to drink which explained the killer hangover. And Lyndon also remembered that three girls offered Mark, Jose, and Kenny to have a sixsome with them, which they immediately agreed to. A sixsome was something that almost NEVER happened. Lyndon remembered being invited to the little escapade, but turned it down because he had his eyes set on this really hot girl who was slumming in the corner with nothing but her drink to keep her company.
"Sh*t, dude, those b*tches must have just left us here after they woke up," said Jose.
"It was totally worth it though. That blond chick sucked the life out-"
"Kenny, spare me the trip to the toilet, please," Lyndon said, putting his hands up.
Kenny just smiled and shut his eyes, remembering the night before.
"Hey, Lyndon, can you uncuff me. I think my wrists are almost completely rubbed raw," asked Jose.
"Yeah, where are the keys?"
"In the pocket of my jeans," said Jose nodding to the foot of the bed where some clothes were strewn on the floor. As Lyndon searched through the pockets, a loud yell came from the living room.
After the apartment was cleaned up and all the guys were uncuffed, dressed and de-markified, all six guys went out to breakfast at the diner down the street from their apartment. They drank six pots of coffee to try and numb the intense hangovers and pretty much ate all the food in the restaurant to the waitress's dismay.
Soon the boys parted ways, Jose and Kenny going back to the condo they shared. Mark going back to his mom's house and Hank and Brendan going back home to their girlfriends who they each shared apartments with. Lyndon sighed when he walked back through the door of his apartment and looked at the mess with contempt. It was his place, so it was up to him to clean it all up, so he got out the black, drawstring garbage bags and got to work.
After three long hours of cleaning, Lyndon collapsed on the couch with his arms over his face. He still had a little headache, but most of the hangover was gone thanks to the coffee and ten Advil capsules. He tried to remember if he had gotten with that hot girl from the party, but he couldn't really remember. She had been really hot, though. With long legs and dark, sultry eyes lined with thick lashes. He hoped he'd given the chick his number or something at least.
After a few minutes of resting, Lyndon's cell phone vibrated on the freshly windexed, glass coffee table. He groaned inwardly and reached down to pluck it up in his fingers and look at the caller i.d.
It was his boss.
Lyndon groaned again and reluctantly answered the phone. "Hello, Lyndon Contreras speaking."
"Lyndon, this is Dick. I need you to come in today around 4ish. I have an important assignment for you," said Dick in his deep, no-nonsense voice.
"Dick, I just graduated yesterday and you already have an assignment lined up for me?" moaned Lyndon into the phone rubbing his sore eyes with his free hand. He must have gotten some cleaning supplies in them, because they really burned.
"It's a simple job. Be at my office by 4. Okay?"
Lyndon called Dick a whole bunch of names in his head, but said, "Okay," into the phone anyway. It was his first day as a real FBI agent. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off his boss/supervisor.
Lyndon set his alarm for 3:30, which gave him enough time to get to the headquarters and took a nice two hour nap.
Lyndon was escorted into Dick's big office by his hot a$$ secretary who kept giving Lyndon flirtatious looks and even slipped her number into the front pocket of his jeans, which was undoubtedly going to be forgotten and end up in the washing machine.
Dick was sitting at his swivel chair behind his big, cherry wood desk reading a thick stack of stapled papers. He was, as always, wearing his navy blue suit with the red paisley tie and had his eyeglasses perched on the bridge of his long nose. When Lyndon walked in, Dick looked up and smiled. "Hello, Agent Contreras," Dick said using Lyndon's FBI name, which was a little weird since Lyndon wasn't really used to it.
Lyndon smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Dick's desk. "Hey, Dick. Whaddaya have for me today?"
Dick opened up the top drawer in his desk and pulled out a thick, manila envelope and handed it to Lyndon. Lyndon took the envelope and rested it in his lap. He opened it up and came face to face with the picture of a beautiful woman. "The young woman you're looking at is Jessica Falcone," Dick started, folding his hands in front of him and leaning back in his chair, "She was abducted from her home in L.A. on March 20, 2007 when she was sixteen years old by Marcus Riviera, a part of the L.A. trafficking industry which abducts young, pretty, American girls, drugs them, and sends them to Russia to be prostitutes. Ms. Falcone was in Russia for three years until she and other kidnapped girls were rescued by the FBI in September during a drug raid. However, she is still being followed and harassed from Marcus Riviera who formed an odd obsession with the young girl. So, you are to be her bodyguard for a couple months until this Mr. Riviera is caught and safely behind bars."
Lyndon looked up at Dick. "I spent seven years at the Academy working my a$$ off and graduating at the top of my class to become a bodyguard for a prostitute?" He asked in a non-believing tone.
Dick's eyes hardened and he took off his glasses. "This girl was sixteen years old when she was taken away from her family and friends, hooked up to an IV which fed her all kinds of drugs from Xanax to heroin, and forced to have sex with dirty men who hurt her at least five times every day for which she received no compensation other than more drugs. She escaped from that hell, went through extensive drug and physiological rehab, and is now trying to pick her life up from where it left off by finishing high school and eating dinner with her family every night. But she is still being haunted by the man who caused her life to be ruined in the first place. You will suck up your pride and protect this innocent girl from being hurt for a second time and try to get any information possible from her so that we can catch the son-of-a-b*tch who makes men hide their daughters away in attics. Do I make myself clear?"
Lyndon nodded his head, "Yes, sir."
Dick smiled. "Good. The assignment will officially start when you leave this room. You will be with Ms. Falcone twenty four hours of the day and seven days of the week until she is safe. Her mother has a room set up for you at her home and your papers are all ready for the local high school where Ms. Falcone attends."
Lyndon froze. "Wait. I have to go back to high school?"
It looked like the halcyon years of Lyndon's life weren't over yet to his very dismay. Although, Lyndon's high school career had been fun due to his popularity, athletic ability, and aptitude with the girls, he absolutely did not want to relive the torture of having to go to class and listen to boring teachers teach boring subjects and watch as stupid, petty teenager drama played out in front of his face. He just graduated college a day ago and now on his first real day of freedom, Lyndon was told that he was going back to high school to follow some former kidnappee who was being stalked by a gangster and was just trying to live a normal life. He was overjoyed. Not.
Lyndon left headquarters and was escorted by a big, burly bodyguard who was going to take Lyndon to the place he was going to call home until Mr. Riviera was behind bars and the Jessica Falcone chick was safe. He reached under his bed and grabbed his big, black suitcase and started to throw some clothes into it along with his holsters, bulletproof vests, tasers, and other police sh*t that he didn't really need as long as he had his gun.
After writing a note to his landlord with a check written for enough money to pay the rent for a year, Lyndon was taken away in a black Yukon that still had the new car smell and had the darkest and thickest windows possible. Lyndon got comfortable in his seat and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He texted the guys that he was going to be away on a job for a while and that they could chill at his apartment whenever they wanted as long as they didn't burn it down and left a message on his mother's voicemail that he was going to be out of town for a while and that he'd call as soon as he could although he knew that his mother would just roll her eyes at the message and delete it as she took another drag from her cigarette.
Lyndon sat back in the comfortable, leather seat and shut his eyes. When he started up at the PoliceAcademy, he had thought that his first assignment would be much more glamorous than being a bodyguard for a young girl. He had pictured being like James Bond and racing in sweet Aston Martins in Italy, dueling with evil masterminds with eye patches and thick accents, and having amazing sex with beautiful, French models. Now that it was here, Lyndon was disappointed and all he could do was finish this job smoothly and quickly and move on to bigger and better things.
Lyndon fell asleep and was woken up by the driver after a couple of hours. Lyndon looked out the window and was greeted by a quaint little house with green shutters, a red door, and pink and white flowers planted all around the pathway leading to the front door. He recognized the area as downtown L.A., which was much more family oriented and suburban than where Lyndon lived in West LA. He ran his hands through his hair and got out of the truck. Cool air grazed against his skin, forming goose bumps and he followed behind the bodyguard who was carrying Lyndon's luggage. Lyndon took his Glock from the pocket in his jacket and stuck it in the waistband of his jeans, making sure that his shirt fully covered it from view. The bodyguard, whose name Lyndon was pretty sure was Joe, rang the door bell and Lyndon heard some commotion from behind the door. A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman with semi gray, semi blond hair answered the door. She was tall for a woman at about 5'10 and incredibly thin. Her gray eyes were covered in wrinkles and when she smiled at Lyndon and Joe, all her wrinkles were doubled twice over. Lyndon figured that this woman was Mrs. Falcone. She looked much older than forty two to Lyndon, but that was to be expected from any woman who looses their child to sex traffickers.
"Hello, you must be Lyndon Contreras," said the woman to Lyndon in a hoarse voice. Lyndon could tell she was an avid smoker... or was.
Lyndon forced a smile on his face. "Yes, ma'm. And you must be Mrs. Falcone," Lyndon said in the most polite, suck-up voice he could muster up. Lyndon wasn't much for being the nice guy, but he kind of had to be nice at the moment.
The woman smiled. "Yes, I am, but please, just call me Lisa," she said, putting her hand out to Lyndon, who also put his hand out and they shook. Lisa had a fairly strong handshake for a woman. "Well, why don't you come in Lyndon? I'll get Jessica down here so you can meet her and she can show you your room."
Lyndon nodded and followed Lisa into her home which smelled like cinnamon and looked like it had jump right out of a Country Living magazine with its grape and wine theme.
Joe rested Lyndon's luggage by the staircase and nodded at Lyndon before departing. The room seemed much bigger without Mr. Steroids taking up all that space. Lisa yelled up the stairs for her daughter and hurried into the kitchen when a timer went off.
Lyndon looked up at the balcony when one of the doors to a room opened and a girl started walking down the steps. She didn't look like what she had in the picture in the file. In the picture, her beautiful hair had cascaded all around her face in molten gold curls; her face had been full, healthy, and glowing, and her eyes bright with happiness. Lyndon almost couldn't tell that it was the same girl. Her hair was no longer blond, but so black that it almost gave off this blue light and cut like a boys. She was completely pale and so tall and so thin, she looked like if she even stepped the wrong way, she would snap right in half. When Jessica moved closer, Lyndon noticed the piercing she had in her eyebrow and her hollow, almost sunken eyes and cheeks. Although, she looked terrible, there was still this beauty that vibrated around this girl: her long, thick lashes and stormy blue eyes, her soft, delicate movements, and her plump, sultry lips.
When she reached the bottom step, Jessica glared at Lyndon with so much hatred and fury that Lyndon felt like he was being stabbed. "Are you my bodyguard?" She asked in a low, almost sing-song voice that made the hairs on the back of Lyndon's head stand up.
Lyndon couldn't tear his eyes from this scary, yet beautiful woman. He couldn't even speak, so he just nodded his head.
She stepped closer to Lyndon and ran her intense eyes up and down his body. "What's your name?"
Lyndon cleared his throat. "My name is Lyndon Contreras," he managed to spit out reaching his hand out for Jessica to shake. She just looked down at his hand and then back up at his face without moving her own hand. Lyndon let his arm fall back to his side while a wave of disappointment rushed through him.
"Contreras, hmm. Are you Spanish?" she asked.
"I'm half Mexican and half American," Lyndon said.
Jessica nodded her head and leaned closer to Lyndon. "I'm about as happy about this situation as you are, Landon. So if you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours. Do we have a deal?"
"It's Lyndon, not Landon," he corrected.
Her eyes narrowed and Lyndon was taken aback at how much this girl looked like a snake when she did that. "I don't give a f*ck," she hissed, her eyes burning holes into Lyndon, "Do we have a deal or not?"
Lyndon smiled at Jessica and leaned down closer to her face. Now they were both mere inches away from touching. "I like a challenge, chica, and I have a feeling that we're going to be very close friends."
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Please comment! I'd really like some feedback!
Thanks so much
Love,
Mel Bell <333