Page 5 of Guarding the Star

“The women's soccer team? Yeah, they won the playoffs last season.”

“You know who Iris Vance is?” he goes on.

“Hard not to. What about her?”

“The club hired you to protect her,” he says, pulling off his glasses slow enough to clean them with a cloth before putting them back on.

“The terms are all in the envelope?”

He nods and gestures for me to open it.

Inside are several photos, including one I recognize because it was shared to death on social media. Iris Vance celebrating a goal. She'd ripped off her jersey and swung it over her head. The crowd lost it, the internet caught fire. The photo is gorgeous, full of motion, sharp, her abs on full display.

I turn to the next page. Club report. Threats received: surveillance by an unidentified individual, obsessive messages on her profiles, unsolicited gifts, photographs taken without consent at private locations.

Subject profile: unknown, likely male, access to information regarding the player's routines.

Escalation: confirmed.

“What's the exact assignment?” I ask without looking up from the report.

“Personal protection. Twenty-four hours, especially anything outside of practices and games.”

“Twenty-four hours? Who else is on my support team?”

“Just you,” he says like it's the most natural thing in the world. “The player has a massive media profile, and the club has requested absolute discretion,” he explains, reading the confusion on my face.

“How absolute?”

“You'll be introduced as her partner.”

Now I look up from the folder.

“Sorry? I don't think I heard you right.”

“You'll be her romantic partner. That's the cover the club has chosen. A bodyguard raises questions, the press would push. A girlfriend doesn't,” he says.

“Oh, come on, Jason. That's not protection, that's theater,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Welcome to professional sports. A lot of it is theater. The club is paying you to protect that player. The method is the client's call. And the client wants you to look like her girlfriend. Can you do it or not?” he asks, dead serious now.

“I suppose I can protect her,” I mutter.

“Good. Then it shouldn't be a problem. The fee is triple the usual rate. For the theater, as you put it,” he says.

“Triple?”

“Triple,” he confirms.

“Has the player agreed?”

“Reluctantly. More like they forced her hand. That's another part of the problem. This girl has a reputation for being difficult. You know the type, erratic behavior, parties, showing up late, casual flings. The club loves her because she scores goals, but they've been worried about her off-field conduct for months. There are recent compromising photos. Some from yesterday, throwing up outside a club while two girls fought over who got to hold her ponytail.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work,” I say.

“That photo is actually our perfect cover story. You're going to show up at her preseason camp in Florida tomorrow because you saw the photo and you're pissed. You'll pretend you've been seeing each other for a few weeks. Kept it quiet because you didn't want the press finding out, and now you're hurt by the photos. You'll stay in the same hotel, different rooms. The idea is for you to get to know her and the rest of the team.”

“Think she'll cooperate?”