The election was on tv and Adio Brown, Chevelle's father was in the lead. Anxiously picking at a recent scab on her thigh from Saint scratching her, she watched CNN discuss the recent events. The doorbell rang and Chevelle jumped in her seated position on the couch. Hastily running to the door with Saint in two, she snatched the chicken caesar salad, stuffed cheesy bread, hot buffalo wings, small cheese pizza, chocolate lava crunch cake, and large coke, and shut the door. The phone beside her rang and Chevelle stared at her mother's FaceTime request before actually answering. "Hi Mommy ," Chevelle said with a mouth full of salad. "Where's Daddy?"
"On the phone with someone in his campaign I think. What are you eating?" Byeol scrunched her nose up in disgust at the stuffed cheesy bread her daughter was shoving in her face.
"Domino's. Where's Chantel?" Chevelle asked, referring to her older sister by five years.
"You can afford luxury pizza like, Paxti's, why would you choose Domino's?"
Chevelle remained quiet, waiting for her mother to answer her question.
"Chantel was picking up Grayson from school when I called, she said she'd join when they got home."
Chevelle nodded and turned her attention back to the tv. She and mother didn't exchange many words after that—their silence still felt like company. When Saint climbed into her lap after she had finished her pizza, Chevelle couldn't help but smile. She loved Saint more than she ever assumed imaginable. By nine o'clock all of the results were in and Chevelle was holding her breath.
"There you have it folks, Adio B. Brown is our president elect."
The Sealim-Brown family burst into cheers and hugs, even Saint participated with a bit of jumping and barking. "Congratulations Daddy," Chevelle grinned happily at her father.
"Thanks Baby Girl." Adio waved goodbye to his daughters and then left the call to prepare a quick speech.
"Before you say goodbye Chevelles there's someone coming to live with you starting Saturday."
"Why didn't you let me know sooner?"
"He's just your bodyguard, Sweetums. I'll fax you the details tomorrow, okay? Okay, bye."
Chevelle scoffed, "bye to you too Mommy."
When she woke the next morning Chevelle was bombarded with notifications. Instagram and Twitter follows, YouTube subscribers, and even people from her old who had the nerve to try and be friends again. Stumbling out of bed she changed into a pair of workout clothes and hit the home gym. After a forty-five minute jog and walk combo, she jumped into the shower. The warm water was soothing on her aching muscles and Chevelle stepped further into the spray.
Pulling on brown pants, a brown hoodie, and brown puffy jacket, Chevelle walked down the stairs towards the kitchen. A screech left her mouth when she saw a curvy black female sitting at her bar munching on grapes. "Jesus Naomi, you could at least text me. How did you get in anyway?"
"Jeremy made me a copy of the key you gave him."
Rolling her eyes, Chevelle grabbed her green juice from the fridge. "What's the plan for today?"
"Nails and hair."
Chevelle nodded and scrolled through her email. "I need to go to Sephora and Pressed Juicery—my packages arrived." Kissing Saint on the head Chevelle plucked the keys to her car from the keyring and walked outside. Jamming to Sza, Chevelle and Naomi pulled up to the nail salon in record time. "Auburn, light gray, or beige?"
"Beige."
&
Chevelle's foot was anxiously tapping away on the light tiled floor as she waited patiently for the arrival of her new bodyguard, DeMarcus. A car rolled into the driveway and Chevelle straightened her spine. "It's okay Saint," Chevelle cooed at her puppy and patted him on the head. "Come." Walking out to the driveway, Chevelle watched a black Range Rover move smoothly towards her.
DeMarcus looked around at the house, it looked modest, but it was Laguna Beach, so he knew it was anything but. Shutting off the car, the ex marine stepped out—his brown eyes circling the perimeter. Slamming the back door he swung his black duffle back over his left shoulder.
Chevelle's eyes widened as she watched the man step out of the vehicle. His features were strong and sharp. His hair color was almost identical to her own and reached his collarbone in short dreads. "Hi," Chevelle spoke quietly, her eyes still roaming his face.
DeMarcus stared at her. "Do you come out in the driveway whenever you hear a vehicle approaching?"
Chevelle blushed and looked down at her feet. "No," she murmured, "but I knew you were coming."
DeMarcus hummed and stepped close enough to her to extend his hand. "DeMarcus Van de Berg."
Glancing down at his hand, Chevelle took it cautiously. "Chevelle Sealim-Brown." Spinning on her heel, she looked back at him and flickered her eyes to the inside of the house. "There's three open bedrooms, one next to my office and two by the smallest garage—you can have whichever one you want."
"The one next to your office is by the entryway, correct?"
Chevelle nodded.
"I'll take that one." DeMarcus opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by a barking dog. "Who's this?" He squatted down next to the young Doberman who was doing his best to look threatening.
"This is Saint, I got him a few weeks ago."
"Is he trained?" DeMarcus asked as he got Saint to warm up to him.
Chevelle nodded once more.
"Good. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to be training him too. I'll be around until your father is no longer President, but it would be good for you to have a guard dog."
"You can do that?"
DeMarcus rose from the ground and straightened his back. He was surprised to find himself not much taller than Chevelle. "I was in the K-9 unit before I enlisted. Enough about me, my job is to learn every big and small detail about you."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
And so she told him everything he needed to know. She told him her daily schedule, what her job was like, who her friends were, what she did in her free time, everything. When she was done she looked at DeMarcus hoping for some sort of reaction, but he gave none. "Is that it then?"
DeMarcus looked up at her and for the first time since his arrival, he was able to study her face. Her nose and eyes were identical to that of her mother's. Her cheekbones were sharp and her lips full, traits she had inherited from the President. She was beautiful and DeMarcus felt the need to hide her from the horrors of the world. "Yeah," he murmured, still memorizing every part of her face. "Yeah, that's it."