I'm Not Your Toy

Julia Miko. How could I not recognize her? She’s been on possibly every magazine cover I’ve ever seen in the past 6 months. And I just called her ‘baby’. She was sitting less than a foot away from me now. I was staring at her bare legs, criss-crossed now that she was sitting down. It was pretty plain to see – she was gorgeous. Not model gorgeous, though she could have been. She just simply shined. She wasn’t old either; maybe 25. She definitely wasn’t older than 27, which was pretty incredible given her job title.

She was CEO of one of the fastest growing corporations of today – Pax Industries. It’s basically a privatized version of the Peace Corps., but it was bigger, and better known. She’s a professional fixer. She goes into countries, and solves their problems. Spreading peace is her job, and she’s known for doing it well.

But she didn’t look peaceful. She looked like a girl that would kiss you then kill you. Nothing light, if you know what I mean. I wanted to take her home tonight. She’s got a reputation to keep though. My reputation could take a hit. What’s another blow to a sunken ship?

I don’t know if I should even look at her now. She seemed unperturbed by my comment. She smiled when I spoke to her; maybe she thought it was funny. I still want to take her out for a drink. Maybe she’ll take up my offer, it’s a possibility.

I didn’t pay attention much throughout the show, though I tried. I was waiting to get out of this suit and tie. Needless to say when the host bid farewell, I was catching up with her. “I was serious about the drink, you know. Look, I know you’ve got a public image, and maybe you don’t want to mess that up. Everyone’s got to have a little fun though. Come with me tonight; it’s just a drink.”

She took in a big breath. “Okay.” She let out her big breath. “One, I know you were serious about the drink. Two, I don’t care about my public image because my public image is who I am. I do what I want and if people don’t like it, I accept that. Three, I do have fun, contrary to popular belief, which means that four, I am accepting your offer now let’s go get a drink.” She said as her lungs were running out of air. By the time she finished she gasped back her breath.

I was a little shocked that she actually accepted. Maybe she went for guys like me. “Let’s get changed then. I can’t stand suits. Meet me in my dressing room in ten. Okay?” I didn’t have to check. By the time I said ‘ten’, she was in her room at the end of the hallway. I took off my tie and went to change.

About seven minutes later I heard a knock at the door. I opened it as I put my shirt on. She leaned against the frame of the door. She had on jeans, and a gray, fitted, pullover sweater. She made me feel underdressed, but I loved her style. It was modern, like the 90s never existed. “Hey, are you ready yet?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” I closed the door as we made our way to the elevators. What if she doesn’t know that I drink? Or that I like to drink, and maybe a little too much sometimes? Plus, I’ve never drank with someone. It was always just me and the bottle the booze was coming from.

Whatever the case, I could smell the faint scent of trouble drifting my way. She’s a fixer, though, so whatever trouble I get into tonight I’m counting on her to guide me back home.

We stepped out of the elevator and into the night air. Then I remembered – London was a strange new town.