I peeked through my bedroom curtains at his car. Jesus, what was he going to do, sleep in that thing? As weird as receiving a death threat felt, the idea of someone watching over me twenty-four seven felt even weirder. I squinted through the dark, trying to get a good look in his driver’s side window. A pair of big black ovals stared back at me.

Was he using binoculars?

I jumped back from the bedroom window, pulling the curtains tight, suddenly having enormous sympathy for goldfish.

Trying to ignore my babysitter, I propped my computer on my lap and read over my latest shot at Pines.

PEDOPHILE PINES WILL HAVE TO SHOW HIS PORN:

IN AN EXPECTED MOVE, THE JUDGE IN THE PINES CHILD PORNOGRAPHY CASE SAID THE HIGHWAY PATROL’S SEARCH OF THE DIRECTOR’S CAR WAS, IN FACT, LEGAL. ALL EVIDENCE SEIZED IN THAT SEARCH WILL BE SEEN BY A JURY, INCLUDING THE INFAMOUS KIDDIE MAGS. MY ADVICE TO PINES: IF THE BOY IS UNDERAGE, YOU MUST NOT TURN THE PAGE!

Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I signed the article, with my name first on the byline, thank you very much. Then I hit send, instantly transporting my copy to the Informer’s offices.

I stood up, stretching my back. After the day I’d had, my muscles were full of more knots than a knitting circle. I tilted my head from side to side, working the kinks out of my neck. What I needed was a long, hard swim, followed by a long hot shower. I glanced toward the window. Unfortunately, unless I wanted an audience, the swim, at least, was going to have to wait.

Instead I opened my email, scanning for tomorrow’s headlines. I was just delighting in one about a certain rising female country singer who’d been spotted cozying up to a certain lesbian DJ at a nightclub, when an IM window popped up in the corner of my screen. ManInBlack72.

I immediately hit accept and waited for his message to appear.

Hey, Bender.

Hey, Black.

How was your day, gorgeous?

I groaned out loud. Don’t ask.

That great, huh?

Sucked big fat donkey balls.

You have such a way with words.

I’m glad somebody appreciated it.

What happened? Black prompted.

I paused a moment. Did I really want to spill my guts over the internet to some guy who most likely was typing with Cheeto-stained fingers and watching Star Trek in the background?

On the other hand…I looked up, listening to the silence of the empty room. Who else did I have?

My fingers jumped across the keyboard.

Because of some stupid prank call, my boss gave my story to a new girl and hired some rent-a-thug to follow me around.

Rent-a-thug?

Bodyguard. An annoying one.

There was a pause. Then, Want me to take him out?

I grinned. That was the nicest thing anyone had said to me all day. Would you?