The killer was appalling to look at. In Tessa's eyes, he resembled one of the sinister villains from the 90s movies. He had the craziest look in his eyes. The guttural tone in his threats was hair-raising. 'This is a lame way to die,' she thought. The girl wished to God that her to-be-sister-in-law would find a way out again.
Ashley, on the other hand, looked frantically from the man's weapon to his face. She was poised to shield Tessa if he aimed the trowel at her.
Part of Ashley had survivor's guilt. She had lived a life of luxury and vanity until tragedies struck her down. Before that, she had always kept her priorities above those of others.
To redeem herself, she would be happy to die for an innocent soul like Tessa.
The assassin looked at the two panicking girls and scoffed.
Or did he sound amused?
He set the garden tool on the drinks table. And started laughing. It was not a hearty laugh but a polite chuckle, youthful and controlled, betraying the gravelly voice he had been using until then. The two girls looked on in confusion.
Was their killer having a psychotic break?
"And scene!" the man announced. He bowed, in dip curtsey, like an actor after a performance.
"What the-," Ashley exclaimed.
The man had been hunching over until then. Then he stood straight, to his full height.
The stranger pulled at his bushy, unkempt hair. It came off with the pop of a plug.
He had been wearing a wig!
Next, he plucked the hideous nose, which detached itself from his face. Then the stranger peeled layers off his face.
His skin was coming off!
Facial prosthetics.
The man's actual hair was long and brown, at the moment tied up in a man bun.
'What the heck is going on?' the look on the girls' faces said.
Ashley and Tessa had watched the bizarre transformation, overcome with awe.
The gardener's clothes were break-aways. He tugged on them, and they came apart like a toffee wrapper, revealing street clothes.
The end result was a handsome Frenchman in his early thirties, dressed in a Breton tee and dark denim.
He tucked the breakaway clothes and prosthetics into the gardener's bag.
A yank on the man bun opened it up to reveal flowing, lustrous hair. The stranger retrieved a black leather jacket from the same bag and donned it, completing his look.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle. Chevalier de Guiscard at your service.” He dipped his head with a French flourish.
"Wait, what?" Tessa exclaimed. Her voice was shrill and low. She had her face between her hands and was close to hysterics.
"Why? How?" Ashley fumbled, still trying to regain her composure.
"Why, you ask?" Guiscard began. "To point out the flaws in your security, of course. How? I infiltrated your management staff, impersonated a man named Dubois, and got close enough to kill you. Furthermore, I did it without breaking a sweat. If I were truly an assassin, you would be dead already. The demonstration was thus, to prove my worth to you."
The girls laughed nervously, less because of how ridiculous the situation was, and more out of relief that he was not a real killer.
Ashley gestured to Guiscard to take a seat. The guard settled on a lounge chair in the window garden.
His street clothes were pretty 'French' and outdoorsy. Certainly not what one would expect a security guard to be in. But then, he had just pretended to be a middle-aged gardener. He could probably look like anybody he wanted to.
"Mr. Guiscard, you make quite an impression," Ashley began, now seated, gulping down more of her Long Island Iced Tea. She had never imagined someone could sneak in that way to kill her. Guiscard seemed good at his job.
"Then, ma'am, my intention has been carried out fruitfully. For the record, I prefer to be called Chevy," he said, handing over his identity proof and credentials for his employer to peruse.
"Of course, Chevy. However, I would prefer you never repeat such antics with me," Ashley warned.
She was more impressed than upset by the incident. Nevertheless, as an employer, Ashley did not wish to lose the respect of her employee through such embarrassments.
Letting a security guard get cocky and treat her as a weakling was not what she wanted through their engagement. She had had enough people walk over her in the recent past.
"Pardonne-Moi. It was a one-time demonstration, ma'am," Guiscard explained. "It took me only an hour to plan. However, you have my word. It shall not be repeated."
"Thank you," Ashley acknowledged. "It is safe to say now that you are hired."
"I am pleased to hear that."
"So! Chevy!" Tessa chimed in. She had finished her Long Island Iced Tea. Her mood was better than earlier, and the grating boldness had returned.
"How do you describe yourself? A security guard? A bodyguard? A bouncer?" She had clearly been offended by the Frenchman's demonstration.
Billionaire teens had fragile egos too.
"I would call myself a friend, with benefits. Of course, my benefits are the fee I charge, and yours are the services I provide." He winked.