Where could he have gone? shot through his mind. I know he was with me at the car. I never looked back and I was holding my ears. But surely he -
He took a sharp intake of breath. A girl stood in front of him, looking down at his shameful state. Suddenly, kneeling behind the couch panting, cheeks flushed, calling out for his bodyguard, felt rather childish.
He stood quickly, taking the brief chance to check himself for dirt. Miraculously, he seemed clean. He plastered on a charming smile, hoping the girl wouldn't alert her parents, or his shooter, of his presence.
"Hi, I'm so sorry for intruding. My name is Elric Chandler. My cars tire blew out just a little ways down the road, and my father is waiting for me. If you happen to have a phone I could use, I'd just like to call a friend of his, and then I'd be out of your hair." So maybe Simmons isn't quite my father, but much easier than explaining why I have a bodyguard.