Jennifer was briefly speechless. She shook the woman's hand and found her voice at last. "You're Demona?"
"Yes, thank you for meeting with me." The woman took a moment to unbutton her trench coat with long pale fingers, before sitting across the table from Jennifer. "You're wondering how I came into this line of work, I suppose?" she said, folding her hands in front of her.
"Well, yes I suppose you don't look like my idea of a night guard," Jenny said.
Demona smiled, her teeth were very white and slightly pointed. "For the past several years I was one of David Xanatos' personal bodyguards."
"Huh," said Jennifer. Everything - almost everything suddenly fell into place.
Xanatos, the performatively eccentric playboy billionaire. On a whim the man dismantled a castle in Scotland and then had it reassembled at the top of his New York skyscraper. It was rumoured that his butler Owen Burnette had one of his hands surgically replaced with stone. Yes, of course he'd have a model gorgeous woman as his personal bodyguard. Xanatos was often on the cover of magazines with a different beautiful girl on his arm… were they all bodyguards? Despite herself, Jennifer was burning with curiosity. Their waiter brought them two glasses of Napa Valley chardonnay while Demona spoke.
"Of course, I signed an NDA, so there are certain things I can't discuss, but suffice it to say Xanatos changed up his security departments last June." Demona raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. It was an, are you following my meaning? gesture.
Something stirred in Jennifer's memory. June last year…
"Just as an unrelated question, was that around the time that he married Fox Renard?"
Demona smiled. Jennifer had guessed correctly. Xanatos had clearly made this woman redundant after his marriage as some kind of romantic gesture to his new wife. Jennifer made a small noise of distaste and solidarity.
Demona twisted in her seat to take an envelope out of the trench coat that was slung over her chariback. The motion briefly flattened her plum-red silk blouse against her body, before she turned back and slid the envelope across the table.
"This is my resume. Owen Burnette is one of my referees. That's a direct line to him."
Jennifer choked on her chardonnay. "'Scuse me," she said, pressing a paper napkin to her mouth.
"You've heard the rumour then?"
Jennifer cleared her throat, "I don't' usually pay attention to rumours but -"
"A stone fist is hard to forget." Demona's eyes sparkled with mirth.
"Hey, I thought you signed an NDA?"
"I can confirm that there are rumours circulating that Mr. Burnette has a stone fist. I can't confirm whether those rumours are true." She winked.
Jennifer had the distinct feeling that this woman enjoyed stretching the rules of the NDA. She wasn't sure if that should count in her favour or not. She rested her hands on the envelope.
"Thank you, I, I suppose I'll be in touch." She took one last sip of the now room temperature chardonnay and stood to leave.
"Shall I walk you home? You could consider it a free trial."
/ -
When Jennifer strolled through the door, feeling golden with wine and conversation, Matilda was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
"Did you tell her we wouldn't need her?" The little girl asked.
"No, I, I'm starting to think maybe I'll hire her.