by Jess Bentley
Or KGB. Whatever.
Finally we come through a door into a large room where there are other people. They walk around with their iPads in front of them, apparently holding videoconferences as they walk. Somehow they don’t even bump into each other, which is pretty impressive. I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time, as my mother likes to tell me.
“Wow,” I hear myself say.
Dahlia glances over her shoulder, grinning at me. “Oh, you haven’t been here since we finished the rehab, have you? It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? August says we could take a direct artillery strike!”
“Congratulations!” I reply, not sure if that’s the right thing to say.
But she doesn’t even notice my discomfort. She’s pretty into it, I can tell. As we cut a diagonal line across the room, I see her smiling at the different areas: a few desks, an assortment of punching bags, and stick things that are probably made for hitting. A bunch of super buffed-out guys and girls in sky-blue shirts and charcoal-gray pants that probably have some hidden compartments or something in them for weapons and poison darts.
“Okay, Bunny,” Dahlia rolls her eyes as she pulls out a chair at the small corporate kitchen. I know this is not the real kitchen, because that thing is like seriously gourmet. This is just a secondary kitchen, the sort your employees would use to make themselves energy drinks and stuff.
“Okay, what?” I ask, taking the seat across from her. It feels so good to get off my feet, I could practically cry.
She points at me with one finger, stabbing at the air a few times.
“You can stop judging me now,” she informs me.
“I’m not judging you,” I lie.
She holds her hands out as though supporting an imaginary scale model of the room between her palms.
“I know this can all seem like… a lot," she continues. “But it’s for a purpose. Not just for defense, but it really makes people feel comfortable, you know? People who are in trouble. People who are afraid for their lives, Bunny.”
I shrug uncomfortably. Glancing around, I see what she means. I mean, if I were a foreign ambassador who needed a protection detail, I probably would be impressed by this kind of display.
“Is that what you guys are doing these days? Saving lives?” I ask, seriously interested.
“The most serious jobs,” she nods. “The foreign stuff. But it’s not all life-or-death. There’s a lot of stuff that’s practically just schmoozing and networking.”
“What does schmoozing and networking pay?”
She squints and smiles grimly, clearly concerned that I am about to ask her for a job. Which I’m not. The thought had not even crossed my mind.
Until she mentioned it.
“It’s all about helping people out,” she continues, trying not to sound patronizing because she knows I hate that. “August does them a favor, and eventually they’ll do him a favor. A whole bunch of people helping each other out with… whatever. Not always life or death or national security stuff. Just whatever.”
“It doesn’t sound that hard to me, really. I’d say I’m a natural at it. The networking and schmoozing part.”
Dahlia squints at me, tipping her head to the side like she does. She narrows her eyes for a couple of beats and then purses her lips.
“I suppose you are a very outgoing and… charming person,” she finally admits.
I spread my hands in front of me. “Right? I mean, that’s what I’m always saying. The guys at the restaurant just love me. Love me! All except Nick, of course. But he is sort of a jerk, right?”
She sucks on the inside of her cheek.
“But that doesn’t really bother me,” I continue breezily. “Like I always say, it’s all about getting along. You know what I mean, right? They say it’s about who you know.”
“Who says that?” she asks suspiciously.
“You know… people.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. She must still be nursing because her boobs are absolutely monumental. Now is probably not a good time to bring that up.
“And what do they say that about?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Schmoozing and networking. It’s about who you know,” I explain.
“Yeah,” she says slowly. “Are you trying to ask me for a job, Bunny?”
“Who me? I’m not asking you for anything, Dahlia,” I snap defensively. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think you even appreciate me. I wouldn’t even ask you for a job.”
Dahlia nods slowly, and I turn away, hoping this polite smile I’ve got plastered on my face sticks for a while. This is a mistake. I never should have come here. I don’t even know why I would think Dahlia would have a solution for me. I’ve always kind of felt like she’s looked down on me. Now that she’s got her perfect fairytale life, I think I’ve even dropped down another couple of notches on the scale.
I feel him coming, even before he gets there. Dahlia straightens in her chair, her spine going rod straight as she raises her eyebrows attentively. August swoops in, his iPad held out in front of him.
“Hold on, let me ask Dahlia,” he says as he steps right into the middle of our conversation. He holds the iPad out to her and she smiles her plastic, professional smile as she takes it from him.
“What’s up?” she chirps in her fake voice, pivoting the iPad so it probably can see both of them at the same time.
Over my other shoulder, I hear something strange. Some kind of wet, urgent sound. Dahlia’s eyes flicker that way, then back to the screen.
But it doesn’t stop, even as she is saying hello to whomever is on August’s video conference.
“Yes… sure…” she says in a louder voice, trying to block the videoconference person from hearing what’s going on. “I mean, it’s not our usual thing? But if you’re really in a bind?”
The sound gets louder, and I realize the nursery must be right here behind one of these doors. It’s Knox, probably just waking up from a nap. As his cries get louder they pierce the air, slicing right through the middle of Dahlia’s extremely brittle facade of composure. Her smile goes wide and manic. It makes me want to giggle, which is probably totally inappropriate.
“I’ll just get him!” I stage whisper, trying to be heard and not heard at the same time by the person on the video chat.
Before Dahlia has a chance to object, I slide off my seat and turn toward the sound. It has to be one of these doors here. The sound is not that far away, and he’s definitely getting louder by the second.
The other security people are dashing away, practically scurrying. Also fun! Boy, one crying baby can really take down a super-professional environment in a hurry!
I should’ve known it was this door because of the small elephant decal in the middle of the panel. But, I mean, it’s still reinforced steel? So, a baby’s nursery was not the first thing that sprang to my mind?
But as soon as I open the door, the sound gets even louder. I guess the reinforced steel provided a little bit of insulation, because his cries practically hit me like a punch to the face. He’s super mad, lying there with his fists balled up next to his crimson cheeks, howling in rage.
“Hey there, little fella!” I immediately begin to coo, rushing over to him. The crib is some kind of fancy contraption, and I can’t figure out how to slide the gate down, so I just reach over and take the little guy under the arms.
“Hey there! You’re okay! You’re okay!” I say to him as I cradle him against my shoulder, bouncing him gently. He’s yelling so hard I’m afraid is gonna make himself sick. He’s really hot to the touch and still shaking.
But it only takes a couple of seconds to figure out what’s going on. He got up from his nap, wet and hungry, and nobody was here. He yelled for help, and still nobody came.
“Perfectly reasonable requests,” I tell him as I poke through drawers and doors, looking for diapers. There are stacks and stacks of downy white blankets for no reason that I can figure out. Who really needs this many blankets?
�
��Oh my God, that is so cute,” I sigh as I open a drawer to find a few dozen onesies all neatly folded against each other. There are little camouflage onesies, little striped onesies. “Your daddy likes to dress you like a soldier! That’s a little messed up, Knox. Gotta be honest with you!”
At least he seems to like the tone of my voice. He is settling slowly, coughing as his cries become less urgent with more breathing space in between them.
“Okay, here we go, little man,” I smile at him as I lay him down on the small table and pull a diaper and some wipes from a cubby that’s hidden around the side. I don’t know why Dahlia thought she should hide the diapers, but who am I to judge?
He settles, scowling and staring at me suspiciously while I get him flat on the table, and remove that heavy, wet diaper. He’s cleaned up in a jiffy, kicking those adorable little chubby legs, finally giving me something like a smile. He’s only a few months old, but I can tell he’s got his dad’s suspicious nature. From the looks of it, I must’ve passed some kind of test and he slowly, carefully, lets his smile widen, gradually letting me know that he’s pleased.
“You want a new outfit before we go see Mommy? Maybe something in pinstripes? Something for the boardroom, Knox?”
Sure, why not? I know I don’t have to change his clothes, but it’s kind of fun. He is like a little doll! I find him a new outfit in dark blue with a pale gray stripe and get him dressed and ready to go. There’s a small, plastic brush with highly flexible bristles and I brush his whisper-soft hair, just a few times to get that cute little curl sticking right up off his forehead.
“Oh, aren’t you handsome! Ready to take over the world, I can tell. Let’s go see if Mommy’s ready to feed you, okay?”
When I pick him up again, he’s definitely more friendly. He is smacking his lips like he’s hungry, but not trying to burst my eardrums anymore. So, that’s an improvement.
As we come out of the nursery, I see that August and Dahlia both have their eyes locked on the door, even though they are still in their video chat. I shrug and raise my eyebrows, gesturing at their offspring as proof that I am not some maniac who’s trying to abduct anybody.
Jeez. These guys.
“You know what, Sully, I may actually have someone for you,” I hear August say as he looks me over, scowling.
Dahlia glances at him in alarm.
“You do? Are you thinking Maria? Anastasia?”
“Sully, let me get back to you, all right? End of day work for you?”
August thumbs the front of the iPad and lets it drop to his side. He looks down at Dahlia and they spend a few seconds wordlessly yelling at each other, obviously hashing something out silently.
“So, yeah, your baby? You want him?” I ask Dahlia. “I think he’s hungry?”
Dahlia automatically slides her arms toward me so I can deliver the child to her. I wouldn’t mind a little bit of eye contact, but she is not looking this way.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll just bring him right over for you,” I mutter. Knox glances up at me as if in full agreement.
As I hand the baby over, August and Dahlia finally break eye contact. August takes a deep breath.
“You’re awfully good with him,” he remarks. “He usually won’t go to anyone but us. That’s why we don’t have a nanny.”
“Well of course he’s not going to reject his Aunt Bunny!” I say in baby talk, tickling his shoulder as he nestles against Dahlia, smacking his lips hungrily.
“Bunny has almost zero experience with children,” Dahlia announces.
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, check him over, Dahlia. I changed his diaper too. He seems to have survived the ordeal, as you can see!”
August places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you’re underestimating her. She seems to be a natural.”
“Yeah! I’m a natural!”
Dahlia shakes her head and looks down into her son’s eyes as she tugs her top to the side and modestly prepares to nurse him. I get the feeling I’m about to be offered the job of nanny for Knox. That sounds awesome. I stand up straight, automatically putting my hands in the pockets of my waitress uniform, which I suddenly realize I still have on. I probably look a little silly.
“Would you really consider that?” Dahlia asks, squinting.
“Nanny? Well, sure! I mean, what could be better than that?”
A video montage flickers through my imagination. I could just tag along on all their global adventures, keeping little Knox safe as Dahlia and August thwart international bad guys. Maybe I could thwart a bad guy every once in a while too. You never know. That could happen.
“Yes, this seems to be a good fit. All you have to do is pass the interviews, Bunny. And if you don’t mind taking a little bit of advice from me, you probably want to really get your… game face on. If you know what I mean.”
I pause, staring at him in confusion. “Interviews? Like… this doesn’t count? Right now?”
“No, in Chicago,” August continues cryptically.
I try to smile, but the gesture seems rigid and forced. “Do you send all of your nanny applicants to Chicago?” I ask in a strained voice.
They glance at each other again.
“The nanny position isn’t for us, Bunny,” Dahlia smirks. Knox nurses noisily so I try to just maintain eye contact with her.
“What do you mean? It’s not? What are we talking about here?”
August rocks back on his heels, crossing his arms over his wide, muscular chest in that patronizing way that he has. I can’t believe I used to think this guy was sexy. If I wanted a lecture from my dad, I would just go home.
“Some associates of mine. They had a nanny in place and she is… now indisposed. You’ll have to interview with all of them. Pass the interviews and the job is yours. Seems pretty clear-cut.”
“All of whom?” I ask, wondering if maybe I got myself in over my head. At first this all seemed like a real stroke of luck; now it seems like something else. A bunch of warning bells go off my head, danger, danger.
“The Worth brothers. They manage quite a fortune, most of it in hotels. Have you heard of them?”
I shake my head. The name might ring a bell… I think I’ve seen it on ads while I’m waiting for my YouTube videos to load or something. I think it’s a big, name brand. It never even occurred to me that Worth was a family name. I just thought it was a way of making the hotels sound deluxe.
“Well,” August continues, “there’s one heir, and she needs a nanny right away. You’ll be walking in with our recommendation, which should carry a lot of weight. But the rest is up to you. Can you handle it? Can you be ready to fly out tomorrow?”
“Tell me about the game face, August. What does that mean?”
August squints, and I can tell he is measuring his words carefully.
“The Worths are billionaires for generations. They’re not like other people, and they’re very proud of that. You’re going to have to do whatever it takes, Bunny. They’re not looking for your run-of-the-mill nanny. They’re going to want the very best.”
“So why aren’t they going through an agency?” Dahlia counters, looking up at him. “Wouldn’t an agency pre-screen the women for all the criteria?”
“That is exactly what an agency would do,” he replies. “But they called us.”
“Okay, they want the best weirdo they can find, so you naturally thought of me,” I say in a rush, suddenly eager to leave. “Got it. I’ll do you proud, boss.”
“You know what, you don’t have to do this,” Dahlia says, shaking her head tightly. “Don’t feel obligated, Bunny. You could say no.”
For some reason, I want to say something sarcastic right back to her. She’s got that sweet little baby between us, and I don’t want to get any sarcasm on him, so I bite my tongue.
I don’t know why her lack of confidence in me irritates me so damn much right now, but it really does. Dahlia used to be on my side, even when nobody else was. Now that she’s got a baby of her own
, she’s not on my side anymore. I don’t know whose side she’s on.
“Just have the ticket paid for, okay? And not coach. First class, all right?”
August bends over and places a kiss on top of Dahlia’s head, even as she’s trying to tell me something in Morse code with her eyes.
“See?” he says gently. “It’s all going to be fine.”
Dahlia takes a deep breath and then sighs, smiling and giving up at the same time.
“It will be fine, I’m sure,” she finally agrees, and I sort of want to kick her in the shins.
“I think it’ll be terrific!” I chirp enthusiastically. “Any friends of yours are friends of mine. Networking and schmoozing are my life! Thanks for the intro, guys. Just text me the deets!”
I turn on my heel, struggling not to wince as these boots dig against my flesh.
Stubbornly, I stalk back out the building, refusing to acknowledge that I do not have a ride, that my feet are killing me, and that I really don’t know what I’ve gotten into.
I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into at all.
Chapter 3
Trey
I really cannot stand flying commercial airlines. The entire reason we have four private jets is so that I never have to fly commercial. I never have to wait in line with noisy, smelly Midwesterners. I never have to eat substandard food.
I never have to do anything I don’t want to do. What is the point of being rich if you’re stuck doing this bullshit?
But somehow, here I am. My brother decided to leave DC a day early and took the jet with him without bothering to send it back. This morning, a courier arrived at my penthouse door with an envelope and a boarding pass inside. The scribbled note read, “Have a great flight, bro!”
I am going to kick Brock’s ass when I see him.
I don’t even speak to Jasper, the driver, as we head for the airport. I’m irritated beyond what I should be. I should at least show a little appreciation for Brock’s gamesmanship. It’s pretty good prank, I have to admit. But it’s a prank that involves me going through TSA security in a public fucking airport.
