by Jess Bentley
“Please stand by,” the face sniffs.
“No, stop!” I blurt out, slapping my palm against the metal plate in frustration. “Just let me in, would you please? I’m Dahlia’s friend, Bunny.”
“Please stand by,” he says again.
The face glides off to the left, disappearing from view though the screen stays lit.
“You think I’m armed or something? You think I pose some kind of threat?” I yell, not even sure the microphone is still on.
I feel kind of stupid yelling at a square on the side of a brick cube, not entirely certain how many cameras are recording this. Are people listening in? Are people skulking around in doorways and armored vehicles?
Christ. This is stupid.
I’m all sticky and hot, irritated that I had to walk all the way here. Now this jerk wants to antagonize me? Maybe this was a stupid idea. I didn’t have to come here, right? I could have just continued on home. I’m sure I would’ve made it there eventually. Or a bus! Now would’ve been a great day to discover the wonders of public transit in our fine city. I know there is one. I’ve seen the bus before, chugging down the few main roads. It would’ve gotten me somewhere, at least.
I stretch backward, raising my hands over my head. As I do, I get a whiff of myself. I’m all sweaty and gross, and I kinda smell bad. Great. Just great. If my cell phone wasn’t completely out of charge I could take a look at myself and see what kind of nightmare my mascara has turned into. I could feel it going all slimy as I walked. I probably look absolutely ridiculous.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Dahlia exclaims as she slides into view. Her eyebrows twist together in the middle as she stares into the video screen from somewhere inside this building. “Were you attacked or something? Do you need me to call 911?”
“Hi to you too,” I quip. “Um, do you think you could just go ahead and let me in?”
I hear the clang of some kind of metal device inside the ginormous door and it pops open about three inches.
“You’re alone?” she asks urgently, but I just ignore her and yank the door open the rest of the way.
I’m probably being laser scanned as I stand here in the empty foyer area. It’s all white marble, almost like an executive’s idea of a surgical room. Dahlia once told me that everything in this place was engineered for some kind of psychological advantage. Everybody’s an enemy, apparently. August is always looking for ways to let everyone know that.
It is a little over-the-top, if you ask me. I mean, I know he does real security stuff. He deals with real-life murder threats, gets celebrities away from stalkers or danger, and Dahlia has hinted that he still does secret government stuff from time to time. He’s a pretty well-connected guy. I know that’s all true.
But still, does he think he’s Tom Cruise or something? Jason frickin’ Bourne? Does it all have to be this fucking dramatic?
I just stand here and wait for a little while like a good girl. I know the drill. I’ve been here a few times since they rehabbed it, when they expanded for a bunch of new agents and their marital bliss at the same time. Which is cool, really. It was nice that August built the nursery and the master suite into the warehouse before little Knox was born. And I think it’s pretty cool that Dahlia gets to work from home. Living the dream, if you ask me.
I hear footsteps that seem to be coming from a mile away and hold my arms out slightly from my sides, just in case the laser scan is a real thing. It is sort of like trying to get through security at the county courthouse. I found that out the hard way when I had to go for jury duty. I didn’t realize that the county courthouse was going to be all metal detectors and x-ray machines and angry-looking security guards with Batman-type utility belts.
Why didn’t they tell me on the jury summons that I shouldn’t bring a switchblade in my purse? That could have saved me a lot of time, if you want to know the truth. That would’ve been a real public service, if you ask me.
But no, I just stuffed my bag in that shoebox thing and put it on the conveyor belt to go through the x-ray machine. All of a sudden, lights started flashing and everybody sprang into action like I’d raised an Uzi over my head.
Drama!
The footsteps get closer and I see Dahlia in silhouette through the wobbly security glass of the interior door. She yanks a card from a lanyard around her neck toward a small security screen. The bolt unlatches and she flings the door open, scanning me up and down with an expression of alarm.
“So, you’re okay? Are you sure?”
“It’s great to see you too,” I mumble as she inspects me, circling around me with her hands out like I might be covered in the blood of a homeless person or something.
“Bunny, be serious! What’s wrong! Do you need help? Are you under duress?”
She slides her hand on my back, like she’s feeling me for explosives. I twist away irritably.
“Okay, can you drop the super secret spy act for just a second?” I huff. “I’m fine. I just had to… you know. Walk.”
She blinks at me several times. “Walk?”
Suddenly, I’m aware of just how much my feet hurt. I wonder if I will still be able to return these boots.
“Yes, walking? You may have heard of it? Something people do when they get fired from their jobs at shitty diners and have to use foot power to get to their best friend’s house? The one who never calls or anything anymore? Like that? Sound familiar?”
“There is no reason to be sarcastic,” she sighs through her nose. “I just wanted to know you’re okay. You got fired?”
The room seems quite white. Glaringly white. Weirdly white.
“Are you going to invite me in or something? I would really love to sit down, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, sweetie, of course!” she smiles, briefly becoming my friend again. “Knox just went down for a nap, though, so keep it quiet, okay? He’s so difficult when he doesn’t get enough sleep.”
And just like that, my old friend disappears. Poof. Replaced by this mom robot.
She heads back to the security door, and I follow her quietly, sort of amazed how many doors there are in this place. It looks totally different than the first time I was here. Back then, it almost had that kind of loner bachelor rebel vibe to it. Now it’s full CIA.
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 supportin
g 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!”
