by A. G. Henley
Mr. Venkatesan answered. “Although most students at VMA ski or snowboard, not all do. It’s an excellent school in its own right.”
“We’ll work out a cover story for you with Miss Venkatesan,” Brown added.
“And I’ll have a support team?” I asked.
“Of course.” And you’ll need it, his lifted eyebrow seemed to say. “I’ll be straight with you, Miss Rossi. I wouldn’t place an inexperienced graduate such as yourself in the field. But Veena has to be comfortable with the person protecting her. If she won’t let us near her, we can’t keep her safe. When I realized we needed a female, I came to Xene, and she recommended you.” If his words hadn’t already done the job, his expression would have told me exactly how doubtful he was about her choice, too.
Xene jumped in. “We should ask—are you interested in the assignment, Nicole?”
Was she kidding? Xene had a reputation for helping Juno grads find good jobs, but she’d been upfront with me from the start that my young age—twenty— and lack of real-world experience would be a problem. She’d told me I’d probably have to take some crap assignments for a few years to build my resume and my reputation. This job was like waking up Christmas morning to a giant, bow-topped car in the driveway.
I made eye contact with each person at the table and offered them what I hoped was my most confident and professional look. “Absolutely.”
“Good,” Xene said. “Unless there are other questions, we should allow the Venkatesans to get on with their evening.”
We all stood.
“I have a question first,” Ms. Venkatesan said. We sank back into our chairs. “You will give us what we want or find your family underground. That’s what those people said to my husband. The threat does not sound vague to me.” Her skin had turned sallow, and her eyes glittered with tears. I could smell the iron waves of fear coming off her. “If my daughter is truly in danger from these people, will you . . .?”
Her voice trailed off, but I understood. She had a simple question, and I had a simple answer.
I knew barely anything about Veena except that she was on the cover of People magazine at age sixteen, she was an Olympic hopeful, and she must not mind being cold. She probably had a huge head from being so successful, she might be a massive pain in the ass if she didn’t want security around . . . and guarding her was about to be my number one priority.
“I promise you, Ms. Venkatesan: I’ll do everything I can to protect Veena. Whatever it takes.”
And I meant every word.
Two
Xene walked the clients out to the parking lot. As they left, Ms. Venkatesan wiped tears from her eyes. I turned to Brown with a polite smile, but he only sighed.
“It would appear I’m stuck with you.” He wasn’t joking.
My smile faded away, and I swallowed any choice words I would have used if I’d been talking to anyone else. I’d been dreaming of this day for years. Pissing off my new boss in the first minute would be ignorant.
“I can tell I’m not exactly what you were hoping for, sir, but I’ll do everything possible to make sure you won’t regret the decision.”
He stared me down. “Too late.”
I tugged on the hem of my suit jacket and stood up straighter. “Well, I’ll do my best.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to fly back to Denver in an hour, but I’ll be in touch tonight with your offer, contract, and travel plans. I need you in Vail by Monday.”
Two days from now? It didn’t give me much time.
“You know how to study?” he asked.
“I graduated tonight,” I shot back.
He leaned his hip against the table, arms crossed. “I don’t mean the assignment. You better know how to prepare for that. I mean school. Your teachers and classmates at VMA will expect you to complete homework, take tests, and answer questions in class.”
I froze. Seriously?
“I hope you can swim, too,” Brown said.
Swim? At a ski school? “Why?”
He patted me on the shoulder like a kid. “Because, Rossi, you’re in way over your head.”
Xene came through the door, her eyes darting from Brown to me. “Everything all right?”
“I think we understand each other. Thank you for your help, Xene.” Brown shook her hand and strolled out.
The door closed, and I forced my angry breathing to slow. My temples throbbed like someone had jammed their fingers in them.
“Nicole.” Xene shook my hand with enthusiasm. “Sygharitiria. Congratulations.”
I collapsed into my seat, and a huge grin stretched across my face. “Did that just happen? Did I really get a CPO job?”
She lowered herself into the chair beside me. I always felt like one of those wobbly baby giraffes or horses next to her. She was graceful, even athletic, for her age.
“You should know . . . if Veena had not insisted on a young woman, and if Brown could have found anyone with experience who wasn’t already committed, he never would have hired you for this job.”
“Yeah, he made that pretty clear while you were gone.”
“I would not have hired you either.”
My confidence took another nosedive.
Xene continued. “You are newly certified, inexperienced, and although this shouldn’t matter, female.”
She’d talked with our class about this before, as we’d advanced through the course. As far as the mostly male old guard in the industry was concerned, I had three huge black marks against me: young, inexperienced, and female. Xene made sure all of her students at Juno understood what we’d face in this field as women. She’d put up with worse in her day.
I chewed on my lip. Should I have thought more about the assignment before taking it? Was it a bad idea?
She seemed to read my mind. “Understand me. I have full confidence in your training and acquired skills. You did well in the test for the clients today despite how it ended. But you haven’t had the time or experience to develop your decision-making.” In other words, I had skills but no judgment. “I would not have put you under this kind of pressure so soon.”
She paused as her words hit home, and then leaned toward me. “You’ll have Brown and the other members of your support team on site. Use them. Use their experience. They can help you. And I will offer something I don’t often extend to graduates of my program. You’ll have me, by phone, whenever you need me. Call me anytime, day or night, when you have questions or need advice.”
“Thank you, Xene. For everything.”
“Your performance, good or bad, reflects on this institution and on me. Make us proud.”
She shook my hand again, but she didn’t smile. She never did. Like bust open a grin. Would that be me in thirty or forty years? The smiles all shook out of me by the job?
I didn’t care. And I didn’t care if my new boss might be a dick. Being a CPO was all I wanted. This was my shot, and I was taking it.
“I got a job!” I yelled as soon as I hit the apartment.
Mom was exactly where I expected her to be after a long day of cleaning people’s teeth: sitting in her robe in a worn chair in the living room, watching Jeopardy.
“A job? What kind of job?” Her eyes, when she looked over at me, were hooded. She’d already taken her anxiety meds, then. She was supposed to have them before bed, but on bad days she took them early.
I bit back a snarky answer. I’d talked non-stop about Juno and CPO work for the last few years. Mom knew exactly what kind of job I meant. Was she more snowed than usual? Her benzos did that to her sometimes, especially if she took extra.
I perched on the couch across from her. “As a CPO, Mom. My assignment is in Colorado.”
“Colorado? Who needs a bodyguard there?”
“I can’t tell you; it’s confidential.”
She didn’t speak for a long moment. “Will it be dangerous?”
“Nope. Routine.” Probably.
She rubbed her dark, puffy eyes. Her grayin
g hair draped listlessly over her shoulders. “When do you leave?”
“In a few days.”
“When will you be back?”
I almost said as soon as the threat is over but instead, I focused on the positive.
“I’m not sure. But Mom, this job—Xene said it would pay well. I can pay back the loan I took out to pay for my training.” A loan my mother had reluctantly co-signed for. “A few more assignments and maybe I can get you a new car or even a down payment on a house near the mountains.” The Spring mountain range to the west of the city was the good side of town. We’d never lived anywhere near them.
She frowned like she’d sucked on sour candy. “You should have gone to college.”
I cracked my knuckles and closed my eyes, fighting to keep my anger and disappointment in check. Mom had been pissed when I’d told her my plan to go to Juno instead of enrolling in community college. Her dreams of me in a safe, steady career like accounting flew out the door, along with the heavy paperback SAT practice test book she’d been hounding me to study for months. It had just missed me as I left to sleep in the car.
I picked up the People magazine with Veena on the cover and stood. I had tons of prep work to do, starting with learning as much as I could about my client.
“Okay, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” I couldn’t grind the sharpness out of my voice, and sure enough, she deflated like an old party balloon.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I don’t want to fight. Please be careful. I couldn’t . . . I wouldn’t want to . . . ” She blinked back tears, and her chin trembled. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
My eyes flew to the dusty pictures on the bookshelf in the corner, partially hidden by a tragic plant. My parents and me as a little girl, before Dad left us. Gram, Mom, and me, before Gram died. A reminder of everything my mother had lost on one convenient shelf.
The anger leaked from my body. I knelt beside her and hugged her, but it felt like embracing a ghost. Guilt shot through me for thinking that, so I squeezed her harder.
“I know, Mom. You won’t have to.”
I really hoped I was right.
By Monday afternoon, I was in Colorado, closing in on the town of Vail.
Mom and I had said a tense goodbye that morning. I couldn’t tell if she was mad, sad, or what. I only knew I was ready to get out of our suffocating apartment and away from her long silences and distracted stares.
For two hours I climbed into the sky, driven in a car arranged by SSA. I waited to catch a glimpse of the town and resort I’d read so much about the last few days. And then there it was, snow-covered peaks looming over hotels, restaurants, shops, and homes. Multiple chairlifts rose up the mountainside, and little figures slid down the ribbons of sparkling white.
I smoothed my puffy jacket, a last-minute second-hand store find, and tried to calm down. My suitcase was in the trunk, stuffed with all the cold weather gear I could dig out of my closet, and a messenger bag at my feet held a laptop, FedExed overnight from Brown, loaded with information on my principal, Vail, and the school. My brain bloated with threat assessments, maps, and route information.
Ignoring the nausea I’d felt off and on the last few days, I ran over Veena’s classes again. What would she be like, and how would she do with a stranger—me—all up in her cozy private school life? I would share her room, her schedule, and probably her toothpaste, with only a few hours to myself while she trained. I questioned for the hundredth time how I would pull this scam off.
The only thing I didn’t wonder about was Vail Mountain Academy. I’d seen enough on their slick website.
Top-notch college preparatory courses? Check.
Expert ski and snowboard coaching? Check.
Gorgeous mountain setting? Check.
Fancy digs? Check.
Spoiled rotten teens? Check, check, check.
Ugh. I hadn’t exactly loved high school the first time around, and here I was going back.
The driver took me to the hotel where Brown and the team were staying, the Eagle’s Nest Inn, and I made my way upstairs. As instructed, I knocked at suite 212, and a guy opened the door about an inch, eyeing me through the gap. He looked to be late twenties with blond hair cut close to the scalp and a nose that had cozied up to a fist or some other unforgiving object once or twice.
“What do you want?” he said.
I licked my dry lips. “Um, I’m Nic—Nicole Rossi. I’m here to see D’Andre Brown—”
He grimaced. “No names. What’s the password?”
I shifted my suitcase in my sweaty palm, wishing I’d used the restroom in the lobby. “What? I don’t know. I wasn’t given one.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t let you in without it.” He closed the door.
I stood, head swimming, until I heard a muffled snort of laughter from inside. The door opened again.
“Just messing with you. C’mon in. I’m Mark Cooley, daytime team lead.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine.
Instead, I dropped my suitcase in it and stepped past him. “Nicole Rossi. Nice to meet you.”
Brown and two more men waited beside a small round dining table. My boss looked sour, while the other two snickered at Cooley’s stupid joke, or maybe at my response.
A faux leather couch, two armchairs, a TV, and a coffee table shared the space with a desk and the dining table, while a kitchenette took up the other half of the suite. A window overlooking snow-covered Vail Mountain stretched across the wall behind the men. In a separate room to the right, I glimpsed a squared away bed. Brown’s suite would be our headquarters, he’d told me. The place was nicer than Mom’s apartment.
Brown gestured to one of the other men. This one had wavy brown hair and skin pinked with sunburn. “Nicole, this is Bart, our logistics expert and driver.”
“Casey Bartholomew. A pleasure to meet you.” He had an English accent.
The fourth man had chestnut hair, uneven olive skin with some acne scarring, and round glasses. “Noah Kovitch. Nighttime team lead.”
All of them were six feet tall, plus or minus an inch or two, fit but not ripped, with short haircuts and clean-cut faces. None stood out for any physical reason—perfect for blending into most situations as CPOs. And they were all at least five years older than me.
I studied them, and they studied me right back. I wore jeans, heavy boots, and my winter coat. I’d thought casual dress was the right choice, given that I was headed to VMA to meet Veena after this, but the dubious looks on their faces made me wish I’d dressed more professionally. I tugged on the end of my ponytail, smoothing out the static.
“Have you eaten?” Brown asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m good.” I hadn’t, to be honest, but I had no appetite right now.
“Then let’s get started. We have a lot to cover.”
I slid out of my coat, and we settled around a table covered in folders, electronics, and several to-go cups of coffee.
“We’ll talk about the schedule first.” Brown pulled reading glasses from his forehead onto the end of his nose and opened a laptop. “Bart is in charge of logistics, including transportation. He’ll provide us with the principal’s daily agenda, arrange and organize resources, and work up any new intelligence.” His eyes flicked to mine over the glasses. “You know what a principal is?”
I know I just graduated, but how much of an idiot did he think I was? “Of course. Veena.”
“Black Diamond,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Black Diamond is your principal’s code name. We never call them by their names when talking to each other. While we’re on the subject, as a safety measure, we use nicknames or code names for ourselves as well.” His expression grew subtly sarcastic. “But of course, you knew that, too.” The others smirked.
I actually did know, thanks.
Black Diamond . . . I’d read online that ski resorts categorize their slopes by level of difficulty. They posted signs at the tops of runs to let peopl
e know what they were getting themselves into. Green circles were for beginners, blue squares were intermediate, and black diamonds were expert level. Double black diamond was neck-breaking territory.
Brown went on. “You will stay with Black Diamond at all times, of course, except your hours off. Cooley and his team will be your support at VMA during the day. Kovitch and his team are on at night. Bart and I will be here, coordinating. We’ll meet via teleconference daily.”
Got it. My job was to protect Veena. Brown made decisions; Bart was support. Cooley, Kovitch, and their teams would spell me, and if necessary, deal with any would-be attackers while I removed Veena from the situation. As Xene often told us, if the CPO had to fight, they’d already lost.
“What’s our comm system?” I asked.
Bart handed me a box. Inside was an Apple watch. The time and date glowed green from the square black face.
“It’s modified with a military-grade GPS tracking system. From here”— he touched Brown’s laptop—“we can monitor BD and coordinate with the teams, and you can reach us instantly from the watch with a voice command, text, or video call. I’ll show you how to use it later.”
“And what do I call you all?” I tried not to sound pissy.
Kovitch pointed at Brown, Cooley, then Bart. “Chief, Ice, and . . . Bart.” He shrugged. “And I’m Owl.”
My eyebrow quirked. “Owl?”
He rubbed his jaw but didn’t answer. Cooley happily shared.
“Short story involving a noisy owl and a trigger happy Kovitch on his first assignment.”
I tried on a tentative smile as they all laughed. “So what’s my code name?”
Brown threw me a look that seemed to say he’d warned me.
“Green,” Cooley answered. The guys guffawed.
Green. Greenie. A beginner.
I should have known.
Three
About an hour later, Bart drove me to campus.
Before we’d left the inn, he’d trained me to use my new watch. I’d never owned something so slick. I’d met Cooley and Kovitch’s all-male teams, and I’d suffered through plenty of hints that they thought I wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, or male enough to do this job. Assholes.
