A Perfect SEAL

by Jess Bentley

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Okay, well. This one time, my unit and I were flying into a firefight in the middle east, and the helicopter we were on got shot down, so we had to bail out over the desert. We only have enough parachutes for three people and there were six of us, so…”

  Arie looks up from where she was leaning between her knees, and her eyes are wide with panic. “Are you kidding me right now? I’m freaking out about getting on a massive commercial airliner, in first class no less, and your way of making me feel better is to tell me a story about your plane crashing?”

  “I mean, it wasn’t a plane. It was a helicopter. So, not the same thing.”

  Arie groans and puts her head back between her legs, and I shrug. Chloe keeps playing with her puzzle, and I answer some emails until priority boarding for the first-class cabin is called. Arie finally looks back up, and her face is practically green.

  “This was a bad idea. I’ll just stay here. You can pick me up in the airport when you get back. I’ll make do, live in the terminal, like that Tom Hanks movie. What was it called?”

  I snort laugh. “The Terminal?”

  “Yeah, that one. Pick me up at Cinnabon in three weeks. I may be a hundred pounds heavier, but you’ll spot me pretty easily.”

  I hoist Chloe onto my hip, then grab Arie’s arm and pull her to her feet. “Come on. I don’t pay for priority boarding just so I can get jammed through the line like cattle. Besides, we need to get Chloe settled. This is her first flight too, so you can figure out how to toughen up together.”

  Chloe just grins and looks at Arie like she’s the silliest person in the world, which I find endlessly amusing. I have to practically drag Arie to the gate, and when we get there, it’s up to me to hand the ticket agent all of our information.

  “Welcome, Mr. Cochran? And do you have your wife and daughter’s tickets as well?”

  That snaps Arie back to reality. “I’m not his wife. Not. His. Wife. Arie Blanchard. Do you need my passport? I have my passport. But if there is any kind of problem with the ticket, I’m sure it’s not too late for me to go home.”

  I roll my eyes, but the agent just grins, as if she’s seen this a million times before. “No problem, Miss Blanchard. When you get into your seat, let your flight attendant know that Angela said to give you the ‘knuckler special.’ You’ll thank me later.”

  Arie looks suspicious, but it distracts her enough that I can push her down the jet way and into her seat. As I watch her grab hold of the armrests, her fingers turning white from a death grip, I can’t help but chuckle.

  It’s going to be a very long day.

  Arie

  I’m still not sure what the “knuckler special” is, but the gate agent was right. I want to thank her. The first-class flight attendant brought me a drink that I chugged down as soon as we got in our seats, and within minutes, I felt like I was flying high on something other than an airplane. I looked over at Pierce with a grin once we were airborne, and let out a long, lazy sigh.

  “Flying isn’t so bad.”

  But what I thought I said isn’t what came out. It sounded more like, “Fwazing imnt to blarb.” Pierce just laughed at me and patted my arm.

  “Go to sleep, little stoner.”

  The next thing I knew, I woke up and we were in Los Angeles, rushing to make the flight to Sydney. Chloe was a trooper the whole time, napping and playing with her toys, drinking her juice and munching happily on snacks provided by the attendants, all of whom fell in love with her. I stayed drugged on the magic knuckler potion the entire time, and before I know it, Pierce is gently shaking my arm.

  “We’re landing, Arie, and I need to drop you two straight at the hotel and go right to our new office. The plane is late getting in and I don’t have time to piss around. Will you be conscious enough to look after Chloe?”

  I stretch and cross my eyes, then let my tongue loll out of my mouth, before laughing. “I’m fine, Pierce. We’ll get unpacked at the hotel and then go look for some food. Don’t worry about us.”

  An hour later, we are at a boutique hotel on High Street, and Chloe and I are sitting in a living room in a loft suite, watching Pierce run back out the door. As always, she is impervious to change. I am perpetually in awe of my little girl’s ability to roll with the punches and adapt to any situation. Meanwhile, I have no idea what time, or day, it is, I’m starving, tired for no reason, and suddenly can’t remember what side of the road they drive on in New Zealand.

  God, I hope I don’t have to drive us anywhere.

  Chloe and I spend the day walking up and down the High Street, checking out the shops and the food, and eating samples of anything anyone will give us (mostly because Chloe is so adorable). Pierce didn’t give us any money before he left, and I certainly don’t have any, so we’re relying on the kindness of strangers, and it turns out that strangers in New Zealand are exceptionally kind. By the time the sun starts to set, and it begins to get really chilly, I decide to take us back to the hotel. If Pierce is going to be working all night, I figure we can eat at the restaurant in the lobby and charge it to the room. He can’t be mad about that, right?

  We head back to the hotel room, and when I open the door, I almost have a heart attack. Standing in an elegant suit, holding a single flower.

  “What do you say to a night on the town?”

  Pierce

  When I get to our new CSL offices in a beautiful classic building on High Street, just up the road from hotel, I am utterly shocked at what I find. I expected to show up to an empty block of cubicles, or a loft space that hadn’t been furnished yet, since our plans for opening up in Auckland had been fairly last minute. Instead, into a huge, beautiful office space with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams, polished wood floors, a Victorian-designed interior, and an open work space complete with a vintage pool table. There is a “boss’s office” off the back, but the sliding doors are mostly glass and rich antique wood, giving it an accessible feel that nothing in our building in New York has. Even the bathrooms are state-of-the-art, with showers and changing rooms, making them perfect for long work nights or employees returning from extended trips.

  We still haven’t hired anyone to work here, or cover the office full time; that is one of the tasks my father has assigned me while we’re in Auckland. Our first clients are due in an hour, and without a receptionist, that means I have to cover everything myself. I don’t mind, but it doesn’t look terribly professional for me to answering the phone and welcoming clients myself. For a moment, I consider calling Arie and having her pretend to be my secretary, just for the day, but then I decide she and Chloe are better off having a day to themselves.

  I barely have time to log into the computer and confirm the client meeting before two men from the New Zealand government are standing outside the sliding door, looking grim and serious. I try to remain as calm as possible as I greet them.

  “Gentlemen! You must be from the consulate. My name is Pierce Cochran, and I am Head of Overseas Logistics and Security Maintenance. I will be coordinating all of your initial planning with CSL until the office is organized.”

  The men each take a seat across from the desk without me offering. The taller of the two hands me a business card. “My name is Spencer James, and the formalities are unnecessary. We are very well-acquainted with the world Cochran Securities does, and we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t prepared to sign with you today. There is just one caveat.”

  I lean across the desk. “I’m listening.”

  “We need very… focused attention. And it will require full-time concentration from someone who knows the industry inside and out. So, we are hoping that you will consider relocating to Auckland and handing the project yourself.”

  I sit back, not sure I just heard him correctly. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that? You want me to do what?”

  The short, round fellow scootches forward in his seat and holds out his hand, but doesn’t offer me a name or a business card. “Mr. Cochran, we’
re not really from the consulate. We’re not at liberty to say what our business is until you agree to our terms. But when my associate says we need someone with a special set of skills, a history in the industry, and a reputation for being a standup guy, assume those terms are non-negotiable. Our business requires discretion, concentration, and talent. We’ve done our homework and we know you are the man for the job. Now all we need is assurance that your attentions will be entirely on us, here, full-time, and the contract is yours. And Mr. Cochran?”

  “Yes?” I respond trying to hide all of the nervous energy that is bubbling up inside of me.

  “Trust me when I say, you and your company want this contract.” He reaches into his pocket and pull out a piece of paper, then slides it across the desk. I pick it up, look at it, and don’t understand.

  “What is this? An account number?”

  They laugh. “No, Mr. Cochran. That’s how much we’ll pay you.”

  My jaw drops.

  “Per five-year contract. At the end of every five years, we’ll reevaluate our situation, and if we’re all happy with how things are going, we will re-up. With a .5% increase in payment.”

  I sink down into my chair like the I’m a balloon that has just been popped. This is too good to be true! This is… oh, shit. This is too good to be true.

  “Is what you do illegal? Is that why we’re going through all the pretext? Because if you’re operating some sort of illegal business, I can’t and I won’t get my family involved.” I am actually confident my father would take the money regardless, but I’m not my father. The men just laugh and shake their heads.

  “On the contrary, Mr. Cochran, what we do is quite the opposite of illegal. But that is for another time. Please, consider our offer. And then, call the number on that card. We’ll give you twenty-four hours to think it over.”

  The men quickly get up, shake my hand, and then walk out the door before I can say anything else. And I’m left standing in the office, staring at the payment offer they left on my desk, trying not to cry from happiness. If I pulled in an account this big, Dad would have to let me do whatever I wanted. Go wherever I wanted. If I wanted to leave Manhattan, and start a new life in New Zealand with Chloe, for that amount of corporate profits? No way he’s going to tell me no. Chloe is still young enough that a move this big won’t mean much to her. If anything, it will help her fully leave behind whatever memories she might have the life she had before she came to me. I try not to think of it too often, how bad it must have been for her until she got to me. Auckland would be a fresh start.

  For both of us.

  And then I think of Arie, sweet Arie, taking care of Chloe right now, as I sit here making this huge decision. She’s barely been back in my life a week, and I feel like no time has passed at all. We both look like we’ve lived whole lifetimes in the years between, but when I’m with her, it’s like we’re teenagers again. Except I’m not being a jerk. I can’t stand the idea of leaving her behind again, so soon after getting her back in my life. But would she ever consider moving here with us? Even just as Chloe’s caretaker?

  The idea of being with her doesn’t scare me anymore, but it might scare her now. Just because she’s forgiven me enough to work for me doesn’t mean she has enough to be with me in any other way? I realize I’m not going to find the answers sitting here in this empty office, so I make the decision to talk to Arie. There is no point in driving myself crazy if she won’t even consider leaving New York.

  I rush out of the office building and back to the hotel, but find that Arie and Chloe are gone. They must have gone out for a walk, and it’s definitely still too early to worry. So, I call down to the front desk.

  “Concierge. Good evening, Mr. Cochran. What can I do for you?” a cheerful female voice answers.

  “Yes, hello. I was wondering if you offered child care or babysitters of any kind? I was hoping to take my friend out for dinner tonight and didn’t want to drag my daughter along as well.”

  “Ai!” she responds even more cheerfully. “For our most important visitors, we can certainly arrange that. What time would you like your trained childcare to arrive this evening Mr. Cochran?”

  “Seven o’clock this evening? Can you recommend a restaurant? We’ve only just arrived and I’m afraid I don’t have my bearings yet.”

  She sighs, as if she’s already jealous of food I haven’t even had. “Oh, yes, sir. One of the finest restaurants in the country, Civace, is located just up the street from us. I will call and book you a table. They should have no trouble making space for you.”

  The concierge confirms the details and I hang up the phone with a spring in my step I can’t quite explain. I hurry into the bedroom up at the top of the stairs and change into my favorite navy blue, ultra-tailored suit. I hear the front door of the room opening just as I get back to the living room, so I grab a daisy from the vase and put on my best smile before Arie and Chloe can come in. When the door opens, Arie’s jaw drops.

  “What do you say to a night on the town?” I ask with a mischievous grin. Arie just continues to stare. Chloe reaches out for me, so I grab her from the stroller and give her a hug. Finally, Arie finds her voice.

  “Why are you dressed like that? What happened? How can we go out? It’s way too late for Chloe to go anywhere. And she’s probably exhausted. We’ve been out exploring all afternoon.”

  I hold up my free hand with a laugh to stop her nervous train of thought. “It’s all taken care of! I’ve arranged for a babysitter for Chloe, and we’re going to go to the one of the nicest restaurants in Auckland.”

  Arie raises a suspicious eyebrow at me. “How could you possibly find a babysitter in Auckland when we’ve been here for six hours and you don’t know anyone? And I’m not sure I have anything appropriate for a ‘nice’ restaurant. I came here to New Zealand with exactly what I moved in with. Which is to say, not much. What would I wear?”

  I pick up a brochure off of the coffee table that outlines the services offered in the hotel. “There is a store right downstairs! I’ll give you some money and you can go buy a dress if you’d like to feel a little fancy. We have some time before the reservation, so there is no rush. Find something that makes you happy.”

  “Pierce, I don’t know about any of this,” she says, bristling. “You paying me to watch Chloe is one thing, but giving me money for designer clothes is quite another. I’m not comfortable with that.”

  I roll my eyes. “Arie, it’s a dress. Not a car. I need to talk to you about some things and I don’t want to do it in a McDonalds. Here,” I say as I hand her a stack of rainbow-colored Kiwi money from my pocket. “Our reservation isn’t until seven, and the babysitter will be here at 6:30. So, go shopping. Have some fun. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  Arie looks apprehensive, but she takes the money and nods, and walks out the door like she’s being led to a firing squad. I just shake my head and settle in with Chloe to watch some TV.

  That girl has more secrets than a government spy, and I’m going to figure out what they are…

  Arie

  I step into the posh store on the first floor of the hotel, and immediately, six sets of eyes all turn to me like I am a woodland troll who has wandered into a royal palace. I look down at my torn jean shorts, and baggy button-down shirt, and can’t entirely blame them for thinking I don’t belong here. I clearly don’t. One glance at a price tag confirms that without Pierce’s money, I couldn’t afford so much as sock in this store. One of the salespeople walks up to me with a very condescending look in her eye, and I’m prepared for an exchange that will send me running back upstairs.

  “Hello… miss. Are you a guest of the hotel?”

  I cross my arms over my chest in a self-conscious move I don’t entirely plan. “Yes, I’m staying in the Bradford Suite.”

  The expression on all of the women working in the store changes in an instant. All at once, I have a glass of champagne in my hand, a plate of chocolates in my lap, and a coll
ection of dresses being show to me that there is no way in hell I would ever wear. Hanger after hanger of slinky, lacy, short dresses is flashed in front of me until I feel like Julia Roberts in that rom-com, except in reverse. I’m not sure where these women think I’m going tonight, but it’s clear they don’t intend to dress me for dinner at a nice restaurant.

  “Ladies,” I say, holding up my hands, “listen. I am… pretty conservative when it comes to my style of dress. I don’t do well with flashy outfits. Do you have anything a little more… relaxed?”

  The women look at each as if I’ve just let the air out of their tires. One sighs and clicks her nails on a glass countertop.

  “Well, we just received the new Carolina Herrera collection today. I’m sure there is something in there you would like. Give me a moment.”

  She disappears in the back and returns a few moments later with an armful of garment bags. The ladies start unzipping bags, and I see a collection of dresses that are much more my style. The last dress she removes from a bag makes my heart leap out of my chest. I’ve never had this reaction to clothing before, but there is something about this dress that just calls to me. It’s an A-line, tea-length dress with a nude slip, covered by beautiful tulle and mesh, embroidered with black ivy. The jewel neckline gives it a classic look; it looks like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn in the 50s and I love it.

  “That one. Can I try on that one?” I ask, pointing to the dress.

  “Of course, you can! Looks like it’s in your size, and it will look beautiful on you. We’ll find you the perfect shoes to match, and can we set you up with our makeup person? She can give you a makeover so you look completely sensational for your big night.”

  I cringe. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just the dress and shoes will be fine. I’m not a makeup person.”