Page 12 of Caleb
Fuck me.
But I’ve got the solution to this problem: Keep communication with Miss Murphy to a minimum. Honestly, I plan to avoid eye contact altogether. Instead, I’ll focus on the task at hand: her security. If she wants to ask any questions, I’ll just relay those to Aaron. He knows how to deal with her.
I bumped into Miss Murphy a few more times in the parking lot area, whether she was leaving and I was arriving or vice-versa, and she always looked so sad. It breaks my heart to think she’s having a rough time dealing with her mother’s death. And I keep getting this feeling that she’s lonely.
She turned sixteen a few days ago. Aaron seemed on edge that day, and when I asked what was wrong, he kept saying everything was fine. The day progressed as usual. I went to the training facility, returned at around 6 p.m., and found Aaron sitting alone in the lounge with a closed book on his lap, looking out the window with bunched-up brows. I didn’t even need to ask what was wrong. The moment I stepped inside the lounge, he said, “It’s Miss Murphy’s birthday today.” But I already knew that from the briefing.April 11, 1989. She’s six years younger than me. I took note of it.
Curious about what Aaron had to say, I remained quiet and waited for him to speak again. After a while of him looking out the window in silence, he finally said, “Ambassador Murphy left last night for a business trip and won’t come back in two days. He sent her flowers, though. Or Annette did, anyway.”
Got it.
“So Ambassador Murphy is an asshole who can’t spend time with his daughter on her birthday?” I should probably be more careful about the things I say in the lounge. But we were alone that day, and it’s the truth.
“Tell me something new.” Aaron clicked his tongue, tossed the book on the coffee table, and stood up to keep staring out the window. I swallowed down the indecipherable feeling of seeing Aaron so distraught while having trouble imagining how Miss Murphy might have felt at that moment.
I wish there was something I could do to make her feel better about her situation, but I know it’s not my place, nor will it ever be. But today, I finally get to meet her.
After hitting the gym at 5 a.m., I shower, shave, and get into one of the black suits they provided a few days ago.
Breakfast is being served downstairs at the lounge like every morning, but I’m too anxious to eat anything, so I grab a cup of coffee while waiting for Aaron to come down. Apparently, I’m ready too early, just like an overly excited kid before hitting a school field trip. I was a second away from sleeping with the suit on.
Pathetic. I shake my head as I bring the mug to my lips. Damn, I can’t get over how good the coffee is here.
“Bonjour,” a voice chirps behind me. I turn around and see Annette. She looks impeccable as always. Her golden blonde hair is up, and she’s wearing the usual skirt suit, but this time it is in a burnt red shade. She must be somewhere around Aaron’s age, in her early 30s—a beautiful woman—and I think she knows it by the way she handles herself. “Ready for your first official day on the job,garçon?”
My French sucks, but I knowgarçonmeans boy, and all I can do is lift a brow in her direction. I’m no boy, and I’m sure she knows that, starting with the fact that I’m almost double her size. Not that I need to prove myself to her. I’m more than qualified for this job if I’m being honest. But I quickly dismiss the thought. She’s just trying to mess with me, I’m sure.
Annette pours herself a cup of coffee, and I reply in a steady tone, “I’m looking forward to getting started.”
“This fancy look suits you,” she says with a lopsided smile and a bright French accent, stirring the sugar she just poured into her coffee. She then leans in and whispers, “Miss Murphy is a very …tranquilleyoung lady, so don’t expect much action on the job.”
“Got it.” I offer a tight smile and take another sip of my coffee.
“So how come a French woman is working at the U.S Embassy?” I change the subject because the last thing I want is to talk about Miss Murphy with one of her father’s employees. “I would imagine they’d only hire Americans.”
Annette chuckles. She grabs a plate and a knife and takes a seat on one of the white leather chairs, elegantly crossing a leg in front of the other. “I could ask you the same thing, no?”
“Well yeah, but I’m guessing you already know the answer to that question.”
“That I do.” She picks a croissant from the basket of bread and tears off a piece with her fingers. She spreads a dab of strawberry preserves and takes it to her mouth. “Not that I haven’t already checked your files, but that accent of yours gives you away,garçon.”
As a precaution, I check the time on my watch because I don’t want to be late for my first day of work over watching a woman batting her lashes at me while she eats a croissant. But I still have twenty minutes before heading out to the parking lot and taking Miss Murphy to school. At least talking to Annette is helping with the nerves because, yes, I’m so fucking nervous with the anticipation of this day finally arriving.
“So?” I press, faking nonchalance. I’m curious about Annette, who’s looking at me with narrowed eyes, but not in a being-interested-in-herkind of way, just in general. It’s about wanting to know more about the people I’m working with.
“I have been working for Ambassador Murphy for the past eight years, ever since his term started in Bern,” she says almost proudly.
She seems to be a loyal and trusted employee. If she has worked with Ambassador Murphy since his time in Switzerland, that means she was in Mexico City when Mrs. Murphy died. That must’ve been rough on the staff and the security agents who knew Mrs. Murphy. I know Aaron feels helpless about the situation, but there was nothing he could’ve done to avoid what happened. His job was to protect Miss Murphy, and he did that.
“Good morning.” Aaron says, zeroing in on the coffee maker. He’s looking sharp in his black suit as he always does. Annette and I greet him back. “Ready, Cohen?” He grins as he fills his cup.
“Ready, Hirsch.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention you can call me Aaron in front of Miss Murphy.” He takes a sip of his coffee. I do the same. “But you’ll be Agent Cohen, as per Ambassador Murphy’s instructions.”
Of course. I honestly couldn’t care less. I already met Ambassador Murphy a few days after I arrived, and he addressed me as Caleb and has ever since. But I’m sure he would rather have his daughter do the standard last name thing with me. I get it. It’s an added layer of separation between us. Aaron, on the other hand, is practically family by now. Ambassador Murphy trusts him blindly with his daughter’s life.
A few more staff members arrive for breakfast when Aaron and I set down our mugs in the sink to head out. It’s time.
