Special Clearance

#𝟎𝟎𝟏

chapter one
five months earlier...

     "Okay, I need a synonym for 'cold hearted'. Seven letters." Chris clicked his pen, the way he always did when his mind was working. The New York Times crossword was in his lap, fresh from the newsstand on First Street—a good Chief of Staff, but terrible at puzzles.

Morning traffic in Washington was horrible, but unlike Chris, I didn't need something to keep my mind occupied. The dread of my appointments that day were enough: lunch on the Hill, press, more press, a dress fitting. While was busy chewing my lip until it nearly bled and wishing the SUV was taking me anywhere but my office, Aaron decided to tease me.

"Natalie," Aaron offered, grinning in that sly way he always did. If it was anyone else, I would have knocked their teeth out, but he just had that kind of face you couldn't be mad at: kind, too soft looking to be ex-Secret Service. (Yeah, I poached him.) Aaron might have been all smiles, but I knew better. He wasn't afraid of a damn thing.

     I rolled my eyes. "It's 'austere', Chris."

     "A...u...s..." Chris mumbled aloud, filling in the column. "You're amazing. If you knew the writers, you'd tell me, right? They're not emailing you the answers the night before?"

     As it turned out, my roommate from undergrad worked for The Times, but I'd rather not feed Chris' delusions. Late 40s and divorced twice—the crosswords were all he had. And working to make my life easier, of course.

"Well, I resent that. I'm not 'cold hearted'. That fucking Post op-ed called me the 'Ice Queen' a year ago. I didn't think it was gonna stick. It's not my fault—this is my resting face," I gestured in front of my eyes. "Plus, I got the fillers dissolved. I'm all natural."

That elicited a laugh from Chris, who was—shockingly—stuck on another word. "Yeah, you're all natural the same way my ex's new boyfriend only started seeing her after we broke up."

     "Save it for therapy, man," Aaron gave me an encouraging cock of the head, like a 'get a load of this guy' bit from a TV show. Always with the jokes, but some things ran deep. He never saw that.

     Chris' comment made me unconsciously rub at my nose. I'd gotten rhinoplasty as a high school grad gift. I could have picked the cruise or the Beemer, but no, I'd let stupid Katie Holden from AP Lang bully me into going under the knife.

    "How's Kelsey?" I asked Aaron, changing the subject.

     My bodyguard's face lit up. He twisted the gold wedding band on his ring finger. "Oh, she's nine months on the dot tomorrow. I feel like we found out yesterday. It's unreal."

     Aaron's wife, Kelsey, getting pregnant had been a surprise—abet, a happy one. He'd been worried about the risks that came with the job. The stakes were higher when you had kids. I understood that. But, that baby was coming, and something told me Aaron was going to knock being a dad out of the park. If he'd protected the President, he could handle a few dirty diapers.

     "Well, dumbass, if you worried less about my personal life and bothered to check your email, you'd notice someone bought that fancy stroller on my registry," Chris eyed Aaron over his glasses, seemingly given up on the crossword.

     "Chris, you did not, man," Aaron couldn't have grinned bigger, reaching across the seat to nudge him.

     "Did, now shut up. I need to Google the answers." The SUV pulled up flush with the curb. Chris was way too eager to hop out, gathering up his stuff and shoving it in the messenger bag he toted around. "See you at the morning brief."

When Chris was gone, Aaron took great care in walking around the SUV and opening my door. He wasn't a chauffeur, which I reminded him, but he always said he didn't mind.

    I took his hand, but he didn't pull me up—not yet. Something had changed now that we were alone, the lines on his face set deeper. "I need to talk to you about something. Not here...later."

     Woah. Cryptic, much?

    "Of course," I replied, because what else was I supposed to say? Did he need time off for the baby? Problems with Kelsey?

     I tried to run through the possibilities when he helped me out of my seat. That was the last thing I remember before the SUV exploded.

     Bits and pieces would come back to me now and then: the burning heat, what it felt like to be blown forward and my vision going white. My ears rang. It was terrifying and violating. Then it was dark.

     I woke up in a hospital bed. The bright florescent light above me made me think I'd died for a second—seriously disorienting. It was a minute before I could even breathe right, the steady beep, beep, beep, of the heart monitor confirming that I was, in fact, still kicking.

     My bones were heavy and my head was even worse. The window that looked out into the hallway had blinds—they were shut. Through the cracks I could make out suits and sidearms. It was just me in a sterile room and a wicked headache.

     And Chris, who was sitting in a chair nearby. No crossword, no Civil War book, no podcast about woodcarving. Just staring straight ahead like a sad, middle-aged statue.

My head rolled to the side. "...Hey," I croaked.

"...You've got a concussion," Chris reported, eyes like glass. The lines on his face were more pronounced somehow. Could you age ten years in a single moment? Every word was agonizing. Something was wrong. "Nothing broken, mostly burns." My left arm and both legs were wrapped. I must've been on some strong shit, because I barely felt a thing. "The doctor'll be back in a minute. Don't let the feds outside spook you, they gotta go through me."

I didn't even have time to think about what it all could mean. I'd figured out what was wrong. "Where's Aaron?"

Chris' facade broke. He turned his head towards the door. I'd never seen him cry. It filled my throat with bile. Chris was a rock, the team's rock. I'd watched him scream in the face of career politicians' staffers without batting an eye. He was the only person I knew with the courage to ask baristas to fix his coffee after he ordered it. He left work to sign his second divorce papers and came right back after.

Not just anything could shake Chris to his core. He didn't have to spell it out for me. I knew, I just knew.

I closed my eyes and wished for better mornings.

© cherubial 2024