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CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Isaac
I checkthe monitors to make sure Jax is ok. He’s standing at the main doors to the concert hall, his eyes scanning the room while Aurelia runs through some dance routine changes with her choreographer. I’m pleased she’s doing it—those moves have been on her mind all week. The choreographer needed some convincing, but after Aurelia showed us both the changes she wanted to make, and we saw how they could work, she was convinced, as was I.
I’ve never been a fan of pop music but the last few weeks have taught me there’s a lot more to it than a cheesy tune and a sickly sweet singer. The attention to detail is extraordinary, from the fastenings on the stage outfits to the exact key in which one small part of a particular song is sung. The thought that goes into each scene, each move, each exchange with the audience is, frankly, mind-blowing. And, Aurelia Bird is far from sickly sweet. As young and as seemingly innocent as she is, there’s a steely resolve behind those hazel eyes. She knows what she wants and she knows how to persuade others so she can get it. The only person she doesn’t seem to have any sway over is her stepfather.
I turn back to the email on my screen. He’s coming here now. Has something to discuss with me, in private. I told Aurelia I had some accounting business to take care of, and I feel guilty for lying to her. Little do I know, that excuse is not so far from the truth.
“Come in,” I call, when the knock comes at the door. “Mr. Bird.” I stand to greet him, rising about four inches taller than him. We shake hands and I gesture to the chair opposite.
“Isaac. Call me Chuck, please.”
“Chuck,” I smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, here it is. You’ve been working with my daughter for four weeks now. I wanted to ask how it was all going? She’s not giving you any trouble?”
“None at all, sir. It’s a pleasure to work with Aurelia.”
“Good to hear, good to hear.” He sits away from the edge of the desk, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, linking and unlinking his fingers. “I suppose you’ve had to sacrifice other work to take her on full-time, am I correct? You seemed to have a lot on your plate when we last met.”
“We’ve redistributed a lot of the work. There are no issues.”
He grinds his teeth. “Listen, I know my daughter is paying you herself.” I don’t blink, even when he releases an obvious, irritable breath. “Is it an appropriate amount?”
“Yes, it is, sir,” I reply, wondering where this is going.
“I can supplement that and make it even more worth your while.”
A heaviness appears in my stomach. I was hoping it wouldn’t be true, that Aurelia’s father wouldn’t try to buy me in some way.
“Go on,” I press, hoping I appear interested enough that he’ll be brutally honest with me. I need to know what I’m dealing with.
“Now that she’s staying here on the island, I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like.”
You didn’t see her anyway, I think.
“I’m sure you understand that, as a teenager, there are things she doesn’t like to discuss with her mother and father. We usually pick up on that if we’re close by, so we can look out for her safety. We took our eye off the ball when we first arrived in Miami. Her best friend, Ana, persuaded her to leave the hotel, without security. This put Aurelia at great risk and we had to deploy our entire security detail to bring her back safely. If we had seen the signs sooner, we’d have given Aurelia some kind of outlet, a break, anything to satisfy her need for a bit of independence and prevent a stupid incident like that happening.”
“I see.”
“What I’m saying is, this is the first time we haven’t had eyes on our daughter and, naturally, it makes her mother and me a little… anxious.”
“I can understand that.”
“We usually brief whoever is providing her security to update us on her movements, keep us up to date with her relationships, inform us of any uncharacteristic behaviors. And, of course, because of the additional reporting required, we compensate her security handsomely.”
“Right.” I lean back, stretch my arms overhead and place my hands at the back of my head. “So, you’re saying, you want me to update you on your daughter’s movements, friendships and behavior, how often?”
“Daily.”
“Without her knowing?”
“Absolutely.”
“You want me tospyon your daughter?” I say the words slowly, hoping it drives home the ridiculousness of it. It doesn’t.
“That’s not how I like to think of it, but, yes.”
