Page 3 of Watching Her

Was he trying to convince me?

He finally realized I was standing right beside him and held out his glass. Yet in doing so and being so close, I noticed a single twitch in the corner of his mouth.

By traditional standards, the nervous gesture wouldn’t mean a single thing other than maybe tension from a difficult night’s sleep or anxiety about an occurrence in his personal life.

Except I’d flown him first class, allowing him to enjoy lobster and steak and other delicacies on the plane.

Only I knew exactly what he was experiencing, the heightened level of tension that had already furrowed inside his mind like a flesh-eating worm. Soon it would manifest in sweat across the back of his neck and perhaps on his upper lip.

But then, his armpits would be stained, his stench of fear capable of rivaling the heavy salt of the ocean.

I certainly wasn’t doing anything to drive his level of anxiety to the breaking point. There was no need. In fact, I liked to think of myself as a consummate host.

“Yes, we are,” I agreed before returning the bottle to the cooler. “This is the perfect fishing spot as well.”

“Oh, yeah?” He twisted his head as I sat down on one of the upholstered benches, crossing one leg over the over. “It’s been a long time since I went fishing.” His laugh was wrapped around a memory. I studied his facial expressions as his mind shifted gears, moving through time until he secured the perfect series of images.

“Your father?”

He half chuckled. “My dad was a son of a bitch, but when he was out on the ocean, he was entirely different. For a few hours, he was the greatest dad in the world. The best memories when few exist.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

His shrug was filled with pain, which could under some circumstances allow me to feel bad for him. This wasn’t one of those times. “We can’t pick our families, now can we?” His hand was trembling just enough that I noticed. Some might allow themselves to believe the slight action was caused by the swell of waves shifting the boat back and forth.

I knew better.

“No, we cannot.”

“How is your dad since retirement?” His question was laced with true curiosity. Their friendship, much like my relationship with my father had been arguably toxic. My father could easily fly off the handle for the smallest infractions.

My laugh was genuine. Men like Markham Tempest never fully retired. They simply played armchair quarterback when they found it convenient to do so.

“He doesn’t like to sit still. He’s currently somewhere in Malaysia.” I didn’t add with a new girlfriend. I could no longer keep track. A bitter taste formed in my mouth no amount of scotch could disguise.

“That’s what happens when you get older. Tell him I said hello. We had some good times together. He was a tough man, but fair.”

“Yes,” I agreed, although he’d never truly faced the full effect of my father’s rage. “You did. However, you only witnessed one side of him. Not the side where he exacted strict discipline on his two children, treating them as cadets in some unseen army.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “I didn’t know.”

Of course he knew. “Yeah, well, he preferred keeping all the dirty little family secrets locked away. I will say one thing.” I stopped and enjoyed a gulp of scotch. Smooth yet tangy. A perfect combination for the day and the task I was about to perform. “His life lessons, while both Kingston and I hated them and the man doling them out, have certainly been helpful over the years.”

“Your father is highly intelligent and certainly had every reason to be proud of his two sons.”

“Yes, he’s highly intelligent. And very astute, which he also passed onto both sons. Grab the fishing rod.”

I leaned back in the seat, lifting my head toward the sun. It was turning out to be a glorious day.

He did as I asked and by his actions, including with baiting the lure, I could tell he’d done this before. Then he should know what to expect. I would give him credit. He’d managed to stop two highly intrusive cyber-attacks almost immediately after he’d come on board, which had earned him a hefty bonus. I’d been working in the accounting department at the time, my father insisting I learn how to spot disruptions in case something of that caliber had ever appeared again.

I’d become fascinated by the skills needed by hackers, studying their successes and failures. Almost always the most significant failures could be traced to one flaw, one single weakness that everyone had buried deep inside and given the right opportunity brought to the surface.

Greed.

With the newer state of the art system installed mere months after, my father had breathed a sigh of relief, able to sleep more easily at night.

That was something I hadn’t gained from my father. I rarely slept.