Adelaide
I hate the satellite phone.
Not because I don’t know how to use it, but the line’s always full of static, and there are echoes and delays.
Moments of awkward silence are followed by moments of talking over each other. It’s a highly inefficient way of communication, and therefore most annoying.
What annoys me even more today is that I forgot to charge the battery. I have to ask Ford to hook up my phone to his solar power bank in his equipment tent.
I hate to depend on that mountain of a man, but it’s important to call right away and sort out this mess sooner than later so things can go back to normal around here.
Ford’s back is turned to me, and his huge shape moves like a rhino in front of me.
In his khaki vest and shorts, he even resembles the color of a white rhinoceros. His biceps bulge as he connects a couple of cables, then stands up.
“There. Voltage’s good.”
“Thanks,” I say curtly, eager to get on with my call.
I squat on the ground outside to open the satellite dish. I turn the phone on, and we both watch as the dish whirs and turns, getting a satellite connection.
Because the phone works best under the sky, I have to make the call right here, outside his tent, tethered to the power source.
“Would you mind giving me some privacy?” I say, swatting my hand.
I wanted to shoo him away, but made a mistake in waving my hand. Instead, it accidentally connects to his chest.
Oh my, what rock-hard pectorals!
Embarrassed, I feel myself blushing while I quickly pretend to swat a fly. He looks down at the ground, shuffling his boots.
He quickly ducks inside the tent and is back in a second, dangling a beat-up khaki hat in his hand.
He thrusts it in my direction.
“Hot out here,” he mumbles, gesturing to my full blonde hair with his chin while his steely blue eyes are trained on the horizon.
I swear, half his words get tangled in that thick beard.
I take the hat without a word and wait for him to scoot away.
As I bring up the hat, I catch a whiff of its smell.
Good God, how many years of brow sweat has this thing soaked up?
It’s musky, sweet, and sour at the same time.
Somewhat rank, yet underneath, somewhat…stimulating.
A minuscule tremor passes through my insides, and my knees feel slightly weak.
I quickly distract myself by punching an all-too-familiar number I loathe to call into the phone.
The receiver gives off a sequence of bleeps and static-like clicks, then a faint ringing comes on.
Standing directly under the sun, I notice it’s quite hot already, although it’s still early in the day. Ford actually hasn’t wandered off far, but has parked himself outside my hut in the half shade.
Who does he think he is, my bodyguard?
He’s glancing around with tiny movements of his head, but I’m sure he’s watching me under his mirrored Oakley shades.
At a distance, it gives him the appearance of a man-fly: a bristly monster with bulging, faceted eyes. A nuisance buzzing around me I need to get rid of.
There’s a click on the line.
“Hello?”
“Sten! I don’t have much time. But listen, just what the hell do you think you’re doing, sending me a security guy? I don’t need a babysitter!”
“Adelaide?” Sten’s voice comes over the ether, all groggy and confused.
“Of course, it’s me, brother. And just so we’re clear, you can’t talk your way out of this one! I demand you call off your grunt straightaway. How dare you interfere from afar with my work here? You have no idea of the conditions here!”
“Do you know what time it is? It’s the middle of the night, li’l sis!”
I’m so enraged by Ford’s presence and Sten’s meddling that I forgot about the time difference.
So, I woke up him up.
Good. It’s payback for acting without consulting me first.
“Well, this can’t wait. I can’t work like this, so would you please resolve the situation this instant? This guy’s not taking any orders from me! Call him back!”
Sten clears his throat, and I can hear him sit up in bed with an echo of ruffled blankets.
“Aide,” he says, knowing full well how much I hate it when he belittles me. “This is for your own good. For your protection.”
“I don’t need protection!” I shout at him, and our voices clash in the delay.
I glare at Ford, who acts as if he hasn’t overheard anything.
Is he seriously cleaning his nails with a bush knife?
“Aide...”
“Sten!”
Again, we talk over each other, and I exhale through my nostrils in frustration and exasperation.
This is taking far too long already.
I need to put my foot down, and then I need to be with my patients.
“Look.” Sten’s voice comes on soft again. “You can argue all you want, but you are who you are. You probably get so caught up in your work that you forget what you look like—but you’re a beautiful, young, and attractive woman who simply stands out over there. And you’re the daughter of billionaires. I hate to say it, but rationally, it’s just a matter of time until someone attempts something. You’re like a moving target with ‘pick me’ written all over you,” he says, a tinge of worry in his voice.
“Attempt something?” I ask.
“Abduction,” he blurts out. “Or worse—rape, torture, demands of money…you know.”
“Why Ford?” I cut him off again.
“He’s the best man for the job. I know him and I trust him. And wouldn’t you rather have a friend protect you than a stranger?”
“He’s not a friend, he’s...” I start, but I stop myself short.
An animal, I wanted to say.
Absentmindedly, I fan myself with his awful hat.
The smell’s overpowering. It’s so bad, yet a bit enticing. It’s sending another tingling wave through my insides.
I feel faintly…aroused and weak.
I plant my feet firmly apart and actually plop the hat on my head. It’s shielding my eyes from the sun, and now I can get a better look at Ford.
He’s eating—standing up, of course.
How well do I know this man? High school was a long time ago, and it was only a fumbling tiny, brief attempt at something he clearly didn’t feel.
Now he has the air of someone constantly on the job.
He comes on like a cop, or detective. An agent.
Yet his talk is all military lingo, terse and abbreviated.
Oh six hundred hours…what normal creature talks like that?
Right now, he’s chowing down on one of those ready-to-eat meals he’s brought with him by the truckload. MREs, as he call them.
He’s digging in, shoveling bits into his mouth with the spoon attached to his pocket multi-tool, all the while keenly observing his surroundings.
Somehow, my curiosity is piqued as I stand here, studying him.
But I also feel like Jane Goodall, studying a primate.
“Aide?” Sten’s voice finds my ear.
“Yep.”
My earlier anger has somewhat dissipated, and I just want to get off the line with my elder brother so I can get back to work.
“Let me propose this,” Sten says in his deal-brokering tone. “Ford can take your mind off security. He’s good, and once he’s all set up, he’ll fade into the background. You’ll hardly know he’s there.”
I’ll hardly notice him? That hulk of a man set up his cot in my hut!
“It’ll allow you to fully concentrate on why you’re there—to help your patients. With Ford protecting you, you can dedicate yourself to their needs.”
He has a point, as much as I hate to admit it.
I can’t help but feel manipulated by the far-reaching arm of my family. But sometimes, it’s wise to cede a step.
My patients are my priority.
“One misstep…” I raise my voice over Ford slurping something out of a tinfoil envelope. “One misstep by Ford and you’ll call him back instantly. Promise?”
Sten exhales with audible relief.
“I promise, Aide. Take care, li’l sis.”
“Don’t call me Aide, Sten.”
And with that, I end the call and place the receiver back into the cradle. I bend down to pack up the satellite phone.
As I get up and turn at the same time, I nearly bump into Ford behind me.
“Jesus!” I’m startled. “Where did you come from? For someone your size, you move with surprising stealth!”'
“Phone working fine?” he grunts.
“Yes, thank you.”
I stare at my reflection in his shades and realize I’m still wearing his ridiculous hat. But he’s no better sight, with traces of pink milkshake foam and oatmeal in his beard.
“You got a little something…from your MRE…” I say, pointing with my finger at his upper lip.
He runs the back of his huge hand over his mouth.
“Still there. Never mind, maybe you’ll get hungry later.”
He wipes his beard with the bandana tied around his neck.
Such class.
“If you’re staying, you should get accustomed to the local food.”
“I heard about a case of food poisoning,” he says.
With a swiping motion, I finally take off the hat and glare at him.
The silence between us is more awkward than talking on the satellite phone, but I can’t tear myself away and stand rooted to the spot.
This man’s his own planet, and I have to break out of his gravitational pull.
“Your battery is charging,” he grumbles. “But these old sealed lead acid ones take longer. Take this for now.”
He hands me a shiny new battery.
“Careful, it’s heavy. Lithium-ion. Better performance,” he says while I stare at it.
“Well, thanks. You know, this is Africa? We make do here with what we got, even if it’s not mil-grade, as you’d probably call it.”
He shifts position, and I watch in disbelief as the mountains of muscles rearrange themselves. He places his hands on his hip.
“Anyway,” I say, “for the time being, you’re not fired.”
I swear a brief grin peeks from behind his beard.
I push his hat against his chest, and our hands briefly touch as he grabs it from me.
His paws are surprisingly soft and tender, and oh so big.
How would it feel to be touched by those hands? To be held by those arms?
My gaze drifts to his biceps again, glistening with sweat in the sun.
He notices my roving eyes and raises an eyebrow over his shades.
My face is red hot as I snort and storm off, feeling his piercing eyes staring at my back.