The Math Teacher

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Chapter Three

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Ms Nichols/Nikki

It took me three more days to screw up my courage to call Anthony Stewart. In my third period advanced calculus class I was aware of Julie Martine's wide brown eyes studying me, her face entirely neutral. As a teacher I have perfected a blank face of my own—the things the kids say! Omigosh!—but hers was Olympic gold medal quality. A+ on No Expression, I thought.

Late Thursday afternoon I had graded all the week's quizzes and posted the grades on-line by 5 PM. Happily free of work I was headed out to my car, unburdened by my usual stack of teacher homework and I saw Julie sitting on the front steps of the school in her blue soccer practice uniform, apparently all alone. "Hi, Julie! Late practice?" I called.

"Yes, my dad's on his way though, no problem." She stood up politely when I walked over to her and she bestowed her movie star smile on me, giving me a perfect memory of a man and a smile and a call that I owed him.

I said, "It was nice to meet your uncle the other day…."

"Yeah...I mean, yes, he's awesome."

"Is he your mom's brother or your dad's?" I'd met both of the adult Martines on Open School Night in September and saw no resemblance. And part of me could not believe I was pumping a child for info about a hot guy.

Julie stared at me for a few beats, seeming to consider. Then, "He's sort of my daddy's brother."

"Really? But—his name was not Martine, was it?" As if I totally had not memorized the man's business card.

Julie shrugged. "Not my dad—my daddy." She pulled out her expensive cell phone and nimbly working the touch screen she pulled up a photo to show me. "He's, like, my biological father…." I leaned in to look at the little screen. Headshot. Oh. Hot, hot young man in dark glasses, camouflage military hat with the brim turned up on one side and the military insignia there blurred out. Bare brown shoulders under heavy-duty camouflage flak vest or body armor. Fashionably grungy five o'clock shadow and diamond earrings.

Wide white smile.

Wide famous white smile. This man was the notorious but nameless young soldier from last year's CNN coverage of a quasi-military rescue in the Middle East. The press had called him the man with the million dollar smile, he was that well-known.

I'd have said it was totally unbelievable that he could be related to Julie Martine or Anthony Stewart, except for the fact that he looked exactly like both of them. And I supposed on some level it explained Julie's intensive security parameters. I was still trying to process the idea when Julie snapped the phone off and said, "There's my dad now! Bye, Ms Nichols!" She ran down the steps to the white Dodge Dakota pickup truck that had one of those magnetic commercial signs on the door. It said Martine Brothers Air Conditioner Repair & Installation in red letters. The window rolled down and a nice-looking early forties-ish Hispanic man waved.

Julie's dad.

….. …. …

I went straight home and picked up the embossed white card and called the number on the back.

"M and S International, this is Mr. Stewart's line. Danielle speaking. How may I help you?" said a young woman with a very posh British accent. Baffled, I hesitated and then asked for Anthony Stewart.

"Mr. Stewart is unavailable at the present. May I have him return your call? Or I can take a message."

"Oh! No! Well, can you tell him that Alyssa Nichols called? Alyssa Nichols from Miami called?"

"Oh, Ms Nichols." The voice got noticeably warmer. "He was hoping you would call. I'll let him know right away!" I could hear the smile in her voice.

I said, "Oh, well, thank you." And we hung up.

…. …. ….

Anthony

DC: The new HLS—Homeland Security-—dude had dragged me here for a debriefing.

I am gonna have to add a clause to my contracts: No Debriefings. Ranger would just say charge them extra but I just don't have the time or the patience. I should have been in Geneva by now for a meeting I had scheduled at The International Economic Summit Conference. But the worst part of this thing in DC was that HLS had allowed some honchos from the Senate Antiterrorism subcommittee to join us. The bad thing about that—besides the second guessing shit and the boredom factor—was that one of the politicians had been on the Congressional Long-term Financial Status committee and he kept looking at me like he should maybe know me.

LOL. I was in disguise! I'd had my hair cut a bit-so no braids, just longish, couple inches? on the top with buzzed sides and I had Brylcreemed it back—did you know you can still buy Brylcreem? Cheap white short-sleeved shirt with plastic pocket protector full of Bic pens, too big khaki Dockers cinched high at the waist by a sixties vintage wide leather belt. Suede Hush Puppy shoes, white ankle socks and CVS reading glasses. Nerd chic without the chic factor. The pants were baggy enough to hide my gun at the back waist, further disguised by the tucked-in white shirt.

Damn! I am so cute.

My cell vibrated and I got up and walked out into the hall. I figured the suits would never miss me.

Huh. Text from Danielle my exec assistant, saying that Alyssa Nichols had finally called. The message ended with her phone number and Dani's editorializing Yay! Shit, even Dani wanted to fuck with my love life. She glommed onto my "thing" for Steph and was totally disapproving. I tried to tell her to butt out, you don't understand, meaning the psychic connection I felt with Stephanie. Dani had shrugged calmly and retorted, "You're hot but you're an idiot, you need to get a life."

So now I'm thinking Alyssa the math teacher is very cute. And I supposed, normal.

Before I could return her call, the senator formerly from the finance committee stepped into the hall. He glanced at me and said, "Bathroom break."

"Do you need a hall pass?" I said sarcastically.

He looked surprised at my rudeness then he said, "Don't I know you?"

I let myself morph from dork to badass and sent my best scary vibe. "No."

The senator backed away."Sorry, my mistake." And he scuttled off to the men's room. Fast.

I guess the laughter was still in my voice when Alyssa answered her phone because she seemed happy to hear from me.

…. ….. ….

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Alyssa Nichols/ Nikki

After the hey how are you's a short silence developed. I said, "So, um, you're probably wondering why I called…."

His voice held a smile and he said, "To say Hi?"

"Well, no. I mean yes! But really I wanted to apologize. I—um—I did look you up on-line."

"Uh huh."

"Your CV is impressive. Your work on chaos fractals and pattern sequencing! Correlating the quantum random factors in cyberspace—using that as a jumping off point for the design of web enhancement: it was profound, really. It changed fundamental, intrinsic computer design. I'm …impressed."

"Babe."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's no big deal and you know, it was like a really long time ago."

I laughed. "Yeah, you're such an old man, aren't you!"

"It 's just that I've moved on, so to speak." He spoke to someone in the background, then to me: "Sorry, interruptions."

"You sound annoyed?"

"Not with you, Alyssa. I'm in a meeting and I stepped out for a break. These idiots think they…oh nevermind."

The conversation was deteriorating so I screwed up my nerve again. And praying he would think I was into his brilliant brain and had no interest [cough] in his incredibly hot body, I said, "So can I buy you a drink and apologize in person? We can discuss chaos theory." I put a smile into my own voice, making a lame little joke there.

"Butterfly effect, Ms Nichols?"

""Alyssa, remember? Please."

"Sure, Alyssa—Tell you what. I'm in DC right now and I suppose I'll have to get over to, um, but I can be in Miami next weekend. You let me take you out to dinner and I'll forgive you for disrespecting me."

I hoped he was teasing. "Oh but please, dinner is on me," I said.

"No, I insist. So—next weekend? Saturday?"

"Okay…."

He suggested, "We could have dinner on my friend's yacht, dance in the moonlight, enjoy the ocean?"

"Well-"

"Or, do you like Paris? We could fly over for the evening…."

Paris France!

"No! I mean, no, I—"

"No?"

"No. Those are fun fantasies, Anthony, but well—let's do something casual." And realistic. "Get acquainted and so on." No way was I getting on a boat with a man I don't know.

"Casual," he said. "I can do casual, Casual is my middle name. Well actually it's Robert—you saw it on my card, I guess. But whatever. I'll figure out something good, Nikki."

"Nikki?"

"Yeah, is that okay? I'm not sure you seem like an Alyssa…."

"Fine. I guess."

"So, next Saturday, 7.30 pm," he mumbled. Was he typing me into his BlackBerry? In his regular stoner voice he added, "I'll, like, pick you up. Dress casual, bring your swimsuit."

"Swimsuit?"

"Well yeah, it is Miami, right? So, bring your bikini."

"Okay, sure. Okay." God, I'm glad I do the Zumba workout three nights a week!

"Bye, Nikki."

"But you don't know my address," I said to the dead phone. Oh well, he'll either find me or he could call me.

A date! I have a date. With… [happy sigh]

tbc