5AshThe Nanny
Ash
The Nanny
Ash flopped backward onto the mat with a groan and began to slowly strip off his hand guards. Shihan Brad leaned over him.
“Gonna make it, kid?”
Brad was forty-five and had just made Ash look slow and stupid.
Ash spit out his mouth guard. “No.”
Brad only laughed. “No one said you had to stay for two sparring classes.”
“Yes, they did. It was you. You told me.”
“I didn’t say you had to. I said it would be good for you.”
“You know he just wanted other kids to play with,” said Carlo drily. Ash grinned at the shaggy-haired blue belt. They both knew Brad prized skilled sparring partners. Getting invited to the second class meant that a student had reached the level Brad considered fun.
“That is true,” admitted Shihan, completely unrepentant about causing other people terror.
Ash had been coming to the late sparring class since orange belt, which was early in a student’s career. Ash put it down to having brothers. He was all too familiar with the dynamic of struggling to stay alive while tagging along with someone far more skilled.
Shihan Brad Miller ran a karate dojo out of a small storefront in Beacon Hill.
Ash’s favorite part of being self-employed was that he could usually fit all the classes he wanted to take into his schedule.
Ash had been training for five years and had made it up to red belt.
He could have gone faster, but belts weren’t the objective.
His goal had been to acquire some of the physical skills his brothers had seemed to have been born with, but along the way, he’d found that he liked the sport.
As Ash helped mop the floors with the other students, he wondered what Harper would think of him taking karate. He didn’t mention it often because a lot of people seemed to believe being a rich adult only included hobbies that were alcoholic.
The other students trailed tiredly out the door as Ash piled his gear into his bag.
“So?” asked Shihan as he carried the A-board in from the sidewalk. “How’s it looking? Is this government deal going to be a thing, or what? I’ve never seen Danny so stressed in his life.”
Ash laughed. “It’s his first time negotiating a sale like this, isn’t it?
” Shihan was the only person who called his brother, Dr. Daniel Miller, “Danny.” The multi-PhD genius had built a small but amazingly disruptive airplane tech firm.
Ash wasn’t sure what their most recent invention consisted of, but he knew it was cool enough that the government didn’t want it on the open market and intended to buy it outright.
“He said he’s never done anything with this many zeros before, and he’s having nightmares,” said Shihan. “He’s also freaking out because he hasn’t heard from them in weeks.”
“They’re doing background checks on the entire negotiating team,” said Ash reassuringly. “That takes time. I know I’m approved, and the last communication I had said they’d be sending me items to review in December.”
“I don’t really get how this works,” said Shihan, shaking his head.
“Danny and the government have to agree on how much the tech is worth, and neither trusts the other’s valuation. Which is…”
“Completely reasonable?”
“Yes. Anyway, I’m one of the people they mutually agreed would be part of the valuation team.
Once they send me his research, I’ll do what I usually do—make a competitive market analysis, do a trend forecast, and estimate what it could be sold for on the market.
The other two reviewers will do the same, and then they’ll probably do an average of our numbers and start negotiating an actual price. ”
“Man,” said Shihan, shaking his head. “I’m glad I told Danny to put you on the list. It all sounds like voodoo economics to me, but it makes me feel a lot better knowing Danny’s got someone steady looking at it.”
Ash smiled and nodded, feeling a twin sense of relief and guilt. This was why he needed Harper. He couldn’t look anything but normal or give anyone a reason not to trust him. There was too much riding on this—not just for himself, but for the other people in his life.
Back at his condo, Ash parked his Porsche in the parking garage and began extricating his gear from the non-existent back seat.
Ash loved the car—he’d finagled his way into getting one of the first experimental hybrid Porsche models.
No one else had the car yet and wouldn’t for another year.
But it did lack storage space. He kept thinking he should find his own house and buy a few more vehicles to give him options, but he liked his condo, and the prospect of moving was daunting.
He got into the elevator and checked his phone.
He was hoping that Harper would have texted him.
There was no reason she should have. He’d told her that he’d text her tomorrow with plans for their first faux-date.
He was still prepping a dossier on himself so they could successfully pretend to have been dating for months.
It would have been much easier if he knew anything about himself.
He was currently stymied by his favorite color.
It was probably green. Or possibly blue.
Light blue had the highest percentage of his shirt colors, but that was because of Emma.
She had always said that bright colors were gauche.
Whatever that was. He’d never actually googled the meaning.
Judging from her expression when she said it, gauche meant tacky.
His phone rang as he approached his door and he quickly checked the face and was disappointed when it was only his brother Forest.
“Hey,” said Ash, unlocking the door.
He was going to get rid of all those boring Emma shirts and he should update his profile picture on his website so he was wearing something more him. That thought reminded him that Forest hadn’t sent any photos to the family text thread.
“Where’s my Olly pic of the day?” he demanded.
Forest had a three-year-old son, Olliver, who was possibly the cutest thing in existence and a definite argument in favor of procreation even if his arrival hadn’t been planned.
“It hasn’t exactly been a cute day,” said Forest.
“Oh. Is it a Monster Olly day? What’d that lady on the TV call it? Being a threenager?”
Ash dropped his gear and headed for the kitchen. His evening plan was beer and leftovers while finishing his dating dossier.
“Sounds right,” said Forest, tiredly. “Honestly, I don’t remember you being this hard to deal with.”
“That is because I was an angel baby.”
“Uh... No.”
“Well, you were what—six or seven when I was Olly’s age? You may not be remembering accurately.” Ash didn’t add that their father had left for the final time when Ash was Ollie’s age, so maybe Forest’s opinion was colored by circumstances.
“Yeah, or maybe Rowan was better at all this stuff.”
Ash was surprised at how bitter Forest sounded. He’d known his brother had been stressed when his nanny quit, but Forest sounded exhausted.
“No,” said Ash firmly. “Rowan would have been…” He paused to work out their ages. “Eleven when I was Ollie’s age. You can’t tell me he was a better parent at eleven than you are now.”
Doing the math surprised him. In his memory, Rowan was always bigger, smarter, and wiser. Rowan had been their adult since their dad split. But eleven was just a kid.
“Maybe?” Forest offered weakly, and Ash snorted.
“Still no nanny?”
“No,” said Forest. “Actually, maybe. At least a temporary one. But I have to go get her. I don’t suppose you could come over and be in the house while I do that? Olly’s already in bed.”
Ash looked down at himself. He was a sweaty wreck. He’d never told his brothers about karate. He thought they’d make fun of him like all the other normies.
“Um, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“It’s fine. I’ll call Rowan.” Forest sounded so dejected that Ash began to panic.
“No, um... Let me just... I’ll pack up my computer and come over.” Ash could hear the sigh of relief from Forest even across the phone.
“Thanks, Ash. I really appreciate it.”
Ash dashed into the bedroom to change clothes and shoved his hair into a bun, hoping Forest wouldn’t notice how sweaty it was.
At Forest’s house, Ash returned to working on his dossier for Harper, but once he was done, he couldn’t wait and sent it to her immediately. It wasn’t until he was raiding Forest’s fridge that Ash wondered what kind of nanny needed to be picked up after nine on a weeknight. It seemed peculiar.
I didn’t make a dossier.
Harper’s text made him feel instantly guilty. He should have scheduled the email to go out in the morning. Normal people didn’t email after hours.
That’s OK! I just thought it might help.
He waited nervously for her response.
You have listed more than one color as your favorite.
Ash made a face at his phone. That was weird. And now she was going to think he was weird.
I couldn’t decide, and I like all the colors.
ME TOO!
Ash grinned at her all-caps response.
Your car is a hybrid? Is that important? Will people be asking me about your car? I don’t know about cars. I will not be able to answer questions correctly.
Ash hung his head in shame. He’d only put that in because he wanted her to think he was cool.
Probably not.
I sold my car when I moved here, so I don’t drive anything. I used to drive a Honda, though.
Ash began to laugh. This was ridiculous. Harper wasn’t into any of the status games that Emma had been. He shouldn’t have tried. Another text pinged through.
I also like spicy chocolate! Do you hate wet flour tortillas?
Ash had never been asked that before, but once he considered the question, he thought they would probably be disgusting.
I do now. Thanks for putting that in my head.
It’s the texture. That’s why I don’t like my tacos with too much sauce. I also don’t like cotton balls.
It was rare that someone could out-topic jump him, but he hadn’t seen that one coming.
I don’t recommend eating them then.
I meant I don’t like touching them.
Ash considered that.
They are to fingers what cotton candy is to your mouth.
There was a brief silence, and Ash hoped he hadn’t offended her. Although, if he had, he wasn’t sure how.
No one has ever gotten that before.
She included a shocked face, and Ash grinned.
Come for the cool car. Stay for the weird texture aversions.
Harper sent back laughing emojis.
I have one sister and no nieces or nephews. Hailey lives in Denver near my Mom and Stepdad.
She’d reached the family portion of his dossier. He didn’t know if her text required a response, but her next comment came through before he could decide on an answer.
I don’t know what time blindness is.
Ash tried to formulate an answer. He’d partially prepared the dossier to inform her of his general life statistics but also to warn her of some of his ADHD foibles. He had zero ability to tell how long something would take and could obsess over something for hours without realizing it.
I Googled! And now I think I have that, too. I have the worst time allocating travel time or figuring out how long some tasks will take. No wonder I’m usually late to everything. I don’t understand how other people predict these things!
There was a pause.
This may be a problem. If we both have it, we may never be on time for anything.
Don’t worry. I have an assistant. He programs calendar reminders so that I know when to leave. I will add your address to his information, and he will calculate, and then there will be a reminder that includes when I should pick you up and then we will be on time.
Ash thought about that and added a caveat.
On time within normal parameters for me.
You outsourced. That is brilliant, and I’m jealous.
His car got him nowhere, but at least he got kudos for his hiring practices.
OK. I have skimmed the dossier. I can respond tomorrow.
You don’t have to! Once my assistant tells me when I’m supposed to pick you up, I’ll text you all the details. You can tell me your favorite movies or whatever, then.
If you’re sure. I want to hold up my end of the bargain.
I’m positive. Plus, you’ve already given me a lot to work with. Cotton balls, Honda, spicy chocolate. I’d follow you on TikTok, but you don’t appear to be on social media.
There was a silence that went on longer than Ash was comfortable with.
I quit everything when I moved. I’m trying to social media detox or whatever.
Is there a twelve-step program for that? I’m still clinging to Twitter, and it’s a dumpster fire.
She sent more laughing emojis.
See you tomorrow, Ash!
See you tomorrow, Smoak!
Ash was still smiling at his phone when Forest came home.
Forest was an inch or two shorter than Ash but had the same dark hair and hazel eyes as Rowan.
Ash consciously tried to avoid the thought that his brothers looked more like their father while Ash looked like their mother.
It was the kind of thing that was too easy to transfer to their personalities.
“Hey,” said Forest quietly as he came in through the mud room, toting a giant plastic tub.
“Hey,” said Ash from his spot at the kitchen island. “Olly hasn’t made a peep, but this did force me to get some work done, so thanks.”
Forest chuckled and set the tub down to remove his shoes as the nanny entered behind him. Ash hadn’t thought about what nannies should look like, but young, hot, and purple-haired definitely wouldn’t have made his list.
“Hi,” said Ash, standing up to hold out a hand. “I’m Forest’s brother, Asher.
“Hello,” she said softly, shaking his hand. “I’m Chloe.”
“OK,” said Forest, standing up, “thanks, Ash. I really appreciate it. Don’t let us keep you. I know you’re busy.”
Which might have been meant as a polite thing to say, but it gave Ash flashbacks to when Forest was in the eleventh grade and wanted Ash out of the room so he could make out with Jenny Tomlinson.
“Any time,” said Ash. Forest had seemed stressed lately, but Ash wasn’t sure this nanny was the answer. Hell, judging from the nose ring and Doc Martins, Ash wasn’t sure Chloe even was a nanny.
The thought nagged at him all the way home, and by the next day, he’d decided he needed to talk to Rowan.