by E. Walsh
“Your dad said they didn’t want to ruin your last year of college…but I guess things have gotten so bad that they decided you had to know.” Chloe dragged her feet in the sand under her swing.
“Oh…” The two girls swung in silence for a little while.
“You okay?” Chloe asked. Dana sighed.
“I guess. I think I feel better than I did when I thought dad was cheating. I don’t know why I thought that. He seems to be holding it together pretty well, I guess he just fooled me in to thinking it couldn’t be anything that mom was doing to him.” Dana said.
“Well, I think sometimes it’s easier to tell other people about stuff like that instead of bothering your family with it.” Chloe said. Dana nodded.
“It’s weird though, because you’re just like family to us.” Dana said. Chloe nodded.
“Yeah. I think I was just there at the right time. I mean, what could he say after I saw Linda completely blitzed out of her mind?” Chloe asked.
“Was she really that bad?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, she had to lean against the doorframe to hold herself up. She came down looking for more wine.” Chloe said.
“Urgh, poor Maria…poor you.” Dana said giving Chloe a sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry you had to be there for that, but I’m kind of glad that you were there for my dad.” She said.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Do you think I should talk to him? Let him know that I know?” Dana asked.
“Nooooo, please don’t do that or he’ll know that I broke his confidence and then he’ll never tell me anything again.” Chloe panicked, she didn’t want to lose what she had just built with Doug.
“Oh, right. Well do you think you can at least keep being there for him?” Dana asked. Chloe smiled at her.
“Nothing would make me happier.” She said.
7. Amanda, Amber & Bruce,
A Secret Babysitter Romance
By: Kylie James
Amanda, Amber & Bruce,
A Secret Babysitter Romance
© SteamyReadsPublishing 2016 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads4U
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
* * *
Chapter 1
“How was it, dear?” To Amanda there was nothing more demeaning than having to live with her parents while she was going to college. She was an adult but she was still chained up.
Amanda was staring at the massive duck her mother had roasted. She made sure to tell both her and her father that it was a special occasion and that her little girl was finally off to college, but she wasn’t off. She was still sitting at the dinner table with both of them when she should been microwaving a burrito in the dorms with her friends. “Oh, it was alright,” before her mother could respond she said, “Pass the gravy, could you?” Amanda motioned over to the massive crystal gravy train sitting next to her father. If there was one thing she could say about her mother, she could cook.
He put his hand on the handle as if he was going to pass it to her and said, “You know, Amanda, Brookfield is a good school, and we paid a lot of money to get you in. You should be grateful.” He glared at her before he passed her the gravy.
“I know, Dad.” She snatched it out of his hand and spooned more than her fair share all over the potatoes and smiled sheepishly at them both.
“You know, Amanda,” her mother viciously sucked up a piece of duck, “when I was in school, I knew the first day whether or not I could meet the expectations of my teachers. Do you think you can pass all your classes?”
“I can.” She was an amazing student, and she knew right away when they started in whether or not she could pass them just like her mother said. It was a good school because it cost a lot of money, not because it was hard. It was the place that rich kids went so they wouldn’t have to really work, and the only reason she was working was because she didn’t have the money to bribe the teachers.
She had to sit at home with her parents because they couldn’t afford to let her live in the dorms. She didn’t have the resources that most of her had. She lived in a small middle-class cookie cutter with her middle-class parents, and her neighborhood was filled with plastic monsters that saw right through her middle-class façade. She was normal and they were extraordinary, and the one thing that kept them apart was money. She needed money, and she wasn’t going to make it sitting around in class. She needed to find work that she could do on the side.
“May I be excused,” she asked.
“Now, sweetie, this is supposed to be special. Aren’t you going to try the dessert I made?” He mother was acting disappointed, but by the tone of her voice, Amanda could tell that she was simply trying to keep her daughter in line.
She walked upstairs without responding, ignoring her mother’s epic sigh and pounded up the stairs. She wasn’t twelve, and they were just going to have to get used to it. They made her a cake and had her blow out candles two years ago on her 18th birthday when what she really wanted to do was hang out with her friends. They wouldn’t even let them come over. They said that it was a family affair, but she had to integrate into the rest of the world, and they didn’t seem to want to her to do that. They were trying to make her their little girl for the rest of their lives and that simply wasn’t going to happen, and they had better get used to it because she was tired of listening to them.
She opened the fake wooden door that led to what was supposed to be her sanctuary and slammed down onto the bed. This was supposed to be the place where she could be herself, and act the way she wanted. It didn’t work that way. After she got off the bed, she would have to jump up and make sure that there were no creases in the blanket and that the sheets were straight underneath. She’d have to fluff her pillows again and hope that her mother didn’t find anything out of place in her room.
She wasn’t allowed to keep anything on the floor on the walls. She was allowed to have one desk and a computer, but it was only allowed to be hooked up to the internet during homework time, which was all day except dinner and family time which was supposed to take place after dinner.
This was the model life from a parent’s perspective, but most people don’t realize just how much this actually hurts their children. If kids have to sit around talking to their parents every night, they can’t go around and learn about the world. If she’s not allowed to access the internet, she’s cut off from her only other resource of learning. When you restrict a child’s life too much, you do serious damage to them because you are depriving them of the opportunities they need to thrive.
Her only assignment for the day was 1000 words on the merits of college, so she decided to blow the whole thing off and get out of the house as fast as she could. She reached under her bed and grabbed her bottle of 151 and her pack of smokes, and called Amber.
“Hey, what up? Where are you?” Amber was laughing at something in the background.
“Family dinner,” Amanda said in a mocking tone.
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“Dear god, that’s terrible. Come to west shore. We’re gonna have a bonfire. Oh, and see if you can’t find something with a label on it to wear.” Amber hung up right away. That was their joke. It was like being the fat kid in school or the guy with down syndrome. If you didn’t have money in their world, you were the outcast.
It made sense. Their lives were completely different. They had things most people only dreamed about. Their cars could drive themselves, their houses handled everything from the temperature to a lot of the cleaning. They could look down on the rest of them with contempt because they might as well be a more advanced race.
People thought that the rich were just conceited, and they were, but in a technological world, where learning is valued, they were better in many ways. They had advantages that benefited their health, their ability to learn about the world and they could do so without having to worry about the menial tasks that the poor have to deal with. Their lives were better, and they were better as a result of it.
She kept a rope ladder rolled up in her dresser, and it was her only means of escape. You can’t legally hold your adult child at home against their will, but if she told the cops that they were doing it, they’d get arrested and she’d have no place to stay.
She popped open the window and rolled it down the front wall. When she was done making her descent, she hid the ladder behind the bushes. They didn’t do the landscaping. That was the one upper class luxury they had. She always slipped the landscaper a few bucks back there so he wouldn’t say anything. It was working cause her parents didn’t know and the money kept disappearing. It was a small price for freedom.
They couldn’t justify the expense of getting her a car when they could take her to school every day, like she was 10, so they didn’t get her one, but she was allowed to have her license and, if she was careful about where she went, she could have a bus pass. Everyone she knew had cars, and they could stay out as late as they wanted to. The buses stopped at 9 there.
She quickly made her way past the house, trying to avoid any open windows and prying eyes. She had to duck past the living room, but she did see them staring mindlessly at the TV. She ran up the street and made a right onto the main road where she got to the bus stop just in time so she could head down to the beach.
She made her way of the bus, more than three blocks away from where she was going; she didn’t want the guys to see her getting off the bus. Most of them wouldn’t even talk to her. They might even pretend like she was trying to beg them for money. Rich kids could be cruel, and their identity was based on their financial worth.
She made her way up the dune, and into the thick of the salt air, where she could look down at the water and watch it pass up and down the shore. Two boys with shaggy hair and perfect bodies were head butting a beach ball while she ran down, admiring their bodies.
A group of girls sat to the side, pretending to watch the sunset setting below the horizon, but they were really watching the boys and whispering about them softly. Amber looked back, with her blond hair streaming behind her back she smiled and ushered her over.
They called themselves the Bridge Kids—the most exclusive group in town—because their parents played bridge and croquet. They were the swordsman on the golf green and the count and duchesses of their own little castles. This was their world. They were gods and she was a mortal being allowed to enter their presence.
“Hey,” Amber scooted over so she could make room on the log the girls had chosen as their post.
“Hey,” Amanda wanted status, and Amber offered it to her. That had been the basis of their friendship since they were kids, but they were also very close—as close as friends could possibly be. They shared everything with one another, which was why tonight was so cool because both of them were starting at the same college, and it was a special occasion.
“Did you bring it?” Amber asked.
Amanda reached into her tiny backpack and pulled out the rum. “I had to steal that from my parents.”
“Nice.”
“No. Not nice. If they try to kill me I expect you to offer me the guest house.” Amber laughed.
“Whatever. Let’s just drink till we puke.” She grabbed the bottle and pulled out a little plastic bottle of pink lemonade. When Amanda watched her take a swig, she realized she was drinking with the master. “Eww. I hate that.”
“Then why drink,” Amanda asked.
“You know, for a hand me down, those shorts aren’t too bad.” Amanda had on a pair of skin tight shorts and tight blue shirt that showed off her perfect body. She had the blond hair they wanted, the body and that perfect baby face, but she had a flaw that could be exploited so she was less than each and every one of them. To Amber, she was an equal. To the rest, she was the poor kid.
“Hand me that bottle.” Amanda grabbed it out of her hand and took a huge swig. She wretched and barely kept the liquor down, but it hit and she felt the warm nectar traveling through her veins. It gave her more courage. “I’ve gotta change this, Amber.” She handed the bottle back to her friend, who passed it down the line. “I can’t just live like this. I have to find a way to get some money at least.”
“You do.” They both watched as two brunette boys with gauged ears gathered driftwood and set it up near the log. They winked at the girls and went on their way. “Date a hottie. A bridge boy could easily bring you into the fold.”
Amanda scoffed. “I am not that girl.”
“You ask me every single time, and I tell you.”
“I want love, and I want to work for my money. That’s sick.”
“It’s end that matters honey, not the means.” The bottle had come back around, and Amber took a big swig to that.
“I won’t do it.”
* * *
Chapter 2
The fire was blazing all around, and the bottle that Amanda had brought was already long gone. Amber left with one of the boys, and Amanda sat on the wayside while the various lovers drifted out to their cars or wherever they wanted to have their time together.
She didn’t want love; she wanted success. She worked hard to get to the university, and Brookfield meant the world to her. It was the one place where she could move up the ladder. She wasn’t going to let any boy ruin it, but she didn’t want to wait for the money either. There had to be a way to make her life go a bit easier. She needed the money to leave her parents behind, and the funds to be able to go out and do things.
She had to buy her freedom, or she was going to go crazy. She was an adult, living like a child trying to enter the world of adults like an adult should, but she didn’t have any way to do it, and she wasn’t about to stay in limbo while she was in school.
She’d thought about going ahead and getting a job, but she didn’t have very many options. She could earn less than a few hundred every two weeks worshiping customers, or she could do manual labor. The hours would be hard and the work would be gruesome. It’s impossible to make it like then even with the light workload at Brookfield. She needed to find a way to work, or make money another way, and still go to school and have time to get through her classes.
They didn’t make it easy for people without money to go to school. It was almost impossible if you didn’t have somebody to support you. She wondered whether or not it was set up that way to keep the poor classes from moving up too easily. It was certainly effective.
She got up and walked through the sand towards the road. She wasn’t going to sit there all night waiting. She waited at the stop for a moment and threw her cigarette out when the bus came. This wasn’t the kind of thing she needed to be doing. She needed to be brainstorming. There had to be a way.
*
Mindy had a bag of popcorn and a box of licorice in her hand, while she sat in the theater balling her eyes out. It was so beautiful. For years she’d had her eyes glued to the screen, watching every single second of Maricela’s struggle. She loved Carlos more than anyone had ever loved. She’d been through so much trouble
. She’d lost her baby, gone into a coma, almost fallen off a cliff, she even got stuck in jail for six episodes when they thought he disappeared.
But now he was standing in front of her, looking like a Latino god, and he was finally about to confess his love to her.
“Will somebody make it stop!?” Amber rushed in. “He’s been shrieking all morning. Go and see what he wants.”
“Bu—
“It’s you job. I shouldn’t even be the one telling you this.” She ran over and smacked the popcorn out of Mindy’s hands. “Now, get up.” Mindy tried to keep her eyes on the screen. It could happen at any second. “Let’s go.” She couldn’t. She had to watch, but Amber grabbed her behind the waist and was pulling.
“Please! I have to see!” The show went to commercial. She would’ve had to have watched for more than ten minutes to see what was going to happen, and she wasn’t going to get back to the theater today. She was going to miss it, and she would never be able to see it again. It would never be the same. “No!” Amber was dragging her, kicking and screaming, out of their personal theater to the top of the stairs, where there was a frantic high-pitched shriek that sounded like somebody was being killed.
“Get up there, NOW!”
Mindy slowly made the climb to the second floor of the mansion where the noise was getting louder and louder. She hated every single second of this, and she loathed these people. They never gave her any time for herself.
The lights came on in the hallway automatically when she came in. Each wall panel looked like a dark wood lined fluorescent, and there was a soft wave of cold air coming out of the sides of the ceiling. The things they had here were amazing. She’d never seen anything like it. She could live out her entire life without leaving, and she would never regret a single second of it.
