by C. D. Reiss
Why did it matter what people thought? Why was I protecting her? She was a big girl. She was doing her job, and I was keeping my hands off her. Done and done.
CHAPTER 29
CARA
—Cara. It’s Ray—
As if Ray Heywood wasn’t in my contacts. As if I wouldn’t know his number straight off or I’d wiped him from my phone. Nicole’s room was getting dark, and the freshly bathed little girl had gotten to sleep while I reclined next to her.
—Willow says she saw you? Can you call me?—
If I called him, he’d hear the music and the party downstairs. I didn’t want him to. And I didn’t want to wake up Nicole, who was sleeping on my shoulder. And I didn’t want to navigate the minefield of Willow’s word against mine in real time. I had no doubt she lied. She was a good girl, but there wasn’t a sane eighth-grader in Hollywood. Puberty was a gateway drug to adolescence, and everyone overdosed.
—Can’t talk now. Sorry—
—She’s still pretty shaken up—
I had no idea what she’d told her father. I was sure it was all my fault. Maybe it was. Maybe I’d been too much of an employee and not enough of a leader. I looped one arm over Nicole, and I held up the phone with the other hand so I could type.
—I don’t work for you anymore. So I’m just going to come out and say what I think.—
Was I going to do this? I hit Send but still . . . I could backtrack. Soften it. Right?
As if in direct answer, a bottle fell downstairs. Nicole’s room looked onto the pool, and as the party had continued into the night, my disappointment in humanity had grown deeper.
—She was at Brad Sinclair’s party this afternoon. No friends. Just her. Not appropriate. Total cry for help. You’re lucky. It could have been real bad—
More? Was I going to go for it? You bet I was.
—You and Kendall aren’t her buddies. She’s a good kid, but she needs supervision and guidance. Parents.—
I waited for the long-winded reply defending his parenting and his daughter. Instead, I got something much shorter.
—Call me when you can. I want to talk—
My job with Ray Heywood hadn’t been terrible. Actually, it had been great. Maybe that’s why it hurt to lose it.
Ray Heywood was a single dad living and working in Los Angeles. He never looked at me as an available bed buddy or gave me a hard time about how I managed the house. He was just completely disengaged, and as Hollywood parents went, that was as good as it got.
My last day on the job started like every other day. The kids were at school. I’d made them their breakfasts, packed their lunches, made sure Willow had her homework, confirmed the robotics tournament for Saturday, and piled them into my car. I’d dropped them at two separate private schools across Los Angeles, promised to come back at two thirty and four thirty for pickup, and driven back to the house where I’d intended to pick up Jedi’s toys, then make annual doctors’ appointments.
When I’d gotten back, Raymond was on the couch in his linen suit, looking as if his dog just died.
But he hadn’t. Frisky was at his feet, slapping his tail against the Mivondo rug, waiting for me to get back so I could feed him.
“Hi,” I said, glancing at the clock. Ray was never home at nine a.m. Not unless there was a parent-teacher conference, and sometimes not even then. He was rarely home for dinner or bedtime either. He was a “quality time” parent. A week in Disney with all the trappings. Summer in Aruba. Skiing at the Aspen resort. Parenting as if cramming for a test. I couldn’t complain. I liked Aruba and I liked his kids.
“You all right?” I’d asked, hanging my coat. I lined Jedi’s shoes up with Willow’s. Jedi’s special talent was laughter. He wasn’t detail-oriented, and I chased him around all day, picking up, straightening, putting away as he laughed his way through life.
“I’m fine. Just wanted to chat.”
He’d indicated I sit across from him, which was awkward. I’d sat in any chair I wanted for the past two years. I’d sat with him and worked on middle school applications for Willow. I’d briefed him for the interviews and done research on which schools she’d like. She’d get into all of them, of course. Not only could she go wherever she wanted on her own steam, but her father was a household name that was feared and respected.
I’d been immune to his white teeth and swoopy little coif. He wore a big silver ring on his middle finger and a leather strap thing on his wrist.
“Okay.” I sat across from him. “Teacher recs go in this week. I think the administration’s going to call Jeannie at Harvard Westlake for her, but she really likes Marlborough. They won’t push her for both, so—”
“This isn’t about Willow.”
“Oh. Okay.” That was all we’d talked about in the past month as he got in late from his girlfriend’s place and left early for morning call. So it could be anything.
“I think you’re probably the best nanny I’ve ever seen. All my friends are jealous.”
He’d smiled with his big white Chiclets as if he got personal pleasure from the envy of others.
“Thank you.”
“The kids. They love you. I think . . .” He tapped his thumbs together. “I think they think of you as more mother than their mother.”
Their mother lived in Humboldt County. When her acting jobs dried up and the divorce went through, she’d moved there with a boyfriend and grew weed full time. Raymond had done the impossible in the state of California and gotten primary custody. The kids Skyped with their mother once a week. It was uncomfortable, and Willow got sullen whenever the call came through.
“I’m not a replacement,” I said, citing the nanny mantra. “Just a supplement.”
“Right, well, that makes this really hard, is what I’m trying to say.”
Ah.
Crap.
The surface of my skin had gone cold.
There was only one conversation an employer started that way.
“This? This is hard?” I asked. He was going to say it. I wasn’t saving him the trouble because I still didn’t believe it.
“I have to let you go.”
There it was.
“Why?”
“I’ll give you references anywhere you want to go.”
“Why?”
“I’ll say the kids got older and—”
“Do not make me ask you again.”
I used my bossy voice. The voice that dropped an octave. The voice that meant business. Jedi picked his shit up and Willow did her homework when I used that voice. Raymond’s tan went gray and his jaw slacked a little. God, I didn’t know whether to slap him for being a wuss or crawl under a rock for pole-vaulting my boundaries.
I held my breath and my tongue. Those references were important.
“It’s Kendall,” he’d said, opening his hands as if he were presenting a gold box full of high-quality motives instead of yet another relationship with yet another actress. “She’s . . . you know she’s a Hollywood girl. She sees someone . . .”—he made an open-handed vertical hand motion toward me—“a woman living with me.”
“It’s not like that. Did you explain that it’s not like that?”
“I did. But you have to admit, Cara, there’s no hiding.” He made that motion again, up and down my body.
“I dress modestly.”
“I know, I know. You’re a professional. But, look,” he shrugged, “she’s worried. And if she’s going to marry me, she wants to know there isn’t a second beautiful woman down the hall.”
Oh, they were getting married. At least he was buying the cow that was dropping shit all over the house.
His house.
Now Kendall’s house.
Not my house.
“I debated whether I should tell you the truth, but I think I owed you that much.”
Again, he wasn’t being an asshole. God I wanted to be so mad and I couldn’t be.
“Thank you for the references.”
�
�I’ll cut you a check for six months’ severance.”
“Thank you. I’ll pack.”
I shot up and walked to the stairs.
“Do you want to wait for the check?” he called from behind me.
Did I want to wait for money?
Yeah. I did. I also wanted to call Kendall and explain to her that her future husband was not attractive to me at all. I’d heard him fight with his ex-wife. I’d seen him ditch his kids for a screw. I’d never seen him hand either of his children a morsel of food when they were hungry. He doled out compliments like potato chips, but they were brittle and slippery and nutrient-free. He was a grotesquerie of trending fashion statements and in his eyes I could see the bitter, entitled old man he was going to become.
I wanted to tell her I wasn’t a threat to her, but she wouldn’t believe it.
I’d dug my suitcase from the back of my closet. I’d been with the Heywoods since I was twenty-two. Two years. I’d gotten a master’s in child development in that time. It had been worth it, but I wasn’t ready to leave.
“You don’t have to pack so fast.” Raymond stood in the door, his face and body stiff with concern.
“I don’t want Kendall to think I’m going to try and get you in bed before I go. What your fiancée thinks is important. Seriously. You need to show her you care about her feelings and you’ll do what she wants. I don’t want to mess with what you have with her.”
I was being disingenuous. I believed what I said, but I didn’t think giving Kendall what she wanted would ever satisfy her.
I plopped a pile of clothes from my drawer into the suitcase. “I can come by a few times to help with the transition.”
“I don’t have anyone to pick up Jedi today,” he said. “The new lady isn’t coming until late this afternoon, and I have to get to work.”
The pile of jeans hovered over the suitcase. I’d stopped thinking about packing when my brain overloaded.
He’d already hired someone.
And he was asking me to pick up Jedi, who got out of kindergarten at two thirty and not Willow, who got out of robotics class at four thirty, because he already had someone for later in the afternoon.
“Did the kids know?” I asked.
“No. I’ll tell them later. You should just drop him off.”
He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and tapped his fingers on his thighs.
“Let me pick up both kids. Let me talk to them. Let me cook for them one more time and eat with them so I can answer their questions. Have whomever it is start after dinner.”
“No. We’re doing it this way.”
This is why you don’t get attached to the kids. This is why you do your job and think about something else and try to have your own relationships. You protect your heart as if your life depended on it. And you fail, but you try.
I snapped the suitcase shut.
“I’ll take that check now.”
Nicole wasn’t generally a deep sleeper, but I had to get out from under her. It had gotten dark an hour ago, and I had to use the bathroom. Carefully, inch by inch, I slid out, tucked her in, and did my business.
When I got back to the bedside, I looked out the window. I could see the pool house, where my own bed was, the pool itself, the people surrounding it, mellowed by the night. The music had slowed too. It would be harder to slip back to my room without being noticed.
I wasn’t cut out for this.
What did Ray want? What was happening with Willow? What would happen to Nicole if I left?
She’d be fine.
They’ll all be fine.
I had no power. No control. No say in any of it. And I could be wrong about anything because they weren’t my kids, and I’d never have my own.
Let it go.
On the patio, Brad bro-hugged some guy. On ground level, in the daylight, I could probably identify him. But from Nicole’s room he was just a guy talking to my boss, a loyal man with huge talent, a relaxed demeanor, and an earnest sense of humor.
He was just another thing I wanted but wasn’t allowed to think about wanting.
Self-pity tasted worse than a hangover. I hated it.
I left, walked down the hall, the steps, through the living area, the floor wiped to a sterile shine. The screen door was open. I closed it behind me and skirted the outer edge of the pool area, taking my powerlessness with me.
CHAPTER 30
BRAD
I was at the mellow stage of the evening, but the evening hadn’t caught up. I sidelined at the pool watching everyone dance and swim. The bartender flirted. The security guys made themselves scarce. The DJ I hired at the last minute was famous in his own right, and shit was going nuts.
And I was Mr. Pensive holding the same warm beer for twenty minutes. I didn’t fight it. Mellow was all right.
I saw Cara slip out the back door and make her way around the pool fence. Walking quickly, her hair bobbed in the rhythm of her steps. Sensible flats for chasing a kid around. Jeans and blouse that would have looked dumpy on any other woman looked sexy as hell on her.
If I was thinking about settling down, which I wasn’t . . . but if I was thinking about it, she was exactly the kind of woman I’d look for. Even without Nicole. It wasn’t about that. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and her mind was really on point. She could shoot a mean game of nine-ball.
None of that was even on my radar, if I was being honest with myself. That was after-the-fact shit. And the fact was she turned me on. She wasn’t supposed to. But man oh man, something about the canned peaches scent and the body she tried to hide.
I knew what she had, and it was perfect. Even through the steam on the shower doors.
I didn’t realize I was deep down the rabbit hole until Arnie crossed paths with her. Said a few words with a laugh. Shit. Nothing that came out of that guy’s mouth was anything I wanted Cara to hear.
She said something back and as she walked away, he slapped her ass.
I was halfway across the yard before I consciously decided to move.
“Arnie, you stupid fuck.”
He had his hands out as if to say, “What did I do?”
Fuck him. I could deal with him later.
I chased her.
“Cara,” I called.
She turned.
“I’m sorry, for him. About him. Whatever. Not whatever. Fuck!”
I hadn’t felt inadequate since I moved to Los Angeles. I got breaks few of my friends got. Girls worshipped me. Look, that’s the fact. I could sugarcoat it in humility, but you wouldn’t believe it. I was a king and a hero as far as I could see.
Well, right then I felt two dollars short for the ninety-nine-cent lunch.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
She leaned on one foot and looked up.
“Okay it’s not fine. Just keep him away from me, okay?”
“I will.”
“I have the monitor.” She indicated the pool house but didn’t look at me. Like she couldn’t.
“Sure, sure.”
Dude. She wants you. Do you see how she can’t look at you?
I was making stuff up in my head. And it didn’t matter. She was an employee. The most beautiful employee I had. The most essential. The warmest. Biggest pain in my fucking ass—
She went through the obstacle course of people and furniture, taking the most direct route to the back. I followed her as if she had me on a string.
I couldn’t let her go. She drew a circle of sanity and caught me in it. I needed five minutes of her time. She relaxed me. Made my life seem just a little less crazy. I didn’t know what I wanted out of her, but I couldn’t get that mellow back while I wanted her against reason.
I got to her at the gate to the pool house.
“Have you ever been to Thailand?”
“Yes,” she said, still walking fast. “Why?”
“I have this movie—”
“Bangkok Brotherhood.” She put her hand on the
gate as if she was about to push it open. Behind me someone dove into the pool.
“How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know.” The music was lower past the pool. I wouldn’t have heard her otherwise. She still hadn’t looked at me. Fast-fleeting impressions. Her black lashes as she looked down. The rippling turquoise light from the pool on one side of her face and darkness on the other. A woman laughing in the house. The crickets on the pool house side of the gate. The creak of the earth grinding up against my life.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m confused every day. But I can’t go without her. And I can’t go without you.”
“My thirty days is over during that shoot.”
Was she being hostile? What was with the pointed look, or the way her head tilted so her hair fell along her cheek? I needed her. Her presence made Nicole’s life easy and my responsibilities bearable. But there was more to it. She drew me in. Her competence wasn’t comforting. It fueled a desire that all the wild girls in the world hadn’t.
“I’ll double your rate,” I said.
“You don’t think you’re bringing her, do you?”
“Pardon me?” I said, reacting before thinking. I was trying to be polite, but she countered by holding her hands up as if fending me off.
“Never mind. Sorry. You’re fine. Your call, totally.”
She stepped back, spun, opened the gate to the pool house. She was going to go to bed. I didn’t want to be alone in my overcrowded house. Didn’t want to end the night on that note.
“Wait.” I leapt to her side, closing the gate behind me. She erupted in light. Motion sensors. I’d had them installed all along the path to the house.
She spun on me.
“Mr. Sinclair. I have no say in where you take her or what you do.”
“Let me hear your say anyway.”
She crossed her arms. Paused. Thinking before she spoke. I liked that. A woman who engaged the engine before putting the car in drive was a rare thing in my world. Or maybe not. Maybe I just enjoyed her engine a little more.
“You sure?” She looked up at me suspiciously. Her eyes changed color constantly, and at the back door they were navy blue with brown flecks. I had a strange and inappropriate thought about what beautiful children she’d make.
