Still knowing very little about this area, the only place I know where I can get a good breakfast is that bakery I went to yesterday morning. Actually, come to think of it, I’m basing this decision on smells alone, considering I never ate my breakfast yesterday morning. Wow, I’m really winning this week.
I pull up front and hop out of my car, seeing the small line in front and the group of people walking down the street. Yes, I’m that person who speeds up their step so I don’t have to be courteous and stand behind five people who may or may not want to stare at the long menu of food items. I know I’m being an asshat, but I can’t be late, not after that text.
By the time I make my way up to the register, the two people who were in line have already been helped, and the woman is ready for my order. “Just a croissant and a small coffee please.”
The woman hands me the warm croissant wrapped in thin waxed paper along with the small coffee that smells a little bit like heaven right now. I hear the rumble of people entering the bakery, and I’m thanking my lucky stars I didn’t have to wait in whatever line is forming behind me. I scoot over to the selection of creamers and sugar, quickly creaming, sweetening, and stirring.
God, my thoughts are beginning to sound like Sterling’s. How pleasant.
“Well, hello, Guppy.” No. I don’t have time. And really? Did I just summon him out of nowhere with my dirty thoughts? I don’t have the patience, nor do I have enough blood left in my face for more discomfort. I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear him. It’s super loud in here, so it’s totally possible. “Guppy!” Okay, so he’s getting louder now, but my name isn’t Guppy. Why in the world would I respond to that name of all names? Just because I happen to recognize his deep guttural, yet sex-laced voice does not mean he needs to know that. But his hand is on my back now, and the scent of his . . . I don’t know . . . is that some type of ocean-scented cologne or literally the scent of . . . it’s salty. He smells like salt. It shouldn’t be a gross smell, but why does it smell so goddamn good? Okay, once again, no Julia. Right. Off. Track. Why does he have to look good, smell good, and make sexual innuendos toward me? I can’t believe he thinks that would gain my attention. Doesn’t he know I’m stronger than that? I am stronger than that, dammit. His amazing scent doesn’t faze me at all!
“I know you weren’t just calling me a guppy,” I tell him, careful to maintain my calm composure as I place the lid back on top of my coffee.
“It’s a cute fish . . . I wouldn’t take it as an insult,” Sterling says.
“Well, I’ll be late for work if I don’t get going. Nice seeing you again.” Keeping it casual is always key.
“Looking forward to tonight,” he adds in. Crap. I almost forgot about that, possibly on purpose. I don’t know what it is, but he makes me nervous, and I’m not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way. Confidence has never been an issue for me, but he is making me question myself a bit.
I hold my cup up and offer a slight smirk. “Yup, can’t wait.” I’m pretty sure that sounded as honest as I’m feeling, making me look a little like an asshole.
Breathe. Just breathe. It’s fine. I’m fine. Today is going to go fine.
I repeat my mantra all the way to the car and while pulling out onto the main road. Why me? Why does this guy have an interest in me? Maybe none of this would have come about if Jade didn’t initiate a double date with his brother. I can’t even understand why she wants to go on a date with someone after breaking things off with Chip just weeks ago. I can understand she may be in need of some type of rebound, but that’s not my thing. I believe in letting a heart heal before letting anything else in, which may or may not be the reason for my one-year-long dry spell. Still, I haven’t seen those situations end well most of the time, but Jade has been my best friend long enough for me to know there is no talking her out of anything she has her mind set on. So, tonight is happening, and I’ll focus on keeping my hands and feet inside my personal space at all times, and no one will get hurt. Easy.
I inhale the croissant as if I haven’t eaten in a year and quickly down more coffee than I should. Now I have to pee, and I feel like I might regurgitate everything I just ate. This is what stress does to me. Next, my face will break out. What have I done to my simple little life? It’s normal for people to leave the nest, find their way, and do so happily. I can’t understand this rocky transition I appear to be having. Is it me, or just a bout of bad luck? Alrighty . . . breathe. Nothing has even happened. This is all simple. I work with a jerk. That’s normal because Dad said there’s at least one jerk in everyone’s office. So, that answers that.
I sprained my ankle running down the stairs . . . totally normal . . . I walk into walls at least once a week.
So then, the only other problem is that a hot guy wants to go out with me tonight, and it’s causing me to freak out. That may not be so normal.
Maybe I’m just homesick.
I take my phone from the cup holder and place the speaker end up toward my mouth. “Siri, call Dad.” I know he’s at work, but . . . I need some sense slapped into me.
The phone only rings once before he picks up. “Jelly-Bean, you okay?” he whispers quietly. “I’m at work.”
“Daddddd,” I whine like a child. “There’s a boy being a jerk to me, another one likes me, Jade has lost her mind, I sprained my ankle yesterday, and . . . yeah, that’s it, but I needed to hear your voice.”
Dad laughs under his breath as if what I just said was funny. “Jelly-Bean, be a jerk back to that guy. If you like the other one, be a jerk to him too . . . that always works and put ice on your ankle. The problems plaguing your world have now been solved.”
“Be a jerk to the guy who likes me?” I repeat, knowing he’s being Dad.
“Yeah, that’s how a guy knows you like him too.”
“Mmhm, I’m pretty sure that only works in kindergarten.”
“Still works throughout life; trust me.” Right. “What’s really going on, sweetie?”
I think for a long second, knowing he probably needs to get off the phone before his foreman catches him, but as my eyes blur with tears, I think of my room back home. I remember sitting on the couch with Dad at night while we watch ridiculous reality TV, and a pain enters my chest. “I’m just a little homesick, I guess.”
Now he’s the one who’s silent for a minute. “Julia, you know home will always be here for you. I want you to enjoy your summer and learn everything you can at that big corporate job you scored the internship for. Make your dad proud. I bet you in a week’s time, you’ll be feeling much better about your situation, okay?” My big corporate job. I lied to him so he wouldn’t be upset about my decision to take the easy road for the summer before I start truly facing adult life and reality. “Honey, I have to run. Boss man is heading in this direction. Call me tonight if you want to talk some more. Love you, sweetie. Miss you.”
The phone goes silent before I have a chance to tell him I miss and love him too. It’s possible I’m feeling all this due to guilt because I’m lying to him, just like Mom always lied to him.
As I pull into the Taylors’ driveway, I pull my visor down to peek in the mirror, and I’m reminded of what I look like . . . which is a walking hangover from last night. Just beautiful. Way to look on my first real day of work. Nothing like showing up for a nanny job looking like a drunk.
I take the last sip of my coffee and hike up their rocky driveway. Do I ring the doorbell or just walk in? Technically, I live here for the next few months, so I shouldn’t have to ring—she gave me a key. Right. I twist the knob and finding it unlocked, I walk in to Samantha, her husband, Daniel, Dylan, and Liam. As much as I didn’t think I’d have any blood left in my face, I feel it boiling within my cheeks now.
“We were worried about you last night,” Samantha comes right out with. “We know you aren’t very familiar with the area. Is everything okay?”
“Oh,” I nervously twist a short strand of hair behind my ear and croak out a small laugh. �
��Yeah, I crashed with a friend last night. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” It is a little strange that they were worried. I’m their employee, not their daughter, but . . . I guess they’re just nice people.
“Ah, great then. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself after work hours,” Samantha chirps with a pleasant smile. “Julia, this is Daniel and Dylan.” She points to Daniel first. He’s on the younger side, like Samantha. I figure they’re both in their mid-thirties. He’s tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and has a look of business written across his face. His smile is welcoming, but his perfectly pressed slacks and starched shirt feel mildly intimidating. Then there’s Dylan. He’s slouched on the couch with an iPod clutched between his hands and a set of eyes that look as if they’re frozen wide open. He has the little surfer dude look going on with his long board shorts, flip flops, and long, spiky light hair.
“Daniel,” I approach first. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He reaches out to shake my hand.
“Likewise. I hope you stick around for a while,” he says, choking on a chuckle that’s quickly interrupted as Samantha thwacks her fist into his gut. I already know what he means by that, thanks to Liam and his warning of no nanny lasting more than a week and a half.
I walk over to Dylan and sit down beside him, assuming that Samantha and Daniel are watching me to analyze how I handle the situation of Dylan not greeting the new person in the house. “Whatcha playing, bud?”
Dylan dismissively shakes his head and snickers. “Nothing you’ve heard of, I’m sure.”
“You’d be surprised,” I counter. I’d be surprised too, but I can pull this off.
“Minecraft,” he mutters.
As shocking as it is, I have, in fact, heard of the game. I have no clue what it looks like or how to play it, but I’ve seen it advertised all over Target and in the malls. “As a matter of fact, I have heard of it. Maybe a little later I can play too?”
Dylan tosses his iPod down onto the couch and hops up to his feet without another word. He leaves the room and heads into the kitchen, stomping the whole way. “I’m hungry,” he shouts. Wow. Okay.
Liam is smirking at me from behind Samantha and Daniel, and I want to smack that smug look right off his face. That’s the second time I’ve wanted to hit him. I’ve never wanted to hit anyone as much as I want to smack him. I guess he just has a smackable face. Liam turns the corner and follows Dylan into the kitchen. “My man, you can’t be so rude to the ladies,” he says to him.
“Whatever, she’s just another one,” Dylan replies. “Can you get the cereal down for me?”
I hear the banging of cabinet doors as they open and close. “Here you go, man. You have lifeguard training in forty so don’t eat too much.”
“I know,” Dylan says, sounding far more pleasant than he was to me a moment ago.
“It takes a bit for him to warm up,” Samantha says, appearing a bit nervous. She walks around the coffee table and takes a seat beside me. “Dylan suffers from high-functioning Asperger’s. To be honest, it was hardly noticeable between the ages of six and nine, but now that he’s heading toward those tween years, we’re beginning to see more traits and rebellious behavior.” Samantha speaks surely and concisely as if she has recited this description hundreds of times. “In full disclosure, we haven’t had a nanny stick around for very long, which has been a challenge for Dylan. So, we are hoping you’re what we have been looking for. Liz, the woman your friend, Jade, works for, told me you were spoken of very highly. She said you have incredible people skills, which is why we were so eager to offer you the position.
I feel winded, blindsided even. Not that I have any issue whatsoever with being Dylan’s nanny, but I feel like I should have been warned of his condition. I would have told them I have absolutely no experience with Asperger’s. I don’t even know what high-functioning means for him. Plus, I would have at least done some research so I could understand a little more about the disorder . . . is it even considered a disorder? This is awful. How am I going to help him? “Samantha, I have to be honest with you. I know nothing about Asperger’s. That doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away from this position, but I just wish I had a little more insight on how to handle any particular situation that might arise.”
Samantha places her hand on her chest, her shoulders slouching forward. “I apologize for not letting you know more details about Dylan before today, Julia, but we’ve had such a string of bad luck with nannies that I was afraid to scare you away too.” She still should have warned me. “I understand if this is too daunting. We’re happy to raise your salary too if it’s a matter of that?” Oh, my God. That is not what I was implying!
“No, no.” That’s not at all what I mean by this. “I just want to make sure I’m giving Dylan the best care he deserves. That’s all.”
Samantha and Daniel both seem to relax a bit. “That’s wonderful to hear. We’ve asked Liam to stick around and help you out for the first few days since he’s familiar with Dylan’s routine and tics. We feel you’ll get a better sense of understanding once you’ve gone through the daily routine a few times during this first week. I hope that’s okay with you?”
Just to add insult to injury, I’ll be forced to spend even more time with Liam than I thought I would have to. Fantastic. “Sure, of course, that will be helpful.” I hope they’re enjoying this uber-fake smile plastered across my face.
“Great!” Samantha says while peering down at her smart watch. “I have to run. Class starts in twenty. Dan, what time do you think you’ll be home tonight?”
“I have a town meeting at six, so plan for eight,” he says, pulling his hands out of his back pockets. “I have to get going too. We do appreciate you being here, and we hope you’ll stick around for a bit.”
“Of course,” I respond, standing from the couch. “I hope you both have a great day. I’ll make sure everything is under control here.”
Liam reappears in the entryway between the living room and the kitchen. He’s leaning into the wall, one foot crossed over the other and his arms folded over his chest, topped off with his signature smirk that I’ve come to despise.
“Have a good day, guys,” Liam says.
“Thanks again for helping out,” Daniel says to Liam, holding out his fist for him to pound. Geez, they’re obviously pretty close. I am so the outsider here.
Samantha and Daniel leave, and I’m standing awkwardly in the living room, fearful of how this is all going to go down. I can tell by the snide glow in Liam’s eyes he knows exactly how this is going to play out. Confidence. That’s what I need. It’s what I have always had. Pull it together. I brush past Liam and sit down at the kitchen table across from Dylan. “So, lifeguard training? That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you enjoy swimming?”
Dylan laughs at me so hard, milk spews from his nose. How nice. “Nine days,” Dylan shouts over to Liam.
“Oh, I don’t know, I was thinking more like eight, but you’re on, kid.”
“Twenty bucks,” Dylan continues.
“I’ll even up the ante to thirty this time,” Liam counters.
Oh my God, they’re ganging up on me. What the hell is this?
“Why don’t you go get ready for training,” Liam tells Dylan. After Dylan places his bowl of cereal in the sink, he fake punches Liam on the way out, and Liam scruffs up his hair. It’s obvious they have a close relationship, which is sort of crawling up my skin right now.
“Who would have thought the babysitter would need a babysitter,” I quip.
“Don’t take it personally,” Liam says. “Sam and Dan have had a string of bad luck. They’re just protecting Dylan.” Yeah, by using you.
“I understand.” I feel like a dog with my tail between my legs. “Can he like—um, does he need help?”
Liam laughs, making me feel ridiculous. “No, he’s capable of getting his towel and goggles.”
“Well, I don’t know . . . I’ve never been around a child with—”
“I wou
ld just act as though he doesn’t have anything different about him. It’s in your best interest.” Liam moves into the living room and opens a coat closet, grabbing a sports bag. “Five-minute warning, Dylan!” I’m basically useless right now, and this feels super uncomfortable. Circling around for something to do, I see a sports bottle on the kitchen counter and tend to that. I’ll just clean it out and fill it up. Even I can do that. “That’s Sam’s,” Liam says from behind me.
I slam the plastic bottle down onto the counter. “Okay, how about you just tell me what to do all day, and I’ll be your puppet. Sound good?”
“Perfect. Just how I like it,” he says while continuing on with his routine.
“I don’t like you,” I mutter.
“So, tell me, are the rumors true about Sterling?” Liam nudges me to the side, takes the bottle I had started to clean, and completes the job for me as I try to understand his question.
“What are you talking about?”
A snorting sound growls in his throat, and he nods his head while drying off the bottle. “Never mind.”
“No, tell me what you’re talking about, and while you’re at it, how about explaining the unnecessary warning you unwelcomely offered about him last night.”
“I’m sure you can figure out that much after spending the night with him.” The confidence he oozes with each word kind of makes my stomach turn.
“So, you think I’m easy?”
He looks me up and down, completing his show of mockery with a crooked smirk. “Look at you with your sex hair and—” Immediately, I smooth my fingers through my hair that’s flipped out in every direction.
“Think what you want about me. I don’t care.” I leave the kitchen and head up the stairs to check on Dylan.
I knock lightly on his partially open door before pushing it open a few more inches, finding him staring out his window. “You okay, buddy?”
Manservant Page 8
