by Sadie Black
This isn’t the first time Eileen is accused nannies of both of these things. In other cases, the police have investigated, and they have always come up empty-handed. Every Nanny that I’ve hired has had an extensive background search, a police records check and come with a plethora of references, yet she finds something wrong with each and every one of them. I thought we had finally found a winner with Alyssa since it’s been over a month of employment without any major protests, yet here we are.
“That isn’t true. I do care about my family, and I do care about what goes on there. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now, would I?” I open the calendar on my computer; there goes another weekend. There’s a flight on the redeye tonight, so I can make it there in four hours. “Just hang tight I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning, I’ll be there before you even have breakfast on the table.” Of that much I’m certain since one of the reasons a full-time live-in Nanny is an essential service is because Eileen has been known to go for days without eating or serving Brooklyn proper meals.
“Oh, wonderful! We can have pancakes and blueberries. I’ll get us some whip cream to top them up with, and we can have a nice family breakfast together,” her mood swings upward like a child sitting on a teeter-totter.
“It all sounds lovely,” I rub my fingers across my forehead “I’ll see you then.” Hanging up the phone I realize Rachel needs to reschedule my meetings for today. Eileen can’t be trusted to look after Brooklyn, not even for the next twelve hours. I’m going to have to arrange some sort of emergency care.
When I pick up the phone to call Rachel, the line is live. For a second, I’m thrown off by the phone not buzzing through to her desk, and my stomach sinks as I wonder if somehow I’m still connected to Eileen. “Hello? Sir? Um, I’m sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to remind you of the Cole-Blackwell wedding this afternoon? You asked me to give you three hours notice? Sir?” I rub the ear piece of the receiver over my throbbing temple, tempted to jab it into my brain. Fuck. As usual I got swept up in Eileen’s whirlwind and forgot about all other obligations.
“Christ on a stick, that’s today? Of course it is. Thank you, Rachel.” I manage to utter through clenched teeth. The last thing I want to do right now is go to some drawn out ceremony that will surely involve a media frenzy and more handshaking than any amount of sanitizer can rub off. Did I say ‘fuck’ yet?
By nothing short of a miracle, I’m sitting in the pew at Grace Church, surrounded by well-wishers and family members of the groom. Showing up for this was about 90% obligation since I took over Zervion from Matthew Blackwell, and it’s in good form to make an appearance at his wedding. However, 10% of my presence at this wedding is dedicated to a hope, small as it is, to see her again.
As the space around me fills with guests in haute-couture fashion, my mind wanders to a memory that’s given me a lot of mileage over the past couple of years, her lips. When I met Brianna at the art gallery fundraiser, two years back, I was captivated by her beauty immediately. I remember the first thing I noticed about her was her curves but the last thing, now the only thing, that stuck in my mind all this time was her full, shimmering lips. Since that night, I’ve slowly forgotten the details of her other features, but those lips? They’re etched in my brain like the scent of my first love. I’ve had countless fantasies about kissing and nibbling them. Not to mention the countless more that I’ve gotten off to about her lips glistening with my cock between them. I couldn’t even estimate how many nights I’ve closed my eyes and swapped whatever quick-fix-fuck I picked up for the night with Brianna’s perfect pout in my mind. The only thing I’ve thought about her lips doing more is framing her beautiful smile.
It isn’t until a hushed hum of approval spreads through the crowd, and the organ player’s familiar song fills the air that I realize I’ve dazed out the entire wedding party’s entrance down the aisle. All eyes are glued to Kendra at the back of the church, slowly two-stepping her way down the red carpet, but my head is stuck to the front. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me like when my older brother and I used to rough-house as kids. It’s a conscious effort to breathe as my eyes are transfixed on the red lipstick, painted on Brianna’s mouth. My cock throbs as I watch her glide her pink tongue over her bottom lip.
It takes a minute, maybe two, but when I finally allow my eyes to travel over the rest of her face. I don’t know how I could’ve ever forgotten it. With her high cheekbones and smoldering eyes, she looks like a model. I have to admit, my eyes don’t stay locked on hers for too long. Not when they have miles of legs and sexy curves to travel over.
Is she wearing a ring? It’s impossible to see from here. A smile travels over my lips as I recall how she tried to blow me off the first time I met her. I was flying high on cloud nine since my takeover of Zervion Communications was being made public. The highest point of my career had been achieved by my thirty-second birthday. I felt like Superman, especially when my brother threw his arm around my shoulder, telling me how he always knew I’d be the big shot of the family. I’d spent my entire life looking up to my big brother, so his words lifted me even higher.
When I spotted Brianna across the distinct circular lobby of the Guggenheim, my confidence floated me to her side, where I was quickly and effortlessly shut-down. I’ve never been a lady-killer, but then again, getting a number or a date has never taken much work either. I was immediately drawn in by Brianna’s stunning beauty and killer body, but her nonchalant indifference to my attempts to catch her eye is what seared her in my mind. Two years on, I’ve been indulged by easy women and gold-diggers who wouldn’t dream of disagreeing with me even if I declared myself to be King of Manhattan, let alone shut me down. I miss having real conversations and dates, spending time really getting to know a woman for who she is and not who she thinks I want.
My eyes water as I finally blink after staring at Brianna so long. I swear that when my eyelids close, her image is burned inside them. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her slip away so easily this time. I haven’t felt this alive and uplifted in over a year, let alone while sitting perfectly still at a long ceremony. I’ve missed feeling my heart beat like this, the sensation of my blood rushing through my veins and my eyes drying at the corners because I’m refusing to blink. I don’t want to miss a second of her sexy face. Now if the minister could stop acting like he’s getting paid by the word, maybe I can go introduce myself and find a way to make those pillowy lips mine.
Chapter Five:
Brianna
The church is packed, and I'm surprised by how much of it is filled with Kendra's family. I expected to see the pews brimming with business acquaintances and the who's who of Manhattan's financial district. However, it's refreshing to see all of Kendra's aunts, uncles, and their children. Not to mention her brothers, their wives, and kids.
Seeing my mother mixed in amongst the crowd of her family makes my stomach churn with acid. We were so close when I was growing up. Then, as soon as I made one mistake, she let my father slam the door in my face. The mournful look that entered her eyes the night that I left to live with her sister has been stuck there ever since. I’m sure that my father is picking me apart, finding new ways that I’ve disappointed him in the last forty minutes. I’ve been disappointing Dad for twenty-eight years though, why would today be any different?
Glancing out over the quickly filling pews, I can’t help but smile. There’s no mistaking who’s here for the groom and who showed up for the bride. Down the right side of the opulent church are some of the stiffest, most overdressed white guys I’ve ever seen. You’d think that there’s a convention for accountants with all of the gray suits. Hell, even half the women are wearing pant-suits and dresses with little white blazers.
Why do white people always look like a GAP ad? Like they’re trying to make a bland rainbow of beiges and grays. I can only imagine how interesting the conversations on that side of the aisle must be. Not that you’d even think there were any happ
ening from everyone’s stiff posture and hushed tones.
Meanwhile, Kendra’s friends and family are wearing so much color they look like when you left your crayons out in the sun, and they all melted into a bright pool of neons and reds. Even over the sea of laughter and carrying-on, the individual voices of a few of the women and men are filling the entire church with their jokes and stories about their kids. If Matthew’s side is a GAP ad, then Kendra’s half of the church is like Times Square where all the ads are flashing and competing for your attention at the same time.
I've gone to church most of my life. I'll admit, in my adult years I strayed more than I should have, but I still go to for services at the holidays. In all my years, I've never seen a church like this one. The beams arching over each other on the ceiling and the stained glass windows must be at least twelve feet tall. The organ player interrupts my thoughts as she starts playing the wedding song. Down at the end of the long, red carpet is Kendra and her oldest brother Reginal.
When I first met Kendra, I had the biggest crush on Reggie. He was so much older and cooler than anyone we knew. Kendra used to swat me when I went to her apartment because I'd follow him around from room to room whenever he was home. It looks like it's a good thing that I didn't get my wish back then. Reginal is what my grandmother would call stout. With a big round belly and little beads of sweat cresting his brow, I think I dodged a bullet.
Kendra has everyone mesmerized in her brilliant white gown. The way her skin is glowing, like polished copper against the snowy fabric of her dress is hypnotic. She’s never looked more beautiful. When she brought me along with her crew of bridesmaids and Matthew’s mother to Kleinfeld's Bridal in Manhattan, it took some convincing to get her to look at the more flattering, figure-clutching dresses.
Originally she wanted to wear something that she would call modest, but you and I would call one step up from a paper bag. After hours of indulging her being laced up in what looked like curtains and doilies, I talked her into wearing the sweetheart neckline that fits her perfectly. The thing I loved most about her dress is the ten-foot long train with tiny light pink roses embroidered down it. She looks like a princess. Wiping away a few tears, I'm surprised by how emotional I am. I've never been one to cry at weddings, but here I am hoping my mascara doesn't stream down my face in black rivers.
In a lot of ways, this feels like the end of our youth. Kendra always seemed older than her years anyway, but now that she's getting married, it feels more and more like I'm just wasting my life away while she is off establishing hers. I can't help but worry that soon this will all mean the end of our friendship too. I'm sure it won't be long before she and Matthew start a family, and then who knows how often we'll see each other anymore. I feel like I should be the one walking her down the aisle and giving her away to Matthew. I’m going to be more affected by it than anyone else.
She looks nervous, I know it's because of all the eyes on her. I would love everyone watching me, but Kendra is trembling a little as Matthew holds her hand. She gazes into his eyes, and I watch as her shaking hand steadies and her breathing slows. When the two of them are together, it’s like the outside world ceases to exist. Whether they’re standing across a party from each other or standing hand-in-hand with hundreds of sets of eyes upon them, they only see each other. Will I ever meet anyone who can eclipse everything like that?
My father is droning on and on. My feet are tingling from standing in one spot for so long, I’m pretty sure I've lost consciousness a few times. Finally, he says the words everyone is waiting for, "You may now kiss the bride."
Matthew sweeps Kendra into his arms and kisses Kendra softly as a murmur of approval and some clapping pops up from the crowd. They’re kissing like the final scene in a movie, just when the credits start to roll, and you know that somehow, that couple will be in that much love forever. The trials and bickering that every couple goes through will magically pass them by, because they are frozen in a passionate moment that no one can ever take away from them. I didn’t think people really kissed like that in real life, now I’m starting to think maybe it’s just me who hasn’t. I pull my fingers down from my lips, so I don’t smear my lipstick.
You’d think that since the wedding is over the stressful part would be done. Time to relax and dance. But no, now we have four hours dedicated to getting wedding pictures taken. With three photographers and a videographer, I wonder how much of this day they need to document second-for-second. Maybe I won’t be so cynical when it’s my big day we’re talking about. Let’s get serious, I could have a full crowd of paparazzi following me around and I’d be ok with it.
Besides, this is Kendra’s day, so an afternoon of photos and posing are worth it for her happiness. Not to mention that between the professional hair, make-up, and the stunning gown Kendra chose for us, when am I ever going to look this good again? She just better send me a copy of my best picture so I can crop it down and use it for my online dating profile. Who knows, maybe my picture from this wedding will help me find the man I walk down the aisle with.
But I’m not holding my breath.
I thought that an open bar was going to be my saving grace at this reception. After making awkward conversation with my parents this morning and then being lugged around half of New York City for wedding photos, I’m feeling sour. Luckily, my mother and father didn’t come to the party. Neither of them drinks or stays up late, so they just skipped out after the ceremony. The tension they bring into my life seems to be resting in a curled up knot at the base of my neck right now. This white wine isn’t taking away my stress like I hoped it would. Instead, my head is starting to ache along with my feet.
Some fresh air and a cigarette will make me feel better. At least Kendra is too preoccupied with Matthew and all the well-wishers to give me a lecture about cancer and wrinkles and the smell of smoke and blah, blah, blah. I know her heart’s in the right place, but the speeches get old. With my clutch and wine in tow, I make my way out to the balcony. A little space from this crowd can only help.
The cool, dark metal wrapping around the generous deck feels soothing against my skin. If I were alone right now, I’d probably rub my forehead along the railing to soak in the calming cool sensation. Just like how Mama used to put a cold, wrung out washcloth across my eyes and let me lie in bed when I got too worked up as a child. I remember how sometimes, I would just pretend to be overwhelmed just so I’d get that special time with her. The way she would sing me Somewhere Over the Rainbow and run her hand over my hair always made me feel better.
“Seriously, Eileen, I’m not dropping everything every time you have a rotten day. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me what you want for once!” The exasperated pleas of a man talking on his cellphone in the back corner of the deck interrupt my thoughts. Sounds like I’m not the only one having a bad night. In a weird way, that makes me feel a little better. “I said I can’t do this tonight. I have to go!” He sounds more upset than I am.
Great, I lost my lighter! Snapping my clutch shut in disgust, I look at the cigarette between my fingers with longing. I guess I really am just going to enjoy the fresh air. Yech.
“Can I get that for you?” The irritated phone guy steps out of the shadows and grabs a lighter from his jacket pocket. When he catches my eye, I’m surprised. I know him. Well, know is too strong. I met him a couple years ago, back when Kendra was trying to get Matthew back.
“Brianna?” The flame from his lighter dances sensually in front of my cigarette like a private striptease. I lean in, taking a long haul as he cups his hand around mine, and my skin comes alive, tingling up my arm.
“You remember my name? I’m impressed.” I try to be cool, but inside my stomach is jelly. Bradley Sheppard remembers my name? How did he get better looking in the last two years? His body is tight, not that I’m staring or anything. I’m trying damned hard to hold back from staring. Instead, I decide to focus on his hazel eyes, glimmering under the dim light streaking out the window
, casting a glow that makes me feel like I’m in a dream. I stand up straight, returning his broad smile.
“Of course I do. How could I forget?” I think my kneecaps just melted, he’s smooth, I’ll give him that. And I could use a little smooth after my rough day.
“Beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” Pulling my eyes away from his, I look out over the black skyline and lean against the railing.
“It was, but I was a little distracted.” I’m guessing whoever was on the other end of that phone call was the cause.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I know I was supposed to be focusing on Kendra and Matthew, but I couldn’t get over how stunning you looked up there. Kendra’s going to be angry that you stole her spotlight,” he teases.
Despite my best efforts, a smile spreads over my face. “Well, I don’t think that’s true. But thank you.” I look down, unable to return the intensity of his gaze. Who looks at someone like that? I need to catch my breath, and I know it isn’t from smoking. “It’s nice to see you too, Bradley.”
“Ahh, so you remember my name too.”
