Never Have I Ever

by Remy Marie

  “Let’s see, I am…spontaneous, compassionate, and…” I paused, pondering the last item. “Open minded.” The interviewer nodded and wrote down a few extra notes on my resume.

  I hope I didn’t ruin my chances for this job with that answer.

  Nervousness flowed through me as I played with my white sweater cuff, waiting for my next question. My interviewer, Dorothy Clark, looked like she needed a long vacation after the interview.

  She was in her upper fifties, and her cropped mom bob cut was grayer than brunette. Her face showed the long nights and days she put into her work. Not to mention, the green pastel dress she wore had to be over two decades old, and it was impossible to get a read on her face due to it being permanently set in, “resting bitch face.” The only thing I could do was repeat my brother’s advice, just smile and nod.

  “On your resume, you wrote you speak three languages, English, Mandarin and Korean. How proficient are you in teaching the language? Preferably Mandarin?” Dorothy asked with a piercing stare.

  “I am perfectly okay with teaching Mandarin. My father is a second generation Chinese American, and he taught me the language growing up. I can use the same methods he used to teach me, to teach Lamar.” The interviewer nodded, scribbling additional notes on my resume.

  I was relieved she didn’t ask me to teach the child Korean. My Korean language skills were absolute shit. Since my mother died, I haven’t spoken a word of it. She was an immigrant from South Korea, and it was important to her that my brother and I had a solid cultural understanding of the Korean lifestyle, which included speaking the language. Sadly, when she died, we didn’t have much of an opportunity to speak it in our home. I only wrote I speak Korean on the resume because, one of the requirements for the job was that I spoke at least three languages. English? Amazing. Mandarin? Hěnhǎo. Korean? Umm…could you repeat that word again?

  “This job is a twenty-four-hour position, and you should always be available. Therefore, we have a room prepared for our in-house nannies. However, your application says you insist on residing at your own home. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, my father has Alzheimer’s, and while my brother takes care of him most days. I want to be able to pitch in to help, as well. I prefer to be able to go back home, to let my brother be able to leave the house occasionally.”

  “And if we need any special assistance from you after hours?”

  “All you need to do is call and I will be on the next train to midtown.” Mrs. Clark nodded, writing down my last response. I bit my lip watching her jot down notes.

  Why are her facial expressions so hard to read? I can’t tell if she wants to hire me or tell me to get the hell out.

  According to the agency, this should have been one of the simplest nanny positions to gain due to its high turnover. And while the high rate with which this family was going through nannies scared me, I needed the money. It was the highest paying gig on the list when I checked with the agency. It felt like Mrs. Clark and I had been sitting in silence for hours before she spoke up again.

  “While your education and experience levels with children are not what we would have preferred, we need someone to start immediately. Therefore, we are going to hire you on a trial basis for a week. If we find anything we don’t like about your methods you’re gone. Do I make myself clear?”

  I nodded, curious about what I had gotten myself into.

  “Good, can you start right now?”

  “Yes, all I need is to call my brother and let him know I’m staying in Manhattan later.”

  “Fair enough. After you have signed a few things, you can use my office to call him.”

  It seemed like there was an endless stream of papers to be signed. Policies and procedures, disclosures, and even a waiver for possible death on the job.

  What in the hell does this job require?

  Once I had filled out the last document, Mrs. Clark grabbed the documents and stacked them together.

  “I’m going to make a copy of these for your own file. Feel free to call your brother when I’m gone.”

  I nodded, taking out my phone.

  My brother, Bruce, works for a multibillion-dollar social media company called HelloFriend. His company allows him to work from home. It was one of those perfect gigs where he didn’t have to uproot his whole life to take care of father all the time. Just as my phone connected to my brother, Mrs. Clark walked back into the office. Not wanting her to know my conversation, I spoke in Mandarin. There was still a chance that she knew what I was saying but judging by her expressions as I spoke quickly to my brother, she had no clue. After telling him I’d be home late, I hung up and smiled back at her.

  “Did your conversation go well?” She asked with a fake smile.

  “Yes, it did. I’m all set.”

  “Good, now if you can follow me please.” Mrs. Clark got up from her desk and led me outside her office, past the multiple cubicles filled with a dozen other busy employees, returning to the lobby that I originally entered in. The entire floor was a beautiful contemporary setting. The black marble floor was freshly waxed to the point it looked like a mirror, and the soft plush white rugs were spotless without a speck of dirt. On the walls there were amazing black and white stills of skyscrapers. We walked past them towards the other offices in front of the lobby. As we got closer, I could hear a loud voice echoing behind the closed double doors. With her hand hovering over the handle, Mrs. Clark closed her eyes and swore under her breath. She looked back at me with her eyes narrowed.

  “Just follow the rules set for you and you will be fine.”

  I nodded and prepared myself for what was to come.

  She grasped the handle of the office door and shoved it open.

  The office was larger than I expected when I walked in. Natural light engulfed the room, as the large bay windows let in the best sunlight New York City could offer. The onyx and pearl color scheme in the lobby was continued in the head office as well. In the corner of the room looked to be a small gym, with a heavy boxing bag, stationary bike and free weights.

  Sitting in front of a wooden U-shaped desk was an older black man in his fifties, taking notes on his tablet. He looked to be distraught attempting to keep up with what the young male was barking towards him. At first glance, you would assume the older male would be the boss of the younger, but it was clearly not the case here. It seemed the older male feared the younger male.

  As I glanced at the impressively built man in front of the elder, it sent a shiver down my spine. If it weren’t for his aggressive demeanor, he would have been a serious top model contender. Physically, he looked like he checked off every box a woman would want in a man. His head was cleanly shaven. His eyes were dark, and his lips were plump. He wore a light blue shirt with white cuffs and a pair of black slacks that were tailored to fit his muscular framed legs and perfect ass. He was a heartthrob in business clothes. This man was undoubtedly in a class of his own.

  I know the agency rules, no physical relationships with clients, but it doesn’t hurt to look, does it?

  “I’m telling you right now, Marvin, if we keep choosing these fucking dogs, we’re done as a firm. Clients are jumping ship, like the Titanic, all because of what? We can’t keep up with the S&P benchmark. It’s not that fucking hard. I’m sure my son can come in here and pick four stocks that would perform better than the last ten dogs you proposed to me. When the fuck are you-”

  Mrs. Clark cleared her throat indicating that we’d walked in. The younger black male ended his conversation with Marvin and looked towards us.

  “What?” the thirty-something man growled. The stare he gave us was unsettling, like a snake looking at its prey.

  “Mr. Grant? This is Deena Zhang. The new nanny for Lamar. I wanted to bring her in for you to meet her,” she explained, presenting me to him.

  Walking over to me, Jesse extended a hand and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Deena.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Grant,” I replied.
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br />   His handshake was strong and firm. While we shook hands, his bold eyes never left mine once. He didn’t show any positive expressions at all. He only eyeballed me. After a few intense seconds, he stepped back, placed his hands on his hips and looked back at Mrs. Clark.

  “Does she fit in for what we need here?” His harsh voice and aggressive stance would make any small child want to clutch to their parents for safety.

  “Yes, she does. Remember to be nice to this one, Sir. Our reputation in the NYC nanny community is terrible, any screw ups and we’re done.”

  “If she doesn’t piss me off, we won’t have a problem.” Mr. Grant looked towards me. His glare was powerful, but strangely comforting at the same time. “Deena, we’ve burned through nannies in the past because they don’t meet the expectations that I set. My son comes first. He’s my only son and the thing that I cherish most in this life. If you take care of him and follow my directions, we shouldn’t have a problem. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” I squeaked.

  He nodded. “Good, I look forward to working with you Deena. Thank you for bringing her in, Dorothy.”

  Mrs. Clark nodded like an obedient servant and ushered me away. As we left, I could hear the volume of Mr. Grant’s voice rising as he continued to abuse poor Marvin.

  “Is he always so aggressive like that?” I asked walking away.

  “More or less. Today has actually been a good day,” she replied as we reentered the lobby.

  A good day? What does a bad day look like?

  “More about the building,” she began as we started our ascent up the grand staircase. “Jesse Grant built his office and home inside Grant Tower. The tower is a total of seventy-two floors, and the penthouse is the top three, the first floor of the penthouse is dedicated to Grant Investments office space, while the upper two stories of the penthouse are his living spaces. You won’t have to worry about the heavy cleaning; we have staff that comes in once a week to do that. Your job is to make it look decent enough between that time. As I said before this job will require twenty-four-hour care for Lamar. This includes cooking, cleaning, and teaching him advanced math, English and Mandarin.”

  “Speaking of Lamar, he’s only four years old, but the requested teaching materials to be taught are intended for an older child,” I interrupted.

  “Lamar has a gifted mind, Ms. Zhang. He’s able to grasp materials that ordinary children cannot. Honestly, I think he got the trait from his late mother. She was a brilliant woman.” I nodded in understanding. We ended our journey in front of the black double doors that led to the housing area. She walked towards a keypad and typed in four numbers, then looked towards me.

  “I’ve already set up your pin code. It’s 1989, your birth year. If you ever get in trouble or feel like someone is following you, just put in 911, and then press pound. The security from the lobby downstairs will come up, along with the police soon after.” I nodded once more. I felt a strange tingle on my spine at the thought of having to use the code for safety reasons.

  Once we walked into the penthouse, I saw the recurring theme inside Mr. Grant’s home. His living space had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the New York City skyline. Just looking through each window you could tell why someone would fall in love with the city. I walked towards a window and looked down. From my height, I could see the passing yellow cabs, and the small dots of people scrambling away on their day. I smiled as I realized this would be my workplace.

  “This is the living room.” she muttered. I turned away from the window and took it all in. It was spacious and large, with a humongous television sitting across a plush black sofa. Surrounding the TV center was a built-in bookcase. “Now if you follow me, I’ll show you the kitchen.”

  Her heels clicked on the oak wooden floor leading me to the kitchen. The kitchen was a modern marvel by itself. Stainless steel appliances walled the area, with poured concrete countertops. The gas range had six burners, and several different sized cast iron pots hung above the range.

  “We have nutritional guidelines for both Lamar and Mr. Grant. Lamar must always maintain a healthy diet and he is not allowed any soda at all. Mr. Grant, on the other hand, has a different menu. His physician diagnosed him as pre-hypertensive and has ordered him onto a strict heart healthy-diet. He’s only allowed to eat the foods on his menu. Like Lamar, do not deviate from this meal plan.”

  “I got it,” I replied, scanning the menu she had provided me. Some of the dishes that I had to cook for Mr. Grant looked like pure shit. I wouldn’t be caught dead eating some of these meals. I felt bad for him; he looks so young to already be having heart issues. I followed her through the dining room, and then through Lamar’s play/learning center until we neared the back of the penthouse, with a second set of stairs.

  “Now, these stairs lead to the bedrooms. There is also an elevator you can take to either one of these stories as well.” Mrs. Clark added as she neared the top of the stairs. We walked past the first bedroom, and she pointed at it. “This is where you would have been staying if you decided to live here. The option is still available, but please let me know ahead of time. Next, we have two more guest bedrooms, then Mr. Grant’s room.”

  I peeked my head into his bedroom, and it looked as grand as the rest of the complex. He had a large king-size bed, along with a wall just devoted to books. In the corner was a lone sky-blue rocking chair behind a fireplace. It was faded and had several areas where the paint was chipped. The chair looked antique and was out of place compared to the remainder of the modern house.

  “And finally, we have Lamar’s room. In fact, I can hear him there now.” She opened the door to Lamar’s room, and it was filled with pirate decorations.

  His small twin sized bed was made into a pirate ship. Next to the ship-bed sat open a large shaped pirate chest filled with toys. Right in the center of the room sat Lamar. He looked like a carbon copy of his father, sitting cross-legged mashing a Power Ranger into a dinosaur monster.

  “Lamar?” she called in a dry manner.

  “Yes, Mrs. Clark?” Lamar answered with a toothy smile.

  “This is Ms. Zhang. She’s going to be your new nanny.” The toddler smiled, got up from his play area and extended a hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Zhang.” I giggled at his innocence.

  He’s too damn cute.

  While his facial features resembled his father’s, he was nothing like the beast of a man I met downstairs. I could tell I was going to enjoy my time with him.

  “I’m going to head back downstairs; I still have a ton of paperwork to process. Remember, any problems, you report them directly to me. No one else.” Mrs. Clark gave me a glance, as if I double-crossed her, it would be my ass. I nodded, and she smiled back at me. “Good, have fun you two.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Clark!” Lamar shouted as she left the room. I sat down crossed legged and grinned at the young child.”

  “Lamar, what do you like to do for fun?”

  “I love to play with toys, and play catch; I love cartoons, dinosaurs, and superheroes,” he replied, excitedly as he pretended to fly his Power Ranger in the air. I couldn’t help but laugh watching him. He was beyond cute.

  “I like those things as well.” Lamar beamed towards me.

  “Can you play Power Rangers with me?” His excitement caught me off guard as he jumped in the air.

  “How do you play?” I asked, giggling with his attempts to create martial art moves in his bedroom.

  “It’s easy, just shout the color ranger you want to be, and then we can go around the house fighting monsters. I’m the black ranger!”

  “That sounds like fun. Let’s do that. I’ll be pink.” I stood up and pretended to punch the air. The level of excitement Lamar showed was out of this world. The differences between his father and he were night and day. You could say that I was being judgmental and drawing early conclusions, but in my honest opinion, I was glad that I was going to be spending more time with him than his father.
While Jesse may have a jawline of an angel, I felt like it was going to be hell to work with him because of his horrible attitude. My thoughts must have spurred Jesse to speak, because in the distance I could hear him yelling at the top of his lungs.

  Oh shit, what did I get myself into?

  Chapter 2

  Jesse

  She was beautiful beyond words. Her thin smile, the way her beige skin glowed in the sunlight and her gorgeous brown eyes that were the windows to her soul. I was infatuated by her silky black hair that laid perfectly over her breasts. Every inch of her was intoxicating, and dear God, that outfit she wore.

  Her fitted white sweater dress was only a cover to hide the true beauty underneath. Plus, the black leggings were hardly a professional outfit you would wear to an interview, but who was I to judge?

  I’d seen dozens of trophy wives, Victoria Secret models, and actresses, but why was this the first woman that I’d seen that drives me towards temptation?

  I looked down towards the picture of my late wife and son. She never looked more beautiful with her natural ebony hair being blown back by the wind. She smiled towards me, the photographer, as she pushed a younger Lamar in a swing outside.

  I’m sorry, Kayla, please forgive me. Lust, tried to tempt me away from you, but you will always be the love of my life. In this lifetime or the next.

  The thought of moving on and loving another person nearly brought me to tears as I stared at the picture of my dead loved one.

  Jesus, I’m so sorry sweetheart.

  I shook the impure thoughts of Deena out of my head, but the nanny’s smile still remained. I counted to ten trying to forget about her, but her eyes reappeared at ten.

  Dammit, I want to fulfill my promise not to love another, but yet I struggle.

  I glance down at the golden band still wrapped around my left ring finger.

  It’s been two years, and even in your passing, I refuse to break my vows to love another. I will not break them, especially not how I failed you in the time you needed me the most. It was all my fault…