I watched him step into the elevator as shock ran across my face. This man, this… this pompous, arrogant man… had a child he knew nothing about. He just threw his money at me and expected me to take care of everything. The child didn’t even have diapers!

That was the first thing I was about to rectify.

What a windbag. He probably screwed some chick and left her to fend for herself. Men like him didn’t give women a second glance after they dumped themselves inside of them. To men like him, it didn’t matter if the woman was in love or hurting or looking for some drunken rebound.

All they wanted to do was stick their dicks in them before leaving and never coming back.

It serves him right for being a jerk.

I sighed as I bounced the small child in my arms. Clara was sound asleep in what I assumed was the only pair of clothes she had, and I was at a loss on how to change that situation: I couldn’t take her anywhere because I didn’t have a car seat, but I needed to get in a car and go somewhere to get her a car seat!

“Would you like me to call for a driver?”

The voice spooked me and caused me to jump. I clung onto Clara while I clutched the credit card in my hand, and all she did was bury deeper into my chest as the man, who had very kind eyes, spoke again.

“I’m Franz: the doorman downstairs.”

“Do doormen make it a habit of hanging out on the top floor of their work places?” I huffed to cover my surprise.

But all he did was look at me.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “No. No I don’t need a driver because I can’t take her anywhere. She doesn’t have a car seat.”

“So, you need a computer,” he stated.

“Yeah; and I don’t have one of those.”

“Mr. Blake does,” Franz smiled.

“Are you and he close? You seem to know a great deal about his… home,” I chewed.

“Your home now, as well, if I’m not mistaken,” Franz stated.

“No, my workplace,” I corrected.

“Then it looks like you and I will have the same habit,” he quipped.

“What habit?” I breathed.

“–The habit of hanging out on the top floor of our workplace.”

The statement made me chuckle. Franz’s smile was kind, and it crinkled his deep brown eyes as they twinkled with joy. His face was young but the wrinkles in his hands betrayed his age, and the slight curve in his back boasted of a forming hunch, maybe because of arthritis, or maybe because he had always been a hard worker.

Either way, his presence was comforting.

“Mr. Blake is… very well-known in this area. If you call any baby store, I am sure someone can hand-deliver you a car seat,” Franz said.

“You think?” I asked.

But before he was able to answer, Clara woke up crying. She started out with a muffled sob which soon grew into a bombastic statement. When her fingers began to migrate to her mouth, my eyes frantically darted around for her bottle. I made my way back to the kitchen, still clutching the foreign plastic object in my hand, and when I found the bottle I popped the top and gave her what was left.

“That’s definitely formula,” I murmured while I studied the liquid she was gulping down.

“You think grocery stores would do the same thing?” I called out.

“I think they would, yes,” Franz said from behind me.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you make noise when you walk?” I giggled.

And I was met, once again, with that comforting smile.

“The laptop Mr. Blake uses at home is sitting behind you in the breakfast nook. If you need me, just press the blue button on the intercom by the door. I’ll be up in a hurry.”

That statement radiated comforting warmth throughout my system.

“You sound like a father,” I smiled lightly.

And with that statement, I watched his kind smile fall.

“Good luck, Miss…”

“... Madeline,” I filled in.

“Good luck, Miss Madeline.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and left.

I wondered what I had said wrong. I never intended to make the man upset, merely to compliment him on how warm he made me feel. I was so sure I was making a new friend in this wild world I had been thrust into, but instead I had simply made him angry. So, I sighed with Clara in my arms and turned around to glance at the laptop.

“Please be unlocked,” I pleaded.

I sat down in the nook and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the search engine open on the screen. The first thing I needed to do was phone a grocery store to buy this child some formula. I had no idea what kind to get, but I’m sure someone could help me.

Right?

I typed in “nearby grocery stores” and picked the closest one. When I called, a very hasty man answered on the other line.

“Hello?” he rattled.

“Yes. Hi. My name is Madeline Albright, and I was wondering if you could help me with some questions on baby formula,” I stated.

“You lookin’ for a specific kind? Got WIC?” he asked.

“Um… I, uh, don’t know what WIC is?”

“What kind ya lookin’ for?” he sighed into the phone.

“I’m not really sure. I’m uh… well, I’m a new babysitter, and the infant doesn’t have anything in the house to eat. I was hoping you could help me figure out which formula you had would be best for infants to start out eating.”

“Ma’am, can you please hold?”

But he didn’t give me a chance to respond before Mozart was blasting way too loud in my ear.

I sat on hold while Clara drained the rest of her bottle, and when she was done I put the phone on speaker so I could pluck the bottle off my chest. I had gotten very good at this balancing act during my time as a nanny, and I knew I had to burp her before she fell back asleep.

No use having projectile vomit on the first day of work.

“Ma’am?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.

“Yes! Hello! I’m here,” I stated.

“We don’t have anyone that can talk you through all the formulas we have here. You just gon’ hafta come down and see.”

“Well, I can’t. I don’t have a car seat for the infant yet,” I said.

“You ain’t gotta car seat for your baby?” she asked.

“Well, you see, it’s not my baby. I-I-I’m a new nanny in the area,” I stammered.

“Ma’am, you just gonna hafta come down here and take a look at the formulas,” the woman said.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. No one would help someone like me, but Franz made it sound like anyone would help Derek Blake. Was I even supposed to tell people I was his nanny? Wouldn’t this be something a guy like him would want to keep under wraps? Out of the public eye?

But, how else was I going to find help?

“Derek Blake said you would be able to help me, ma’am,” I stated lightly.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before lots of shuffling took place. I furrowed my brow deeply as people began to whisper, and when a voice emerged it was a deep, manly voice, with a very fake kindness behind it.

“Ma’am, I believe I can help you. What was it you were looking for?” he asked.

“I need formula for an infant. She’s about two months old, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Any allergies?” the man asked.

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Sensitive stomach?” he asked.

I checked the shoulder Clara was not asleep on for any signs of vomit, and made an educated guess since my shoulder was clean.

“No, sir,” I stated.

“All right; I’m glad you called. We deliver produce to Mr. Blake’s from time to time. I was not aware he had a child.”

Here was my chance to rein this disaster in.

“It’s not his child. I’m a temporary nanny while he settles some things with his business. A friend of his has come into town to help him with some negotiations, and Mr. Blake hired me to watch his friend’s child until the business deals are done.”

“But I was told the infant didn’t have a car seat?” the man asked.

Fucking nosy-ass prick.

“It got damaged on the flight into New York. That’s the chance you take with airports, whether you’re flying public or private. I was told one would be shipped to me soon, but the child just finished her last bottle and I don’t have the car seat yet to get her some more.”

“Well, don’t worry yourself. I’ll pick out a really good formula type, and I’ll bring you four cans to start out. If it sits well on the child’s stomach, give us a call and I can get more to you. If it doesn’t, call back and ask for ‘Randy’, and we’ll send you over another one to try.”

“Oh, Randy, thank you so much for helping me. Um… I have a card, how would you like me to pay?” I asked.

“The grocer bringing you the formula will have a credit card swiper,” he smiled.

“You have been such a great help, thank you so much,” I cooed. Men always liked it when you stroked their ego and told them they were doing good jobs. It was almost as good as stroking their dick and calling it a “big boy.”

“My pleasure: is there anything else the little one might need?”

And that’s when it hits me. She also needs diapers.

“Well, I might as well not leave anything to chance. Does your grocery store have any diapers in infant sizes?” I asked.

“Of course! We have most of the major brands and a couple of brands that have removed many of the chemicals that come in disposable diapers. Do you have a preference?”

“Oh, always the more natural diapers,” I chimed in. “Do you have any that have specifically removed the chlorine from their diapers?”

“I have the Seventh Generation brand diapers in infant sizes. How many packages would you like?” Randy asked.

“Could I get two of the bulk packages to start out with?” I asked.

“You most certainly can,” he said warmly. “I’ll have someone pack this up and they should be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you so much,” I soothed.

And with that, the phone call was over. This sleeping girl was about to have formula, and I had a cover story to use for the baby stores I called. I could order the furniture online and rush it, but I still needed someone to deliver clothes for this little one. I shifted her off my shoulder and back into my arms, and as she nestled her body into mine I reached behind her to find the tag on her clothes.

“Size 3-6 months,” I murmured. “You are a chunky little thing.”

I bent down and kissed her chubby cheek before my hand flew back to the laptop. I pecked in “baby stores near me” and watched as the search results appeared, and one by one I filtered them out due to their selection online. I found an outlet store not too far from the complex that had the biggest selection of clothes, and I decided to go ahead and get her a miniature wardrobe to give her a good start.

I entered the number into my ancient flip phone and brought the ringing device to my ear before I sighed and sat back into the breakfast nook. I fed the woman who picked up the same story of being Mr. Blake’s temporary nanny for his business partner’s child, and I was, yet again, handed off to another “put-together” man with a rich sounding voice who was ready to pander to my every need because of the money he knew I wielded. I talked him through the outfits I saw online while he, literally, walked through the store and picked them up for me, and he assured me someone would be there soon to deliver the thirty outfits, ten pairs of socks, fourteen pajama sets, and five pairs of leg warmers I had ordered for her.

If I was going to dress her, she was going to be adorable.

Then, just as I hung up the phone with the outlet store, there came a heavy knock at the door.

“Delivery for Mr. Blake’s nanny!” a voice yelled through the door.

I grabbed the plastic card off the table and shuffled out of the nook before I walked my way to the door. Clara was, once again, sleeping soundly in my arms, and when I opened the door the young boy on the other end smiled kindly.

“She looks comfortable,” he whispered.

“I hope so,” I responded lowly.

“Here’s the formula,” he said before he handed me a bag, “and here’s the two packs of diapers.”

I watched as he quickly lugged in two cardboard boxes full of diapers and sat them down against the couch. He jammed his hand into his pocket as he searched for the little square device to slide my card, and when he had finally located it I handed him Mr. Blake’s card.

“Theeeeeere we go!” he sung as he swiped the card. The card reader dinged with acceptance and he asked me if I wanted a receipt, and I wasn’t sure how to answer him. Would Mr. Blake want a receipt of the purchases? How would I get one if I hadn’t gone to the store?

“I can text you one or email you one,” the boy stated.

“Oh! Well, you can email it to me,” I said. I rattled off my email and he typed it into his phone. He had me double-check what he typed before he sent it, and once it sent on his end he nodded and gave me a kind smile.

“Good luck,” he said before he turned around and shut the door behind him.

“Yeah,” I breathed as I looked down at the formula and diapers surrounding my feet. “Yeah, good luck to me.”