There's a thing about working with kids. The kids, for the most part, are fine.
Sure, once in a while, they throw a fit, they act irrationally, but you know at the end of the day they'll give in. A kid who doesn't want to take a nap doesn't have an iron will to stay up forever.
No, the kids have never been the problem with me and my job.
The problem you ask?
The parents.
"I'm going to report you to your manager!" she screamed at me as I walk away.
My eyes were wide with shock, as I could never believe what I'd been fired for this time.
The time before? It was sort of my fault. I'd been kinda late a few times, and they were a hard-ass about it. Fair enough.
This time though?
Mrs. Feasel was a total itch, as I would sometimes say when there were kids around.
I was riding the elevator down to the bottom floor after this arduous nonsense, ready to go home, kind of afraid I was already on strike two.
Anticipation lingered as I held my phone and waited for the inevitable call from Bruce.
There it was. I clicked the answer button. "Hi, Bruce. Yes, it's Cassie."
"What'd you do this time, Cassie?"
I grumbled. As a boss, Bruce had been good to me. He was understanding that I was young and would make mistakes, and hence forgave the first termination I got for the tardiness.
The company, the Child's Organization for Kindness—or...I wouldn’t say the acronym—had a harsh three-strike policy. Three terminations from clients, and you were permanently done with the company.
So one hard-ass, one crazy, and suddenly I was on thin ice. For a young, aspiring child psychologist like myself, that was not a great place to be.
"What did they say I did? Just curious." I legit was wondering if Mrs. Feasel was going to try to play that card.
"That you tried to poison their son, Skylar."
He should have been able to hear the impact that was my palm smacking my forehead.
"You didn't do that, did you? That's like, automatic firing level, Cassie."
"What do you think, Bruce?" I paused before realizing I really shouldn't be firing sarcasm at my boss. "No, of course not."
"Then why are they saying that?"
I let out a breath. "I bought a bag of potato chips."
"Huh?"
"I bought a bag of potato chips. For my own consumption. My own snack. I had no intention of breaking their rules or sharing them with Skylar."
"Then why on earth is Mrs. Feasel saying you're trying to poison him?"
"Gluten. The chips could potentially have gluten, and Mrs. Feasel apparently thinks it acts as an airborne agent or something and will murder her son when I open the bag."
"Well, uh, she's just paranoid of his celiac I guess. Could sneak a chip when he isn't looking."
"I don't even think most potato chips even have gluten? And I don't think Skylar even has celiac?" If he did, I would have taken it a whole lot more seriously. "No, it didn't have gluten-free emblazoned on it, so it's poison. Hence, she fired me."
"Seriously? Whatever. It's strike two. You know how it is. I can't control it."
"I know, I know."
"Luckily for you, though, I have another opportunity for you. They're requesting an urgent interview, which means they're hiring ASAP."
"Sounds good to me. The day's still young."
"I'll text you the address. They'll be expecting you. Cassie, though, if they seem crazy, you might just want to decline the job. That way I don't have to fire you when it all becomes too much."
"I'll take it under advisement, but I think I'm due for something boring and typical at this point. Hopefully."
"Well, we don't get many rush requests, so there's that. Good luck with this one, Cassie."
"Thanks, Bruce."
The call ended, and less than a minute later, I got the text with the address and who I was seeing.
Julian Barnes.
Never heard of him.
The address, though?
That was on the city's west side, the richest part of town, and that meant they were really, really fucking rich.
Most of the people who hired me were the type who pulled six digits a year. Upper-class types. Doctors, lawyers, people who had super long hours and sold all their times so they got nothing for the kids.
The place I was going, though, was a step above that. Maybe a few flights of stairs above that, if I wanted to be perfectly fair.
I caught the cab over, psyching myself up. I needed this. I had the whole massive student debt thing going, barely getting by, and I still needed to build up experience. The live-in nanny thing seemed to good way to get experience with kids, have someplace without a massive rent hanging over my head, and still pull in a paycheck to be able to handle the loan payment, keep my phone on, and not starve.
I'd just been looking at it as a twist on roommate situations. Like, sure, my roommates were in a whole different place in their life than I was, but all the same, I was sharing a house with people, so I couldn't get too comfortable with myself. I could live with it.
That was the theory anyway. I was getting sort of tired of running the crazy gauntlet, and it seemed moms could be far crazier than a single twenty-something.
When I got to the address, I looked up at the building. This was a tower, pretty much a skyscraper, and I was going to the penthouse up on top of the damn place? What the hell was I about to deal with? I hadn't even met them yet, and it felt as if I was already walking into something crazy.
I approached the elevator, but there was a guy there who quickly threw out his hand to stop me. "Do you have business here, miss?"
"Um, I'm here to see Julian Barnes?"
He laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah."
The guard—doorman, or whatever he was—shook his head. He brought a hand to an earpiece. High tech as hell. "Mr. Barnes, you there? I have a..."
"Cassie Moore. I'm with C.O.K. childcare?" I made sure to use the letters and not the word itself. What sort of idiot named that company?
"A Cassie Moore here. Says she's with…"
"Just the babysitter, er…nanny they requested."
"Riiight. Okay then." He lowered his hand from his ear. "He's expecting you."
The door opened, and I stepped onto the elevator, somewhat confused that I was about to essentially go to work with someone who lived in a place where I was the riffraff the door people tried to keep away.
Even the elevator was nicer than a lot of the places I've lived. The carpet felt super soft, even through my sneakers.
The ride was long, giving me more time to agonize over who I was about to meet. Who will they be? What will they look like? Is it some decrepit old skeleton-looking guy? Why does he need a nanny?
I shuddered. Probably for his son who he had with a woman a quarter his age. The idea revolted me enough that it may have been enough to send me running.
Finally, the elevator reached the top floor. I stepped out. There was a hallway with a single door. Honestly? It felt sort of ominous. The door was large and wide, enough for three of me to walk in side by side. Must have made moving in and out easier, at the very least.
A shiver went down my spine. Part of me wanted to just abandon this. I had a bad feeling about this, as if that whatever happened when that door opened was going to be something I was never going to forget.
It was an absolutely silly thing to freak out about. I just needed to be a professional.
So I knocked, and suddenly wondered if I was going to regret it.
Shut up, brain.
The door opened, and some of my suspicions suddenly came true.
I wasn't going to forget what I saw easily. No, it wasn’t the decrepit old man and his barely legal squeeze.
Really, it was the furthest thing from it.
A square jaw, clear, azure eyes staring my way on the most handsome face I could ever imagine, mounted on what was pretty much an old Greek statue made flesh.
I think I was so overwhelmed that my vision was going blurry and I was suddenly seeing two of them.