“She can’t understand you,” Hugh yells from God knows where.
“I thought you were gone.”
“I am.”
“Why are you still talking to me then? Eavesdropping is rude!”
“You’re talking out loud.”
“So?”
“Fuck me.”
“Watch your language.”
“God damn.”
The front door slams, and I can’t help but smile.
“Well, girlfriend, this is going to be a blast. I just know it.”
Starla smiles.
She knows it, too.
1
“You’re a nanny,” Delilah says, arms crossed, staring at me like I’m the absolute worst thing she’s ever had to lay her perfect eyes on. She holds Starla in her arms, just far enough away that I can’t reach out and touch the beautiful little girl and wipe the dribble running down her chin.
I mean, can she not feel it dripping over her arm? It’s making my fingers twitchy; all I want to do is wipe it up, but instead I have to pay attention to the woman staring at me, her nose slightly scrunched. Delilah is gorgeous, no doubt she knows it, too. She has this perfect blond hair, thick lashes surround her gorgeous, deep-blue eyes and she’s petite, curvy, and perfect. Not a thing out of place, not her clothes, not a hair. Her skin is unflawed.
She is everything.
I wish she could take a shot at my hair for a day, maybe then she might show me a little respect.
This thick mop takes some wrangling to get through.
I’m a mixed bag, so to speak. A little English, a little Filipino, and whatever the hell my father was. My grandma was this gorgeous Filipino woman—I remember her being so incredibly stunning she would stop people in their tracks. She married my grandfather, a tall, handsome, English man who was the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. Together, they had my mom. The perfect blend of the two of them, with her beautiful olive skin, thick hair, and almond shaped eyes.
I don’t know who my father is, but Mom told me he was this rich white guy she had an affair with. She thought he was the one, until he upped and left her pregnant with me. So, here I am. A strange combination of them all. My skin is pale, like creamy porcelain. My mother used to tell me I looked like a doll when I was growing up. My hair is thick, so thick it’s hard to tie up because it’s so heavy. Locks and locks of dark hair, my mom always told me it comes from the Filipino side and it is my greatest asset. My eyes are brown, and the same almond shape as my mother’s. I’m tall and more lean than curvy, but I have a great booty so that counts for something.
An athletic build, that’s what I got told once by a guy I liked.
I’m not sure if it was a compliment or an insult.
“Yes,” I finally say, answering Delilah as I reach for a cloth to wipe baby Starla’s chin. “I am a nanny, fully qualified.”
“And Hugh picked you?” she asks, curling her lip up a little.
“He did, yes.”
“But you’re ...”
Go on.
Say it.
Say what is wanting to roll off the tip of your tongue right about now.
Poor.
That’s what she wants to say, because it’s clear I don’t have expensive clothes, or a nice car, or anything even close to what she has. My shoes are so well worn they are forming holes. But that’s exactly how I like it. I’m humble, and I choose to remain that way. My mom would turn in her grave if I was anything other than the incredible person she raised me to be. A girl like Delilah with her rich family and her upper-class life ... It doesn’t surprise me that she is already putting me in a box.
“Poor?” I finish for her.
“No, no, that wasn’t what I was going to say,” she back tracks quickly. “I was going to say young. You’re young.”
No younger than her.
“If I’m not suited for the job, I can leave.”
She shakes her head. “Hugh insists, and right now we’re on shaky ground. You can stay, but ... I need my privacy. You take care of Starla, and I’ll stay out of your way. My friends will be over often, please stay out of sight. I don’t like to be bothered. I have a lot going on in this town, and right now, I need to focus on it.”
Yes, Your Majesty.
“No problem,” I say, smiling at her even though I wish I could just wrap my hands around her neck and throttle her for being such a bitch.
Still, I’m too classy for that.
“Well here, take Starla for her bath. Hugh will be home soon, and I want to have dinner ready. My family isn’t too happy about the situation, as you can imagine, so I’m trying to get things on track. He needs to ... clean up a bit.”
Clean up.
A biker?
Has she seen him? Has she met him?
She can’t be serious.
“Good luck with that,” I mumble, taking Starla and turning toward the bathroom.
“You don’t think we can make it,” she calls after me.
I pause and turn. “I don’t know your business, I’m just here to take care of Starla.”
“You’re right, you don’t know. I’d appreciate if you keep your opinions to yourself.”
I nod, giving her a tight smile.
God.
Maybe I should have met her before taking this job.
Things aren’t going to be easy around her.
“YOU ALREADY ATE?” I hear Delilah say, her voice whip like.
“Didn’t know we were havin’ dinner together each night. Far as I knew you, you worked late.”
“I said five.”
She must have, because that’s what he told me.
Still.
I blow a raspberry on Starla’s belly as I get her ready for bed.
“I forgot,” he mutters. “Sorry.”
“How is this supposed to work if we can’t even figure something so simple out?”
“I moved into this big fuckin’ house, I’m here, what more do you want from me, Delilah?”
“I want you to have some respect. If I cook you dinner, I want you to damn well eat it.”
“I’ll fuckin’ eat it.”
“Stop swearing, your mouth is trash, Hugh. You need to stop talking like that in front of our child.”
“She ain’t in the room.”
“Ugh,” Delilah exhales dramatically. “I can’t handle this. I’m going to see Sammi, maybe she’ll understand the kind of crap I’m living with.”
I look back down at Starla. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got you.”
I finish dressing her and just as I’m about to settle her for the night, Delilah comes charging in. “I’m going out.”
She rushes over, taking Starla from my arms. She hugs the little girl, kissing her cheeks. “Mommy loves you, baby. I will see you tomorrow.”
She hands her back to me, her eyes scanning over me slowly before she says, “It doesn’t matter what I do, nobody appreciates me.”
Right.
Okay.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
I’m not sorry, but it seems like the best answer.
Her eyes soften, just a touch. “You wouldn’t understand, but living this life, it can be so hard. People just ... they walk all over you.”