“Still in the car,” I call out.
Hugh looks a whole lot like he’s trying not to laugh. “She’s stayin’,” he tells Delilah.
Take that, bitch.
Delilah shakes her head and exhales, but she doesn’t say anything more.
She’s trying to win Prince Charming, after all.
We arrive at the country club, and as we roll in, I can’t help but stare in awe at the sheer size of it. It has always been surrounded by massive gates, so you could never really see inside unless you were a member. Not that I ever had any desire to see what lies behind the closed gates of this place. Still, it’s a sight to see, and I know my eyes are wide as the car slowly comes to a stop.
It’s huge, stretching out for what seems like forever. A massive building, peach in color with a red roof. Arches and arches of roofs can be seen as far as the eye stretches, windows overlooking rolling green paddocks. Tennis courts, swimming pools, you name it, it’s here. A man wearing a white uniform walks over, opening Hugh’s door, one hand tucked politely behind his back. “Welcome, sir. I’ll park the car for you.”
Hugh stares at him.
Delilah laughs and slaps him on the arm. “Never mind him, Nigel. It’s his first time.”
“Delilah, how wonderful to see you, I hope you’re well,” Nigel says, smiling at her.
“I am, thank you, Nigel.”
We get out of the car and watch as Nigel gets in and drives it away. Delilah talks to everybody, walking with her arm hooked through Hugh’s as we approach the grand front entrance of the club. Nobody bats an eye as she walks through with us, but the looks I get tell me just how shocked they are to see a nanny who isn’t equal to her in money trailing behind the perfectly flawless Delilah.
I straighten my dress a whole lot more than I should, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. My discomfort only heightens as we walk outside into a large green field filled with people dressed in the most expensive clothes, the kind of clothes you see in movies but don’t believe actually exist. Jewelry drips from the ladies’ fingers and necks, and the men are all dressed in suits, none of them holding beers but posh glasses of whiskey on the rocks.
Oh, god.
Hugh pauses and glances at me, his face tight.
This isn’t him.
It’s so far from him that it might as well be a different planet.
Delilah wraps her arm around him as she waves to someone coming toward us. An older couple, and I’m guessing they’re her parents by the look they’re giving the man she is clawing like a god damned wet cat. If she paws at him any harder, she’ll leave marks. He’s as stiff as a board and, oh, this isn’t going to end well. It’s written in the stars.
Star cries and I’m thankful, my god am I thankful.
I push her stroller toward the sign that indicates the bathrooms. I need to get the hell out of there, the looks already following me are scathing. Horrified. The women whispering into their husbands’ ears as their eyes trail over my body makes me want to curl into a ball and scream. But I hold my head high and walk into the bathroom, rushing into a special feeding room. The bathroom is bigger than my current living situation and the furniture in here outdoes anything I’ve ever had the pleasure of sitting on.
I plant my bottom on the edge of the gold-trimmed seat in the feeding room and take Star out of her stroller, reaching for her bag to get a bottle. I get it to her as quickly as I can and then bounce her softly as she gobbles it down, dribbling milk onto my expensive dress that I’d never be seen dead in outside of this place. But Delilah insisted.
Voices enter the main bathroom area and the door creaks closed. Women, a few of them by the sounds. They’re all talking as the faucets start running and toilet doors begin closing. I hold my breath, praying they don’t come in here.
“Did you see her nanny?”
The female voice is catty, prissy, bitchy.
I know they’re talking about me.
Of course they are.
“She’s so poor. Did you see her hair, it looks like it hasn’t been done professionally in months,” another girl whispers.
“I bet Delilah dressed her, no way she would own nice clothes. Such poor taste.”
Bitches.
That’s all they are.
I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s nothing unusual, but it is something that still bothers me, and so it should. I have as much right to be here as they do. I’m a better person than them, for starters. That about covers it, really.
“And that biker. I can’t believe she stooped so low. She really mustn’t be over Richard because, if she was, she would never let herself sleep with scum. The poor pathetic girl should be with the biker, but, honestly, he’s a biker so he’s probably already fucking them both. Disgusting. If that were my child, I would give it up for adoption. I’d never admit to sleeping with something like that.”
That’s it.
That. Is. It.
I stand and place Star in her stroller, she’s just finished her bottle. I will burp her in a moment but these women are not walking out of here without hearing what I have to say. At the very least, I want to see their faces when they see that I’ve heard everything they’ve said. I take a deep, angry breath and walk out of the room.
There are two women by the sink, both of them dressed like queens. They turn, and when they see me, their faces go blank.
“Hi there,” I say, stepping forward. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Maggie, the poor nanny. I just wanted to come out here and compliment you on your absolutely incredible imaginations. I mean, if I were writing a book, I’d get you two ladies to pitch in. The utter shit that comes out of your mouths would make a bestseller.”
One of them gasps.
“Oh, close your mouth, honey, don’t act like you’re shocked. Afterall, I did just hear you using the words scum, adoption, poor, and disgusting so don’t stand here and act like you’re shocked that I could say something so rude.”
She closes her mouth, eyes wide.
“Here’s something you should know about that scummy biker—he’s a thousand times better than the pin-dicked men you girls get around with. For one thing, he actually knows how to make a woman scream. I bet you haven’t had that in your life, have you? Poor things. It must be hard walking around with a stick rammed so far up your perfect asses that you have forgotten what it feels like to orgasm.”
“Enough,” the woman closest to me says, her voice horrified. “Take your trashy mouth and leave, or I’ll have you removed.”
“Go ahead, go out there and announce that the poor girl hurt your precious feelings. I’ll wait here. Also, while you’re at it, go and tell the biker what you said about him. I can’t wait to see his reaction.”
Her face goes red.
“Run along.” I smile. “We don’t have all day.”
“Ugh, I’m not speaking to this trash,” she says, shaking her head and taking her friend by the arm. “She’s not even worth the air we breathe.”
They turn and walk toward the door.
“Oh, you’ve got something stuck on your bottom,” I call.
She pauses and reaches around, patting her bottom in search for the mystery item.
“Oh, sorry, it was just that stick poking out. Carry on.”