The Nanny

CHAPTER 1

The place where interviews for the nanny position was being conducted would’ve intimidated anyone. I moved my platinum blonde hair to one side, straighter than the road behind me in New York City traffic that honked and beeped against the busiest street here.

I stepped inside the luxurious apartment building, white pillars and golden statues draped on the corners of the interior. I smoothed a hand over my plain black blouse, jeans and canvas shoes. With a print out of my CV and potential interview questions. I moved inside, looking around like I didn’t recognise this place. I stepped up to reception, “Hello, my name is Cassandra Salinger, I’m here for apartment number thirty, to speak with Xander Knox about a job interview.” I murmured to the front desk. She typed in my name and nodded, before handing me a key while speaking to someone on speaker, in Russian.

I stepped into the elevator with a white and black ceiling, mirrored panels on each side and a noticeable camera in the corner. I glanced around the elevator for simple curiosity while fumbling with the pale blue L-shaped pocket with my documents inside. I released a deep breath as the elevators chimed open and two guards stood there with metal detectors in the doorway to the massive lounge. Where many men and women were seated.

I copied the guard and held my arms out, no jewellery on to zap the machine. The guard checked my documents and then ran a scanner over my phone, “She’s clean, come in, Miss Salinger.” The large guard in front of me said stoically. I stepped towards the massive lounge and found the man in charge who had custody over the twins eyed me with boredom.

I studied the ten men and women on the couch before the twins looked up and the little girl gasped at me. Her sharp blonde hair wasn’t the same shade as mine. I ran my eyes over the girl as I sat down. I smiled at her and moved a little wave in her direction.

She tilted her head at me, “Mommy?”

“No, dummy.” Her brother muttered, eyeing me with wariness.

I trailed my green eyes back to the azure silver ones scrutinising me, but it was the Italian man beside him who spoke with chocolate brown eyes, “Cassandra Salinger, you’ve applied for the full time role as caregiver and nanny to my boss’s twins. Your resume is...appropriate. You’ve babysat before, however there were a few questions I’d like to ask you. Both children have been homeschooled, what do you think about that?” The deep voice asked me.

I blinked at him, “Homeschooling can be effective to control what the children learn, however, it is highly ineffective for their social skills. Their cognitive capabilities will differ from students in school, anxiety and other...social situations will arise. I do not disagree with homeschooling, I simply believe it’s important to take every factor.” I explained as I ran my fingers over each other. Dobermans lined the pillars at the front entrance, guards had guns everywhere. They weren’t even hiding the fact they were a gang.

Grey eyes narrowed on me.

I looked away from him, “The ad wasn’t clear online, I am happy to homeschool both children. Or stay with them at the local primary right next to the adjacent high school ten minutes from here.” I pointed outside.

The boy stood up with a fucking nerf gun and shot me. Hitting the cushion of the couch when I simply leaned back and to the left of me. He fired again and I caught the bullet with a look I directed to the child. It was a test, I knew that much.

His green eyes widened.

The girl grinned at me.

“Have you ever hit a child?” The Italian man asked me.

I looked at him with a deadpanned look, “I would never dream of it. That kind of punishment is for criminals behind bars who have misbehaved. Punishment for me is strategic learning, homework and making a game out of it. A song for addition, a sticker as a reward for name writing, cognitive development is substantial during this period. I had a few questions about potential extra-curriculars the twins might enjoy, if you’d be open to it?” I asked and stared at azure grey eyes, Xander didn’t lean forward, he had the Italian man do it and looked through the paperwork with curious eyes.

“You’d be the first nanny to show...statements and quotes for gymnastics, football, cricket, hockey, ballet and tap.” The man said aloud and the women next to him leaned over with an arched eyebrow just to analyse the pages.

“These are merely suggestions that could be beneficial for Owen and Ophelia. I believe every nanny should have a freedom of speech when it comes to full time work in the system. This will build stamina, resilience, confidence, trust and partnership. It’s a vital component I would greatly consider. Did you have more questions for me?” I wondered, looking down the line of men and women.

Azure grey eyes analysed me, he leaned back to the man on the other side of him with dirty blonde hair, whispering something in Russian. I could pick it up. But instead I trailed my eyes to Ophelia. She looked so much like my older sister, before everything turned into a chaotic nightmare. She stood up and walked closer to me, showing me a toy car. I gave her a soft smile and looked at the model.

Owen stepped over, “You speak like a robot.” He muttered.

I arched a brow at him and turned Ophelia around, I removed the stupid rubber band in her hair and combed it with my fingers, “Some call it an intellectual dialogue of words known to confuse, annoy or overpower another, Owen. Instead of shooting nerf bullets, you could be getting cheered on shooting a puck through a net. Have you ever ice-skated before?” I asked him curiously.

Owen frowned, “My dad was supposed to show me, but I heard he wasn’t very good. Xander is better. Do you ice skate?” He asked me slowly.

“I can take you to lessons if you wish. Your...caregiver is busy with work, hence why he’s hiring a nanny in your presence just to determine whether or not I fit.” I explained to him, braiding her hair to one side. I removed a barter hair-tie and adjusted a clip on her head. She gasped and looked at the braid.

Owen narrowed his eyes at me, “You have no idea how to ice skate or play sports, do you?”

I studied him, “You’re both smart for seven and a half years of age.”

“Mom and Dad said we were gifted. That our bloodline is.” Owen told me, furrowing his eyebrows tighter in scrutiny.

I looked at him for a long, blank moment, “I wouldn’t let it go straight to your head though. Being gifted is like a specimen under a microscope, if discovered by the wrong people. But if I am to be hired as your nanny, I can pinkie promise and cross my heart that no one will discover what is not meant to be discovered. You have my word, and my vow.” I bowed my head to them and smiled with a playful grin.

Ophelia giggled and reached for my lap, “Can we keep her, Uncle Andy? Please!” She asked Xander, who watched the exchange like a hawk on steroids. It made me curious as to how far he’d go for both of them.

The Italian man stood up, “We’ll get back to you by tomorrow morning with our decision. Thank you for coming in.” He said to me, nodding as he reached for my hand and shook it. I nodded to him and Xander.

“Wait.” Owen suddenly said.

I stopped short.

“What in this room looks out of place?” Owen asked me slowly.

“Aside from everything?” I wondered curiously as I looked at him.

Owen arched a brow at me. I looked around the room and walked around the couch. I scrutinised the room, before squatting to reach the book on the lowest shelf, which was in complete alphabetical order. I moved it to the right place.

Ophelia squealed in excitement.

I looked at Owen as his jaw dropped. Eyes penetrated my form.

“That was annoying me too.” I shrugged at Owen and walked back to the elevator. It closed as I turned and I stoically waited until it opened to the doors. I stepped out and took a taxi back to the apartment complex down the street. Rent was shit and while it passed inspection, it barely passed it. But I had to look like it was real.

I cooked mince with cream spaghetti for dinner, television on and discovery channel underway. My phone vibrated with an email. Apparently I wasn’t going to have to wait till tomorrow morning for the message that said I was hired. I had to send in a confidential bank number and other credentials since they already checked criminal record, and other bits and bobs.

I slept soundlessly, and barely given my status.

The next morning, I received another email about coming in at seven in the morning to further discuss nanny-duties. I got into the apartment far easier than last time and no scanners ran over my body as I moved into the lounge. Xander was working at an oval table, clearly a business meeting that plane to a close. I glanced at the guest who had a neck tattoo.

Owen and Ophelia were watching television in the corner. No sense of furniture or items except for beanbags were in the room. Plus, the cartoon they were watching wasn’t exactly interesting.

“Miss Salinger, can we call you Cassandra?” I heard a women behind me and turned to look at her. I nodded and shook her head.

“Of course. Thank you for giving me the position, I look forward to working with you and the twins.” I said professionally as she arched a brow at me and glanced at Xander from where he stood scrutinising me.

The Italian man stepped over, “Cassandra, I’m Giovanni. We look forward to working with you. We’ve taken your suggestions into consideration. For now, we’d prefer Ophelia and Owen be homeschooled, it’ll be what we’re paying you for. You can start reading with them soon. We’ll be watching as you interact with them and how they interact with you. If we find something we don’t like, you’ll be fired, is that understood?” He asked me stoically.

I stared at him, “Understood.” This dumb bitch.

He elevated an eyebrow, “Good, we’ll be surveying you.” He said to me, gesturing to the kids. Ophelia turned off the television as Owen stood up and folded his arms, watching me closely.

I walked over to the children, but not before I looked into Xander’s eyes and stoically held them for ten seconds. Those ten seconds I could test if he read me or not. I was pissed, this imbecile wasn’t applying anything I bloody suggested. I turned my head back to Owen and Ophelia.

“Come on, I’ll show you our play lounge.” Ophelia grinned up at me. I felt footfalls walking behind me, followed by a stack of men and women, they suffocated me in the most frustrating of ways. Owen sat around a table of crayons and paper, he pulled out a bunch and went to messily draw on it.

I stared at the drawing, “Make a paper plane.” I gestuded to the pages.

He furrowed his eyebrows at me and began folding the paper, I moved a page to Ophelia as she sat down. She stared at her brother while I was stared at closely.

Owen stood up with his crooked plane and the object dropped to the floor.

He scowled, “How do you make a paper plane?” He grumbled.

“You made one without knowing the true nature of a plain paper plane?” I murmured curiously, he was impulsive. I showed him how to make one with a sharp pointy nose on the end and watched it fly. Owen sprinted for it, eyes on the plane. He picked it up and deciphered how it was made.

He tried making it himself. Ophelia did the same while I showed her how to make a flower, a frog, playful objects that enchanted her as she played with them. I stepped over to their shelf and grabbed three different books before Owen threw it at me. I caught it, “What’s pushing the plane to the ground?” I asked him securely.

“Gravity.” He mumbled.

I didn’t arch a brow at that one and held a chapter book to him, “Read the first three chapters, then tell me what you liked and what you disliked.” I told him, he looked at it curiously and slowly pulled it from me. I gave a Princess one to Ophelia. She opened it up to the first chapter, before I began writing questions about each book. What the main characters were, what the book was about, everything. I slid both sheets under them and supplied the pens.

Giovanni gestured to me.

I stepped over, Xander didn’t speak beside him, but based on his six foot four height and sharply muscular figure, I’d say he was aiming for a look of intimidation. Men genuinely prefer puffing out their chests just a little and he moved his legs, appearing bigger. I gave him a doubtful look in my mind and looked at Giovanni, “Yes.”

He smiled at me, “Why don’t you tell us what you truly think about Xander’s choices about keeping them homeschooled? We saw that look you gave him.” He said curiously.

I stared at him, “My opinion will get me fired.” I said stoically.

He grinned and looked down me, “It won’t.”

“Then put it on paper. I’m no amateur and I believe in employee-employer rights. Voicing my opinion, as disagreeable as it may be, gives my current employer jurisdiction to fire me during the trial period as orchestrated in your contract. You have thirty days and so do I to determine how balanced this transaction is. Put the fact that my honest, professional opinion and advice is part of the freedom of speech act and something you will take under careful consideration. Everything I suggested was critical in their growth. I didn’t apply for this job just to be some ordinary nanny who walks them through the park, tucks them in and makes them meals. You keep them isolated, you will see the evidence trials conducted centuries ago...leaving detrimental damage behind.” I accented and dragged out as I trailed my eyes to Xander.

He studied me, but said nothing.

Giovanni nodded to the guard, “Make the paperwork, everything she said.” He instructed in English.

The guard looked at me thoughtfully, before a dog sniffed around me and tilted his head into my thigh. I looked down at the creature, “You’ll enrol them into school then?” I asked slowly.

“Anything else?” Giovanni tilted his head at me.

I blinked, “Do I have a budget for items requested in the near future?”

“What kind of nanny are you?” The woman with dark brown hair, coffee bean with swirls of lighter highlights.

I looked at her, “The better question is what kind of woman I am and that sure as shit isn’t someone who won’t stand up for what she believes in. A nanny observes the children, the family members and the dynamics of the entirety of her or his job.” I stated, studying all of them.

Giovanni narrowed his eyes with amusement all over his face, “What do you see when you look at the twins...and us?” He asked me curiously.

I eyed him closely and looked at the children, side-on, “Ophelia walks timidly, Owen is mischievous until he’s caught off guard. When he makes a mistake or doesn’t know something, he’s irritated, frustrated, he repeats the action just like he’s doing right now as he reads. The guns cause Ophelia to tense, she stopped tensing after I braided her hair during my interview. Dobermans at every corner, the guns, the security. Celebrities—normal ones—don’t have this kind of firearm in America. But I’m not questioning that because I’m an employee and since you haven’t yet, here’s an NDA that prohibits me from seeking police, publicity or anything discriminating to you, your faculty and everything else that deems you in the disadvantaged community. Oh, and you’re only here because I am odd and not what you expected, not because you think I’m a danger to them.” I nudged my head to the children.

The woman looked at me in disbelief.

I heard a snort and a few chuckles.

“You are odd.” Giovanni mumbled, staring at the NDA with surprise.

I blinked at him, “I can say it about myself, but when you say it, it only further exemplifies the fact that you’re arrogant enough to be rude to anyone who shows you up. Oh, and someone stuck glitter stickers to the back of your collar. It looks like a tracker, I’d get rid of that.” I told him and his eyes widened, snapping to his collar.

He pulled off the gadget, “Son of a bitch. We have a breach.” He snapped in Russian before he and the woman stepped out hurriedly. A great deal of them stepped out after Xander followed them. I rolled my eyes and walked back to the kids. Ophelia hadn’t begun answering the questions yet, stuck in the world of the book. Owen answered the questions I gave.

I studied his handwriting. Left-handed, sometimes it dragged along the page and the ink got messy.

He scowled. I wiped the marks and showed him how to properly avoid the pen marks, “Are you left-handed too?” He asked me, still frowning.

I shook my head, “Dominant for me is my right, but I taught myself both.” I answered him.

“Why?” Ophelia asked me in confusion.

“For a reason much like this.” I pointed at Owen’s work and moved back into the beanbag seat. Its texture was soft underneath my jeans. I felt the beads inside sinking down, until they scrunched up like fatty tissue, tightening like strained flesh.

During the day, we were rarely disturbed while I tested breaks. Maids stepped in with lunch and offered me something. All I asked for was a coffee, black, “Black like your heart?” Owen asked me.

I blinked at him, “Colourful, but no. The taste is stronger, lasts longer.” I supplied.

Ophelia smiled at me, “What’s your favourite drink?”

“Traditional tea.” I murmured down to her.

The door opened, “Xander requested the kids eat in the lounge. Owen and Ophelia, you can bring your drawings.” The woman instructed softly at the door. I helped Ophelia bring over her pens as she drew a field and a rainbow. Perfecting the shape of a horse in the background. I moved into the lounge where a Spanish song with a smooth bass played in the background. The television played on mute and the floor-to-ceiling glass revealed more of the city outside.

I sat down in a tiny child’s play seat next to Ophelia with Owen opposite us while they ate their sandwiches, “Can you cook?” Owen asked me when he saw me picking up a range of pens with Ophelia.

“Excellently.” I told him quietly.

Owen scoffed, “You’re not a chef, you’re a nanny. I propose you make Ophelia and me dinner. Then, if I like your food, you can move in.” He gestured down the hall.

“I’m twelve minutes from this building. The contract didn’t specify moving in until after a one month trial period, Owen. I can cook if you wish it. What are you favourites?” I asked them both.

They looked at each other.

“Steak with chips and salad.” Owen blurted out.

“An American cheeseburger with chips.” Ophelia whispered as she looked up at me.

“And the ingredients are there.” Giovanni added by the table where I caught them listening. I bowed my head at the order and checked the time. I counted two hours before I got up after finishing the colouring I was working on. Owen grabbed it in surprise and held it to the light. A water coloured pen art of coffee spilling in a white cup.

Cooking felt like a mechanic for me, many said to make it with love. I tried once, but that failed each time. If I simply ran recipes in my mind to the best possible outcome, I could generate the best meal. The mince burger and steak could be made on the same appliance. Sizzling pops echoed on the stove as I cooked the mince on one side and steak on the other. Rosemary, butter and a range of spices made the smell heavenly. The chips were done differently than what everyone would’ve expected them to appear.

I sliced up potatoes into fine crisps and sprinkled cheese, oil, herbs on top, putting those in the oven. I checked the meat. Towel preferred medium rare, but I didn’t ask him to figure that one out, I knew everything about the two kids because my sister adored them. Enough to show me everything. I sliced into a range of capsicum, cucumber and spinach leaves for the salad. Squeezing lemon juice over it, I added pomegranate seeds and avocado.

Pickles and tomatoes were added to the burger after I melted the traditional American cheese on the meat and began serving it on the plates in the way a chef would. Precision, accuracy...perfection. Like it was an art in itself. I didn’t realise I was being watched after the amazed maids slowly poured the kids drinks because both of them stared at me with looks that made me assume they saw their mother in me.

Because she was the same.