The Nanny Game

If I had known three months ago that accepting a position as a summer nanny would mean I’d not only get paid to spend ten glorious weeks beach-side in the Hamptons, living in a stupid-fancy estate, hanging out with twin daughters of a billionaire, but I’d also find myself chin-deep in trouble, would I have been so quick to sign that contract? I’ve experienced more in a single summer than in the previous eighteen years of my life combined. A lot of those experiences were good, a couple may have even been the kind you only get once-in-a-lifetime, but the bad ones have been the truly awful kind that leave behind scars as reminders. After all the drama and tears, the confusion and self-doubt, the un-freaking-believable amount of stress, was it really worth it?

I formed a special bond with two amazing five-year-old girls. I vacationed on the island of St. Martin in the Caribbean. I helped plan one of the most over-the-top, extravagant children’s birthday parties. I fell in love. I went to Europe. I got my heart broken. I gained the friendship of a few amazing ladies I can no longer imagine my life without. I accidentally solved a mystery. I got black-mailed into helping someone do something that might be illegal. I’m kind of freaking out about the possible repercussions of that last bit. And now, as if that weren’t enough, I’ve stumbled upon a private moment I was never meant to witness but definitely can’t un-see. I can practically hear the proverbial Final Nail being hammered into my coffin.

So, was it worth it? Does the good balance out the bad? Have I gained more than I’ve lost? When will I know?

The man on the couch flinches sharply away from the light I’ve just switched on, shocked not only by the sudden brightness but by my very presence. “You’re not supposed to be here,” He growls, his pale face growing red. In anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure. In a moment, he regains his composure. He straightens his back and meets my gaze, his expression hard and his posture rigid. There’s an unbridled fury in his blue eyes and it makes him look dangerous. “No one is supposed to be here. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

Fear washes over me, covering me in a cold sweat. A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Goosebumps sprout up on the back of my neck and spread across my skin. My fight or flight instincts are screaming at me to pull a disappearing act, but for some reason I don’t move my feet.

The blonde woman in his lap shifts her body sideways, revealing her face for the first time. I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am to see her here. A lazy smile slides onto her mouth as she lifts her chin to look at me.

“Relax. She’s not going to tell anyone she saw us together.”

She runs her hands across her companion’s chest, sinking her fingers into the hairy patch exposed by his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, while I remain horror-struck in the doorway. “Confidentiality agreement, remember? Even if she wanted to tell someone, she can’t say a word. She already signed her consent to keep all your dirty little secrets. You worry too much, baby. You are so tense. Why don’t you lean back and close your eyes and let me take care of you for once?” She slides to the floor between his legs, kneeling before him. The sound of a belt buckle being loosened reaches my ears.

I blink a few times, wishing the scene before me would disappear and something less likely to get me fired would appear in its place. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky. The nauseas feeling in my gut intensifies and I’m worried I might actually throw up. I’m so getting fired.

In fact, that’s probably not even the worst thing that’s going to happen to me. I’m suddenly struck with a terrifying string of thoughts. Am I an accessory to an actual crime? Am I going to get arrested? I can’t go to jail! My mom is going to kill me. And if she doesn’t, the very pissed off billionaire across the room might. I thought I’d been taking charge of my life when I took this job, but I was very, very wrong. I’ve never felt like things were so far out of my control.

My mouth is dry, but I have to say something. I can’t just stand here gawking! I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry,” I finally manage to scrape a few words together and spit them out, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll be going now.”

I’ll be going now? What? Who even says that? And in a situation like this?

I abruptly turn around, not even remotely interested in seeing something even more offensive to my eyeballs than I already have. I think one disturbing scenario per evening is enough, thank you very much. Without thinking about it, I switch off the light as I exit the room, returning the library to its previous state of darkness. I yank the door shut behind me. I’m pretty sure neither of them will be following me, since they’re both preoccupied with handling a more personal matter, but I don’t stick around to find out. I simply dart through the dimly lit hallway, moving from one end of the large house to the other, and don’t stop running until I’m inside my bedroom with the door closed.

I twist the lock. Lean my back against the door, breathing heavy. Put a shaky hand to my heart. Lift my eyes heavenward. Sigh.

I am, unequivocally, screwed, and there’s really nothing I can do about it.

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10 Weeks Ago

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to miss your high school graduation.” Mom says, louder this time, in case I missed the first dozen times she expressed her disappointment with my decision. “You’re my only kid, Claire. I don’t get to see my only kid walk across the stage and accept her diploma. That’s what you’re depriving me of. You won’t get this moment back, you know. It’s one-of-a-kind.”

I continue loading my luggage in the trunk of my lipstick red, ’99 Pontiac Grand Am as I attempt to soothe my mother. My car is older than I am, and I hope she can handle the three hour drive we have ahead of us. Once I arrive at the beach house in Southampton, I will get access to the shiny new Toyota Corolla the Ryland’s generously bought for the nanny to drive their twins around in. The only catch is, I’m not allowed to use the Corolla unless I’m on-the-clock. I need my trusty old car to survive the trip so I have a means of getting around on my days off.

“I know you were excited about it, Mom, and I’m sorry, but graduations are actual torture. You should be grateful I’m not forcing you to sit in a hot, crowded room for hours and hours, listening to drawn-out, meaningless speeches before hundreds of names are called out, all for a piece of paper and a handshake. And guess what? I still get the diploma even though I’m not walking across the stage. I still graduated! That accomplishment is still mine.”

“That’s not the point,” Mom argues, “It’s a rite of passage. You should be there.”

I nestle the last of my bags in the boot of the Grand Am and close the hatch, keeping my back to her as I roll my eyes. “I promise, if there comes a day when I regret skipping my high school graduation,” I twirl around so I can look my mother in the face, “you are more than welcome to say ‘I told you so’. Until then, look on the bright side: there’s always college graduation! I might be taking the next year off, but you can still hold onto your dream of watching your only kid cross a stage in a tacky cap and gown to accept a piece of paper. I’ll get there someday.” I tip my head to the side and grin endearingly.

“Oh, Claire,” Mom shakes her head, feigning impatience when I can clearly see her lips twitching, “You’re impossible. What am I going to do with you?” Despite her best efforts not to, she starts to smile.

“Don’t you mean what are you going to do without me?” I correct, quirking up an eyebrow.

She can pretend to be mad about the graduation all she wants, but I know what’s really bothering her. I’m leaving her, for ten weeks, and we’ve never been apart that long before. She’s feeling emotional and overprotective. I get it. I’m going to miss her too. It’s always been Mom and me, my whole life. She was only twenty-one when she had me, and she’s raised me virtually on her own. Mom was working as a waitress to pay her way through college and my dad was a handsome customer who came in the restaurant a few times a week to flirt with Mom until she finally agreed to go on a date with him. The attraction was there, but Dad’s time in Connecticut was always temporary. By the time Mom knew she was pregnant, he’d already returned to his life in Atlanta, Georgia. She told him about me, and he agreed to pay child support, but aside from a few visits over the years, he isn’t involved in my life. Mom is far from perfect, and she drives me crazy sometimes, but I love her so much. She’s truly my best friend.

“That too,” Mom sighs emotionally. She puts an arm around my neck and pulls me to her chest, squeezing tightly. I might be eighteen now, but she’s still taller than me by a couple inches, and her hugs always make me feel safe and loved. “I know this is an amazing opportunity for you, but – God! – I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” I wrap my arms around her equally as tight, resting my chin on top of her shoulder. I breathe in her soothing lavender and vanilla scent and file the memory under Mom and Home for easy-access when I inevitably start to feel homesick. “I’m going to miss you so much, but I’ll be okay. You will, too. I promise I won’t forget to check-in. We’ll talk every day. We’ll talk so much you’re going to be sick of hearing my voice!”

Mom loosens her arms and moves to cup my face in her hands. “Not possible, Claire-bear. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. I could never get sick of you.” She plants a kiss in the center of my forehead. “I love you. Be safe. Have fun. Now, go. Quickly, before I change my mind and keep you home with me forever.”

I smile, feeling giddy with excitement. I grip my keychain in my hand and run around the side of the car to the driver’s door, waving to my misty-eyed mother. “I love you! I’ll call you when I get there. Don’t cry, Ma. You’re going to make me cry. That’s not fair.” I settle into the passenger seat and turn the key in the ignition. I unroll the window, tossing Mom a few air-kisses, which she returns. “Bye! Love you!”

“Bye!” She waves, and keeps on waving as I press on the gas and the car lurches down the street. I watch her in the rearview mirror until she’s too far away to see clearly. I blink away my tears.

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