Page 5 of The Christmas Nanny

No way. Besides, it said experience is required. I was a guy, not a nanny. I shoved my phone into my pocket and took my food. Driving home, I was not thinking about the gym but about Chuck’s message. The Quartermains were loaded—old and new money. Rumors around town were they enjoyed some pretty seedy activities. In some things, most people were not. I figured people with money were all into strange things.

Mr. Quartermain had come into the gym once. He asked if he could work out for the day without joining. He handed me a hundred bucks, and I said yes. He never spoke to me or anyone else while at the gym. He finished and left without a word and never came back. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. Maybe he saw something in my business model that wasn’t working.

I stopped in the driveway and reread the text. What would it hurt to try? They would say no, and I’d go and be best son number two and work for my Dad.

Slim Shady met me at the door, tail wagging, ten kinds of drool hanging from his mouth. What would I do with a two-hundred-pound Saint Bernard while I was gone? There was no way the Quartermains would allow such a sizeable beast in their house, mansion, or however extravagant they lived. The upside? Slim Shady was a short-haired Saint Bernard, which meant he didn’t shed . . . much.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Slim Shady followed me to the kitchen, and I gave him two scoops of his favorite food. He watched me grab a pizza from the freezer. He’d want at least half. I put it in the oven and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He couldn’t have the beer, though he’d tasted it once before and thrown it up.

“I don’t know jack about raising a kid, man.”

Slim Shady tilted his head, the drool faucet still on. He scarfed down his food and lay at my feet, oblivious to our plight in life. I patted his head, and he rolled over, wanting a belly rub. I obliged, marveling at how easy he had it. No girl problems. No need to worry about his next meal. He could walk right out to the backyard, take a dump, and come back in and nap.

I thought more about the woman I’d passed in the Chinese restaurant. She had a good girl smile that would fit perfectly with what Emily called my pretty, all-American boy look. All-American boy? Right. Maybe that was because she had a twelve-inch stick up her ass. She said no ten times more than yes to experimenting in the bedroom. She was adventurous as a snail in a salt factory. Last Christmas, I put a pair of handcuffs in her stocking, and she took them straight to the trash. She kept the ball gag because she thought it was a toy for her dog. I gave up trying to figure her out, depending on my art to keep my mind sharp.

“I need to find a woman who isn’t scared of exploring her darker side, Slim Shady.”

His eyes shifted to the oven when the timer sounded, more concerned with his stomach than my sex life. I shuffled half the pizza onto one plate and shuffled the other half onto a plate for Slim Shady. He sauntered behind me as we went to the living room, where I sat on the floor with my back against the couch. I put one plate on my lap and the other on the floor, saving the Chinese for later. Slim wasted no time devouring his pizza.

“What kind of woman will go out with a male nanny?”

Slim Shady stared at my pizza, at a loss for words.

“None. Maybe if I said Quartermain nanny, it would change their minds. Get them all excited that I worked for the wealthiest man in the state. “Fuck it, Slim Shady. I’m going to apply.”

I called the number at the bottom of the ad and spoke with someone with an uppity attitude—just the kind of person I wanted to work with. They gave me an email address to send a resume and cover letter. They said someone would get back to me. I doubted that.

I grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat down with a laptop. The worst that could happen was that they would say no. Regardless, I needed a plan B and would give dear old Dad a call. I still needed to pay a mortgage, buy food for Slim Shady, and make a car payment.

***

The sun shined through the bedroom window when I finally rolled out of bed. I usually rolled out at four in the morning to open the gym by five. Sometime in the night, Slim Shady jumped up and put his head on the pillow next to me. The pillow and one side of his face were drenched in shiny saliva. Em being gone meant I didn’t have to listen to her bitch about Slim Shady’s slobbering issue.

My cell phone chimed, and I fully expected another ass-chewing from Emily. It wasn’t Emily but a text message asking if I could come for an interview. The Quartermains liked my cover letter despite my lack of childcare experience. I replied that I was interested, and an immediate reply came back—Monday at ten. Don’t be one minute late, or the interview is off.

I stared at the message for several minutes. Did I want to work with stuffy assholes? Yeah, if the pay was right. Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that crap.

“Gotta get to the store, Slim Shady. Need a suit to make me look like a million bucks.”

Shady moaned and closed his eyes.

My pick of clothes was either gym attire—shorts and a tee—or clothes meant for a night on the town, the same clothes that came back smelling like women, beer, or someone’s puke. I needed a suit, even if it meant wearing it only once.

I stopped at the most expensive store in town because I needed to impress the Quartermains. They sold thousand-dollar suits and thousand-dollar dresses. It’s where the rich came to shop to look rich, and the broke, like me, came to hopefully look the part of being rich.

It took nearly an hour of trying on suits to find the perfect one, a dark Armani that would cost almost two grand but also included shoes and a tie. I chose a red tie to show power, none of which I would have with the Quartermains. I not only looked fucking rich but also like a gigolo heading to some old rich broad’s house to bang her with my eyes closed. Maybe that was a job I could do if the nanny thing didn’t work out. Sure beat the hell out of calling my father.

On the way home, I stopped at Starbucks, went inside, and ordered a drink. While I waited at the counter, she walked in, a shopping bag in one hand, her phone in the other. Something on her phone made her smile. I wanted it to be me making her smile.

“I’ve already ordered,” I said and stepped aside. She fumbled with the bag and her phone while digging for something in her purse. “Let me help you,” I said and held out my hand to hold the bag.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure about handing the bag to a stranger. “Oh, I left my wallet in the car!”

She took the bag back and started to leave. “Wait,” I said. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. It’s too much caffeine anyway.”

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