“Um, Brooke,” Zayden starts, but I'm desperate here. If I don't go to work tonight, then I have no job. No money. No rent. No food.
“I'll get paid in two weeks—decent money, too. Oh, and tips. What's your going rate?”
“I, uh,” he starts as two twin boys appear and launch themselves into his lap. He wrangles them under the bugling biceps in his arms and holds one on either side while they scream and giggle. I follow him up, rising to my feet and clasping my hands together in front of me.
“Please, Zayden. Please, please, please. I need help. I …” Tears sting my eyes without my meaning them, too. I just feel so overwhelmed right now, like I can't breathe, like I'm suffocating beneath the weight of my new responsibilities. A twenty-two year old virgin stripper with two kids and an ugly hairless dog. What the hell happened to my life? “My sister got on a plane and left the country to live with her boyfriend. She left her kids behind and I'm all they've got and my parents are out of town and tonight I have to start a horrible new job …” I'm babbling and crying at the same time right now, but I can't help it. It all just comes tumbling out.
Zayden bites his lower lip and deposits the twins on the grass in a giggling heap as he looks me over.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice breathy, hair sticking to my wet cheeks as I sniffle and look up at him. “I don't have anybody else to ask.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Unless you think I should try Craigslist?”
Zayden arches a pierced brow and puts his hands on his hips, cursing under his breath.
“Fuck,” he says and that's it. “Just fuck.”
I smile and then throw my arms around the neck of a perfect stranger.
I have no idea why I do that; fuck doesn't exactly mean yes.
I am such a huge fucking sucker for pretty girls in distress.
That shit is gonna kill me one day. I can barely handle the four brats that I have now. Take on two more? I must be going insane. Like, literally insane. Hello straitjacket, sign my bitch ass up, so I can start my journey on the crazy train.
My fingers rake through my hair as I pace back and forth and check the time on my phone.
Seven fifty six.
It's just about time to head over to that chick's house. Like, I wouldn't even go, but if she's naïve enough to just give me her address and invite me over to watch her kids, then I'm worried about her. What if she really does get on Craigslist and call up some weirdo? I … fuck. I couldn't live with myself.
Why the fuck did I make that nanny joke? And why didn't I correct her? References? I don't have any references. My brother's exact words were: Do you think I'd have called if I had anyone else? That does not inspire much confidence in anyone.
A text comes in as I'm pacing. It's from Kitty again—and it's a picture of her pierced tits.
Looking forward to tonight, it says and I swear, I can feel my cock crying tears of frustration.
Sorry, babe. Babysitting isn't going well. You want to reschedule for tomorrow night?
But then, that probably won't happen either. That girl, Brooke or whatever her name is, kind of implied that she needed me, like, all week. And I kind of didn't correct her because holy shit, what a hottie. I mean, wow. She might not be as colorful as Kitty with the Pink Hair, but that body … I squeeze my crotch and groan.
“What are you doing?” I jump and stifle a scream as I spin to find Kinzie glaring at me. Is there seriously no such thing as privacy? I'm in the bathroom AND I've locked the goddamn door.
“Did you pick the lock?” I ask and she grins at me, tossing a hair clip thing in the sink. “With a barrette?”
“That's a bobby pin, stupid,” she tells me. “Mom taught me how because the twins always lock themselves in and refuse to come out.”
“Great,” I say caustically, raking my fingers through the hair on the left side of my head. “Weren't you napping or something? Can I please have a minute here?”
“I'm up now, and I'm hungry. Can we have burgers?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Get your shoes on. We've gotta go.”
“It's almost eight o'clock,” she says, and I narrow my eyes. “It's bedtime. And you haven't even fed us dinner yet. Frozen blueberries aren't dinner.”
“Listen up, you,” I tell her as I lean over and give her a look. “You have a serious attitude, okay. I'm trying my best here. Cut me some slack, yeah?” Kinzie gives me a look … and then hauls out and kicks me in the shin. I grit my teeth, but I don't have time to play games right now. No, I'll save those for later. Because you know what? No spankings doesn't mean no time-outs, does it? And it doesn't mean I can't unplug the TV and take away her video games, right? Although that does sound unnecessarily cruel …