“You mean, after school tomorrow?” she asks and I snap my fingers. That's right. School. Blessed, blessed school. Of course, I'll still have the baby, but maybe I'll be able to take a bathroom break in peace. And when I say bathroom break, I mean jerk off session. Maybe with a certain brunette in mind to perk me up a little?
“Sounds good. Good luck at your interview, okay?” Brooke nods and smiles as she moves away and I'm left with a weeping pile of child that I have no fucking clue what to do with.
Fan-flippin'-tastic.
The interview doesn't go well, not even with the blessing of that Tattooed God of a man that I can't get out of my mind. And for some reason, he seems determined to hang out with me. Three days into the week, I'm sitting at the park with him again, talking about something stupid and pointless and fun. It's a good way to get my mind off the fact that … tonight I have to start my new job.
The job I really didn't want. But what I can do?
Panic rises in my throat, but I choke it back, trying to focus on what Zayden's saying. He's surprisingly good at saying a lot without telling me a damn thing. I honestly don't even know any of his kids' names—or if they even are actually his kids. I mean, they must be, right? He's with them everyday.
“I am not a nerd,” he's telling me, but I don't think he actually believes that. Zayden folds his hands behind his head, his dark hair spiked up and pretty in the sunlight. He's a handsome guy, but he's got this silly, goofy attitude to go along with his cursing and his tattoos that makes me smile. I think I actually kind of like him. In a loose, normal, acquaintance sort of way that is. “Playing video games does not make somebody a nerd.”
“Playing video games, collecting action figures, wearing shirts with—” I wave my finger at the black Monster High tee he's wearing “—that on it, makes you a nerd.”
Zayden pinches the fabric of his outfit with two fingers.
“This is not mine. My shirt was wicked cool, but it got baby puke on it, so I improvised. This belongs to my brother.”
“I see,” I say, biting my lip and then pausing as I feel a buzzing against my thigh. I reach into the bag and pull out my new (really shitty but still expensive) phone, glancing at the caller ID.
It's Nelly, an old friend of mine from high school. It's not like we're besties or anything, but it's been five years since I moved away from here. I don't exactly know anybody anymore, and I can't exactly leave the girls alone while I work tonight. She watched them for me yesterday evening and did a good job, so I figure I can trust her with an overnight.
Overnight. Overnight without my clothes on, with men I've never met seeing me naked while no man I've ever actually liked has seen me naked.
My hands start to shake, but I clamp down on the pain, squeezing my fist around the phone. If Zay notices, he doesn't say anything.
“Sorry,” I tell Zayden as I stand up. “I have to take this.” He gives me a sexy little wave with his tattooed hand and picks up his own phone. “Hey, Nelly! How's it going? Are you all ready for your sleepover tonight?” I make my voice sound as cheerful as I can, trying to keep things positive. Letting myself lament the circumstances will only make me miserable. Although I feel like I already am; I feel like my soul's falling apart. Does that make me pathetic?
“Hi, Brooke,” she says, her voice dropping with an awkward sort of regret. “I am so sorry, but I … am not sure I can take the girls tonight.”
I move forward into the grass, blinking at the bright sunshine as I come out of the shadows.
“What do you mean? I … I'm starting my new job tonight. I don't have anybody to watch the girls until my parents get back into town.”
“I know, sweetie, but my boyfriend came home a night early from his business trip, and he wants to take me out.”
“Then … then cancel. I know I'm asking a huge favor here, but I already paid you fifty dollars to do this.”
“And like I said, I'm sorry. Abraham wants to take me out, okay? I really wanted to help, but I can't exactly tell him no, now can I?”
“Um, yes, you can. You said you'd help me out and now I have,” a glance at the time on my phone, “like five hours to find backup. We set this up yesterday, Nelly. Who else am I going to get to watch the kids now?”
“There's nothing I can do, Brooke,” she says in that nasally little voice of hers I've always hated.
“Then I want my fifty bucks back, you hear me? Nelly? Nelly?” I look at the phone screen and see that the bitch has hung up on me. Oh hell no. I dial her back, but there's no answer; I get voicemail. “Listen up, you crabby little cunt,” I start and then jump when I feel a hand on my leg.
“Aunt Brooke?” It's Bella, staring at me with big brown eyes. “What's a crabby little cunt?”
Oops.