She glanced up at me as if she hadn’t realized I was there. “Huh? Yes. Sorry. No, we didn’t make it to the store today.”
I noticed that she wouldn’t look directly at me. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. She cooled another bite of soup for Lizzie.
“But you were gone for a couple of hours,” I said. “I thought you were at the store. Where did you go?”
She cut her eyes at me. “Is this how it’s going to be? Are you going to question me every time I leave the house?”
I blinked at her. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“Just stop questioning me,” she snapped. “I’m not a child. I don’t have to report to you!”
She dropped the spoon into the bowl and pushed it toward me. Soup slopped out onto the table.
“I’m sorry. I just wondered where you were this afternoon,” I said, doing my best to keep a level head. “Lizzie was with you, so I feel like I have a right to know where you were.”
Amy Lynne slowly brought her eyes up to meet mine. They were full of tears. She wiped the back of her hand under her nose.
“Why did you hire me?” she asked.
“Why did I hire you?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Why did you hire me?”
“To take care of Lizzie.”
“You hired me to fuck you, didn’t you?” She glared at me and gritted her teeth. “I’m not a whore.”
That one took me by surprise.
Christ, why were women so fucking confusing?
You fuck them one time and it’s like they think they have a license to go bat shit crazy on you when you ask a simple question. What. The. Fuck.
“Of course, you’re not a whore,” I said. “Amy Lynne, what the fuck’s going on? Why are you acting this way? When you left this morning everything was great. What happened?”
I reached across the table for her hand.
She jerked away and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You hired me to fuck you,” she whispered. “I know that now.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked away and shook her head. “You want me to be Lizzie’s nanny during the day and your whore at night.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Amy Lynne, where is this coming from?” I truly liked this girl, but I was starting to have serious second thoughts about hiring her. And about fucking her. Gail didn’t mention that she was an emotional basket case. Then again, most women are. Jesus, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Lizzie was staring at both of us with wide eyes full of tears. Her bottom lip began to quiver. I pulled her out of the chair and held her in my lap.
“I’m not a whore,” Amy Lynne said again. She looked away and shook her head. “And I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
She pushed up from the table and ran out of the room.
“Wow,” I said to myself. “What the fuck was that?”
Lizzie slapped the table with a spoon to bring me back to reality. I shook my head to clear it. I was literally stunned, as if a concussion grenade had gone off in the room.
I blew out a long breath and went back to feeding Lizzie, who thankfully seemed oblivious to it all.
I took a few deep breaths to force the anger that had been building inside my chest back down. I remembered arguing with Bethany like that. One minute she was calm as could be and the next minute, she was a fucking banshee. I remember her yelling at me at the top of her lungs while I sat there wondering what the fuck was wrong. It was always a competition to see who could yell the loudest and get in the sharpest digs. I resolved myself not to treat Amy Lynne the same way. I mean, when it came right down to it, I didn’t really know much about her, other than the few comments she’d made about her terrible marriage and what Gail had told me.
Gail… I tried to imagine what Gail would tell me to do.
She’d tell me to give Amy Lynne time to calm down, then see if I could figure out what had happened between breakfast and now to set her off.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Amy Lynne
I knew I’d acted like a fool, but I couldn’t help it. Every time I had glanced into Jackson’s eyes, I heard Randy’s voice in my head.
I even put words into his mouth to berate myself with.
You’re nothing but a fucking whore.
You know you are.
That’s all you’ve ever been.
You’re fucking a guy for money.
That makes you a whore.
It won’t last.
He’ll get tired of you and kick you out.
Girls like you are a dime a dozen.
Whore.
I locked myself in my room and waited until I heard Jackson start Lizzie’s bath in the bathroom down the hall. Then I picked up my suitcase and tiptoed down the hall.
As I passed the bathroom door, I heard Lizzie laughing and splashing in the tub. I heard Jackson’s deep voice singing to her. The Barney song. I had to smile. He hated that damn song.
I took a deep breath and went down the stairs.
I quietly let myself out the front door.
My old Honda was sitting in the driveway where I’d left it.
I opened the back door and flung my suitcase inside.
I slid in behind the wheel and paused to look at the beautiful house I had called home for a few days.