“Sorry,” he mumbles but I hear no sincerity in it.
“Is this the boy?” Mrs. Fisher asks from behind me.
I turn around, putting David down. “Mrs. Fisher, this is David, my son and his dog, Zombie.”
She smiles. “Pleasure to meet you.”
The dog doesn’t seem to feel the same way, starting to bark.
“Take Zombie and go back to your room,” I tell David. “We’ll talk later.”
David sighs then grabs the dog. “Come on, Zombie.”
Thankfully, Zombie obeys. Seriously, he only listens to David. Well, at least, he listens to someone, unlike his owner.
“I must apologize for the commotion,” I tell Mrs. Fisher. “Like I said, my son is adventurous.”
She nods. “Well, boys will be boys.”
“That means he gets into trouble sometimes. No, not sometimes. Often. He’s hard to control. In fact, I can’t remember how many nannies have left because they can’t handle him. I imagine never having had a mother has something to do with it.”
“If I may ask, what happened to his mother?”
It’s the question that never fails to be brought up and yet I haven’t gotten used to answering. Maybe I never will.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I put my hands in my pockets. “She died… shortly after giving birth to David.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
I hear the sympathy in her voice – something else I’m not used to and definitely don’t deserve.
“I try my best to make up for it. I try to spend as much time with David as I can. I’ve even moved my office here at home just so I can be around him more.”
“Very noble,” Mrs. Fisher praises. “Not every father would make that sacrifice for their child.”
“But it hasn’t made any difference.” I lean on the pillar at the end of the stair railing. “I guess now you’re going to tell me you don’t have anyone who can handle my son?”
Mrs. Fisher smiles. “On the contrary, I think I have just the perfect nanny.”
Strangers
Sabrina
Present for the child? Check.
Toothbrush? Check.
Vitamins? Check.
I put my list back in my pocket and my bag on my lap, smiling as I look around the mall from the bench where I’m sitting.
It seems like I’m all set.
I glance at my watch. I still have an hour to go, though, before I have to meet my new employer and the child I’m supposed to take care of.
David Brewster, eight.
I can still remember the picture Carol showed me – a boy with thick, dark brown hair, some of which cover his forehead all the way to his eyebrows, bright, blue eyes with a gleam of intelligence and mischief, dimpled cheeks and a charming smile showing slightly crooked front teeth, which I’m sure will straighten out given a bit more time and dental care. He’s a darling, to be sure. Given a few more years, he’ll break hearts here and there.
It’s hard to believe such an adorable face can cause so much trouble and yet, that’s exactly what Carol told me.
“He’s a troublemaker, that one,” she said. “A young rebel. The kind to drive a nanny out of her wits. Be careful.”
I almost laughed then. Be careful? Of what? Seriously, what’s the worst thing an eight-year-old boy can do? Put gum in my hair? A spider under my shirt? Throw a soccer ball at my chest?
I’ve been through worse. Much worse. I’m pretty sure I can handle a mischievous little boy.
I pick up the cup of juice that I set down beside me and take a sip, afterward taking a deep breath.
I guess starting from today, I’m going to be a full-time nanny.
I never thought I’d be a nanny for a rich person’s kid. Frankly, It’s not my dream job. I can’t complain, though. Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, it’s not that bad. The pay is good. I’ll have a roof over my head and three meals a day. I’ll even have my own room, and it’s not going to be locked. Well, not from the outside. Best of all, I don’t have to fear for my life or be afraid of getting hurt. Carol assured me of that.
Carol. God bless her. She saved my life. If not for her, I…
Suddenly, I stop, the little hairs on my nape standing on end.
Someone’s watching me.
Quickly, I look around, trying to spot anyone suspicious or someone who might be one of Vince’s thugs. After all, I don’t expect him to come searching for me himself.
Who is looking at me?
I’ve changed my appearance in the last three months. I’ve dyed my blond hair Galactic Copper – at least, that’s what the hair dye box said, though frankly, I find it no different than the shade of a copper wire. I cut it short – not pixie cut, just short, about an inch below my shoulders. I started wearing Mystical Black contacts – again, that’s what it said in the box – to hide my bluish-gray irises, even though they hurt sometimes, like I have a huge grain of dust in my eyes. I even gained a bit of weight. Well, Carol said I was too skinny, like malnourished skinny.
When I look at the mirror, I can barely see Savannah Brown, only Sabrina James. The new Sabrina James. Still, I can’t be sure any of Vince’s peons won’t recognize me. For all I know, they can detect my scent like hounds.
Finally, my eyes rest on someone – a man in his forties with sunglasses, a beard and a leather jacket, standing beside the nachos stand across me. He’s suspicious, all right. Worse, I can’t see exactly where he’s looking but his head is turned in my direction and he isn’t moving so he might be staring at me.
Oh, shit.
Quickly, I grab my things, slinging my canvas bag over my shoulder and towing my suitcase on wheels behind me as I make my hasty retreat.
I know I may just be acting paranoid. That man might not have been staring at me at all. He might have been staring at someone behind me. Or he might have been staring at me but for a different reason – maybe I look like someone he knows or maybe he just likes the way I look, you know, checking me out.
Even so, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
See, that’s what happens when someone breaks your trust. You lose trust in everyone. You go from trusting to paranoid. There’s no in between.
Passing by a garbage can, I throw my cup away. As I do, I glance behind me, my heart pounding in fear when I see that man a few feet behind me.
He’s following me?
No.
I take my sunglasses, which are clipped to the neckline of my shirt, and put them on before walking faster, my sneakers squeaking on the freshly mopped tiles while heels clack and strollers roll on by.
Is he still following me?
I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I just walk faster.
Eventually, I spot the sign to the women’s room. I make a beeline for it, like someone lost at sea who has just found an island.
Come on.
Down the last stretch, I glance back. I don’t know why. My head just turned on its own.
He’s gone. No sign of him.
So, he wasn’t following me?
Well, that’s a relief. That’s…
I don’t finish my thoughts, my breath knocked out of me as I slam against a wall and trip back.
At least, I thought at first it was a wall but as I look up from where I’ve fallen on the floor, my sunglasses having slid down the bridge of my nose, I realize that it was a person I bumped into.