Page 14 of Mister Mom

“Miss Andrews,” Constance, the owner, answers and I know it’s not a good sign.

“Hi, Constance. Mary left Payne in the care of a stranger. A male stranger.” My voice has a bite of anger that’s well deserved, but I attempt to keep it in check because at this point I’m at her mercy.

“She called. I’m so sorry, Miss Andrews. She’s been terminated from the company.”

The fight in me dies, since heads have already rolled. I need to focus on a solution to my problem now.

“That’s good. Constance, I’m in the middle of filming, I need someone for at least three more weeks.”

Her breath flows out over the phone. “Miss Andrews…”

“I know. I’ve been through a lot of nannies, but Payne promises to behave himself going forward.” I sit down on the couch, running my thumb over the spine of the script. Very few have come my way for leading roles and those that have, have been abysmal. Normally my agent wouldn’t have even mentioned this one to me since no one has ever heard of Vance Rose before, but Jagger Kale called him and asked if the writer could meet with me directly. If Jagger hadn’t made that phone call our little meeting would never have happened, but he’s not known to attach himself to useless endeavors and so I figured it was worth a few minutes of my time.

“Miss Andrews, I have no one left.”

“No one?” I question in disbelief. Surely there’s a recent graduate who needs a job? An empty-nester eager to fill her day?

“No one. You’ve had every one of my employees. I’m expecting another rush this summer, but in the meantime, I can’t help you out.” Her voice is pained so I think she may feel bad for me, but nonetheless, she could be lying.

“I’m desperate. I’ll pay more than the usual.”

“Miss Andrews, it’s not about payment or the fact that Payne is one of our more… energetic children.”

She’s sweet, referring to Payne as energetic. He’s basically a modern-day version of Dennis the Menace. If only I could find his Mr. Wilson.

“We just don’t have the staff right now. I’m sorry.”

My shoulders sink and I stare at the bedroom door. The best thing to happen to my life is also the worst thing to happen to my career. It’s a horrible truth of working in showbiz and having children with a man who never lets them affect his career.

“Thanks, Constance. I’ll figure something out, but please put me on the list for the next available nanny.”

“Of course, Miss Andrews. You’ll be one of the first ones I call.”

“The first?” I clarify.

“Yes, Miss Andrews.”

“I’ll be the first?”

“Yes, one of. You aren’t my only client.”

And here I thought this conversation was going semi-okay. I know now that this woman isn’t going to call me back. I’m probably last on the list of firsts.

“I know, but I may be a tad more desperate.”

She laughs, and I can’t help but think it sounds empty and uncaring now.

“I promise, Miss Andrews, your number is on speed dial.”

For more than just one reason.

“Thank you, Constance.”

“Of course, Miss Andrews. Good luck on finding someone and I’ll be in touch.”

We hang up and my head falls back to the hard cushion of the couch.

Damn it. Where the hell am I going to find a nanny?

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