Page 87 of Clean Slade
“Kingston! Itisyou!” she said. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever, it seems.”
King looked up at the woman and strained a smile.
“Oh hi, Hannah. Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy, so Slade has been doing the school runs.”
Hannah looked at me from top to bottom before brandishing her own version of a strained smile.
“And Slade is…?” she asked as if starting to laugh.
“The nanny,” I said, shaking her hand.
I was pretty sure I’d remember seeing her at the school, but I hadn’t. Was she really calling King out, or was she into him?
“Oh. You have a nanny? Lucky you,” she told King, barely addressing me.
I didn’t know if she was racist or a homophobe, but I instantly knew I didn’t like her.
Her hand hang limp after our handshake but not even staring at it made her drop it.
Yup. Definitely a racist.
I’d seen that disgusted composure before. As if anyone that wasn’t white carried germs or some disease or some shit. Thankfully, it wasn’t as common an occurrence anymore.
“It was nice to see you, Hannah.” King ground his teeth, not offering an explanation as to why he’d need a nanny, and Hannah smiled.
“Hi, Mackenzie. It’s nice to see you. Grace, aren’t you going to say hi?”
The little blonde girl looked at Mac and forced a hi before mother and daughter left us in peace.
Just in time for pancakes. Lilian, the owner, approached the table with a mouthwatering stack, three plates, and several sides.
“Here we go. The best pancakes for the best girl,” Lilian said. “I want to see clean plates, okay, or I’ll be offended.”
“Oh trust me. We’ll clean you out,” King said, and we both wasted no time filling our plates and pouring blueberries and maple syrup on our pancakes, but Mac sat back and looked out the window.
“Mac, sweetie, aren’t you going to have some pancakes?”
She turned to look at me and shrugged.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You? Not hungry for pancakes? Are you sure you’re my child?” King laughed, but Mac didn’t.
Instead, she rolled her eyes and turned back to the window.
King and I exchanged a look, and I shook my head.
There was no point forcing her. If we tried, she’d only get more agitated and put a wall between us.
“Aren’t you going to finish your cocoa?” King put his silverware down and asked Lilian if we could take away the rest of the pancakes.
“Can I use the restroom?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Mac ran to the restroom, and we both watched her.
“Why won’t she talk to me?”
