Page 23 of Worst Nanny Ever
“So, what’s the deal?” I ask. “Am I working for you? Are we doing this thing?” I feel almost excited. Bopping around from one odd job to the next has been fun, but I suddenly realize I’ve been missing a sense of purpose. The satisfying feeling of helping someone. Human connection.
Travis’s gaze catches on something on the floor, and he gets up, his leg brushing mine. He stoops, gifting me a view of his very toned butt, and rises with one of the paper airplanes in hand.
Lifting his eyebrows, he unfolds it, then immediately rolls his eyes when he realizes what it is.
“I just aced this interview, didn’t I?” I ask, kind of enjoying myself. But also a little on edge. I need him to say yes. It was the way Ollie looked at me earlier, like his happiness was on the line…I don’t want to disappoint him.
I’ve definitely already disappointed Travis.
He rubs circles between his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Hannah. I set up a couple of interviews for tomorrow. They’re with people who have a lot of childcare experience.”
“And I’m guessing they wouldn’t make paper airplanes out of your instructions?”
He has the grace to smile. “Yeah, something like that.”
I get up and make finger guns at him. “You didn’t say no, drummer boy.”
One corner of his mouth twitches upward. “That’s because you’re a hard woman to say no to.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRAVIS
Text conversation with Daphne, applicant #2
I withdraw my candidacy.
Shame on you.
Text conversation with Rose, applicant #3
I won’t be available to watch your son.
This is a small community, you jerk. You burn one of us, you burn us all.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I say with feeling, setting my phone down hard on the coffee table.
At least Ollie’s in his room. Still, I should probably still stick a buck in the swear jar I bought for myself.
I haven’t told anyone about said swear jar. I know Bixby, for one, would have a field day.
Both of my candidates cancelled their interviews, and Ijust discovered why. Rachel has smeared me on every single nanny board I can find on social media?—
WARNING: Travis Thomas is a disgusting, sexist jerk who commented on my outfit and tried to make unwanted advances on me. IN FRONT OF HIS SON. And his little boy is an absolute nightmare, too. A chip off the ole sexist block. He THREW something at me.
DO NOT INTERVIEW.
Bullshit, obviously, but at least she didn’t mention my father. I want to reply and defend myself, but if I do, it’ll only get messier.
The comments are already thirsty for my blood.
I tap my fingers against the side of the table, my anxiety spinning up. Before long, people will be saying they should cancel my band. Maybe even my after-school program.
Fuck…Ineedto play the drums.
Hannah would say I have to “bang it out,” and she’d be right. The need is thrumming through me like a low-level electrical current. I’ve felt it constantly, for weeks now, but more so this morning.
I also need to do some major damage control.
