Page 11 of Crush
Last night, after I fired Estel, I posted an ad on the nanny website. I had half-a-dozen responses overnight, and so I spent the rest of my morning responding to the nannies' emails. I needed someone who was available immediately—ideally, someone who could start as soon as tonight.
The site I use is sort of like Craigslist, but for nannies. If you need a nanny, you post an ad describing what you're looking for, and all the potential nannies out there can find it and respond to it. All the candidates are already vetted by the agency, which runs background checks on them and everything; that way they won't hook you up with any psychos or drug dealers.
Not having a psycho in charge of raising my kids is obviously a good thing—and you know who else I try to avoid when I'm looking to hire a nanny? Brawlers fans. That's why I don't put a single word in my ad that could tip anyone off about who I actually am or what I do for a living.
And that's also why I interview the nannies someplace public before I introduce them to my kids. That way, if I happen to end up with a sports-obsessed nut who knows who I am, they won't know where we live.
If I sound paranoid about it, well, I have my reasons. Let's just say that I spent too much of my life with someone who called themselves a fan.
Anyway, only one nanny who responded was available to start work tomorrow and was willing to meet me in the morning for an interview. While I rushed out the door for the team skate, we traded a few back-and-forth messages trying to figure out when and where we could meet for a quick interview today.
In fact, I was still texting with her when I walked into the Brawlers' noisy dressing room—which proved to be a judgment in error on my part. My teammates started in on me immediately.
“Hey, everybody, look! Boomer got a smartphone!”someone shouted.
Boomer. That was the nickname the boys came up for me once I announced my impending retirement—as in, Baby Boomer. Never mind the fact that I'm a member of Generation X; my teammates will never let facts get in the way of a hilarious nickname.
Radar piped up, doing his best grumbly imitation of me. “Ahhh, god damn it, you kids today. Can't walk anywhere without your nose buried in that phone, can you? Keep your head up, kid!” He shook an angry, old-man fist in the air.
I pocketed my phone, but the boys weren't done with the ribbing.
“Boomer,” Lance, our star offensive player, butted in next. “Afterallthe shit you've given us about limiting our 'screen time,' I never thought I'd see the day you'd walk in here texting.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don't get too used to it.”
Lance tapped his chin. “But for you to be texting, it must be something important. Could it be? Is our captain finally ready to start dating again?”
“Yeah, right.” My bachelor days were a distant memory, and everyone knew it.
But Lance rushed over in a fit of excitement and jumped on my back. You'd think that now that Lance had a wife and baby daughter at home, those two girls would keep him busy and he'd have a little less of that wild energy of his … but nope. He's still the same Lance. A big goddamn kid himself.
“Oof,” I grunted, staggering under Lance's weight.
“Who you textin' there, Boomer?” Lance teased, all 205 pounds of him hanging from around my neck. “It's a girl, isn't it? Admit it! You're finally back in the game! So what's her name?”
“Would you get the hell off me?” I said, choking.
“Not until you tell me her nam—”
I gave a powerful shrug of my shoulder and bucked Lance off my back like a bronco. He hit the carpet with athud.
“I forget her damn name.”
“So itisa girl.” Lance picked himself off the floor and dusted off his hands. “And you don't even remember her name? Boomer, you dog! I didn't know you had it in you!”
“I told you, it's nothing like that.” I took a seat at my stall. I stripped off my suit and started changing into my gear.
“So who is she?” Lance asked. He just wouldn't let it go.
“You really want to know? She's a nanny I'm interviewing. That's it. That'sall.”
The room deflated with a defeated groan.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I said, “but I told you it was nothing.”
“Anothernanny?” Radar asked. “Didn't you just hire a new one a few months back?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Estel. I felt bad for letting her go, but she just couldn't keep up with the kids.”
