Page 1 of Nanny for the SEALs

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Heather

We hadn’t gotten caught.

Yet.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Maurice whispered next to me.

“Yes!” I hissed. “Shut up and act natural. Emphasis onact.”

We were on the upper deck concourse of the Staples Center, and the sound of dribbling basketballs and squeaking sneakers filled the air. The Los Angeles Lakers were currently playing the Milwaukee Bucks, but we couldn’t see much from our seats. Our tickets were up in the nosebleed section, so high up that we could practically reach above us and touch the roof.

Granted, they were free tickets given to us by our acting coach, Mr. Howard. We should have been happy with whatever seats we had. I’d been living in Los Angeles for three years and hadn’t been to any sort of sporting event yet. It was tough when you were an aspiring actor barely getting by. So now that I was here, I wanted toreallysee the action. We couldn’t do that from the upper deck. We wanted to get closer.

Well, I should say thatIwanted to get closer. Maurice, my best friend, was reluctant.

“It’s not worth the risk,” he whispered.

I waved him off while eyeing the ushers on the next level. “It’ll be fine.”

“Heather, you are not listening to me,” Maurice insisted. As an actor, he had a way of enunciating every single syllable. “I cannot afford to get arrested. I mean that literally. Iliterallycannot afford it. Just taking the Metro here wiped out half my account balance.”

“We’re not going to get arrested,” I said impatiently. “If we get caught, we’ll pretend like we’re lost. The worst they’ll do is kick us out.”

“You do not know that.” He sighed. “I want to get closer to the court as much as you do, but…”

“You don’t get what youwantin life,” I told him. “You only get what you fight for.”

It was one of those phrases my dad used to say, and it stuck. I’d always tried to live my life that way. It had gotten me this far.

I cupped both of Maurice’s hollow cheeks and stared into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Hell no,” he replied, but he said it with a laugh.

“Well, pretend like you do. I’m going to get us closer to the action. And, hopefully, some food and drinks.”

The layout of the Staples Center was like most modern sports stadiums. There was a ground floor that had access to the seats closest to the court. Then there was an upper level which led to the highest seats—that’s where ours were, and where we were currently standing.

But there was a middle level between the two. That’s where the expensive suites were located. That level could only be accessed by escalator, and ushers were standing guard at all times to check tickets.

From our spot at the upper level railing, I could see the escalator leading down to the suite level. Two ushers in yellow pants and purple shirts—Lakers colors—were politely, but firmly, guiding people along to the cheap seats.

“What are we doing?” Maurice whispered.

“Waiting for the right usher,” I said. “When we first arrived, there was someone else down there. A little old lady. She looked friendlier than the two ushers down there now. I think they rotate them.”

“We’ve been standing here ten minutes,” Maurice complained. “I’m missing LeBron. I bet he’s all sweaty now. Picture it, Heather: LeBron’s muscles glistening in the overhead lights as he goes in for a dunk…”

“You can ogle your boyfriend from the suite level,” I said. “You’llreallybe able to see him there.”

“Not if we never get there.”

I held up a hand. “Shh! It’s happening.”

Down below, the silver-haired usher I had seen before walked up and tapped one of the other ushers on the shoulder. They exchanged a few words, and then Granny—that’s what I was calling her in my head—took her spot checking tickets.

“Lights, cameras,action,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Here, take a selfie with me.”

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