Page 60 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

I smooth back my hair, take a deep breath, and raise my hand to knock on the door. I begin to chew the inside of my mouth nervously. It’s a bad habit that I picked up from when the tattoo guys would finger fuck me. It kept me from making any sounds that would get all of us in trouble and it rears its head when my heart rate picks up a little.

I can hear some kids running around inside and it brings a smile to my face because I’d like to think that if I had a normal childhood, that could have been me and my brothers.

I raise my fist again, but before I have the chance to knock, the door opens and one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life smiles so brightly at me, that I’m worried I’ll be blinded if I don’t look away.

“Meryska?” she asks curiously.

I nod and extend a hand which she takes firmly, initiating a shake and I can feel myself blush. It’s not because of how pretty she is, it’s because of how nice she’s being to someone she doesn’t know.

I’m not used to that.

“I’m Calista Gastrell; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Come on in, once I get the children wrangled, I’ll grab my husband and we can sit down and have a chat, okay?”

I nod again as I step into their home and immediately feel like the piece of trash that I know I am. The ceilings are high, the foyer is as big as the main room in the shelter, and there are blatantly expensive paintings hanging along the walls as far as the eye can see. I want to tell her that there’s been a mistake and that I can’t take the job after all, but pride stops me.

I may be nothing more than trash to most including myself, but I know I can be better, and I’m damn determined now.

Mrs. Gastrell ushers me into the living room, which is bigger than the foyer if that’s possible, and tells me to take a seat while she gets her house in order. It almost sounds like something someone says when they know they’re going to die, but I brush it off and perch myself on the very edge of one of the opulent couches. I blow out a breath as my leg begins to shake nervously and I try to convince myself that this is the break I need to get things going on the right path for a change.

Twenty minutes later, I’m ready to give up and sneak out of the fancy house on Fancy Lane, when I hear Mrs. Gastrell’s heels echoing down the hall again. I clear my throat and clasp my hands on my lap. If I look like a scared little girl, that’s exactly how I’ll be treated, and I know that I’m not.

Intimidated and scared are two completely different things.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” she says as she walks into the room. I turn my eyes toward her and smile, taking her in again. Mrs. G. is about five foot six, has pretty sandalwood colored hair, and big brown eyes. She’s very striking with her severe chin and sharp nose, and when she smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkle.

But when my eyes wander over to the man that enters behind her, I immediately have to fight the urge to start chewing the inside of my mouth again. My heart begins to beat erratically in my ears, and I can almost just make out the sound of the blood rushing to my face.

If Mrs. G. is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then the man I’m assuming is Mr. G. has got to be the most stunning man in the entire world. He’s taller than her; about six foot one, has sackcloth-colored black hair that sits messily and neatly all at the same time on top of his head, and his eyes—they’re sleepy, hazel blue, and seductive even when as dormant as they are.

Holy shit.

I do my best not to stare, because not only is it unbecoming, but because he isn’t mine.

“Meryska, this is my husband, Everett. Honey, this is Meryska—she’s here for the babysitting job,” she explains after introducing us to each other. He nods at me with a tired look on his face as he sits down next to his wife opposite me, and I clear my throat again. Hopefully, I’ll find a way to break through the iceberg that’s sitting between us and shake something loose.

Scared is when you’re worried about things known and unknown—intimidated is sitting across from a couple that looks like the Gastrell’s in their fancy fucking house.

“We’re going to ask you some questions, and you answer them as honestly as you can, okay?” Mrs. G. begins as she sits back against the cushions and rests a hand on her husband’s leg. “There’s no right or wrong answer.”

“Shoot,” I say as enthusiastically as I can, fully aware of the way her husband’s stare is holding me down in place like Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She seems impervious to it, though.Must be years of practice,I think dryly as I do my best to avoid his eyes.

“How old are you?” she asks, the smile never faltering.

“I’m seventeen.”

“And have you babysat before?”

“Officially? No, but I do have younger brothers that my mom would leave me to watch when we were younger. And if I can keep those two in line, I’m sure I can deal with anything,” I say with an eye roll.

Mrs. G. chuckles.

Mr. G. sits in stony silence.

“Our children are ten and eight—the oldest is our daughter, Anna Leigh, and our son’s name is Maynard,” she says as she leans forward. I raise an eyebrow at her son’s name, and she rolls her eyes, “Family name.”

I chuckle and her smile widens into a friendly grin.

I cut my eyes quickly toward Mr. G. who’s still staring at me like he’s trying to see right through me to the center of my soul and I decide it’s best to shrug off my jacket to help. If he thinks I’m hiding something from them, showing them who I really am, bare skin and all, should help the matter some.

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