Page 62 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

“Don’t do that,” he says sharply.

I look up at him in confusion waiting for him to elaborate but before he has the chance, the woman of the house walks back into the room with two little kids in tow.

“Anna Leigh, Maynard, this is Meryska and she’s going to be your new babysitter.”

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The bus ride back was much faster than getting to Fancy House, and I felt like I could have flown the whole way back. I guess the saying is true; going back home is always faster than leaving it—or something like that, anyway.

Miss Jean waves at me from the shelter entrance way and I break into a sprint. We hug each other as I let out a squeal of excitement and she pats my back proudly.

“I knew you’d be just fine,” she states with a huge grin on her face. “When do you start?”

“I can start on Saturday,” I reply happily. “I’ll be raking in the dough in no time!”

“I guess we’ll have to get a special supper prepared so we can all celebrate with you,” she states with a wink and I groan inwardly, the grin still on my face. Miss Jean fusses over every little accomplishment we make andalwaysmakes sure that we’re all happy for each other regardless of how small said accomplishment may be.

“It’s okay,” I reply with the wave of a hand, “that’s not necessary.”

But she smiles, shakes her head, and insists until I finally give in.

I walk away from her office feeling like a million dollars. I’m sure that the Gastrells won’t pay me that much, but at this point, anything is better than nothing.

After I make it to the common room, I glance down at my hands. I bring my nails eye level and sigh. I know I won’t be able to enjoy whatever special supper we get tonight with such dirty fingernails.

Maybe once they’re clean, I can have Miss Jean help me paint them the same pretty red color Mrs. G. has.

Chapter

Four

Ifeel better about things.

After we ate a really hearty meal of garlic and butter mashed potatoes, pork shoulder, and biscuits, Miss Jean took me out to buy a small bottle of dark red nail polish.

I’m pretty sure this is the same color that Mrs. G. uses, and after she helped me with my first couple, I was able to do the rest myself. Now I’m just sitting by one of the windows in thecommon room, blowing on my fingernails every so often, while enjoying the cool breeze that wafts in from time to time.

Thoughts of Everett Gastrell seem to follow the breeze in, invading my mind and reminding me of his stoic demeanor.

I wonder what it would take to make a man like him smile or feel any kind of emotion. Considering they have two children, I have to believe that he’s not completely dead inside.

Maybe something happened that made him the way he is now, or maybe having those kids sucked whatever life he had out of his body.

I clear my throat as another breeze comes in and tickles the flesh of my arm. The small hairs stand up as goosebumps become visible and I can feel my lips curving into a smile.

It seems that Everett is thinking about me too and this is a sign. I’m what’s supposed to make him feel alive again and I won’t let him down.

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Today is going to be an exciting day. I made the rest of the week go by faster by keeping busy so that the time would pass by quicker than if I just sat around and did nothing.

It worked and Saturday came a lot faster than I had hoped for.

Miss Jean helped me pick out my outfit for today. It’s a nice, fitted graphic t-shirt with a happy face on the front. Not the generic bullshit one, but one made of sparkles and happy thoughts—all of the things I know I can never be. She gave me a brand-new pair of blue jeans shorts to wear too, and I spent last night cleaning up my checkered canvas shoes.

I have my hair slicked back into a neat, tight ponytail and my dark red nails look clean and proper.

The Gastrells don’t know where I live, and I’d like to keep it that way by doing my best to be as presentable as their fancy house on Fancy Lane.

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