I fight a grin. We both have names for the two boys I nanny. They're the cutest boys, but I swear the minute I turn my back, they turn into the Problem Child on crack times two. At that point, I'm ready to build my own pipe and ask for a hit of whatever they're on. Call me MacGyver. The jack of all trades.
"Yup. I had a feeling they'd need me all weekend after I took off last w
eekend. I swear, why have kids if you have to hire a nanny all the time? It doesn't make sense to me," I say, and head to my room to pack.
I don't bring too much and try to keep it light since I'll have to carry my duffle bag to the subway, then transfer onto the Long Island railroad, where I'll be picked up from the station closest to their house. The Schneiders live in Manhasset, and their French Normandy Tudor-style home that looks like it was made for a fairytale is priced in the high millions. Suburbs for the wealthy and dull. I can't even imagine having a home like that.
"You know how rich people are," Natalie says when I return to the living room. "But my dad would never let a nanny in our house. We had maids and shit, and occasionally a babysitter. My dad was all about my mom being a stay-at-home mom. He was adamant that she raise me. It’s probably why I'm close to my mom and not my dad."
"That's still kind of nice, though, you know? I mean it sucks your dad is the way he is, and in some strange way it makes sense why you work where you do. You take back a little bit of control in your life and possibly your future too. Though, I have to be honest, I think this route is a little extreme to show defiance. But hey, whatever works for you."
"You could have the same control too, you know," she says, her voice silky as she reminds me of her suggestion. As if I could ever forget my best friend asking me to join her in being a rent-a-hoe. "That offer still stands."
My lips flatten. I can't believe I find it tempting, but I do, and I’m kind of ashamed about it. If my grammy knew about this, she'd say it's the Devil's work. Probably is.
"I just don't know if I can do it."
"You had more one-night stands your first year in college than I did and I wasn't selling the goods. You have nothing to lose. I know you can totally do it, but I would never want to push you into this lifestyle either. That being said, the ten grand is yours."
I huff out a laugh. "You just gotta remind me of that money, don't you?"
She shrugs casually. A one-night stand and getting paid to have sex really aren’t the same, but in a strange way, they are to me. My shoulders slump forward, and my lips pull low, the choice weighing down one hand more than the other.
"Even if I decide to do it, I can't take your money. I refuse."
She glares at me. "You will take it, and you will use it. No returns. You'll need it to start up anyway."
I worry my bottom lip. My heart beats a little faster than usual and a surge of adrenaline pushes through me.
"What if I pay it back to you with my first…job?" I didn’t know what to call it.
Her eyes light up when they shouldn't. She shouldn't want me to do this with her, and she shouldn't encourage it, but I'm a willing adult who can make sane decisions.
"Deal!" she yells. I feel like she's just saying that to tide me over.
I cast her a look, the same one I give the boys when I scold them. "Calm down. I didn't agree to anything yet. I'm just asking questions and weighing my options."
Her smile curves up like the Grinch. "But you will."
I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder and walk toward the door, mentally preparing for a long ass weekend.
"I'd say don't do anything I wouldn't do, but now I don't even know what that is anymore."
Her chuckle is light and airy, and she responds in a husky voice I didn't know she was capable of. "I'll share all my secrets for the right price."
Shaking my head, I smile as I walk out the door.
Eleven
"Thank you for coming this weekend, Aubrey. My wife and I could use the break. I had three major surgeries and need to get away for a bit to shut my mind off."
"Of course. Anytime you need me, you know I'm here for you guys. Working and raising two boys requires a village," I schmooze. "I miss those two little nuggets."
"They miss you. They've been writing your name all over the walls with Leslie's lipstick. Of course, they can't actually write, but we tell them we love it anyway." He muses with a dreamy smile on his face.
I try not to stare at Mr. Schneider too much as we drive to his house, but now I can't help but wonder if I could have sex with him for cash. I don’t find him attractive, but he's not the ugliest man I've ever seen either. He's average and looks to be in shape. He always wears black, though, so I can't tell if he's flabby or not.
Natalie said some of the men have fetishes. What if I get one who wants me to wear a strap-on and call him Uncle Bobby? That would be a hard no for me.