How to Save a Life

“Keep a close watch on that boy. He’s very aggressive.”

Facing him again, “They’ve been going back and forth for half an hour. He’s not aggressive.”

“Is that the parent? What a dick,” the girl next to me says loud enough for him to hear.

Grim looks immediately irritated. “Who’s that?”

“No one. Bye, Jordan.”

I end the call before he gets worked up.

“See what I mean? Diapers are discretionary,” Clea, the sadist, says smugly. “Then there’s the animal poop.”

Maisie, having had enough of the boy taking the shovel from her, wrestles it away from him. He begins to scream and cry. The playground is turning out to be a very bad idea.

“Did you say animal poop?”

“Yeah, in the sandbox. Rats, squirrels, sometimes dog. We don’t always check.”

I bolt up and go grab the baby. The playground is officially off-limits.

Chapter Seven

Riley

It’s funny how quickly experiences can change a person. Funny intriguing, not funny haha. One minute you think you’ve got it all figured out. You know what you want and how to go about getting it. And the next minute life suggests something different and it makes you question everything.

I genuinely like my new job. Three weeks into it and I still wake up energized for the day ahead. The schlep from Manhattan to Staten Island every night is a chore, but other than that I am genuinely happy working for free…which is essentially what I’m doing when I hand over my paycheck every week to Tommy and his bookie. The added bonus to actually liking my work is that it’s been incredibly easy to leave Staten Island and all my problems behind, something I hadn’t anticipated finding so liberating. It feels almost sinfully good. Like when I would ditch class in high school.

“What are you two doing today?” says the man who takes pleasure in riding me like I’m a beast of burden. Yeah, he hasn’t eased up at all. When he offered me the job and said he can be hard on people, he wasn’t overstating it.

I glance away from Maisie playing in the pen with a new doll Jordan bought her. It should hold her attention for another ten seconds at the most. Standing next to the brewing coffee pot, Grim is wearing another cheerful combination today, a dark gray suit with a black shirt and a gray tie. It does, however, make his jaw look sharper and his eyes greener so maybe the desired effect was achieved. The undertaker look works for him.

The coffeepot beeps and shuts off, done brewing. Jordan grabs two mugs out of the overhead cabinet. For a man raised with a silver spoon in his beautiful mouth, he’s very self-sufficient. He feeds himself and never asks me to do his chores––like going to the dry cleaners or food shopping. Bags of fresh groceries are mysteriously delivered to the house daily. And the cleaning crew comes in and out with military precision. He refuses to depend on anybody…kinda like me, I guess.

By the way, this is the same cleaning crew under express orders to come every other day because he doesn’t like people in his home.

Like…what? This is the kind of stuff that baffles me. It’s a mystery why he’s so comfortable with me in his personal space and no one else. And I mean no one. No one ever shows up. No one visits. No one calls. Does he have any friends? Doesn’t look like it. Which of course makes me then feel sorry for him. Empathy strikes again.

On the flip side, he hasn’t asked me to stay over yet. I’m not looking forward to all the awkwardness that will create because I am definitely not comfortable with him in my personal space.

“Not going to the playground in the Park. That’s for sure,” I mutter.

“Why not?”

Because the nannies delight in the kids eating poop. If he knew, he’d make us both wear hazmat suits.

“Because the nannies are staging a silent insurrection.”

“I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

“You don’t, trust me.”

The smile in his eyes doesn’t extend to his lips. It’s like he won’t allow himself any joy. It makes me wonder what it would take. What would require him to loosen that grip he has on every normal human emotion? It must be exhausting holding on so tight. Or maybe he’s been this way for so long he doesn’t even realize it anymore. The only time he can’t help himself is when he spends time with Maisie.

“Whose funeral are you attending today?”

His brow scrunches, confusion fills his eyes. “I’m not going to a funeral.”

“Hmm, you’re not?” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing at his expression.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, boss.”

Jordan opens the refrigerator and frowns. He pulls a small container of cream and holds it up for my edification.