Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Suddenly still confused, I went back into the living room where my mom told me, the ambulance had just left to take my dad to the morgue. He had overdosed on heroin. I wanted to be the kid that cried and fell apart for her father. But the truth is, he and my mom only cared for and loathed one another. River and I were just afterthoughts.
Afterwards, I got a job after school helping the old lady down the street, who baked bread. She felt sorry for my sister and I and paid me in cash because of being a minor. I used to wish she would take the two of us to live with her until I turned 18. It continued this way for a few more years.
When I was sixteen and River was thirteen, I came home to my mom high as a kite and passed out on the sofa. Whatever guy she had just fucked for a fix was trying to pin River, my innocent little sister, to a wall. I flew into a rage. I grabbed the butcher knife off the counter and channeled my inner Lorena Bobbitt. He ran out of the damn house so fucking fast he forgot his pants. After I closed and locked the door, I hit my mother in the face with said pants and yelled at her.
That was the day I stopped wishing for her to change and started looking at her for who she was. A horrible mother, who didn’t give a shit about her daughters or even herself. From that day forward, I had River come to the bread shop after school and wait for me to get off. It has been that way ever since. She and I. She is my best friend, my sister, and my reason for not giving up. Speaking of not giving up. I snap out of memory lane and google Mr. Phillips.
“Holy shit!” I say louder than I mean too. Snapping my hand over my mouth, I look at the picture of him on the phone. Hot doesn’t do him justice. The man is a fucking God. He has to be about 6 '0'. Well over 150lbs of muscle. For the first time in my life, my body is not my own. Holy hell. I can only imagine what happened to their last nanny. I can picture her on her back in his room, no clothes on, trying to entice him to fuck her. Her hands in her pussy as she plays with herself in front of him. Licking her lips, thinking about what his cock tastes like. Ok. So, to be fair, I am totally thinking about myself doing that. I really need to snap out of it. There is no doubt a man like him has a wife or girlfriend somewhere. How can he not? Crap. If I am going to work for him, I need to be able to control my attraction to him.
I continue to look at his interview and it says nothing else about his life. He is pretty quiet and a private person. It does, however, make my skin stand up. They are offering $75,000 for the first year. OMG! I could buy River and me a house. Pay for her to go to college. Hell, I could pay for myself to take a few classes off and on. Now I know I need to not think about the dad in any way other than my boss.
I need this damn job. That money could fix everything. It could get us out of the damn apartment we live in. Away from Mr. Bruser. Our landlord is a touchy-feely type of guy and he has been trying to touch me for too long. I manage to dodge and hide from him, but one day I won’t be able to. What I wouldn’t give to be able to move. I close my phone and think about my life. I used to want to find love, get married, and have babies. Once I took over caring for River, I gave up on love. Who would want me? A virgin, with a seventeen-year-old I am responsible for. Hell, most twenty-year-olds are partying and living their lives day to day. Not me. What man is going to want that?
It’s just as well. I need to focus on making sure River graduates and goes to college. At least one of us can make our dreams come true.
Chapter 3
Brock
“Clara, what the hell is this? You can’t find one damn girl to take care of my kids?” I yell into my phone at my office manager. How hard can this be?
“I’m sorry Mr. Phillips. They all seem to be fine when I interview them.”
“Well, they are not fucking fine. When they get into my office everything is further from being fine. Fuck! How many are left in the waiting room?” Hopefully one of them will be remotely mature enough to take care of the most precious individuals in my life.