Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Ryder Kennedy seems so … normal.
I take out my phone and hand it to him before I lose my nerve.
He eyes it.
“I’m not going to sell your phone number for money. I’m not that broke.” In all honesty, I am that broke, but I have a roof over my head and my brother feeds me. The little money I do earn from weekend gigs goes into buying equipment and shit.
Ryder still hesitates.
“Would an email address be better? Since you’re clearly worried about me calling you at three in the morning and breathing heavily to creep you out.” I’m only half-joking.
“Email addresses are easier to change than phone numbers.” Ryder types in the address and hands it back. “Sorry.”
“I get it. Guys like me only wish we could reach the level of fame where our privacy is under constant threat.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“No, I understand it’s a nightmare, but it’s also an indication of success. If that makes sense.”
He takes a sip of his now cooled coffee. “It does. Doesn’t make me feel any better about it, though.”
“I don’t suppose it would.” I type the school names into a new email, and I’m about to hit Send when I pause.
I glance up at Ryder, then back down at my phone, doing something either bold or stupid. Perhaps both. I punch in my phone number and hit Send before I can stop myself.
“I left you my number in case you change your mind about the nanny thing.”
“Right.” Ryder tries to cover a yawn. “Nanny thing.”
There’s something in his tone I can’t pinpoint. Disbelief, sarcasm, or maybe it’s just exhaustion.
“Not sleeping?” I ask.
“Not enough.” His bright blue eyes, the brightest blue I’ve ever seen, pierce through me all of a sudden. “Okay, Mr. Nanny. Here’s a question for you. Your kid is wetting the bed. Every. Night. You spend most of your time redoing their bedding, and neither of you are sleeping. What do you do?”
“Easy. You layer the bedding. Mattress protector, top sheet, mattress protector, top sheet. So when the accidents happen, you rip the top layer off and put her back into bed. She’ll grow out of it eventually.”
Ryder’s mouth drops open. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to have an actual answer. I don’t look like a typical nanny, and it’s not like this is my first choice in career, but I do know a few things.
I’m currently doing gigs on the weekends at different clubs, auditioning, and trying to get my name out there.
Either my degree from Montebello isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on or mine’s defective or something.
Then again, no piece of paper can count for auditioning well, and I suck at that. I get too in my head and come across as fake and arrogant. When I try to be humble, I sound like I’m not confident. I need to learn to sell myself as myself. Hold the side of douche.
“Layer the bedding,” Ryder mumbles. “It’s so simple and logical. Why didn’t I think of it?”
“Sleep deprivation is a real form of torture.”
“My child has tortured me for over four years. She’s sadistic.”
I can’t help laughing.
His head swivels fast, looking around the space. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I know.” I have the urge to reach for his hand to comfort him. Which is crazy.
People don’t meet like this. This isn’t how you make friends in this day and age. But it’s easy with Ryder.
In the short time we’ve been sitting here, it already doesn’t feel like I’m talking to the Ryder Kennedy from Eleven.
I’m sitting with an exhausted parent.
He still looks guilty over what he said.
“You’ve gotta cut yourself some slack. Parenting is hard. I’m only Chase’s uncle and it’s hard some days I have him.”
He relents. “You’re right.”
“For future reference, I’m always right. So, I get the job, then?”
Ryder scoffs. “There is no job, but if there was, you’d be the first one I call.”
“That doesn’t really help me out with my current situation.”
Ryder flattens his lips and looks confused. “If you want a connection at a label, you can just ask for it. You don’t need to pretend to be interested in being my kid’s nanny.”
Wow. Okay. Guess this isn’t going the way I thought it was. “You think this is a ruse to get industry connections?” I can’t say I blame him, but it kinda hurts. Though it’s not like he knows me. Clearly.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to strike up a conversation only to show their true colors.” Ryder shrugs. “I’m trying to cut out the middle part and get to the point.”
I’ve never tasted fame. Have never been anywhere near close to it. But the dejection in Ryder’s eyes is utterly heartbreaking.
What would it be like to live like that? Not knowing who’s in your life for you and who’s in it because they want something.