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Not her though, no.
She attends classes and maintains a 4.0 GPA on top of working here and taking care of her siblings.
What the fuck kind of life is that?
What the fuck kind of mother lets her teenage daughter live like that?
Not to mention, what the fuck was that dating disaster? Setting her up with a pothead and…
You know what, it’s none of my business.
That her brother’s hurt.
Or that her mother’s a nutcase.
Orher.
“He fell off his bike and they had to rush him to the emergency room.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. A few stitches, nothing serious.”
I can’t deny the relief that runs over me.
Which makes me even angrier.
So instead I focus on what is my business: my nanny taking off without letting me know.
Which isn’t at all like her, by the way.
“And she couldn’t text me that?”
“She did.”
“She did not.”
“Your phone probably died or something.”
Ah, right.
It did die on me I think, when I was at the bar.
Which, despite my protestations, makes me wonder if she was worried. She must’ve been. Enough to take a cab, I bet. She usually takes the bus — this, to save money according to Cami — but I’m sure she must’ve splurged on a cab tonight.
Fuck.
If my phone was working, I never would’ve let her take a cab. I would’ve dropped her off myself.
I make a mental note of always —fucking always— carrying a charger with me and never letting my phone run out of battery. Oh, and to compensate her for the cab.
Actually, maybe I should give her a raise so she can afford cabs all the time.
I don’t know why I haven’t done that yet.
Probably because I’m a shitty boss who can’t think straight when she’s around. But yeah, she should not be taking the bus at all. She doesn’t belong on public transportation where motherfuckers of the world can get to her. Where they can eye a girl like her, so innocent and so fucking pretty, like she’s a piece of meat or something.
In fact, let me make it a condition.
