“So…” I sat down across from her, folding my hands in front of me, feeling completely out of my element. I was a fucking music producer. I had gold records lining the walls of my house—LA house to be exact, but still. And I’d successfully sold out the last reunion tour with my guys.
And yet there I was.
Stuck.
In Seaside.
Staring at a babysitter who was more interested in her Instagram than letting me know if my kids finished their chores.
“How did they do today?” I leaned back in my chair, going for the casual.
She started typing on her phone like her fingers were on fire.
Mine went off.
I looked down.
Adriana: Good! They played at the park, we made cookies, Eric has an attitude problem, and Malcom asked where babies come from, but Bella colored with me while he pouted. Such cool dudes. Well done old man well done.
I blinked then blinked again. “Did you just… text me your answer?”
Her fingers moved again.
Adriana: Yeaaahhhh?
Me: Speak. With. Your. Voice.
She looked up. “Um, it was a good day. Can I get paid now?”
I rubbed my hands down my face. “Adriana, I pay you to help them, not to just watch them. I want you to engage them, to teach them things. Malcom and Eric start school in a few weeks, Bella’s headed off to pre-school.” Just the idea of them being away from me for more than a few hours had me feeling panic. “I just, I don’t want them to get made fun of for not knowing what a circle is, and I’m trying the best I can but—”
“Are you gonna cry?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because I don’t think that’s in my job description. And if you want me to teach them like a teacher then you should pay me like a teacher.” Her smile was back. God save me from seventeen-year-old girls. “Like with benefits and stuff.”
“You know what?” I dug into my back pocket and gave her a crisp hundred dollar bill. “Never mind.”
She took the cash. “Oh! I almost forgot, a few friends and I are headed to a music festival tomorrow so I need the week off.”
I stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adriana, we’ve been over this. I’m in the studio all week. I hired you to watch them so I could get this album done.” She didn’t need to know that I hadn’t been able to take the press in Malibu, that going to the grocery store had made all three kids cry when some dick reporter asked if Bella was sad her mommy was gone.
It had been a nightmare.
And then my bandmate and lead singer Will told me that the easiest place to escape was Oregon.
And after visiting last year, I realized he’d had a solid point. Not only did Seaside have three films and a reality show hit based on the town, but some of my closest friends had beach houses there.
Including boy band AD2, the guys said they wanted to raise their kids away from the crazy, which made sense.
It still felt like we’d run away in the middle of the night, leaving a life behind that I didn’t even recognize anymore.
“Um.” Adrianna waved in front of my face. “You have a stroke or something?”
I made a face. “Seriously? How old do you think I am?”
She gave me a wide-eyed look. “Is this the part where I tell the dad that he’s still got it?” She licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one. “Is that why you’ve been so weird since you hired me? You have a crush on me?”
I refrained from groaning into my hands, barely. “That would be a hard no. I’m an adult, and I’m pretty sure if I asked you to dial 911 you’d send a text instead.”
“Hey! Well, you’re just some washed-up—”
