Page 7 of What I Needed

“Kira, if I take the job, I will be there to take care of his daughter when he’s not around, not to have sex with the man.”

“Maybe not initially, but you fine as shit. Once he sees you outside of that food-covered uniform, he won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me.

“You’re ridiculous. I probably won’t take the job. I don’t know anything about taking care of babies.”

“Didn’t you tell me your therapist said that taking care of others is your superpower? Did we not also take the same childcare classes in high school? We learned a lot, and you had the highest grade in that class.”

“Hell, they were the only classes I was passing at one point.”

“Exactly! Plus, whatever you don’t know, you can find videos online. From what it sounds like, you probably know more than him.”

“Yeah, but that’s not saying much. I wonder what the deal is with the baby's mom. Maybe he splits custody with her and needs a nanny when he has her.”

“That’s possible. You should at least inquire. Did he leave you a way to contact him?”

“Yeah. He gave me his number.”

“Wow! You literally have River Westmore’s number. This is not what I was expecting to hear from you today. If I wasn’t a good friend, I’d use that number my damn self.”

“I’m sure you would. I don’t—Hold on. Somebody is banging on my damn door.”

“Stay on the phone because you know it ain’t nobody but Jeremiah’s raggedy ass.”

I looked out the window next to the door, and Shakira was right. It was my ex, Jeremiah.

“What do you want, Jeremiah?” I asked through the closed door.

“Open the door, baby.”

“If you got something you need to say, say it through the door, or call me.”

“I can’t call you, because you blocked me. Open the damn door.”

“I’m not opening shit. Go away before I call the people on you.”

“Come on, Rissa. I ain’t seen you in two months. Don’t you miss me, girl?”

“Ignore his ass. He’ll go away eventually,” Shakira urged.

“You’re right. He’s probably been drinking.”

I went back to my living room and resumed my position on the couch. Jeremiah was still talking, but I couldn’t decipher his words.

“So, back to Mr. Basketball. If he gave you a grand as a tip, can you imagine how much he’s willing to pay you?”

“Shit. I hadn’t thought about the pay. I could probably pay the property taxes off in no time because the money I’m making as the assistant manager isn’t much more than I made as a server.”

“Exactly! Now you’re thinking. So, I’ll let you go so you can call that man. Call me back and let me know the details.”

“Kira, I—Kira? This heffa hung up on me,” I said aloud after looking at my phone screen.

To call or not to call? I went back and forth on that question for about fifteen minutes before I summoned up the courage to call River. I blew out a deep breath as I dialed his number. The phone barely rang before he picked up.

“Erissa, please tell me it’s you,” he answered.

“Umm, yeah. Is everything okay?”