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“Of course, darlin’,” she replies with a smile that reaches her eyes. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Um…sure,” I say. We’re hardly friends, but now that she’s here, I’m aware of how alone I’ve been. “Would you like to sit down? Have something to drink?” I snap a look around the room. I don’t have anything to offer aside from some pretty awful instant coffee I picked up when I got here. My cheap bottle of whiskey seems completely inappropriate right now.
“No, I can’t stay long.” She stops and starts digging into her bag. “I remembered you were lookin’ at job ads yesterday. Found this one, thought you might be interested.” She hands me a newspaper clipping, her fingers brushing against mine. My eyes quickly scan the advertisement, and then widen as I read.
“Live-in nanny wanted for a five-year-old boy. Comfortable accommodations,” I read out. “Holy shit! 3k a week?” My heart skips a beat. The salary alone is far more than what I had been considering. “Is this for real?” I ask, glancing up at her. She gives a shrug.
“Can’t see why it wouldn’t be, hon’,” she says. “I’d have applied already if Bruisers didn’t keep me so busy. You won’t believe what I make in tips there when I wear a tank top! Besides, I got a lil one of my own at home, so my hands are full,” she adds, surprising me. “But yours aren’t, right?”
“Thanks, Lena,” I say. “This could be perfect.” I fold the paper carefully, tucking it away in my pocket. “And a live-in position could only be better than here.”
“Right?” Lena chuckles, glancing around the cramped room. “Even my place is a mansion compared to this motel. No offence,” she adds. I shrug. It’s not like I’m attached to the place. “So you’ll give them a call?”
“I’ll give it some thought,” I say casually, because I’m not sure I want even Lena to know what my next steps might be. Inside, though, my mind races – calculating the risks, assessing the possibilities. Is it too good to be true? Or is it the lifeline I desperately need?
“You deserve better than this, Scarlett,” Lena says, her gaze sincere. I don’t know how she’s drawn that conclusion, since she barely knows me, but I give a tight smile. She turns to the door. “Anyhow, I’d better be headin’ on over to Bruiser’s. It’ll be openin’ time soon.”
“Thanks for thinking of me,” I say as she heads out, leaving me alone in the motel room.
As the door clicks shut, I can’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and trepidation. Taking a deep breath, I retrieve the advertisement from my pocket. The sun slants through dirty blinds, casting long shadows across the worn motel carpet. I chew on my thumbnail, eyeing the job ad thoughtfully. A live-in nanny – comfortable accommodations, three grand a week. It’s tempting, but what’s the catch?
Not allowing myself to think further, I pull out my burner and dial the number.
“Hello?” a curt voice answers, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Hi, I’m calling about the nanny position,” I say, forcing confidence into my voice. There’s something familiar about the man’s tone, but I brush it off, focusing on the task at hand.
“And you are?”
I hesitate for a moment, but I decide it’s best to use my real name.
“Scarlett. Scarlett Jones,” I say. “I’m great with kids. Looked after a ton of them.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but I’m hoping the pickings around here are slim.
“Good,” he says, seeming to take my answer at face value. “Where are you?” he asks, leaving me a little unbalanced.
“What?”
“My driver will collect you.”
“Oh. Right. Sure. The...uh...Lone Star Motel, off Main Street,” I tell him. Do I already have an interview?
Don’t overthink it…you need this!
“Tomorrow afternoon, four sharp. Don’t be late,” the man on the phone says abruptly. His tone is cold and clipped, leaving no room for questions.
“Okay,” I manage to reply, even though something in his voice takes me off guard. It’s an odd familiarity that makes my pulse race, though I can't quite place it.
“Good.” And with that, he hangs up. Before I’ve even had a chance to ask who the hell I’m speaking to.
“Rude,” I mumble, tossing the phone aside. But despite his brusque manner, my gut tells me this is my way out, my chance at a new beginning.
“Three grand a week,” I remind myself as I slip into my coat, pocketing the crumpled ad. If only I could place that nagging feeling, the eerie sense of déjà vu that clings to me like a shadow. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about that voice… something that feels dangerously familiar.
I decide it’s best to shake it off and focus on more urgent matters.
I need to find the local pharmacy.
Chapter 6
