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“I’m on my way to your house,” I said. “I did something. Something kind of bad. Good and bad.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.” She laughed.
Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away. I rang her doorbell and waited. “Come in. What did you do? Dump coffee over an old man? Throw a hamburger at someone’s face?”
“No, I told a customer I was a nanny and asked for a job,” I said.
“Why would you do that?”
I laughed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to pour another cup of coffee for a cranky old fart. And the guy was hot.”
“You told the hot customer you wanted to be his nanny?” she asked. “That’s not kinky at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “He had a daughter. I wasn’t hitting on him. Maybe a little, but for real, I wanted the job.”
“You’ve never been a nanny,” she pointed out.
“He doesn’t know that.” I laughed. “I’m meeting him tomorrow to give him my résumé and references.”
She arched a brow. “Do you have a résumé or references?”
“No.”
“So, that might be a problem,” she said dryly.
“Little bit. Am I crazy?”
“Of course,” she answered.
“I need to fix my résumé,” I said. “Right now, the only job I’m going to get is another waitressing gig. I can’t do it. I’m so over waitressing. I’m twenty-seven. It’s time to make a change. If I don’t do it now, I’m going to be like Kathy.”
“Kathy?”
“The old waitress who works the morning shift,” I said. “She’s pushing seventy. She’s been waiting tables since she was sixteen. I don’t want that life. I honestly don’t think I’ll make it. I’ll get fired eventually. I’m not going to make it.”
“What are you going to do about the references?” she asked.
I grinned. “Marge Boyle. I was your nanny for two years.”
She burst into laughter. “You’re going to need more than one reference.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll talk to Cherie,. I’ll tell her she’s going to be my other reference.”
“Do you really want to be a nanny or are you after the guy?”
I shrugged. “Maybe both.”
“You can’t be the nanny sleeping with the boss,” she said. “That’s way too cliché.”
“I’m not applying for the job to sleep with the guy.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m applying for the job because I love kids and I want to get out of waitressing. I’m so ready for something new. And the little girl is cute. She seems sweet. I think it will be fun.”
“I hope there is nothing illegal about faking a résumé,” she said.
“I’m not applying for a job with the FBI,” I pointed out.
“When he asks why you’re a waitress, what are you going to tell him?”
I thought about it. “I’ll tell him I needed a job to cover the bills.”
