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Brandon flicks my forehead playfully before coming to sit beside me. The couch sinks, sending me closer to him. Defeated, I close my laptop with the job listings page still open — as it has been for days — and leave it on the coffee table. He was right: there are plenty of nanny jobs in the city. My issue is that I no longer feel safe applying to them, especially the ones with male employers. I can’t risk another situation like the one in Milan.
That and a lot of agencies request recommendations from previous jobs. My last boss was Elio’s cousin, and he wasn’t happy when I quit without warning after dating a member of his family in the months prior. I’d bet anything that Elio has been spitting all sorts of poison about me since I left, and none of it will convince somebody to hire me.
“Just wait.” Brandon wiggles his finger at me. I almost want to slap it away.
Instead, I cross my arms and sit back. “Waiting.”
He claps his hands together. “I got you an interview for a full-time nanny position. Six days a week, one four-year-old, and a great employer.”
I frown. “An interview? How?”
None of Brandon’s friends have settled down yet, and I doubt they’d be able to afford a full-time nanny even if they had kids. Has he been searching for jobs for me?
The idea almost makes my resolve soften. He’s trying; I guess that’s something.
He bats my question away. “I know people. Here.” Slipping a hand into his breast pocket, he produces a slip of paper.
I take it and unfold the torn edges, fingers itching with curiosity. It’s a crumpled piece of notepaper with a date, time, and location: tomorrow at twelve-thirty in a place called Suited on John Street, way over in the Financial District where Brandon works and lives during the week. It’s one hell of a commute, but diving back into city life is my best bet.
As much as I’d like to thank him, wariness bristles through me. I need more information first. “Who am I meeting?”
“You’ll know when you see him. He knows to expect you.” He picks up the TV remote and begins flicking through the channels nonchalantly. “Want to watch a movie while I’m here?”
I frown and snatch the remote from him, turning it off again. “Hang on. You came all the way out here just to tell me this?”
He shrugs. “I figured we could carpool tomorrow morning. I don’t have any meetings until lunch, anyway.” He taps my nose. “You’re welcome.”
“Brandon, I need to know who I’m interviewing with.” Something feels off, though I can’t pinpoint what. Is it paranoia, or just memories of Italy coming back to haunt me?
I feel silly all of a sudden. I can’t keep letting Elio dictate my future. I used to be braver than this. Spontaneous. Confident. I wish I knew how to reclaim my power.
Brandon purses his lips, deliberating something with cautious eyes. At least, they look cautious. Again, am I looking for red flags that aren’t there?
The truth is, I can’t trust him either. He isn’t the honest man he was when I left. The brother who would tell me anything. He’s lied to me, too, and I can’t just bulldoze through the walls he built between us.
“He’s a friend of a friend,” he replies vaguely. “A single parent. He really needs the help, and he’s got more than enough money to pay you well. You can trust me, Mads. He’s a good guy.”
His kind words placate me enough to lean back and let the information simmer as I sift through Arthur’s soft fur. I don’t particularly like that this mysterious interviewer is a man, but if I want to get myself back, I need to stop looking for danger at every turn.
Besides, I need the money. It’s the first interview I’ve been offered and I can’t afford to pass it up. Though Mom hasn’t asked me to open my wallet once since we got back, it plays on my mind constantly. She’s saving up to retire, and while money has never been an issue, she should be focused on her own future, not worrying about mine.
I need my independence back.
“Okay. I guess I’ll try.”
Satisfied, Brandon takes the remote back. My own anxiety keeps me on edge and I find myself unwilling to let my guard down even now, so I leave him on the couch with the dog to help Mom with dinner.
If only things were as easy as they used to be.
Brandon drops me off outside Suited just past twelve, by which point I’m already exhausted by the two-hour commute. If this guy pays as handsomely as promised, I’m going to have to rent a place in Manhattan while I work for him because I cannot bear another day of gridlocked city traffic.
The place is a modern little coffee shop tucked across from an old Methodist church, just out of the way enough to be considered quiet in comparison to the busier places on Broadway. A bell tinkles above the door as I step into the mouthwatering aroma of roasted beans and spiced vanilla. Warm lights glow from hanging bulbs covered in swirling green ivy leaves and vines.
I’ve missed the aesthetic of New York businesses. Italy was beautiful, of course, but the tables wobbling on cobbled streets and the bright, crooked buildings weren’t home. This is.
Since I’m early, I head straight to the counter and order a cappuccino. Only a few other people sit in, scrolling through their phones or typing on their laptops as they eat brunch or sip their drinks.
After paying — and wincing at the thought of the five dollars coming out of my already sparse bank account — I pick a seat by the window and straighten out my job interview dress, a pleated tweed pinafore with three wooden buttons atop a white, high-necked blouse. It fits a little looser than it used to but remains one of my favorite outfits. Maybe if I’d worn it to the interview with my last employer, my luck wouldn’t have been half as bad.
