“Did you sleep well?” Carla asks Matias.
Matias nods and reaches for a spoon and his special bowl—a blue plastic Ninjago one he eats all his meals out of—where Carla has piled his food, already thoughtfully cut up into bite-size pieces. “Eggs!” he shouts in delight.
Carla turns to me and nods at the other plate on the tray. “Eat it while it’s hot,” she says.
I frown. Carla—a trained special needs teacher—has worked for us for the last eight years, mainly to look after Matias, but she seems to think that gives her permission to order me around too.
“You can’t live on Diet Coke and air,” she adds, hands on hips.
“I don’t,” I protest, albeit weakly because I have tried this diet in the past.
“You don’t eat enough.”
She sounds like my mother, except my mother is usually telling me to watch what I eat.
“Are you pining for Jamie?” she asks, a strong note of disapproval in her voice.
I huff. “No.” Pining suggests I’m a dog sitting on a doormat, waiting for its master to come home, tongue lolling out. And I’m not doing that. Not really.
“Good, because you deserve better than him. He doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
I shrug. I don’t know about deserving better. Who else would put up with me? But this time I am determined to stay broken up with him. It’s not as if we make each other happy. I think we just get back together out of habit. We’ve been together so long and we’ve shared so much, it’s hard to break that habit.
Back when we first got together, before either of us were so well known, things were different. He was sweet and genuine, and we were best friends, supporting each other. It’s tough for people who aren’t in this world to understand the pressures, and he did because he was dealing with the same level of public scrutiny.
But in the last two years, his ego has grown out of control. He seems to thrive on adoration, and he’s adopted this swagger that he never used to have. Maybe part of the reason I go back to him is because I keep hoping that the old Jamie will resurface sometime.
“There’s extra hot sauce on your eggs,” Carla says, switching topics back to food.
To appease her, I sit down on the bed. I am hungry, and so I give in to her evil temptress hot-sauce ways. Carla looks on approvingly as I take my first bite.
“Did you find out who the cute guy is?” she asks as I swallow.
I frown. “No one,” I say.
Carla makes a hmmm sound and starts busying herself picking up items of clothing from the floor, as well as bits of stray knitting. I know she’s just hanging around to make sure I finish my food.
“And he wasn’t handsome,” I mutter.
“You need an eye exam, then.” She chuckles as she throws my dirty clothes into the laundry basket.
I start to protest, but the eggs go down the wrong way and I start coughing. Matias slaps me on the back so hard I almost bounce off the bed. “Saved your life!” he announces proudly when I’m done coughing.
I glare at Carla, who is still smirking with amusement. “Hot,” she comments.
“He is not hot,” I splutter.
“I meant the eggs,” she says, laughing as she walks out the door.
WILL
Mrs. Rivera is still waiting on me to answer her about whether I’m taking the job, but I don’t know what to say. I’m torn. Half of me wants to say no and walk away. I want peace and quiet, and neither Luna nor her world fits that description. But on the other hand, now that I know the threat she’s facing, I don’t feel like I can walk away. What if I did, and something happened to her?
But this is not the same situation as the one my family was in, and I have no obligation to Luna. In fact, considering how rude she’s been to me, it’s clear she doesn’t want me around, so why would I say yes?
“I think you’d be perfect.”
I frown at her. How does she even know that? She doesn’t know anything about me. As far as she’s concerned, I could be as bad, or worse, than any of the other guys she’s previously employed. “Why?” I ask her.
“For one, you’re not impressed,” she answers.
“Excuse me?”
She gestures at the house. “By her. By the house. You don’t seem to care. A lot of people are drawn to this world because they think it’s exciting, because they want to be around it, and all the glamour. They’re more interested in the fame and the celebrity than in the actual job. That’s not you.”
I nod. She’s got that right.
“And I don’t think you’re the kind of person who will be intimidated by my daughter either.”
“Intimidated?” I say, trying to keep the smirk out of my voice. Luna’s about as intimidating as a mosquito.
She nods. “Yes. Luna is good at getting her own way. She’s very stubborn.”
I can see that.
“Luna’s sometimes her own worst enemy,” she continues. Her gaze drops to the ground and for a brief second she’s lost in thought, but then she looks up at me. “But most of all, she needs someone she can trust not to betray her. Someone who will do the job, watch over her and keep her safe, but keep a professional distance. I think that’s you.”
I meet her gaze. I can’t help but feel like Mrs. Rivera is trying to manipulate me into taking the job. She’s trying to flatter me into saying yes, and there’s nothing I hate more than feeling like I’m being manipulated. “How do you know that’s me?” I ask.
“I ran a background check.”
“What?” I ask, feeling my irritation levels spiking.
She gives me a cool, unbothered look in response. “I run checks on all potential employees.”
My hand grips the car door until my knuckles bleach. I try to steady my breathing, but I’m pissed. How dare she do something like that without my permission?
“I know that you’re highly decorated. You received a Silver Star.”
Blood starts to pound in my temples.
“And your superiors spoke very highly of your integrity, loyalty, and leadership skills. I also know that you overcame some early challenges.”
My breathing becomes shallow, as it always does when I enter a state of high alert.
“Your father is in prison.”
I maintain a steady gaze, but all my senses are primed for fight or flight, and I have to tell myself to breathe and relax.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know that must have been hard for you.”
I make no response, but my teeth are gritted.
“I know, too, that you were providing for your mother and siblings, sending them your wages, and that you’re in significant amounts of debt.”
I swallow hard, my face heating up. Whoever ran a background check somehow got hold of my financial history, which makes me angrily indignant as well as embarrassed because that’s no one’s damn business but mine.
I joined the Marines for the signing bonus. I gave it to my mom, hoping she could use it to get away from my dad, but my dad found the money and took it. He spent it on a weekend in Vegas.
When my mom, my sisters, and my brother did finally get away from him, they were housed at first in an emergency shelter, but it wasn’t safe and I was worried, so I took a loan out to help them get their own place. I told my mom that it was money I had saved, but it wasn’t. It was one of those high-interest loans. I’ve been struggling to pay it off ever since, never managing to even make a dent, thanks to the skyrocketing interest payments.