Boss I Love To Hate

by Kayla, Mia

  The tenseness in my neck reached my temples. There weren’t many things I worried about, but not having any children of my own, my nieces were at the top of that list.

  My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Charles, and automatically, I pressed End. I wasn’t going to pick up his call until I had his daughters right beside me so he could talk to them himself. I’d promised him that I had this under control. I had never broken a promise, and I wasn’t going to start now.

  I called Mason again. “I’m heading to the school. No one is picking up.”

  I was starting to get pissed off. If anything had happened to my nieces, there would be hell to pay. I’d be the devil incarnate himself.

  His voice was riddled with worry. “No, I’ll head over. Just stay there. I’m already in the car, and I will be at the school in ten minutes.”

  I had just called him. How fast was he going, ninety miles per hour? From Brisken, he was at least forty minutes from the school.

  “You’re not going to be any help if you’re dead. Slow down.”

  He huffed like I was ridiculous. “Just call me if you hear anything.”

  I banged the phone against the counter.

  One thing was for sure: I was going to take this babysitter by the tips of her ears and walk her out of my house and out of our lives once I found her.

  Thirty minutes later, laughter bubbled through the foyer. Mary’s laughter. It was the one and only noise I wanted to hear. Immediately, my whole body went lax as I rushed toward the joyous sound.

  “Uncle Brad.”

  My adorable five-year-old niece, Mary, bum-rushed me, and I scooped her up in my arms and inhaled deeply, taking in her baby shampoo scent. She was blonde-haired with ringlets that framed her face. Her cheeks were painted in an array of colors—pinks, yellows, and blues. She cuddled against me, and I, VP of Acquisitions, should have cared that she was getting paint on my five-hundred-dollar button-down shirt, but I didn’t. This girl owned my heart, one of two in the whole world who did.

  Annie sauntered in a moment later, followed by a not-so-happy, moody Sarah stomping behind her. Something was going on with Sarah. Becky, her stepmom, had said it was the beginnings of puberty, and I wanted to stay miles away from that.

  “Where did you go?” My stare and my irritable tone were directed toward the babysitter.

  “Six Flags Great America!” She smiled as though this were a good thing.

  The theme park? Yeah, this girl is fired.

  “Great. America,” I rolled the words off my tongue like it was a curse word, steady and in movie-like slow motion. I blinked and then stared at her as though she were shit I’d stepped on.

  Breathe, Brad.

  I didn’t even pretend this time. Pretending was long over. I had pretended the first couple of days when I arrived home from work, and they weren’t bathed. I had pretended that it was okay for them to be up at eleven when I had a late work function, and it was a school night.

  But now? I was done.

  Sarah was always the voice of reason, but she didn’t help the situation. “I’m the one who said you wouldn’t be okay with this. I’m the one who said it’s a school night, but Mary insisted, and every single person does what Mary says!” she yelled, making me reel back.

  “I just wanted to go.” Mary pouted in my arms.

  She blinked her long eyelashes at me, and I touched her button nose.

  “See?” Sarah pointed. “This is exactly what I’m saying. No one wants to listen to what I have to say.”

  Then, she bolted up the stairs, leaving me speechless, wide-eyed, and stunned.

  Hormones. Becky said she’s going through changes. At twelve though? Isn’t that too soon?

  “Uncle Brad … guess what I am. Can you tell from the paint on my face?”

  Mary had two dimples, and when she smiled, she looked like an angel. An angel that never got yelled at. I could already feel my whole mood shifting into Mary Land.

  I shook my head, needing to rein things in, so I placed Mary on her feet to deal with the help. “You’re a princess?”

  She pouted again. “No.”

  “A butterfly,” Annie smirked, sipping some of her Starbucks coffee through a straw, one that she probably charged on the credit card that we gave her to use, specifically for the kids.

  The door flew open, and Mason stormed in, hands on his hips and breathless. “They’re not at the …” He stopped mid-step, taking the scene in, his eyes landing first on Annie, me, and then Mary. “Brad, I tried calling you, but you weren’t picking up.”

  Mary rushed toward Mason’s side, this time charming him. “Look at me!” As though she were flying through our kitchen, she flapped her hands, using them as pretend wings. “Can you guess what I am?”

  He knelt beside her and then kissed the top of her head. “Butterfly.” Then, he clutched her against him, closed his eyes, and released a long, heavy sigh for everyone to hear.

  Dramatic much? With Mason, always.

  His eyes flipped to mine. “Sarah?”

  “Upstairs,” I said. And moody, I thought but didn’t add.

  He breathed out again. “Okay. Okay.” He patted down Mary’s hair and kissed her forehead.

  “They went to Great America. An hour away.” My slightly enraged smile tightened.

  His still and stoic features changed. His eyebrows pulled together, and he did one very slow blink. A Mason blink. The blink that said he wasn’t a happy uncle.

  He stood and then addressed the to-be-fired babysitter. “Hi, Annie.”

  At least he had manners; I had to give him that.

  His gaze moved to my niece, most likely excusing her to yell at the babysitter. “Mary, why don’t you get ready for bed? Did you eat dinner?”

  “Yes! Cotton candy.” Her eyes widened, and she jumped up and down in sugar-induced fashion.

  Mason stared at me now and then again with a slow blink and the tilt of his head.

  Internally, I laughed. This girl was a goner. Fired. Off on her ass. I’d gladly let him do it because he was the calmer and more professional one. I would have just told her to get out and stalked upstairs to change out of my work clothes.

  After Mary galloped upstairs, I walked toward the kitchen island and leaned against it, waiting for a show.

  “Annie,” Mason began, using his disappointed tone that said I’m better than you, but I won’t make you feel like it, “didn’t you have your phone with you? We tried calling you.”

  “Oh, you did?” The straw hung at the side of her mouth as she dug to the bottom of her purse. The annoying slurping sounds of her straw grated on my nerves. “Oh, you did.” She reached for her cell, gripping the phone and showing us fifteen missed calls. She smiled and then shrugged. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry.

  Then, the slow blink happened.

  I averted my gaze, suppressing the urge to laugh out loud.

  “It’s important that you have that cell phone accessible at all times. We were worried sick. And the girls can’t be going to Great America on a weeknight. They’re cranky in the mornings, and they need all the sleep they can get.”

  I sat on the barstool, texted Charles that everything was okay with the girls, and rested my chin on my hand, elbow on our center island.

  Get this over with, Mason. Fire her ass already.

  He continued, “What happened today is not acceptable.” Mason proceeded to spit out statistics, being the numbers guy that he was, about how many people go missing daily and kidnappings, and then he went into the land of homicides.

  I leaned in, wishing I had a bag of popcorn. Shit, maybe I could tape this showdown, post it on YouTube, and title it “Repercussions of an Irresponsible Babysitter.”

  This was going to be good.

  “Trips like Great America and activities out of their normal day-to-day school functions have to be approved by us first, okay?”

  Wait.

  Did he just say okay? Okay? Not okay. I shot up in my seat.
What the hell is he waiting for?

  Annie nodded and smiled and continued to slurp her coffee through her straw. For shit’s sake, there was nothing left at the bottom of the cup.

  “It’s better if we are informed. The girls have a schedule that we have to adhere to.” Mason pointed to the schedule on the fridge that he set up for the girls. “Especially during the weekdays.”

  Where is he going with this?

  “Just please be considerate,” Mason said.

  Be considerate? How about using common sense? How about don’t be an idiot?

  This was not going as planned. What was Mason’s deal? If anything, he was stricter than I was when it came to the girls.

  I threw him one irritated look, the annoyance pinching my features. And, when Mason’s shake of his head was directed toward me, I was really royally pissed, and it sent me over the edge.

  “We were worried sick.” My tone was sharp, cutting, like a blade through the skin. I emphasized the word sick with such force that Annie flinched. “Their father called, and we couldn’t tell him where they were. How would you feel if you were in that situation? Not knowing where your own kids were, not knowing if they were safe, and being out of the country and feeling helpless to do anything about it,” I slowly spat out. Maybe, by speaking slower, she’d understand me better.

  Her calm demeanor faded quickly when I stepped closer, needing her to hear those two words that would end her employment.

  “It won’t happen again.” Her voice was soft and repentant, but ask me if I cared.

  I didn’t. For some reason, I didn’t believe her because she was irresponsible, and you couldn’t trust the irresponsible, not when it came to little lives.

  “Damn straight it won’t because you’re—”

  “You need to go home now,” Mason cut me off. “Be here bright and early tomorrow morning.” He framed her shoulders and pushed her toward the door.

  What. The. Fuck?

  He’d cut me off before I gave her an Apprentice exit, Trump-style.

  I stared at his retreating, backstabbing back long and hard as he ushered the idiot out of our house, my nostrils flaring. I wanted to kill him. Damn him. I undid my tie and stormed to the fridge, reached in for a beer, and popped it open with my teeth, talented like that.

  “Brad …”

  “Don’t fucking Brad me when you let that girl off so damn easy. If you didn’t have the guts to fire her, I would have. I was going to until you cut me off.” I chugged the beer, feeling the cold liquid hit the back of my throat.

  “What did you want me to do?” He exhaled a heavy sigh as though this were my fault.

  I looked to the ceiling and around the kitchen, and then I opened my arms wide with my beer in one hand. “Hire someone else. Not. That. Hard.”

  “We can’t.” His expression was pinched. “I just need until the middle of next week. Don’t you remember I’m flying to Ohio this weekend, and I won’t be back till Wednesday?”

  I lifted an eyebrow as if to say, So? I swore. I could speak with facial expressions.

  “Becky and Charles will be back at the end of the month. It makes no sense to hire someone new and retrain another babysitter,” Mason said. “It took me two weeks to feel comfortable with Annie after we trained her on the girls’ schedule. If we had to do the same with a new hire, Charles and Becky would be back in town by then.”

  Felt comfortable? Yeah, right.

  During Annie’s training period, Mason had followed her to school on the very first day that she drove the girls to make sure that she indeed took the girls to school and wasn’t going to sell them to sex traffickers.

  “I’ll watch them.” Better me than that poor excuse of a babysitter.

  Mason smirked and followed up with a peal of laughter. “You?”

  My eyes searched the area. I looked left, then right, and then to the ceiling for an exaggerated effect as if there were someone else in the room. “Yes, me. Is there anyone else here?”

  “No offense …” Somehow, I knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth would definitely offend me. “You’re the fun uncle.”

  “And? State the obvious, would you? And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I scratched at my jaw and took my empty beer bottle to the recycling bin. The beer bottle that I had drained. I needed to eat something and cook something for Sarah and Mary because, apparently, they’d only had cotton candy for dinner.

  “You can’t even take care of yourself. Remember the puppies?” Mason reminded me.

  Dickhead. Will he always bring up the puppies? We were ten damn years old. And someone had left the gate open, and because I’d had the puppies last, I had been the one blamed when it clearly wasn’t my fault.

  Mason strolled to the freezer, plucked out some prepackaged chicken breasts, and threw them in the sink. I guessed he had the same line of thinking, knowing the girls hadn’t eaten yet.

  “I know I’m a selfish bastard, but when it comes to those girls …” I didn’t have to finish my sentence. Mason knew I would do anything for my nieces.

  I guessed he was making chicken strips because he plucked out the breadcrumbs from the pantry. Me, being the cool uncle, got out the ingredients for mac and cheese, one of the few things I knew how to prepare for myself. And let’s get real; kids loved mac and cheese.

  “She’s staying on,” Mason argued, using his work tone on me. “And, once I get back from Ohio, I’ll be able to watch the girls more closely.”

  I tried hard not to shove him against the stove. This bastard would be the death of me. When he was in this type of mood, it was like trying to reason with a child.

  With the set of his firm jaw, I knew there was no way I would win. He’d beat me down with words, and I would just want to throat-punch him because I couldn’t speak as fast as he could.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “But she messes up one more time, and she’s out.”

  The smug, small nod of his head had me clenching my fists.

  The safety of my nieces was nonnegotiable. “And, if anything happens to them, I’m going to blame you because I wanted her gone. You just remember that.” I pointed to him. “It’ll be your fault.”

  When the smile faded from Mason’s face, I felt slightly vindicated. I’d won.

  Chapter 3

  Sonia

  “I’m not going.” I slammed the door to my one-bedroom apartment, holding the phone in my ear and talking to Ava. “It’s not happening.” I adjusted my glasses on my face and cringed. I didn’t want to deal with any of this—my ex, the Replacement, or this stupid wedding.

  Jeff had been the love of my life, the one I was supposed to spend the rest of eternity with. Also, the one who had broken my heart. And I was supposed to show up to this wedding and put a smile on my face, pretending to be okay when he was happily in love, and I wasn’t? Yeah. Not doing it.

  “You kind of have to go. You’re in the wedding,” Ava reminded me.

  “As a reader,” I reminded her right back.

  Carrie could get another one. I plopped down on my brown leather couch, feeling the softness of the suede-like material under my knees as I curled into myself.

  “We’re only readers because she has five sisters; otherwise, we’d be in the wedding,” Ava added. “We’re kind of like her sisters outside of her family.”

  Sisters, my ass, I thought vehemently.

  Carrie was a backstabbing, evil wench. I’d never forgive her for this.

  “I don’t care.” I knew I was acting like a little child. But no one knew heartbreak like I did.

  Jeff had ended it over eight months ago, but the wound was still fresh, the hurt very much present in my everyday life. Everything reminded me of him. His scent still lingered in my apartment, and every hand-holding couple reminded me of his absence in my life. Maybe I could fake illness on the day of the wedding or go on a mission trip to Africa or on a mandatory work trip. That would be perfect.

  My forearm covered my eyes, and m
y glasses pressed against my face. Maybe if I could force myself to feel nothing, but everyone knew that it didn’t work that way. Because, when I closed my eyes, he was there. His blondish-brown hair, his green-as-emerald eyes. His smile and that dimple in his cheek. And, now, he had her. There was no way I could show up, dateless. Might as well paint a red Loser sign on my head.

  “I-I can’t,” I rushed out. Because I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly pretend that him being with another girl didn’t affect me. Why else would I be stalking her on social media?

  Apparently, she was an ad exec at Mogul Media. Beautiful, blonde, booby. The three Bs that I was not. Maybe she was a bitch, too. That would make me feel better.

  I hadn’t even known she was Jeff’s type. He and I had shared a love of food and Netflix and Harry Potter movies. I was skinny as though I still had to go through puberty and had glasses because I was legally blind without them.

  His new girlfriend and I had no similarities. What did he see in her? Is that why he’d dumped me?

  I flattened my limp brown hair and chucked my nerdy glasses to the side, my insecurities eating at my insides.

  “You have to move on, Sonia.” Ava’s voice was calm and relaxing, but it didn’t do anything to the tightness in my chest, the shortness in my breath.

  “Easy for you to say.” My voice shook with heavy, sullen emotion, an emotion I felt every time I thought of him. “He was it. My heart skipped for him. I didn’t walk when I was with him; I skipped. Can you imagine that? Skipping into his arms because you’re in love? That’s the kind of relationship we had.” I choked back tears threatening to escape. I hadn’t cried about Jeff in a long time, yet thinking about seeing him in person with another girl gutted me. I could handle hearing that he’d moved on, but seeing him with another girl, holding her hand, kissing her, dancing with her—things that he had done with me—I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

  “I know it’s hard.” Ava’s voice lowered to a soft and soothing tone, one my mother had used to console me after a failed track meet, a bad grade, a bad breakup. “I’ve been through heartbreak before. But, eventually, you have to move on. It’s been six months.”