The driver rushes over to open the door for me, and my legs almost instantly give out once I step into the car. Nothing feels better than the sensation of sitting down in a quiet car after a long day of standing and socializing. My hand moves to loosen up my tie as I look down toward my chest and find Taylor still fast asleep against my body. The girl is completely unaware that we've gotten into the car, her relaxed sleeping face filling me with a bit of envy.
If only it were possible to go back to more simpler times, then maybe I'd be able to sleep as peacefully as Taylor does. But for now, I close my eyes and try to doze off as well. The gentle hum and motions of the moving car slowly lull me to sleep, yet I am still unable to enter a deep slumber in spite of my closed eyes and my heavy fatigue. A constant stream of images flash behind my eyelids, images of happier moments when we were still a solid family of three.
It's the pain of these thoughts which keep me up at night. The pain of never being able to hear her voice or see her smile which make it impossible to fall asleep.
I open my eyes again and use my finger to brush a stray hair out of Taylor's face. She looks more and more like her mother with each passing day that goes by, and that unexpected realization fills me with a sudden urge to tightly squeeze her. Taylor grumbles in her sleep as my hug causes her to fidget and stir. My only response is to painfully smile at her.
This spoiled and troublemaking little girl is the precious gift that Elizabeth left behind when she parted from the world. Even though she drives me insane sometimes with her childish antics and bratty ways, I still love her to death because she's my little girl. And I'll keep loving this pesky troublemaker until my last dying breath. She might give me constant headaches and get me worried sick with her questionable decisions, but I wouldn't trade Taylor for anything in the world.
Not now. Not ever.
Cassie - 4
Nope… Nope, and nope.
A weary sigh trails out of my mouth as I cross out the next phone number on the list with my pen. That's the third person who's told me 'no' today, yet I still can't get used to the rejection. I let out a heavy sigh again. It seems the more I go down the list of businesses written on the piece of paper, the more unlikely and unwelcoming my chances seem to look. The job hunt feels utterly fruitless to me, but what can I really expect when I'm cold calling places that aren't looking to hire in the first place? I allow the gloominess of my reality to sink in before I decide to slap myself against the cheeks a few times as a way to motivate and cheer myself up.
Now isn't the time to give up so easily, Cassie. You've been through much worse than this before, and you can do it again. Don't let some stuck-up snob ruin your life and future. Don't let her bring you down.
I sit down on the bench and wait for the next bus to arrive. Surely, I'll have better luck at this next restaurant because they're one of the few places actually looking for waiters to hire. The only problem with this establishment is that it's one of the more high-end restaurants in town which means their expectations for workers will be much higher than other locations. But beggars can't be choosers, so I'll have to try my best to impress them. Getting hired would absolutely make my day, especially since it would mean a steady paycheck and some hefty tips.
This is one opportunity that I can't mess up on.
My feet restlessly shuffle back and forth along the ground while I silently work on the delivery of my pitch. However, the thoughts in my head begin to wander off and I'm left thinking about how I ended up in this awful predicament at all. I shake my head as my boss' haunting words echo in my mind: You're fired, Cassie. A pathetic-sounding chuckle leaves my throat. I know I should feel terrible about being unlawfully terminated from my position, but how bitter must that woman have been to have called my workplace and demand that I be fired? The way my employment suddenly ended out of nowhere due to my 'rude behavior' toward an 'important customer' still astounds me.
But there's no use in dwelling in the past. I made my choice when I took Taylor's side, and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I feel more for the little girl than I do for myself because she has to spend her time around egotistical women like that blonde from that night. And I don't even want to get started on Taylor's father who's also clearly just another rich and handsome douche-bag who has no trouble looking down on people. Sure, he's got those dreamy green eyes which instantly pull you in upon first glance and that refined, older vibe in his attitude and style, but he's still a huge asshole in my book. Even if he is a super attractive one at that.
The bus pulls up in the midst of my deep thoughts and forces me back into reality. Now isn't the time to daydream about other people. Not when I have my own life to worry about. I pay the toll and find a seat in the back of the vehicle while the bus begins to head toward my destination. The beating of my heart appears to grow louder and faster the closer the bus gets to my designated stop area. Showing up in person for an interview is a whole different ballgame than being interviewed over the phone. There's a whole lot more pressure on my shoulders when I know somebody's going to be quietly staring at me and judging me on every word and subtle reaction that comes out from me.
Unfortunately, the stressful situation is basically unavoidable as the bus gradually pulls up to the stop that I'm supposed to get off on. There's no backing down once I step out of the vehicle and my legs start to carry me over to the restaurant, albeit with a heavy heart. It's only when I finally make it to the actual storefront that I can feel the class disparity in the atmosphere. Every single worker inside is young and attractive, their smiles bright and their movements quick yet professional. I look down at the slightly-faded and loosely-fitted black dress suit I have on and the heels on my feet which are obviously one size too big for comfort.
Great. The interview hasn't even started yet and I already feel like I'm doomed for failure. This isn't good.
I'm nervously pacing around the front entrance and wondering if I should reconsider when a young and familiar voice excitedly calls out to me: "Cassie!"
My whole body jumps from the unexpected call out. At first, I feel a bit silly for reacting so strongly to the name because there are certainly other Cassies in the world. But once I turn toward the voice to get a look at the speaker, I realize that I wasn't mistaken at all. That little voice was calling out for me.
"Hi, Taylor!" I exclaim in surprise as the little brown-haired girl eagerly waves her hand at me. Yet the excitement in my voice quickly dies down when I realize who's standing next to her. Tall and ruggedly handsome with a pair of brilliant green eyes to top it all off, it's Taylor's father -- the man I had a brief argument with that one night in front of the library. He's dressed sharply in a dark grey suit from top to bottom, the polished sheen of his dark leather shoes shining brightly even within the sunlight. Compared to the sophisticated image he has on right now, I probably look like a huge, messy fool.
My eyes lower from his emerald gaze in a bit of slight embarrassment. The last time we spoke was under the moonlight where our faces were shrouded by the darkness of night. The shadows provided by the moon made it much easier to speak to him then, but now that I can see him clearly under the sunlight, I find myself feeling a little nervous in his intimidating presence. To think that I once had the courage to tell a rich and good-looking man like him off so easily like that -- what the hell was I even thinking?
Well, this is awkward. I can't seem to even look him in the face right now without feeling somewhat ashamed by my rude behavior that night.
"So what are you doing here, Cassie? Are you here to eat, too?" Taylor asks with an overly excited expression on her face. "The food is really good here. It's one of my favorite places to eat."
Taylor's innocent reaction leaves me at a loss for words. The rich really do live in a completely different world from the everyday working class people. I can't lie and say that my heart doesn't ache at the thought of a little girl being able to casually eat a whole day's worth of my paycheck in one sitting given the astron
omical prices of the restaurant. But I can't really blame her or hate her when that's just the lavish lifestyle she's used to.
And before I can get the chance to answer her, the hostess suddenly steps outside to speak to us: "It's good to see you again, Mr. Bishop. Will it be a table for three today?" the woman beams. Although she's looking around and talking to us as a group, her stare is particularly focused on me for reasons which I can only assume to be because of my strange and unkempt appearance. She clearly realizes that I don't exactly belong, so I go ahead to clear up the misunderstanding myself.
"Oh, no. I'm not with them. I'm here for a job interview," I immediately blurt out while taking a step to the side to increase the distance between me and the father-daughter duo. But my statement only causes the situation to become even more awkward as Taylor's father furrows his brow in surprise at my remark. I turn my head to avoid his gaze.
Even though it's pretty obvious that his girlfriend is the culprit behind my job termination, I'm not petty enough to publicly voice my complaints or point any fingers at him. What's done is done.
The hostess' smiling expression doesn't change, not even after hearing my clarification on the matter. "Okay, I'll grab the manager for you after I seat these guests. Please kindly wait here."
I nod my head. "Thank you."
The hostess turns her attention toward Taylor and her father without dropping her smile for a moment. "Right this way, Mr. Bishop and Miss Bishop." She gestures her hand toward the interior of the restaurant and begins to lead the way toward the father and daughter's designated dining area.
The gorgeous green-eyed man follows the hostess into the restaurant without a second thought while Taylor clings onto his arm to keep up with his brisk pace. I stifle my amused laughter as I watch the young child stare at the steaming hot dishes on the waiters' trays with a ravenous look in her honey-colored eyes. She's practically drooling from the sight of every meal that passes by her, so enthralled by the savory aromas that she doesn't even notice her father moving quickly ahead of her. However, Taylor eventually snaps out of her hungry stupor to turn back around to look at me. She gives me a little farewell wave and parting smile before she finally turns the corner and disappears.
A tiny chuckle slips past my lips from Taylor's simple yet kind gesture. I strangely feel more at ease after seeing her innocently smile and wave at me. At least I can proudly admit to myself that taking her side in the disagreement wasn't the wrong choice because it's clear as day to me that she's a good little girl with a gentle heart. I would make the same decision again and again to protect her if I had to -- even if it means having to suffer through the wrath of that petty girlfriend more than once. And even if I did foolishly land myself into this predicament of being jobless due to my own meddlesome behavior, the thought of failure and being rejected for this waitressing job doesn't scare me as much as it does anymore.
This is just another one of life's many obstacles that I have to get through on my own no matter how unfair the circumstances are. I can't complain, and I definitely can't be afraid. The only thing I can do is to keep on moving forward one step at a time.
***
"Thank you so much for your time. It was a pleasure to speak with you," I say with a smile as I walk over to the exit and close the door behind me. A weak sigh instantly travels out of my mouth when I'm finally alone and out of the interviewer's sight.
Well, at least the interview discussion went a lot better than I expected it to go. I guess I should be glad that the manager gave me his answer without keeping me hoping and waiting, especially when it's obvious that the answer was a no.
I take the crumpled list out of my pocket and cross out the next phone number on the paper. Four down and two more to go. Another sigh parts from my lips as I stare at the remaining options on my list. If these last two don't work out, it's back to scouring through more sketchy Craigslist ads and cold calling more businesses. Just thinking about the tedious work that I have to do which might not even result in anything fills me with extreme exhaustion.
My hand moves to cover the huge yawn that barrels out of my mouth. All this social interaction is seriously physically and mentally draining, and the only cure that I can think of for my fatigue is a hot cup of coffee. I scan through the busy surrounding streets for a quiet coffee shop to grab a recharge and to make a phone call in when my name is called again in that excited tone of voice: "Cassie! Cassie!"
The little girl charges out of the restaurant with full speed while clumsily dodging the walking pedestrians. I smile at her childlike enthusiasm. Seeing the genuine joy and excitement on her face as she races toward me warms my heart. I can't help but find it a little endearing how attached she is to me even though we only spent a day together. But I suppose friends are difficult to make for a little girl her age, especially considering her social standing and the constant isolation that she's put in by her own workaholic father.
I reach out to catch the speedy young child who bumps right into me. "Whoa! Be careful, sweetie. I don't want to see you fall and ruin your pretty dress," I smile. "How was your lunch?"
"Yummy. Very yummy." Taylor rubs and pats her stomach with a satisfied grin. Her adorable response makes me laugh until I catch a glimpse of someone walking toward us in the corner of my eye. It's Taylor's father, and he seems as stone-faced and as coldhearted as ever. Even when he manages to meet my eyes, it's almost like he doesn't care to acknowledge my existence at all. I shake my head and glance at the energetic and radiant little girl and then back at her brooding and unapproachable father.
How can this precious young child standing in front of me be related to someone as unpleasant as that man over there? I simply don't want to believe it. Not even if the birth certificates were shoved into my hands.
"Are you not working at the library anymore?" Taylor suddenly asks. "Daddy told me what a job interview was, and he said that it means you're trying to work somewhere else."
My eyes widen in shock from her unexpected question. Not only is this topic something I didn't want to be reminded of, but it doesn't help that her father is close enough to tune in to listen to the conversation. Considering the fact that he's definitely one of the few people whom I don't want hearing about my vulnerable situation, it pains me to respond to Taylor's inquiry.
"Uh, no, I'm not working at the library anymore," I nervously answer as my eyes shift toward the green-eyed man's location. I can't honestly tell if he's actually checking something on his phone or if he's just pretending to.
"Why not?" Taylor follows up with another question. "Didn't you have fun working there?"
Crap. Another curveball. How do I even reply to that question in a way that a 6-year old girl would understand me? The honest answer would be to tell her that sometimes life isn't fair and that's why even though I had fun working at the library, I couldn't stay there. But the more child-friendly and appropriate response would be to tell her something along the lines of this: "I did have fun. But the people at the library didn't need me to help them anymore, so now I'm looking for another place that needs my help."
I'm worried about whether or not my response is sufficient enough for her young and curious mind, but it seems to be the perfect answer for Taylor because her large brown eyes immediately light up right after. In fact, she almost looks a little too pleased by my explanation.
"Daddy's been looking for a nanny. He needs help," she confidently states while her head quickly turns toward her father. "Why don't you just hire Cassie to be the nanny, daddy? I like her. She's fun, and she's really nice to me." The little girl is practically grinning from ear to ear as she speaks. "Can't you just do that, daddy?"
Taylor's aggressive sales pitch to hire me leaves me stunned. The thought of becoming a nanny is one idea which never crossed my mind during my job hunt. Spending day after day pandering to rich and spoiled brats never appealed to me until I met Taylor who's proven herself to be nothing but sweet and respectful. If she was the child that I was
entrusted with taking care of, I'd be completely on board with the suggestion to become a nanny -- especially since I know the pay will also be good because of her father's wealth.
Ugh. Now that Taylor's planted that thought in my mind, it's hard not to get my hopes up when the job sounds right up my alley. Spending time with an adorable kid like Taylor and getting paid for it, too? Where can I sign myself up for that? The notion of becoming a nanny for her sounds like an absolute dream -- better than any of the other jobs that I've been pursuing all day without any success.
However, there's still one big problem remaining even if I'm willing to accept all the responsibilities that come along with being Taylor's nanny. The same delight that's lingering on my face from the young girl's suggestion isn't exactly present on her father's.
"I can't just hire someone because you like them, Taylor. That's not how it works," the man sternly comments with a firm shake of his head.
"But-" The girl tries to contest his statement, but her efforts are futile.
"No means no, Taylor. There are no ifs, ands, or buts, about it. End of discussion," he assertively states with a fold of his arms. "Besides, I already found you a new nanny, so I don't want to hear you complain about it."
I watch the excitement in Taylor's warm brown eyes fade in an instant. She seems completely devastated by her father's strict and unyielding tone of voice and almost crushed to the point where I'm afraid she might break down in slight tears again. I wouldn't even blame her if she did begin crying because hearing that particularly angry and cold voice coming from a parent could put any child to tears. Her father has certainly mastered that authoritative tone because even I felt some chills in my body from listening to him speak.
A tense silence follows after the final word is said on the matter. Taylor is clearly refusing to acknowledge her father while he himself looks way too exhausted to deal with her childish behavior. I take the initiative to bend down so that I can resolve their tiny spat and see the young girl's face. There's a huge pout on her lips and an extremely bitter look in her eyes.
Daddy's Contract : A Single Dad and Nanny Romance Page 4