His Score by B.L. Brooks
1
Carmen
I’m running late,panic quickly settling in as I hop off the bus and begin to jog my way towards 2nd street where my night job awaits me. I’ve been late the last four nights, giving me signs another tardy arrival won’t be taken kindly.
“Hey, slow down!” a woman snaps at me as I rush past her, accidentally jostling us both while trying to balance the volcano I just spent two hours creating.
“Sorry!” I yell back, keeping up my jog as I keep balance of this stupid science project while focusing my eyes ahead. It’s not easy, let me tell ya. And for the tenth time today, I remember why I hate my boss so much…I mean, I do love her son, Greg. He’s a sweetheart—most of the time.
Unfortunately for him, making his science projects aren’t really my forte. But neither is being a nanny…
I huff, reaching the front steps of the Kelly’s residence while still juggling this bulky piece, rooting around for the key in my jeans.
Before I can manage to dig it up, the door is yanked open, bringing my eyes peeking up at one fuming Nadine Kelly.
“Late again, are we?” the woman sneers, crossing her arms as her judgy eyes scan me over.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Kelly. It took longer to get here today as I wasn’t allowed on my usual bus with something like this,” I say, slightly lifting the project up as she takes notice. “So, I ended up having to walk to a different stop,” I tell the truth, apologizing when I’m really not at fault here.
Not caring for a scolding, I quickly slip past one furious mother, inching into the house as my arms are on fire. I need to set this thing down.
I hurry into the dining room, lowering the weight down—almost dropping my work before reaching the table's edge, heaving it to land softly with my last ditch effort. Sighing out in relief, I rub my arms to soothe the pain.
“Oh, hey, Carmen. That looks great. You and Greg experimenting again?” Mr. Kelly walks into the dining room, looking like a million bucks in a tailored black tux.
I can’t help but smile, watching as he adjusts his cufflinks, making me again wonder how a man this good looking and sweet somehow ended up with Nadine—as bad as that sounds.
I’m not trying to be mean, but she’s not exactly the nicest person. The woman seems to get herself into the pettiest fights with anyone and everyone, including her husband. Which is hard to believe when the man is all smiles and charm.
“Something like that,” I mumble, shaking my arms out as his wife slinks into the room, her red lips matching the extremely sexy, little red dress she’s poured herself into today.
I’ve been warned, and more than once on how I should never inform Mr. Kelly of Greg’s lack of participation, especially when it comes to academics. Meaning, I’m forbidden to tell the man his own son doesn’t do anything for himself. Like really, not a thing.
My job as the Kelly’s nanny involves feeding Greg, making sure he’s bathed and in bed on time, leaving me enough hours in the night to clean and do homework. Greg’s homework, of course.
I’m basically working two jobs while attending elementary school all over again.
“Oh, how great. I bet he loves this kind of stuff. He’s a smart little tyke, huh?” Mr. Kelly crows, sounding so proud of his son to where I don’t have it in me to crush him. To tell him how his son should probably pick up a book sometime rather than play another video game.
But I bet Greg would just end up throwing a tantrum and mommy dearest over here would certainly cave.
“Yup,” I mutter, not liking the fact I’m lying to the man but I’m unable to speak what’s on my mind with his wife glaring at me, shooting dagger after dagger.
“Well, alright Carmen. We’re going to head out. There’s a plate in the oven for you. I made spaghetti tonight,” he boasts, bringing me to smile despite his awful wife tittering, rolling her eyes.
Mr. Kelly knows how to cook spaghetti and that’s about it. But with him only knowing one dish, he calls it his famous spaghetti, saying it’s the best in the world.
I like Mr. Kelly, I really do. But the man should stick to his day job, which come to think of it I still have no idea what that’s about…
“Thank you, sir. Enjoy tonight. I’ll just be getting to it then.” I nod, ready to get on with this stupid science project. I still have some last minute pieces that need put in place before morning.
I watch as Mr. Kelly walks over to his wife, leading the two of them out the door as I’m left with—
“There you are!” Greg jumps in, scaring the heck out of me. “I’m hungry. I want food,” he demands.
A groan bubbles up, getting trapped in my throat as I’m brought to remember to toss up a smile before turning to the kid. He’s quite literally the most spoiled child on the planet. It’s hard to tolerate some days.
“Well, hello to you, too,” I mutter, then point over at the volcano resting on the table. “Why don’t you go take a look while I make you a plate?”
“I want steak tonight,” he says with a pouty lip, looking at me as if it’s my job to save the day.
This kid.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, making my way into the kitchen to get this steak cooking. Last time I refused to make something he wanted, Greg told his mother I starved him and she ended up ripping me a new one and threatening to take my job away. I’ve just learned it’s easier this way—giving in.
Plus, it’s not like I’m the one buying the food around here.
Grabbing a skillet, I ramble around the state-of-the-art kitchen, pulling one steak out of the fridge as I decide to forego one for myself. I’ll just stick to spaghetti tonight. It may not be the greatest, but I can always appreciate a little effort. And I’m not one to waste perfectly good food.
A half hour later, I’m sitting at the table, listening to Greg whine over the quality of his volcano. He’s pretty much saying it’s subpar. There’s no lights, and apparently the kid wanted lights so I have to point out how unrealistic that is for a project like this. He also thinks the eruption is too small, making me explain that anything bigger would destroy the whole thing—aka, all of my work.
The whining goes on throughout dinner, clean up, and as I’m putting the little brat to bed, he finally begins to simmer down. Greg looks up at me all tucked in and comfy, making me remember why I love this little boy despite his grim attitude.
“Carmen?”
“Yeah?” I answer Greg, stroking his hair with a tender smile.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
I about choke, my lips twitching up into a smile as I’m wondering where that just came from. But after all, he’s a kid. Kids always have this funny way of bringing stuff up.
I shrug, knowing I don’t have a boyfriend for a lot of reasons but the main ones aren’t PG…so not really anything I can share with the little boy I’m here to look after.
I mean, what am I supposed to say? That I’ve never hit the point of getting close to a guy? My anxiety always seems to kick in around men. And right now, I know it wouldn’t be all that cool explaining my lack of sex drive to someone who doesn’t even understand what that is. Especially a kid. Weird.
“Too busy,” I sigh, opting for the most obvious answer which isn’t that much of a lie.
I work this job, sleeping over most nights so I can get Greg ready in the morning. After the kid is off to school, I’m rushing my way to the florist I work day-turn for, and by five in the evening, I’m zooming home to watch my little sister so my mom can get to work. Then, my older sister gets home no later than eight and off I go to the Kelly’s.
At this point, I have everything running like a fine-tuned oil machine. So naturally, the idea of working a boyfriend into life doesn’t sound all that appealing.
What’s the point of trying when I’ve never even felt a connection with a guy? Every guy I meet is either immature, or extremely out of my ballpark considering I’m only nineteen years old and there’s not many teens my age I can carry on a conversation with. It’s sad to say, but it’s true.
“Too busy for love?” Greg asks, sounding so unlike the little kid he is.
“Right now, yes.” I give him a smile as he frowns, but I don’t give into it as I fluff the blanket around him, making sure he’s fully covered and cozy. “Enough about me, kid. It’s bedtime. You have a big day tomorrow,” I remind him, knowing the science project is going to make or break his final grade in class. “We’ll make sure to go over your presentation at breakfast, ok?”
“Ok. Thanks, Carmen,” he says right before turning over in bed, done with the personal questions for the night.
I grin, knowing the kid likes me to some degree. I head out of the room, flipping the light off and the nightlight on.
“Night, night,” I whisper and walk out, closing his door behind.
I’m still smiling as I hop down the stairs and into the kitchen, tidying up briskly before grabbing Greg’s backpack, pulling his assignments out on the table. And tonight, it’s math—my worst nightmare. I’m already pulling up Google to help me have a shot here.
Just as I’m punching in my first search, I sense movement in the house.
I groan at the idea of wasting time arguing with Greg to get right back up those stairs and into bed.
Staring off into the darkness surrounding the left side of the room, I listen in for another noise. I’m caught off guard by a sound directly behind me, and before I can get my words out I’m met with a hand, pressing hard against my mouth.
I’m jerked back, falling into a chest—one that feels to be made of stone. Yanking myself forward, I’m quickly pulled back, the hand tightening on my lips.
“Shhhh, baby girl,” a gravelly voice escapes, giving me chills. “Don’t scream. You understand?”
I slowly nod up and down, terror surging through me as I don’t know how else to respond.
“That’s a good little girl.”
His hand, which happens to be the size of my face, comes sliding off my lips, giving me a better way of breathing as I whip around, facing the brute.
Staring up at him…oh, Lord.
The most intense, clear green eyes look down on me, the depths of an emerald that you only find on the perfect men in magazines. And surrounding those eyes is a face that defies description—so sharp, but yet so smooth.
He’s not an inch less than six feet and is somehow causing my body to feel insecure.
Despite my pulsing anxiety, my knees are liquid but my legs remain stiff as a tight feeling begins brewing between my thighs.
Oh no…
“Don’t be scared, baby girl. I’m not here to hurt you.” His dark tone seems to bring a lift of relief. But then again, I don’t know who this is. He could just be lying to get his way.
His mouth crooks up into a sexy grin as I swallow down nervously, my eyes so wide to the point of pain.
“I’m here to give the Kelly’s a message,” he grates, and I’m nearly shaking in front of him, too scared to move or scream as he towers over my head.
“A m-message?” I stumble, wondering if he’s a family friend or something. “You know Drew and Nadine?”
“I do. I know the two of them very well.”
My nerves instantly settle a bit more, though I’m wondering why he’s here if he knows the Kelly’s so well?
I could try racing up the stairs, grabbing Greg and trying my best in getting the hell out of here. But given the size and tone of this gentle, though scary invader…I’m not so sure I could escape if I wanted to. And right now, I’m confused with what’s going on as this seems to be the moment my body has decided to wake from the dormant state of sexual nothingness it’s been in for nineteen years.
