The nanny

1. The case of the pillow

Just walk in there and act like you're the answer to all their problems.

That's what my best friend advised me when I'd told her I had a job interview. She'd never been declined for a job in her life, but when she said that was her big secret, it was all I could do not to laugh at her.

I mean, what the fuck did that even mean?

There was no way in hell they would hire me. I was an Ivy League dropout with a load of student debt and terrible credit scores. After getting into uni, I didn't do any extracurriculars because they cost me too much time. Not even my internships were all too impressive, most of my peers reaching beyond the stars as I fell behind.

I really needed the job and I was afraid they could sniff out the desperation. I always could. Desperation didn't look pretty on anyone.

But now here I stood, in front of miss Peterson while she gave me a rundown of what my tasks would be for a job I was chosen for out of sixty applicants. There was no way in hell I was the most qualified either, even with all the "embellishments" I added to my resume. But I'd walked into the interview, with my head held high and an overly confident answer to every question she'd thrown at me and apparently that was all it took.

I'd have to buy Amy a cake sometime.

"Are you paying attention miss?" I turned my gaze from the massive chandelier above us to the woman in front of me. She looked exactly like how I'd imagine the matron of a giant mansion to look: serious, elegant and like she had a stick up her ass so large you could see it when she opened her mouth.

But I supposed that came with the deal. Besides, she'd been nice to me so far. Though she did give me the feeling that she thought she was better than me, it annoyed me to no end. Especially because I currently had no leg to stand on, she was objectively doing better than me.

"Yes, I'm supposed to look after Aurora. Cleaning, teaching, feeding. Got it." I smiled as miss Peterson gave me a pensive stare.

"Good," she then said, "follow me."

"Oh uh," I looked down at my three cases of luggage that I somehow managed to drag up the giant stairs leading to the front door and was about to ask her what I was supposed to do with them, when I noticed she was already halfway through the hallway. I wondered if she was setting the tone for our next interactions, I probably couldn't rely on her for much help ever.

I threw the smallest bag over my shoulder, ignoring the ache of carrying it all day, and dragged the other two behind me while I caught up to her.

"Where are we going?" I asked her back, watching her perfectly tied together bun. It didn't move even the slightest bit as she walked. She reminded me of some of my classmates back at Harvard, with their perfect hair, perfect grades, perfect manners. Nothing was off, but that in and of itself was off.

"To meet the child of course."

"Oh," I smiled to myself, a bit giddy with nerves. I loved children, but meeting a new one was always kind of nerve wracking for me, "of course."

I admired the giant hallway we were walking through. The man who lived here must have some serious cash. The floors were a type of expensive dark wood, a giant silk rug laid out on top of it. It looked so soft I couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like to roll around on it. On the walls were paintings and I could tell, even though I knew fuckall about art, they were expensive. On the ceiling hung giant, intricately designed chandeliers.