Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“Wait, what you found out?” I ask. “The background check? Who did you call? Dan?”
“Who is Dan?!” she yells, in an exasperated tone.
Obviously she is angry, but there is clearly other stuff going on. I reach out and grasp her shoulder lightly, ready to get her in a bear hug if she doesn’t find a way to just calm down and listen.
“Dan is the police chief, okay?” I answer softly, hoping she will follow my lead and take it down a notch. “We work together. Police and fire. Understand?”
She searches my eyes, her eyelashes fluttering frantically. I can see she really is upset, and I want nothing in the world more than to comfort her.
“Dan says these guys are bad news. The wife, she’s got some professional charges related to opioid over-prescribing. The husband… No.”
“No?” I repeat.
Stephan presses his lips together and looks away. “He’s a fucking perv. He gets busted for child porn once a year, manages to get out of it every time.”
I literally hear Olivia’s mouth pop open.
“Shit, that’s terrible.”
“What? Who?” Trigger says, coming over with his arms out protectively.
If we sent Trigger over to this guy’s house, the problem would be solved in short order. They would probably catch us though. Trigger’s hard to miss.
“What are you talking about?” Olivia breathes.
Stephan turns to her with an apologetic look on his face. His hands raise briefly, then flop helplessly to his sides.
“Listen, I know I overstepped, okay?” he begins. “But it just seems sensible to do a background check, doesn’t it? I mean, you can’t just go into people’s houses. Right? You probably would’ve done it eventually?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, so… I did it. And the guy is scum. Seven kids, two already removed by child protective services. The last nanny is in protective custody because she… accused him…”
Trigger advances, seething. “What are you talking about? Olivia? Where did you go?”
“I didn’t… I mean, I was just—” Her voice trails off.
Stephan looks around at all of us, asking silently for some kind of forgiveness. “I couldn’t just let her stay in there, right?” he asks nobody in particular. “I mean, it’s a long time. I started to wonder… and then I started to think—”
“No, I think you did the right thing,” I nod.
“That is not up to you!” Olivia cries out.
All three of us look at her in surprise. Shouldn’t she be thanking us at this point? Thanking Stephan?
“I really think he did you a favor here,” I answer reasonably.
“Who asked him?” she sasses back. “I mean, everything was going so good! They hired me, right on the spot! I had a new job. And you had no right!”
He shrugs innocently. “I think you're wrong there. I think I did have a right.”
She shakes her head. “No! You are not my boyfriend!”
He looks around at me and Trigger for backup. “No, I think we are your boyfriends.”
She takes a short breath and starts to talk, and then cuts off. Her face goes red and she presses her lips together in frustration.
“Fuck, I needed that job,” she says softly, looking at the floor.
“There are other jobs,” Stephan answers, taking a chance to put his arms around her. “Didn’t you think that was weird? Did you get any kind of creepy vibe at all?”
She leans her head against his chest, burying her face between his massive pecs.
“MMMMfffm,” she says into his chest.
“What?”
Tipping her head back, she stares up at him, pouting. “I said, I guess so. They were pretty weird. But still.”
He smiles at her silly, pouting face, and pushes her hair back affectionately.
“And don’t you think it’s my job? Don’t you think so, at least a little bit? To make sure you’re not going to be murdered?”
“Eeeuuugghhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she sighs, dropping her head back against his chest.
Trigger looks at me in utter relief. It looks like the argument has ended. Thank goodness.
Also, it sounds like we have a girlfriend.
“Did you eat breakfast?” I ask gently. “We did not finish the strudel. It is delicious.”
“I’ll get spoons!” Trigger announces, happy to have something useful to do.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she admits and begins to shuffle toward the dining room table.
Sighing, she sits heavily in one of the chairs and furrows her brow while Trigger gets busy preparing a dish for her. He sets it in front of her proudly, with the fork across the top.
“So, you’re job hunting?” I ask breezily as I sit down next to her.
This seems very natural. People do this, have conversations with their boyfriends and girlfriends. They ask about each other’s day. They talk about their plans and troubles.
Kind of weird, but kind of normal too. It’s nice. Nice to have somebody to talk to besides these two palookas.
Pursing her lips, she pokes irritably at the strudel. It flakes apart into perfect, brown layers, dotted with sweet cabochons of frosting and candied pecans. Honestly it’s one of the best things I ever tasted.