Folding away the remains of the slightly-charred dinner, Matthew grunted, something in his back twisted out of sorts. He had gotten the children late to bed, much to Elliot's delight – "It's a crescent moon," he claimed, which made no impact on their weary nanny.
It made all the difference to Lilliana, who insisted on repainting one of her bedroom murals "for just a little longer!".
His phone read 11:14. He missed yet another set of calls from Toby and his mother.
Yawning as he finished the last dish, finally able to turn his attention to his own dinner, the man wiped his eyes with wet, soapy hands before leaning onto the counter, trying desperately to quiet his mind of not just some kind of conversion for the old car, but the demoralizing ones that mixed with them as well. "Maybe I should just give up," he whispered, a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wiped his hands over his eyes. 'I don't know if I'm –'
"Mr. Robinson."
Straightening, Matthew turned to his employer.
"I'd like my dinner now."
The smell of cigars slammed into Matthew's senses; the scent nearly suffocated him. He would've loved it if it wasn't so sickeningly strong. He pointed towards the fridge. "It's in there. All it needs is, uh...microwaving for about a minute, stir, and then microwave for thirty seconds." Wiping his hands, he started back for his room to continue his research.
"Tell me," he began, which stopped his employee in his tracks, "did you grow up in a household that didn't have boundaries?"
"Sir?"
"Rules. Any sense of respect?"
Matthew's stomach bubbled.
Mr. Yang shrugged. "Just asking."
He frowned. "I was raised in a house with rules, yes." Though that was its own can of worms he wasn't willing to open up right now.
"Hm," was all he said.
He closed his eyes, sighing. Matthew felt them burning. "Sir, if this is concerning the meeting about Lloyd yesterday –"
"Oh, no." Mr. Yang paused as he approached the kitchen island, hands clasped behind his back. "Consider this an impromptu performance review."
'Fuck. Great.' Jaw clenched, Matthew's nostrils flared. "I need to clarify something concerning rules and respect, before we continue."
Mr. Yang sighed, grimacing. "Wonderful."
"I believe that respect should be earned, not given. Respect given based on nothing, especially when someone doesn't deserve it, is dangerous business. You might be older and my employer, and I certainly respect you for that, but that doesn't necessarily warrant immediate personal respect." He paused, trying to settle his stomach. "I will do the job you've asked me to do, if that is the issue."
"Hm," was the man's response again, the word tinged with anger and resentment, even irritaiton. Crossing around the kitchen island, steps slow and deliberate, he wondered openly, "Tell me, such an overqualified professional unable to get a job anywhere. Can you tell me why that is?"
Audrey. Audrey fucking Culpepper.
Matthew bit his cheek. "Sir, it's after 7:30, and the children are in bed. I'm off." Knocking his knuckle on the countertop, he headed for his bedroom.
"Answer my question, Mr. Robinson?"
"You're certainly prone to late-night confrontations, aren't you?"
YOU ARE READING
It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins
General Fiction[A Slice-Of-Life LGBTQ+ Story about Found Family] Matthew Robinson's career as a teacher seemed to have stalled, yet when the winds in the East suddenly lands him in the employ as a nanny, Matthew realizes he's probably signed up for more than he ba...
