Little Miss Babysitter

-- 3 --

"So... How long have you been working for the Rider's?" I said uneasily, sensing the prescense of heavy awkwardness in the air. Apparently, Perry noticed it as well, for he coughed, willing himself to speak.

"A good 25 years, m'aam. I used to-"

"Oh, please don't call me m'aam." I frowned. "People call me Ela."

"Okay..." He let out, glancing up in the rearview mirror for only half second. "Ela, I used to work in the big apple as a kid, workin' as a taxi driver. I lived in Brooklyn with my ma, so it was only logical I get a job to help her out. Ain't had no dad as a kid."

"I didn't either." I uttered hushedly, smiling sadly down at my knitted hands. I've come to accept the fact that dad couldn't handle a child. But still- Sometimes I wish I knew what having one was like. A man that would be home just in time for dinner, the guy that would take time away from the computer to play catch with you...

"Ah, kid. That's rough." His eyes, now apologetic, sent me a rather sympathetic look, almost having the feel that he'd said something to quick before and is now making up for it.

I shimmied across the leather seat to the tinted window, basking in it's costly appearance. I can see my crystal clear reflection in it. Wasn't there a story about a man who could touch something and it would turn into gold? Yeah, well I felt like this entire car was gold, but like a gold soup, becaue I knew the main course- the lobster- was coming up once we got to Rosie's house.

We passed small shops, advertising self owned businesses, such as florists, bagel stores, sunglasses huts. I was looked at quite strangely, now that I think about it. The people outside couldn't have seen me, why with these blackened windows.

Perhaps it's the uncommon sight of a white, wiener dog shaped vehicle riding down low on their streets. I mean, it isn't everyday that you see a snow like limo glide down the next road, now is it?

"Could you- Tell me a little bit about the family?" I questioned, feeling moderately warmer now that Perry has a reason to sympathize with me.

"Sure, kid." He grinned, emphasizing my nickname as if it were our inside secret from now on. "Rosie Rider; one of the most influential music producers of L.A. Wouldn't dare say that to her face. She doesn't like it when we's know 'bout her busy life. Oh, and there's the kids! Man, they're a piece of work. Sept havin'--"

He stopped midsentence, hitting a bump in the road to make me go flying. That'll leave a mark.

I rubbed the back of my head with my palm, mentally cursing the men who so lazily applied asphalt to the street beneath this car.

"Sorry 'bout that, kid. -Oh! Looks like we're here!" He gleamed, pulling into a long, smooth driveway.

"Woah." I let my mouth hang open, gazing out at the land in front of me.

A lush, green hill, speckled with soccer balls and frisbees first greeted me. It's expanse seemed to go on for ages until the gate entrance, at the bottom of the hill, appeared to be nothing more than a spec of dirt. Symmeterical rose bushes followed us up to the front door, almost pulling off the look of being a drive-thru. Why, with the road doing a complete circle at the top so that the limo can turn right around after dropping someone off.

"All right. This is your stop. 17 Elm Street." Perry raised fluently from the car, travelling over to my side, and opening it up for me to get out. "Out you go."

"Oh you didn't have to open the door, really- Woah!" I yelped, my weight being whisked away from beneath my feet, as he jerked me elegantly from the seat and into the air. "Th-Thanks."