Chapter Eight - Mister Meet Your New Babysitter

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A/N: ....Sooo, I accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter...Lol. THIS is chapter eight.

Before I hung up the phone, I gave him my answer. In exchange he gave me an address, a couple of names, and a time. It all sounded foreign to me, but I wrote it all down nonetheless.

After finally getting home, I dropped my backpack off at the door and went into the kitchen. How was I going to get there?

I had a list of options: tell Mom the truth and borrow the car when she got home from work, or call a cab and make something up. The latter seemed more logical in the situation…I couldn’t tell her now…at least not yet.

Taking a piece of paper from my backpack, I scribbled a quick note to my mother. I could send her a quick text, but she probably wouldn’t catch it till she was off work—it was rush hour. And knowing Mom, her phone would most likely be dead by the end of her hour-long break.

The country club was short of staff tonight, so I had someone pick me up.

—Ashleigh

She’d understand. She knew that we needed the money, but I stared at my lie for a second, contemplating whether or not I should just rip it up and tell her the truth. This lie wasn’t going to be able to go on forever…I wasn’t that good of a liar, anyway. But lying to my momma torn a piece of my heart.

I closed my eyes, released the paper, and walked away. She didn’t deserve this—none of us did. I was determined to at least try and enjoy this new job—no matter what it was. Well…not if it include erotic dancing or cooking. Other than that, I’d be fine.

 I was determined to make the money, and that’s all that mattered right now.

***

I calculated the time it took to reach my destination: forty-five minutes. My stomach dropped…not because I’m traveling to a place so far from home, but the fact that I’m going someplace that some guy I just met told me to go…for money.

Maybe I didn’t think this through. I knew nothing about Christopher Livingston except for the fact that he was rich and somewhat powerful. I was an hour and a half away from home. I could be murdered in the next hour or two for all I knew.

When the cab pulled into a large neighborhood, I said a prayer. Hopefully this wouldn’t end as badly as I thought. I had to expect anything.

I glanced at the piece of paper that I wrote all of the information on.

Brandon and Jasmine Greene

267 Lily Lake Ln.

6:30 PM

The car finally came to a halt. I was right on time.

I paid the cab driver—which was way too expensive, I’d have to figure out how to get a ride here or something—and walked up to the house.

The neighborhood looked very friendly—friendlier than my own. At least everyone here cared for their yards. Judging the sizes of the homes and how nice the cars looked, this place looked pretty expensive.

What if this was Livingston’s house?

I quickly shook away the thought. There were reasons why it couldn’t be.

When I finally made it up to the door, I rang the doorbell. The women who opened the door had a worried frown on her face, although her features were beautiful. She had dark brown skin, matching eyes, and curly black hair that shaped her face. For a few seconds we just stood, staring at each other.

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