Chapter 2

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"Do you know what these people do for work?"

"I know the wife said she was into real estate during the phone interview but she didn't say what her husband did."

"I'm just curious how much money they're packing in their pockets if they can afford a full time nanny." Layla's voice chimed over the phone as I turned my steering wheel and headed into an unfamiliar neighborhood in which my next job might possibly reside.

"All I really care about is the fact that they said they could pay me $14 an hour under the table. That will give me like, 600 extra bucks a month to put away for Charlotte when she needs school shit and new clothes. Not to mention some new dresses for me." My eyes skirted down to my faded jeans and dark green button up shirt with quarter length sleeves.

I looked acceptable enough for the interview. No cleavage showing, no ass hanging out. The shirt was tight fitting around my slim waist but other than that, it was pretty suitable for a causal interview.

I just prayed no one noticed the two missing buttons towards the bottom of my shirt.

"Working at Martie's already sucks so much ass without you here. Getting through the day without spitting on a customer is like 10 times harder."

My lips peeked up at the side as I listened to Layla ramble on in my ear about all of the miserable differences that working at Martie's now held without me there to entertain her. My hearing tuned in and out as I continued to drive through the neighborhood filled with perfect, cookie cutter homes, all stacked neatly side by side with little to no differences from house to house.

They were almost all identical and it made me want to vomit from the monotonous aura of it all.

But hey, who was I to talk? I lived in a disheveled shack that lost heating at least once every winter.

These houses at least had class; class and the unmistakable markings of wealth.

Lots and lots of wealth.

"258, 260, 262... " I rattled off the numbers of the houses I passed until my foot pressed down on the brake slowly and I came to a standstill in front of the house that held my fate behind it's richly designed door.

"Hole-y-shit..." I breathed out as my eyes steadied on the house before me.

"What happened? Did you run over another cat?" Layla asked frantically from the other side of the phone.

"What? No! You're not supposed to mention that incident, remember? It was fucking traumatizing."

"I was just checking!"

"It's just this house..." I shut off my car and cracked my door open, stepping out into the warmth of South Carolina's summer breeze.

"Is it nice?"

Taking in the house that was at least two stories tall, had the grandest of entry walkways with properly trimmed bushes and eclectically designed flower pots lining the stoned walk way up to the most intimidating and yet elegantly designed front door that probably cost more than my entire house, I nodded out in the open.

"Let's just say that either the husband's a lawyer or doctor or someone in this family has a very rich daddy."

After hanging up with Layla, I walked on anxious feet to the door, whose size only seemed to unnerve me the closer I got.

Remembering back to the phone conversation I had had with the wife, Heather- whose name I made sure to memorize- my stomach pulled anxiously as I desperately hoped she would be fonder in person.

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