Plot: Nini, a hopeless romantic and a job seeker, gets a job as a nanny for the stern and serious Richard Bowen.
Nini's POV
"You have any experience with mechanics?" the ruddy man, Mr. Howers, asked, peering at me over his bespectacled eyes.
"Well, I did study a little in high school. It was the only elective left since home ec was filled."
"Alright, you got the job, Miss Salazar Roberts," he said, shaking my hand.
My heart surged. "Thank you, thank you so much!"
"You'll start tomorrow."
It turns out mechanics weren't my thing.
The last time I tried fixing a car, I broke the carburetor, whatever that was.
This time, I jammed the button that activated the headlights. Then, when I took it for a test drive, I ended up crashing the entire car into the garage of the repair station.
This is why I never passed my drivers' test.
"Roberts!" Mr. Howers yelled. "You're fired!"
I groaned as I glanced over all the job applications in the newspaper. This had been a nightly routine for me for four years. Every time, I would be fired from a job almost immediately. The longest was the three-week gig at a hair salon. I ended up giving everyone crazy haircuts, but the kids seemed to like it. But when I gave a five-year-old a buzzcut, that was when I threw down the scissors.
My eyes were darting from Romeo + Juliet playing on my TV to the ads in the newspaper. One caught my eye.
Nanny job for the Bowen household. Southampton, New York. 114 Bayberry Cove.
I grinned and circled the square. Southampton wasn't that far from where I lived, Shinnecock Hills. I would take a subway there. I looked over at the jar of coins that I'd been saving up since college. There should be enough for a subway and a taxi ticket.
NEXT MORNING
I yawned as I woke up to the sound of my blaringly loud alarm clock playing "Shake it Off" by Taylor Swift. Then I remembered: the job application!
I rushed downstairs and threw on a presentable outfit. Then I brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and made it just in time out the door to catch the nearest subway.
I was squeezed into the rush of people that were hurriedly jumping in and out of the subway. I gave the conductor my ticket and crammed in between a young teenager and an elderly couple.
I was surprised, as I'd never heard this much noise in my life before. Shinnecock Hills was a pretty quiet place.
"Heading for Southampton!" the conductor yelled. When we reached there, I hopped off and looked at the map in my hand. Yes, I know it's pathetic. I'm 24, and I don't have a phone. But I don't really trust the internet.
I wandered around aimlessly for a while, trying to find the address. I finally found the apartment building. I sighed in relief and went inside.
When I got to apartment 114, I knocked, and a curly-haired man opened it. He had a straightforward, let's get down to business look.
"Come in," he mumbled.
"Hi, I'm Nini Salazar Roberts," I said politely, shaking the man's hand.
"Richard Bowen," he said gruffly in a thick British accent. "So, we're here about your application. You have any experience with kids?"
"Yes," I replied. "I have babysat for my cousins a lot, and I've been to community service before."
He glanced over at my application, then back at me. "I'd say you're hired. Two kids, one boy, one girl. Twins, 7. Kind of a handful."
My face burst into a large grin. "Thank you, so much! I'll be sure not to crash your car into a garage this time!"
He looked down at the book I'd brought along in my lap. "What are you reading there?"
I showed it to him. "Romeo and Juliet. It's quite good, if you're into Shakespeare."
He scoffed. "All that blasted stuff and nonsense about romance? Please, Miss Salazar Roberts. As a writer, I prefer to disagree."
"What stories do you write?"
"The state of the economy and the rise and fall of capitalism."
"Well, that sounds boring. Do you sell any copies?"
"My fellow businessmen love it! Even the President ordered a copy some months back."
If this is bad, I've never been to New York before, so I tried my best.