Read Online The Babysitter by Kenya Wright - Free Book Online Page B

enough to start messing around with my eyes. Plus, I didn’t have my contact case or solution.
    Thompson opened the door. Tossing my mirror into my purse, I took his hand and climbed out. If I didn’t get this moment over with, I was going to explode into a frenzy of anxious bursts. My nerves flared on edge as I picked up the gift bag. A print of colorful apples covered it.
    I hope Jude laughs when he sees the apples.
    “Let me get that bag for you, Miss Rain.” Thompson reached for it.
    “I’m fine.” I held up my hands to stop him. “Thanks, Thompson. By the way, take the night off. Mom’s out of town. She won’t find out about you getting some free time to yourself. You definitely deserve it.”
    Thompson flinched at the mention of Mom. “Miss Rain, I do not like this game. It’s unhealthy for your mind. You should stop pretending that your mother is still alive.”
    “It’s fine. Just play along with me. The mind is the creator of everything around me, so if I choose—”
    “I won’t be a part of this.”
    I tapped my foot on the ground in annoyance. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t play the mom game with you anymore.”
    “Thank you. And, I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone this weekend. Are you sure?” He glanced at the mansion’s front door. The song lyrics to “After the Storm” were engraved into the white wood and painted in black. “I’d feel more comfortable with being the one to drive you and Mr. Jude around.”
    “Thank you for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I’m a big girl, Thompson.” I formed my lips into a wide smile. “Please. If something happens, and trust me it won’t, but if it does, I’ll make sure to call you immediately.”
    He rubbed his bald head and dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Please call me if you need me, and check in every day.”
    “Of course.”
    “What day and time should I pick you up?”
    “There’s no need. Like I said before, Jude will take me home later. We’re hanging out the whole weekend so I don’t need you to come by Saturday or Sunday. I’ll see you on Monday.”
    “Well then” —He did another quick glance at the house — “since I won’t see you on Sunday, happy birthday, Miss Rain.”
    “Thanks so much. And you have a good night.”
    “I’ll keep my phone next to me just in case your plans change.” He dragged himself back to the front of the town car.
    “Bye.” I headed to the mansion’s entrance. Worry pulsed in my veins, but I did my best to ignore it.
    Hi, Jude. Yes. I know I’m here early, but there’s something important I want to talk about. Remember when we joked last year on my birthday about you taking away my v-card if I was still with it at twenty? Ha ha. Yes. That was so funny, but do you remember your promise?
    I wobbled in my heels as I approached his door and almost dropped the small gift bag. My hands shook. My teeth clattered against themselves as my heart boomed at a staccato pace. Dampness appeared under my arms and probably soaked into the red, sleeveless dress I wore.
    I should have put on the black dress. Why did I wear red?
    I stunk of peach lotion and rose perfume. I’d lathered so much lotion on my light brown legs that they shined and gave off a glossy look. Next, I’d spilled a whole bottle of perfume in my lap.
    Sweat, peaches, and roses. Jude will vomit before I even get to ask him.
    I combed my fingers through my curls. I usually straightened them with a flat iron until they were a long mass of brown and blond streaked strands that hung past my waist. But, Jude loved my hair natural. I didn’t care what my mother thought since Jude loved it this way. He said it added to my exotic look, made me look Brazilian or a mixture of many different races, instead of the look that helped me fit in. Being half Jamaican and white guaranteed I didn’t fit in with African Americans at my college or identify with any of the Caucasian preppy kids from my high school years. I was an