Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

STASSI

The employment agency wasn’t much help unless I wanted to move to the bigger city. If I can’t find anything soon, it might be my only option. I would hate to leave my siblings because they seem to be the only ones happy to see me but sometimes life just doesn’t work out the way we want it to. I don’t know if they understand what is happening to me or see the way their dad is treating me. I sit down on the bench outside of the agency and look at the Indeed website again to see if there’s something I missed.

My phone rings in my hand and I squeal, not expecting it. The number is one I don’t recognize but I answer it anyway because it’s the same area code as me.

“Hello.” I try to sound upbeat.

“Stassi?”

“Yes, this is Stassi.”

“I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m Paula from the bakery.” I tell her I do remember her. “I have a job for you if you are still looking for work.”

“Yes, I am. What kind of job is it?” I ask and pull out a resume so I can write it down.

“I’m in need of a nanny.” She sighs as she explains about her son finding out he’s a father. He doesn’t know a thing about babies and runs his own business so he’s busy. “We can discuss lodging, pay, and responsibilities when you get here.” Paula tells me the address and we say goodbye. I text her to let her know I’ll be hopping on the next bus and I’ll be there within the hour.

My hands are sweating, heart racing, and so many thoughts are going through my head. I pull out the resume and write down some questions for Paula and her son. The scene on the bus is always so unique, the people you meet on the bus are always different each time. You have the college students who are studying last minute because they mouth the words and look up to the ceiling repeating what they just read a few times before moving on. The single mom who naps until the bus driver reminds her it’s her stop. The drunks who are sleeping it off. The old people who are traveling to the store as they talk to anyone and tell their life story. The bus stops and the driver tells me this is the closest stop to my destination.

“Just walk three blocks that way,” he points behind us, “and you can’t miss it. The owner is a nice guy and the guys he works with are professional.”

“Thanks Mike. It’s always good to know about who I’m meeting.” I wave to him as I walk down the stairs and my feet hit the pavement. I face the way I’m supposed to go and walk down the road. This area has a lot of industrial buildings. I see a metal sign building so they design then make it. There is also some sort of junkyard but it says something about art studios.

The address Paula gave me leads to a large garage that looks more like a sanctuary for car enthusiasts than a place where you'd find a nanny's position. A sign hanging above the entrance reads Wicked Wheelz Garage, and I feel a little flutter of nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside. The interior is bustling with activity. Engines hum, tools clank, and there's a sharp scent of oil mixed with metal. Despite the chaos, it’s organized—a place that’s clearly loved and well cared for.

I spotted a group of men gathered around a car, their heads bent together in deep conversation. Feeling a bit out of place, I hesitate at the entrance. That's when I hear them talking.

“Now tell me again how you thought the song about the appreciation of the female posterior was supposed to put my daughter to sleep?” I hear a tall man with red hair say to the man next to him.

“I watched an episode of Friends and it was the one where Ross sings it to Emma. That’s Ross and Rachel’s daughter.” I cannot help the laugh that escapes my lips and that catches their attention.

The man with the red hair looks over and smiles. He’s got an easy smile that reaches his twinkling eyes—eyes that survey me with a hint of curiosity.

"Can I help you?" he asks, wiping his hands on a rag as he approaches.

"Hi, I'm Stassi Michaels. I'm here to meet with Paula," I reply, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel.

"Oh, right! You're the nanny candidate." His face lights up with a smile that eases my nerves instantly. "I'm John-Paul, but everyone calls me Frenchie. Mom told me about you coming over. She's just in the back office. I'll take you to her. Follow me."

As I follow John-Paul through the garage, I can’t help but marvel at the meticulous care evident in every corner of the large space. Engines are neatly disassembled on clean workbenches, tools hang in orderly rows, and each car seems to have its own story, judging by the loving way John-Paul glances at them as we pass.

We reach a door marked Office and John-Paul turns to me. “My mom, Paula, is in the office waiting. For some reason she said I need supervision.” His tone is full of humor.

John-Paul opens the door, and we step into a stark contrast to the lively garage. The office is surprisingly quiet, decorated with framed racing posters and photos that give it a personal touch. A woman sitting at a large desk looks up. Her face is kind and welcoming, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and anticipation.

“Stassi, it’s so good to see you again," Paula says, standing up to greet me warmly with an outstretched hand. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"It's no problem at all,” I respond, shaking her hand. “I’m eager to learn more about the position."

Paula gestures for us to sit. As I take a seat, John-Paul leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching our interaction with interest.

“First off,” Paula begins, “you should know this wasn’t exactly planned. My son here just found out about his daughter. The mother is unable to care for her due to some personal issues. We're all still adjusting, especially John-Paul. He’s never been around babies much.”

I nod and keep a friendly smile on my face. "What would the main responsibilities be?" I ask, curious about the specifics and wanting to make sure I could offer what they needed. I grab my backpack purse and take out my notebook to make notes. I also have a list of questions already to go for any job I’m interviewing for.

"It would be taking care of his daughter during the day," Paula explains. "Feeding, changing diapers, putting her down for naps, perhaps some light housekeeping related to the baby. And most importantly, helping John-Paul learn how to be a dad." Her tone is full of love toward her son but also seems playful and mischievous.

I glance at John-Paul, who gives a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I might need all the help I can get. I did order some books but any and all help is appreciated." he admits with a chuckle that doesn’t quite mask his nerves. I make notes about the job description, then add a few of my favorite books I read when getting my degree for first-time parents to check against his list.

"You will have a place to stay at John-Paul’s and your own room," Paula adds quickly. "We’ve made sure that even though you are taking care of my grandbaby, you also have your own space."

The offer sounds more than generous; it's practical too, considering the hours and the demands of taking care of a newborn.

I consider this for a moment, then nod. “That sounds ideal. I appreciate the accommodation,” I say genuinely.

Paula smiles warmly. “We want to make sure you’re comfortable. It’s important to us that this arrangement works well for everyone involved.” Paula opens her mouth to say something but John-Paul speaks up first.

John-Paul, still leaning on the doorframe, seems to relax a bit at this exchange. “The pay isn’t set in stone because I need to do some research on it. I need to look up statistics on it. I will pay you every day for your time until we can agree on a more permanent arrangement. How does that sound?”

“Perfectly fine. I will show you the sites where I’ve worked so you can see how they average their salaries. It’s more or less about duties and pay per hour or even flat rate salary. I’m usually paid as salary because being a nanny is not necessarily a nine to five job. We will learn together.” Frenchie nods.

“So, do you have any questions about...well, anything?” he asks, looking directly at me.

I think for a second before responding. "Yes, could I perhaps meet your daughter? It's important for me to see how she reacts to me and vice versa."

"Of course!" John-Paul responds quickly, almost relieved by the request. He pushes off from the doorframe. “She’s just next door with my best friend’s girl Kaylee right now. Let’s go meet her.” The way his eyes light up tells me everything I need to know about what kind of father he is, a good one. I tell Paula I’ll see her before I leave and follow Jean-Paul out of the office. I can’t help the smile on my face.

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