A/N; New story. Rated M but NOT non-stop smut. There will be some, though. Down the line. I occasionally get the itch to throw in an actual story line, and this is one of those occasions. I write a lot of smut, but sometimes I need a bit of a break from it.
This one kind of has a slow start, but bear with me because I think I kind of like it.
Let me know what you think. I'm always open for suggestions.
She slammed the door to the backseat of the semi-clean cab closed behind her, mentally bracing herself as the scorching Miami heat immediately engulfed her, the sun rays peaking through the few scattered clouds and prickling her skin like steaming hot needles.
She sighed.
She should be used to it by now. After all, she had grown up in the oversized sauna that was the second biggest city of the sunshine state.
She had been there since birth.
Had. Never. Left.
Like ever.
She ignored the line of cars that instantly formed behind the cab that had apparently, and unbeknownst to her, pulled over in a no stopping zone. She wasn't surprised, it was painstakingly clear that the driver may not have a valid license and definitely wasn't completely up to date on the current traffic laws. The short ride to the airport had been the longest of her life, the balding older man unashamedly speeding, giving another definition to the concept of rush hour as he was seemingly participating in some type of improvised slalom competition, zig-zagging in and out of the heavy afternoon traffic.
Her fear of dying had never been stronger.
She was internally fighting off the impulse to stick out her tongue at the horn-honking, middle-aged man that was front-seating the car behind her, as he was currently sticking something else out at her.
His middle finger.
She would miss many things from her home town this summer, she was sure of it, but the overwhelming rudeness of the vast majority of its population was not one of them.
She pulled her more-than-likely overweight suitcase out of the trunk, with a bit more effort than she had anticipated when she had declined the taxi driver's assistance. She could already feel a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead and as she began dragging the heavy bag towards the airport terminal entrance, she was eternally grateful that she had decided against wearing heels and had stuck to flats, her old and faithful companions.
Her suitcase was creating an annoying smattering noise against the uneven pavement as she pulled it towards the jam-packed airport terminal, dodging her fellow travelers in a similar fashion to that of the law-breaking taxi driver, standing in line to go through the revolving glass entrance doors as the long line got held up by the heavy flow of human traffic. She was quietly reflecting on the contradiction of people both dying to come to and dying to leave from the city she called home, as people were entering and exiting the enormous building in a never-ending stream, almost as if they were emotionless robots in a fast-paced, futuristic society.
She made her way inside, soon standing at the back of the lengthy line to the check-in counter, but it moved surprisingly fast, and within minutes she was face to face with a nervous looking young man who had clearly gotten the job based on qualifications rather than experience. He grimaced when placing her bag on the scale. She had absolutely no intentions of paying the pricey overweight fee, and was quickly running through different plans of actions to get out of it in her head. She was horrible at flirting, so that was out the window, but she was a better actress than temptress and she played the damsel in distress pretty well. A few short minutes of pouting and fake sobbing later, her suitcase was rolling down the black, fast-moving belt along with hundreds of others, headed off towards various, exotic or less-exotic, destinations, her money still safely stashed away in her purse.
She swiftly moved through the security checkpoint, amazed by its efficiency and organization as those concepts were generally exceptions rather than rules in the large southern city.
As she approached her departing gate, she glanced at her watch and realized that she had an hour to kill before boarding. She slouched down on the uncomfortable plastic chairs, feeling her anxiety rise as she watched the airplanes taking off outside of the panoramic window. She had never flown before, and she wasn't sure whether she would like it or not. She had a fear of fear of flying, an anxiety one can only have be before experiencing something for the first time.
She tried to distract herself by people watching, mentally trying to guess where people were going and what the purpose of their trip was. Some of the people passing her were easy, almost as if not only their destination but also their mission in life was readily written on their foreheads. Others were more challenging, almost unreadable, and she quietly wondered which one of the categories she would fit into, as even she was unsure of exactly where she was going and what her purpose was.
Her back started to hurt, prompting her to rise and move towards the concession stand. She lazily eyed the covers of the numerous glossy magazines, but as she had skipped dinner, she decided to pick up some sugar-laden snacks instead.
She was a fan of eating.
The girls on those magazine covers were clearly not.
The boarding call signaled the arrival of the all time peak of her anxiety, and she was nervously fidgeting with the zipper of her carry-on as she moved through the walkway leading to the aircraft, saying a quiet prayer that she would still be alive to once again set foot on Florida land by the end of the summer as she stepped into the huge airplane, soon locating her aisle seat. She was sitting next to an older woman, something about her made her think of her mom, and she suddenly missed Penny more than usual.
It had been more than just awhile since she had seen her.
As the airplane took off, she felt her stomach churn, from both anticipation and anxiety as she was equally and simultaneously excited and nervous.
She was on her way.
The adventure had started.
There was no turning back.
...
It had been her father's idea, or maybe rather an encouraging suggestion.
He had received a phone call from an old acquaintance of his, asking if he knew of anyone who would be interested in a temporary, short-noticed summer-long nanny position.
She was still unsure of how her father knew Mr. Moon, the father of the children that she was now set to take care of for the major part of her summer break. Lester had given her a very shortened version of a backstory, something about college and business connections, but in all honesty, she hadn't really paid attention or cared to ask questions, as the prospect of making new memories, seeing new places and simultaneously make some much needed cash was being waved in front of her eyes like winning lottery tickets.
Less than a week later, she was on her way. She didn't have much experience with children but she figured it wouldn't be a far stretch from taking care of her father.
She fed him. Cleaned up after him. Loved him.
Occasionally, it was difficult to decipher who was the parent in their relationship.
To his benefit, he tried hard. He worked hard. Ever since her mother had left, it had just been the two of them.
She would be lying if she said that she wasn't a little worried about how he would manage to get through this summer without her.
She had just completed her sophomore year of college, enjoying it as much as anyone would. She liked school.
Overall, she had a good life. A comfortable life.
Fun. Friends. Freedom.
Uncomplicated.
She usually spent her summer breaks working at her father's store, but she knew, even if her father tried to hide it from her, that the store was barely making a profit and she also knew that any additional money she could bring in would be enormously appreciated, even if her father was way too proud to admit it.
She was going to miss him. A lot.
Him and Trish.
Trish was her bestest friend in the whole wide world. They had known each other since kindergarten, and she could care less that they were now way too old to use words like 'bestest'.
She was pretty certain that some day, the two of them would be buried side by side.
Trish was the sister she didn't have. The cheese to her macaroni. The bun to her hot dog.
Perfect compliments, although in many aspects, they couldn't be more different.
Trish was a romantic, she was a realist. Trish would kiss a frog in hope that it would turn into a prince, while she would most likely chase it away with a stick or possibly run it over with her car. Both forwards and backwards.
Trish fell in and then out of love on a weekly basis, while she had never done either.
Attraction, sure. Flings, of course. Drunken hook-ups, a couple.
But emotions, actually feeling something, none.
She was clueless as to why. Sometimes she blamed it on her parents' messy divorce, but she consistently wondered if something was wrong with her, like maybe she was missing the anatomical parts that were supposed to host the love gene or something. She wasn't entirely sure where it was supposed to be located, maybe the heart or the head.
Perhaps both.
She often described herself as having a dead heart, but it bothered Trish so much when she would say it out loud, that they had had several lengthy discussions with Trish attempting to prove her wrong through the argument that there were many people whom she loved, albeit in non-romantic and non-sexual ways.
That, and that she was too young to be cynical and too pretty to be dead inside.
They had finally settled on her heart not being dead, but rather deeply asleep.
Comatose.
She had a comatose heart.
...
She awoke with a jolt as the airplane descended on the runway, in mild shock that she had not just managed to fall asleep but stay asleep for the over five hour long flight. She was grateful that she had knocked out as her fear of having a fear of flying had clearly been unfounded.
As it turned out, the scariest part of her trip so far had been that ungodly taxi ride.
She exited the large sized jet, catching a glimpse of her new, temporary home state through the small airplane window as it was greeting her welcome with a breathtakingly beautiful, red and orange-painted, early evening sky.
So this was southern California.
She collected her luggage, heading towards exiting the terminal within minutes. She had been informed that someone would meet her to drive her to the final destination, and she was quietly praying that this taxi driver would at least have a valid license.
As she approached the exit, she spotted a man, impeccably clad in some sort of uniform looking outfit, soon realizing that he was holding up a sign.
"Ms Dawson."
It took her a minute.
Oh, right. That was her.
So formal.
She wasn't used to it.
She almost giggled. Did people actually do that? She felt as if she was part of a movie, which she guessed was kind of fitting as she was currently only a few miles away from the Mecca of filmmaking, also known as Hollywood.
They exited, the driver taking care of her bag, and she sighed in contentment as the soft and oh so perfectly temperatured wind danced along her bare arms.
She climbed into a fancy car that was clearly fit for royalty, but her reflection in the spot free window let her know that she was anything but. Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair was a mess. She was as mess.
Clearly, traveling in style wasn't her thing.
Soon they were off, her observing the landscape through the car window as they swished through the dreamlike scenery, completing the hour long, southbound drive in what felt like mere seconds. It was too short, because although Miami was beautiful in its own right, she had never seen anything like this.
The car slowed down while driving through some large-sized, automated gates, entering a small-sized beachside community. She could almost feel the exclusivity vibrating through the neighborhood and it made her uncomfortable without her really knowing why.
The car came to a stop, and she climbed out, the now evening air almost chilly against her hot skin as she thanked the driver who was holding the door open for her. He looked surprised, almost as if he wasn't used to people actually noticing him.
She didn't bother trying to get her suitcase out by herself, mostly because she had a weird premonition that the driver simply wouldn't allow her to. Within seconds, the bag was situated next to her on the large steps leading up to what she could only think of to describe as a mansion.
She stalled on the big steps for a few moments, swallowing hard as she was suddenly terrified.
Be calm. Be yourself.
She could do this.
She took a deep breath before she climbed the few steps, rang the doorbell of what was to be her home for the next two months, a sound reminiscent of a jingle flooding her ears.
It sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on where she might have heard it before.
She almost anticipated a butler or something of that sort to open the door, and was oddly surprised when a petite woman, at first glance not seeming to be much older than herself, opened the giant wooden door instead.
She looked like a carbon copy of the magazine cover girls that she had glanced at just hours prior.
"Come on in."
She stepped into the house and into her new life.
The woman was eyeing her as she was standing in the enormous foyer, almost suspiciously so and she felt weird, as if she was being accused of breaking into a home that she had in fact been invited into.
For the first time since she left, she wished she would have worn those damn heels, because despite the fact that the slender blonde was mere inches taller than herself, she had never felt smaller.
After what felt like an eternity, she extended her perfectly manicured hand.
"Welcome. I'm Mrs. Moon. Cassidy."
"Ally Dawson."
Her hand was warm but her eyes were cold as they were still evaluating her.
She couldn't help but stare back, but she felt like a timid mouse observing a starving cat.
She realized that most parts of the blonde's body looked 10 years younger than what she probably was, and at first she had had her fooled.
She was most likely in her early 30s.
It was her eyes that gave her away, because they looked 10 years older than her presumed actual age.
She tried to but failed to locate a single strand of misplaced hair on her head.
Her shoes alone were probably worth as much as the entire content of her overstuffed suitcase.
She reminded her of a mannequin. A perfect surface, a fake smile, dead eyes and quite possibly an empty inside.
"It's so nice to finally meet you. Thank you for being able to make it with such short notice. Let me show you around. You can leave your bag here." Cassidy's voice kicked her off of her train of thoughts.
She nodded, a little taken aback at her sudden warmness as they began moving throughout the bottom floor of the two-story building.
Spacious didn't cover it, ginormous was the only word that would do.
The tour almost reminded her of what she could only imagine a sightseeing throughout some old, ancient, countryside castle would be like, and she half-expected someone popping out with a golden crown on their head.
It was nice, just so...much. Too much.
They passed a big room, full to the brim with toys, books and various sports equipment.
"The playroom. The kids and I spend a lot of time in there."
"What about Mr Moon?" She almost bit her tongue as she could almost feel the tension radiating off of the skinny blonde.
"You won't see him much. He's working. A lot." Her voice was ice.
She realized that she had no idea what her now boss did for a living, but she guessed that him working hard made sense.
A mansion like the one that she was currently standing in the center of didn't come cheap.
After a few more minutes of sightseeing, her head spinning from information and observations, they came to a stop outside of a large wooden door.
"This will be your room. I like to keep our help downstairs, I hope you don't mind."
She shook her head although she was unsure of whether it was a question.
"I will let you unpack. I'll show you the upstairs tomorrow."
She nodded. "Where are the children?" She had suddenly remembered why she was there.
"In the kitchen. With the housekeeper. Come join us when you're finished so that you can meet them."
She nodded in agreement, and the fake smile returned to Cassidy's face.
She realized that the woman had no real facial expressions. Well, one. Always the same one.
Life in plastic. It's fantastic.
She turned around, and somehow, her suitcase had magically been placed in what was apparently now her room.
Housekeeper.
Right.
She looked around. It wasn't a room, it was a full-blown suite, complete with a big bathroom and ocean view. It was beautiful, undoubtedly the work of an overpriced but clearly talented interior decorator.
The large, king-sized bed in the middle room was begging to be slept in and as she involuntarily yawned, she realized that due to the time difference, it was already late night in Miami.
She opened up her beat up suitcase, placing the carefully folded clothes into the drawers and onto the hangers in the matter of a few minutes.
Well, that didn't take long.
Despite the overweight, she only manage to fill a ridiculously small portion of the too large walk-in closet.
She walked around the rest of the space. There were two large sized glass doors, leading out to the over-sized infinity pool. It was already dark outside, but she could almost perfectly visualize how amazing it would look during the day.
She could make out the contour of another house not to far away, maybe a couple of hundred yards, and she realized it was a pool house. It was probably the size of her regular house, heck probably bigger, and had it not been for the thick curtains being pulled shut in its large windows, she could have seen right into it.
She needed to remember to pull her curtains shut when she was changing, or she would be flashing whomever would have the displeasure (or perhaps pleasure, depending on how you were looking at it) to be standing by the pool. Or inside the pool house.
She was oddly intrigued when she saw a small light flickering to life behind the pulled closed curtain, but it was killed again almost immediately.
Weird.
She changed quickly, then leaving the room and walking towards the kitchen that she had only passed by on her previous tour.
She could hear the voices of small children as she approached the open door, but they quieted down as soon as she entered. She smiled as her eyes landed on two small figures.
She thought she remembered that they were around seven or so. Twins.
The girl was blonde, even blonder than her mother, and she had lost her front teeth, looking adorable as she was flashing her a shy, toothless smile. Her brother seemed even more shy, hiding behind his sister, and it was clear that they had a close sibling relationship, the type she had often wished that she had had but futilely so as she was an only child.
She approached them, bending down on her knees so that she could introduce herself at their eye level. "I'm Ally."
The girl smiled. "I'm Tilly. And this is Nelson." She pointed to her brother.
"Do you want to see my drawing?"
They sat down by the table, chit-chatting for a few minutes as Nelson and Cassidy both observed them, the former shyly and the latter cautiously.
"You're so pretty, Ally." Tilly's voice reminded her of a dolls, if they had had voices.
She blushed. She wasn't used to compliments from stranger.
Cassidy's voice startled her. "She is, isn't she?" Ice. Ice ice ice.
She had no idea of what to answer, as for some reason she felt that the compliment was anything but. She desperately thought of something else to say to change the topic.
"So, who stays in the pool house?"
Cassidy's entire demeanor changed, from fake-nice to freezing, and she was pretty sure, that if she could have shown emotions it would be one of disgust. It was almost as if she had asked about Hansel and Gretel's gingerbread house, the person residing in the pool house being the evil witch, and she had just asked for a piece of forbidden candy.
"My stepson. You need to stay away from there, away from him. Believe me, I am doing you a favor. He is the single-handed reason as to why our last two nannys left. If I found out that there is anything going on between the two of you, and I mean anything, you will be on the next flight back to wherever you came from. He has the same instructions, but I don't expect him to follow them. He never does."
Wow. She hadn't even met the guy and she already disliked him.
Cassidy continued. "If you're lucky, you won't see him around much. He's usually too busy to play the role of rich and spoiled playboy to have the time to grace us with his holy presence. But believe me, there are plenty of other nice boys around here to entertain you when you're not working. We will introduce you to everyone that matters." The fake almost smile was back.
She didn't bother explaining that her heart was out of order, on an undetermined hiatus.
It may come off as weird.
A yawn escaped her and she was instantaneously embarrassed.
Cassidy gave her a look that she was pretty certain to be intended as sympathetic.
"Go get some rest. You must have had a long day. I do expect you to wake up with the twins in the morning. I'm not a morning person. And just so you know, they like to get up early."
She nodded. She honestly didn't mind. After all, that's what she was there for.
She said goodnight, heading back towards her room and deciding to take a bath in the oversized bathtub. She was generously filling it with the expensive bath salts before descending into the hot heaven, her whole body relaxing almost instantly, and yet she was suddenly filled with the eerie feeling that this was the calm before the storm.
She changed into her PJs, climbing on top of the devine bed, the many pillows like cotton under her heavy head. her exhaustion in combination with the amazing softness proved to be a lethal combination, and she quickly dozed off, images of castles and pillow heavens and fairy tales filling her head until she fell asleep, then seeping into her sweet dreams like slow-flowing, delicious syrup.
...
She awoke, startlingly, momentarily disoriented as she failed to recall where she was at.
Plastic castle. Right.
Were the twins here to wake her up already?
It was still dark, but she was pretty sure that someone had opened the door, although her ears failed to detect the sound of the pitter-patter of small feet and she couldn't see anything as her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness.
Weird.
Her thoughts were interrupted as something, someone, threw themselves on the bed and inadvertently on top of her.
She screamed out of reflex, probably more so than out of fear, and the large body jumped up out of possibly both.
"Sorry. I'm so sorry." It was a raw voice, undoubtedly masculine, and she involuntarily scrunched her nose as a faint smell of some sort of alcohol uninvitingly hit her nostrils before the large-sized shadow got out of the bed and moved swiftly back towards the door.
All she could see in the faint light seeping in through the large window was a mop of messy blond hair and a tall, most likely above 6 feet, frame reopening the door and exiting her room as quickly as he had entered.
She laid back down, trying to go back to sleep but it was impossible as her pulse was speeding, her heart beating uncontrollably out of her chest for minutes after his departure as she was unable to calm it down.
It was almost as if the unexpected nighttime visitor hadn't just woken her up, but also her comatose heart.
...
Thank you Sandi for the name suggestions.