3     ONE DIRECTIO…NO

“My turn!” Cade yells.

I shake my head. “Nope, the last one was yours. It’s Lena’s turn.”

We’re sitting on the back porch around the glass table. The kids all have plates with little burgers on them. I made a fruit salad and sliders for lunch. Each of the got to choose a soda. Ben and Cade both got Sprite and Abigail picked out Pepsi. I don’t like carbonation. So water was my preference. We finally got rid of Ryan about an hour ago after he and Ben had broken a window. I sent him home with cuts on his fingers, but oh well. Maybe he would be forbidden to come back… a nanny can only dream.

“Okay then Lena,” Abigail says. “What song?”

I think about the previous ones. First we listened to Little Mix, then Bruno Mars, and then Cade said he wanted to hear a song about best friends. So Bruno Mars was played again.

“How about Britney Spears?”

Abigail raises a brow. “Who?”

I blink.

Is she serious?

Okay then… “How about Michael Jackson?”

None of the kids flinch.

“Jesse McCartney?” I ask a final time.

Abigail perks up. “Oh I’ve heard of him! He’s on Army Wives!” She scrolls around on her IPhone. “But I don’t think he sings…”

I wave my hand around and take a bite of salad. “Before your time,” I explain.

Beautiful Soul starts to play throughout the mansion grounds. It’s absolutely breathtaking out here, with all the gorgeous shrubs and sprinkling fountains. The lights that hang from the sides of the house are huge crystal balls that you can see straight through. And the trampoline is massive. It’s been put into the ground so that none of the kids can fall and hurt themselves. But somehow, Ben always manages to do that anyway.

I look to the clock that’s sitting on the windowsill inside the house. Their dad should be here anytime.

I gulp a mouthful of water and wish it was rum.

This should be fun.

“Princess!” Abigail squeals. I see her and her giant dog cuddling on the patio floor. The dog is wearing a shiny bejeweled collar and bows on her ears. She sees me and starts drooling even more.

“Guess who’s getting a bath tonight?” I ask Princess and pat her fluffy head.

She dashes away at the mention of a bath.

Above the music a chiming sounds. It’s the doorbell.

Abigail looks at me with a smile. She’s so hopeful about her daddy… When all I want to do is punch him in the dang throat.

I fake a grin back at her.

The kids all jump and dash back inside the house. I spot Flora’s eye from the window and she shrugs. I start to gather plates and trash, stalling any necessary meeting with the ex-mister.

Flora taps me on the shoulder, somehow by my side. “I can do this,” She tells me.

“No I can clean it,” I say with a smile. Is this pretty enough? Will she think I’m cute and let me do it?

“Don’t stall, Lena. Go and do your job,” She says under her breath.

I sigh, “Do I have to?”

“Don’t lose your head. He’s got his say in his children’s nannies, you know.”

“But he’s such a dirty creep,” I mutter.

“Preaching to the choir,” Flora says with a sad shrug. “I’ve been working here longer than these kids have been alive. Back when I had cute hips and long luscious curls…”

“I get it,” I say. “I just have to suck it up.”

“If you want a job you do.”

I nod even though I don’t want to.

Flora gives me an empathetic smile as I walk inside the house. I take my time wiping my shoes on the floor mat and getting our guest a cup of iced tea. I slowly put a little stirrer stick in the thing and walk out to the entry way.

“-Went soaring into the house!” Ben is telling tall tales again. “A zillion pieces of glass went everywhere! Ryan’s hand almost fell off, dad. It was sick.”

Mr. Gallows laughs heartily. He pats his hand against his slim stomach as he leans back and chuckles. His eyes open a bit wider at the sight of my entrance. I gulp down the urge to roundhouse kick him. Instead I put on my best pageant grin and saunter towards him.

“Good afternoon sir,” I say cordially. I hand him the glass of tea. “How was your trip?”

“It was excellent. Thank you,” He says. I can’t help but notice how thick his accent is. I mean, all of us are very British. But he seems so much more posh than the rest of us. “Lana, is it?”

“NO!” Cade shouts.

I lean down to rest a hand on his back. “It’s okay Cade,” I say. I look back up to the boy’s father and tell him, “Lena. My name is Lena.”

“Of course it is, love.”

I give him another smile.

A very forced smile.

Standing beside him I remember how large this man is. His pointy hair is as tall as the door to my cottage out back. His blue eyes look down at me with a sparkly glint to them. Somehow I know that this is not friendly. It’s him being a freaky creepy bloke.

“Well I’m not here for long,” Mr. Gallows says. “I’m merely here to discuss plans with Abigail.”

“What plans?” I wrinkle my brow and ask. I shoot Abigail a suspicious glance. She avoids my gaze by staring at the piece of wall art behind me. She pretends to be interested in the portrait of some distant relative. Nice try kid. But I know how much you hate that wrinkly old lady… sneaky girl.

“Birthday plans of course!” Mr. Gallows answers me. He starts to walk to the living room. As he passes his hand reaches to guide me alongside him. The hand lands on the small of my back.

I bite my tongue.

CONTROL YOURSELF LENA.

“I’m glad you decided to come after all,” He tells me with a white toothed grin. “Abigail and her friends absolutely adore you.”

“Of course,” I say. “I’d never miss a birthday.”

“That’s lovely to hear.” The smile never leaves his face and his rather large and rather sneaky man hands never leave my lower back. I cringe at the movement of his snaky fingers. “So the limo will be here at about ten to pick you and the girls up from here.”

“Pardon me sir, but would you please explain what the plans are?”

He blinks and looks from his daughter to me. I notice how they both hold the same features in their faces. The blonde eyelashes and wide blue eyes against porcelain skin.

“You mean she hasn’t told you yet?”

I say, “No…”

“Okay then,” he clears his throat. He sits down on the Chesterfield sofa and crosses his legs. “You know what I do, don’t you Lena?”

I nod. He’s some sort of manager or producer... Right? Eh, close enough.

“As a birthday present I’m taking Abigail and her friends to meet a few of my clients.”

I blink. Where were we going with this?

As the ex-mister opens his wide mouth to continue his daughter interrupts him with a girly squeal saying, “WE’RE MEETING ONE DIRECTION!”

…

NO.

My heart starts to pound extra hard in my chest. And not in a good way, FYI. I’m having a full on panic attack while Abigail’s having an annoying fan girl session. Her brothers stare on with open mouths.

“HOLD UP!” I butt in on her mad giggles. “No. No, no, no. NOT happening.”

The room is suddenly real quiet.

“I never agreed to any of this,” I bitterly spit out. Literally, I’m spitting everywhere. It’s what happens when I start to freak out.

“Yes you did!” Abigail argues. “You pinky toe promised!”

“Not to meet ONE freaking DIRECTION!” I hiss. “I said I would go to your party!”

“It IS my party! And you said you’d come!”

“Erm,” Ben says awkwardly. The two of us look to him. “Dad- you wanna come see my room?”

“Sure son,” He says, just as nervy. He and the two boys rush out of the room, leaving me and a twelve year-old to fight it out in the living room.

Abigail stares at me bitterly. I can see the manipulative gears spinning in her head.

“What do you have against them anyway?” She asks.

I blink.

“That’s none of your business,” I reply. I stand up a bit taller and cross my arms at my chest. Why are my arms so sticky? Am I seriously sweating? Oh I’m so disgusting.

“Yes it is! It’s totally my business if it keeps you from coming to my birthday!”

“I’m not going because I don’t want to.”

“You. Promised.”

I make a noise between a sigh and a groan. “Abigail you DON’T understand-”

“No Lena. YOU don’t understand,” She says. Her voice is dipping into begging mode. “I want you to come. I need you to come! I can’t go without you! How am I supposed to go without you?”

I chew on my gum and wait for her to continue. I’m curious as to where this is going.

“Lena you’re like a second mum to me. And there’s no way mum’s coming on Monday, not with daddy there. You guys think I don’t know how bad it is between the two of them; but newsflash! I do.”

“Abigail-”

“Please just let me finish.”

I make a small nod. I bite my tongue.

Abigail sets herself on the couch where her dad had been. She clasps her hands on her lap and stares down at her sparkly shoes on her feet. “I really want you there Lena. I think we’ll have fun,” She says. Then she looks up at me. “I want you there because I really love you Lena.”

Oh gosh.

Don’t look into the eyes!

LENA! Stay STRONG!

DON’T LOOK INTO THOSE EYES!

I couldn’t help but glance at her face. Her puppy dog eyes melted me.

God. Why did I have to be such a sucker for kids?

“Abigail,” I sigh exasperatedly. I fling myself beside her. I stare into her face and ask, “You really want me there?”

She nods, her bun bobbing at the movement.

I pucker my lips. “I-I’ll think about it. Okay?”

“Really?” Her voice is soft.

I give her a groan and a reluctant nod.

“OMG! Thank you!” Abigail’s thin arms wrap around my neck. “I love you so much!”

“I didn’t say yes!” I remind her.

Abigail grins as big as the moon. I realize how long it’s been since her eyes have been so shiny like that… “Okay! Okay I know!”

She rushes up from the couch and pulls out her IPhone. “I have to call Indira! Oh and Hailey!”

I’m left sitting on the leather couch with my head spinning.

What the hell just happened?

I stuff my face into my hands. The blackness I see somehow calms me down a few notches. But not enough to get rid of the urge to hurl.

I drop my hands and take three big gulps of air. I try and chew extra hard on my bubble gum but it slips down my throat. Then I spend a few minutes gagging on the pink rubber and running to get myself a glass of water.

I’m so cool, I know.

As I slam the empty cup on the granite counter I stare out the window. The sky is so pretty…

Abigail’s British voice rings through my mind, “What do you have against them anyway?”

I stare down at the woven bracelet around my wrist.

I don’t have anything against One Direction… Not all of them anyway.

In one swift flick I get the bracelet off my skin and into a limp pile on the counter. The blue is extra bright against the shimmering black of the stone. The hanging lights above pick up the specks of yellow within the orange string. And the little white bead in the center rolls around to show where someone wrote my name in Crayola marker.

Honestly, I don’t have anything against One Direction.

Just Harry Styles.