Chapter 25: First Day on The Job

Oceano, California

April 26, 2004

The alarm on her cell phone woke Yami Misra at 6:45 AM on this Monday morning, her first official day of work as the Kingsleys’ nanny. She turned off the alarm and then slowly rolled out of bed, putting her feet on the floor and turning on the bedside lamp. It was cold in the room because she had left her window open to hear the sounds of the ocean and to breathe the sea air. She had done both and had slept like a baby from 9:30 last night until now. She could not even remember dreaming. She had slept like this all three of the nights she had stayed so far and was feeling quite refreshed. She was a little nervous about her first day though. Today it was for real.

She was dressed in a long, flowing nightgown that fell nearly to her ankles and she had a pair of warm socks on her feet. She went immediately over and shut the window, cutting off the sound and the sea air but making it easier for the room to warm up. She walked to her dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a yellow pullover shirt. Yellow went well with her skin and a good deal of her tops, sweaters, and hair ties were various shades of it. Her underwear and bras, however, were all white in color. In her culture the surefire way to identify a slutty woman (known as a chinaal in Hindi) was by the color of her underwear. Virtuous women wore white panties and white bras (neither of which could be slinky or sexy in any way) and the chinaal women wore colors other than white. Though her job as a medical assistant for a gynecologist had allowed her to view many women’s panties, usually laying within a pile of folded below the waist clothing laying on the table in the exam room, and she had found over the years that even respectable married women in America wore many different styles and colors of panties, she still could not bring herself to even be seen shopping for a red or a yellow or a blue pair.

She had showered last night before retiring (after giving Kira her bath) so all she had to do now was brush her teeth, put on her clothes, and then brush out her long black hair and tie it into a loose ponytail (with a yellow hair tie that matched her shirt). She put on her socks but not her shoes at this point. Unlike everyone else in the house—including Cap and Caydee—neither she nor her daughter wore shoes indoors. In her culture that was simply the rule. There were those in India who stole from others, raped children, corrupted the economy and the government, but all of them would take off their shoes when entering someone’s home. This was simply not a thing among Americans whose families were not recent immigrants.

Yami went into the huge walk-in closet where Kira was now stirring around, in the process of trading deep sleep for lucidity. She yawned and stretched, let loose a moist sounding blast of flatulence, and then opened her eyes and beheld her mother looking down at her.

“Mummy,” she said in amicable greeting.

“Good morning,” Yami told her in Hindi. She then switched to English. “Are you ready to get up and get ready for the day?”

“Me wakin’ up,” Kira said tiredly. “Stayin’ here?”

“We’re staying here, beti,” she told her. “This is our home now.”

Kira smiled at this thought. “Pay wif Cay-dee?” she asked. Playing with Caydee was the new love of her young life. And Caydee genuinely seemed to enjoy playing with Kira.

“Caydee has to go to school today,” Yami told her. “Mummy’s going to take her there.”

“What school?” Kira wanted to know.

“It’s where boys and girls go to learn about the world and how to live in it,” Yami told her. “Caydee goes there almost every day and Mummy is going to take her and pick her up.”

“Me go school too?” Kira asked. “Learn world?”

“Not for another two years, beti,” Yami told her. “But you get to come with me to take Caydee there and pick her up every day. You’ll get to see all the other boys and girls that go to school with Caydee.”

“Cap come too?” Kira wanted to know. She liked playing with Cap almost as much as she liked playing with Caydee. Friends (a word she had never really heard before until a few days ago) were really cool things to have.

“Cap will stay here in the morning and his mommies and daddy will take care of him until it’s time for them to leave for work. And then Westin and Sean will watch him until I get back.”

She thought this all over for a few moments and then nodded. “Okay,” she said.

Yami got Kira dressed in a pair of stretch denim jeans and a pullover shirt. The two of them emerged into the rest of the house at 6:55. The smell of breakfast prepared by Westin, the gay American who worked as the Kingsleys’ chef, was strong in the air, as was the smell of fresh coffee. Jake would have made the coffee, setting it up last night in the machine so a timer would get it brewing at 6:30 AM. It was, hands down, the best coffee Yami had ever tasted in her life, even without sweetener in it. She preferred Jake’s plain black coffee to anything that came from a Starbucks.

She followed the smell to the kitchen, Kira walking along just behind her. Westin was dressed in a pair of jeans and a baby blue button up shirt. He had a white apron tied around his waist that had the motto I COOK AS GOOD AS I LOOK written on it in bold black. He was working on a large pan of scrambled eggs with Italian sausage, bell peppers, mushrooms and onions. He had just dumped a bowlful of shredded pepper jack cheese into the mixture and was now stirring it. In a pan next to the egg pan, fried potatoes with garlic and rosemary were simmering. Westin looked up when the two of them entered the room and smiled.

“Good morning, ladies,” he told both of them. “I’ll be putting the food on the table in three more minutes.”

“It smells wonderful, Westin,” she told him, forcing herself to keep from openly staring at the man. It was difficult as Westin was extremely good looking, the most handsome man she had ever met in the flesh—like Hollywood movie leading man handsome. It was such a pity that someone that attractive was gay.

“Of course it does,” he said. “You think that Jake keeps me around just because I’m a pretty face?”

She giggled at his words. He and his lover Sean were the first openly gay people she had ever met and, so far, she enjoyed interacting with both of them. They were funny, friendly, and did not judge her for having a half-breed child. Sean was nowhere near as handsome as his boyfriend—in truth, he was a little dumpy and starting to bald up top even though he was only thirty years old—but he was, if anything, even nicer. He was also quite intelligent, able to engage in college level debate and discussion on just about any topic. He was currently over in the corner of the kitchen, buttering the last few pieces of a platter of sourdough toast.

“Did you two remember to put your laundry from yesterday and last night into the hamper?” Sean asked. It was he who would doing their laundry (including my panties and bras! a part of her thought with dismay) every weekday. On the weekends, she was expected to take care of that herself and not load Sean up with all of her weekend clothes on Monday morning. It was a reasonable request.

“Every last sock,” Yami confirmed. “And it’s only clothes from yesterday and last night.”

“I appreciate that,” he said with a smile. “I’ll have everything washed, dried, and back in your room before noon when I go on break. I’ll also have your room cleaned by that time as long as you’re not doing anything in there.”

“Don’t clean Kira’s part of the room though,” Yami instructed. “She is going to be responsible for that herself.”

“Fair enough,” Sean said. “Just don’t make me come in after the laundry, please.”

“She’ll have it in the main hamper every morning,” Yami said. “I promise.”

“All right then,” Sean said. He then walked over to them, platter of toast in hand, and smiled down at Kira. “And how is the cutest three year old in the house this morning?” he asked her brightly.

She smiled at him. “Me fine,” she told him.

“That’s a good thing to be,” Sean assured her. “I’m so glad you came to live with us, Kira.”

“Me too!” she said with enthusiasm. After all, what was not to love? She no longer had to go to the daycare place, the food was amazing, there were friends here, there was an ocean here, and she got to hang out with Mummy all day long.

Sean disappeared into the dining room. Yami helped herself to a cup of coffee from the pot and headed to the dining room herself, Kira tagging along behind. Cap was already in his high chair, drinking from a sippy cup and munching on dry Cheerios for an appetizer prior to the official breaking of his fast. Caydee, Jake, Celia, and Laura were all sitting around the table, all of them except for Caydee still in their sleepwear. For Celia that was a pair of blue silk pajamas. For Laura it was a long t-shirt with a picture of a dancing cat on it and a pair of gray sweat shorts. For Jake it was a tattered old Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of black sweat pants. It was clear that neither of the adult women were wearing a bra—something that Yami was still trying to get used to. Though she enjoyed going without a bra when possible, she had always only done it when it was just her and Kira. The idea of the others in the house seeing her ample breasts bouncing around loose was horrifying.

“Are you all ready for the first day?” asked Jake as Yami settled her daughter into one of the seats.

“Yes, I am,” she said quietly. She was still a little bit intimidated by Jake despite having lived with him and his family for two days now. He was very polite and reasonable, very personable (and good looking in a bad-boy sort of way, she could not help but think), a great father to Caydee and Cap, and had done nothing to put her on edge. Still, he was the Jake Kingsley and he was a man who was living and sleeping with two women at the same time; two women who knew each other, knew about each other, and were seemingly happy with the relationship. She was still trying to grasp that one in her mind.

Sean and Westin brought in the day’s breakfast platter by platter and set everything down in the middle of the table. The scrambled eggs, the potatoes, the toast, the butter, the jam. Already present on the table were the plates, silverware, cloth napkins, water glasses and juice glasses, and carafes with orange juice (fresh squeezed), apple cider, and fresh well water with ice. The two servants asked everyone if anything else was needed. When no one answered, they sat down at the table with everyone and became part of the family breakfast.

Kira was definitely into the culinary choices in her new home. She asked for a large heap of the eggs, two pieces of toast, and a healthy stack of fried potatoes. She went with the apple cider to start with but would likely ask for a glass of orange juice before they got up. Yami fixed the plate for her daughter and then herself, going with modest amounts of everything and orange juice to help wash it down. She knew she should not eat so much—she really needed to drop a few pounds, not put a few on—but she could not resist.

After breakfast it was time for her to start her official day. While Laura and Celia retreated to the master suite to take their showers and get ready for their day, responsibility for Caydee was shifted over to her.

“Do you remember how to get there?” Jake asked her. “I can ride with you for the first time if you’d like. We’ll just be a little late to the studio.”

“I’m okay,” she said confidently. She was about to take Caydee to school for the first time. Jake had led her on a dry run the day before and it was not complicated at all. Down the PCH into Oceano, turn left on South 13^th Street and then right on Warner Street until it dead-ends at 17^th Street. There Nicholas Elementary school stood at that intersection. Jake, Laura, and Celia had all warned that it was congested and chaotic during pickup and drop-off and that patience and forgiveness of the human race was necessary to survive it. The drive there and back took only ten minutes in normal traffic but better than forty-five sometimes in school traffic. Kira would come with her and Cap would remain at the house. Westin and Sean had agreed to watch Cap until Yami’s return and while she was picking Caydee back up later. Apparently the couple were more than happy to pull Cap or Caydee duty when necessary and it was clear that the Kingsleys trusted them to do so. That was a very strange idea to her. Though they were very nice and very friendly, they were gay men. The Kingsleys were actually okay with two gay men watching their children.

Yami made sure that Caydee had her backpack and her sweater (it was a bit nippy on the central coast in the mornings this time of year) and then dressed Kira in her sweater. Caydee said goodbye to everyone, giving kisses to Jake, Laura, Celia, and Cap, telling them she would see them later. She told everyone she loved them and they returned the sentiment, even Cap who managed to grunt out an “Uv-oooh” to his sister.

From there, she led the two kids out to the garage and the royal blue minivan. The Kingsleys had just bought a brand new, 2004 Lexus RX-330 sport utility vehicle for Laura to drive. They had then all but given the minivan to her so she had a safe, large vehicle to transport the children around in. They had also given her a credit card to use to pay for gas for the vehicle and had told her that she could use it for personal business all she wanted as long as Jake never had to ride in it. Her old Corolla was now parked outside, as the house only had room for 5 vehicles in the garage. Jake planned on adding another five vehicles worth of garage to the existing structure, in fact had a contractor scheduled to visit on this very day to make measurements, examine blueprints, and then produce an estimate for the project.

Caydee was still not old enough to sit in the front seat of the vehicle but she no longer needed a booster seat. She buckled herself into the second row next to the sliding door, tossing her backpack on the floor. Kira climbed up into her own car seat in the passenger’s seat of the middle row and Yami buckled her in. She then closed the sliding door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Though the vehicle was four years old and had thirty-eight thousand miles on it, it was still quite luxurious and comfortable by her standards. She started it up, adjusted the environmental controls, found an easy listening station on the radio, and then backed out of the stall and into the driveway area. From there, she drove down the access road to the gate, pausing as it slowly opened before driving through and waiting on the other side, eyes on the rear view mirror, until it closed.

At the bottom of the hill she turned right onto the Pacific Coast Highway. Less than a quarter mile later she was at the Johansen turnout, which was an ancillary parking area for those who wanted to hike into the state beach instead of paying to drive in. As usual, there were more vehicles in the turnout than typically would be found on a weekday morning in spring. Many of those vehicles would have paparazzi, media people, camera crews, and reporters in them. The Kingsley family was still high on the radar due to the still pending divorce of Jake and Celia and the hiring of herself as the new nanny. Her name and picture had been plastered over the newspapers for the last two days and her face had been shown on several celebrity stalking dedicated shows. They knew pretty much everything about her that could be gathered from public records. They knew she currently held a work visa that she had to renew every two years. They knew she had come to America on a student visa, had attended and graduated from Cal Poly, and had a three year old daughter, father unknown (this part seemed to add mystery to her). So far there had been no negative speculation as to what her actual job duties might entail, but Jake told her not to be too surprised if that started to manifest.

She drove by the turnout with only a quick glance at it. As she continued on her way, she did not notice that half a dozen vehicles pulled out behind her and raced to follow. It did not occur to her that they would find her taking Caydee to school the least bit interesting. Nor did it occur to her that they would have an interest in getting some kind of statement out of her. After all, she presumably knew or at least had an idea about what actually went on in the Kingsley household. And she probably knew who the father of her own child was.

In the backseat Caydee was singing a song called Nothing Else Matters. Yami thought it sounded like a love song or a lullaby. Maybe something her mummy sang to her? Something from her own mummy’s childhood? The little girl really did have the prettiest singing voice. Not surprising considering who her father was. Kira was watching her sing and clapping every once in a while, clearly enjoying the performance.

Traffic on the two lane streets began to get thick as she got closer to the school. She crept forward a bit at a time, finally making it to the actual intersection where it was located. She could see now why Laura had told her to leave the house by 7:25 at the latest. At 7:33 she came to a complete stop as the line approached gridlock due to another line of cars approaching from the opposite direction. The two lines were not merging well together, creating a snarl as vehicles attempted to jump willy-nilly into the open spaces instead of taking turns. She sighed as she saw this, hoping that she would be able to drop off Caydee before the point she would be late for class.

“Daddy says the pickup line sucks ass,” Caydee said sympathetically.

Yami winced a bit when she heard this. It had been disclosed to her that Caydee and Cap were not being shielded from profanity or discouraged from using it as long as it was used correctly. They were not allowed to use the words “hate”, “stupid”, “retarded”, “ugly”, or anything that even resembled a racial or sexually oriented epitaph, but “damn”, “hell”, “shit”, even “fuck” were all acceptable to the Kingsleys. This had almost been a deal breaker for her as she did not want her daughter raised around such language but they had been able to compromise to some degree.

“Caydee,” Yami said politely but firmly, “please do not use that phrase in front of Kira.”

“Ohh, sorry, Yami,” Caydee apologized quickly. “I didn’t know that one was on the list.”

“It’s on the list,” Yami assured her. The list was the list of no-no words that Caydee (and eventually Cap) agreed not to use when Kira was present. Kira was considered polite company, just like at school or in front of grandparents.

“I won’t do it again,” Caydee promised. “Sorry, Kira.”

“Suck-sass!” Kira shouted with a giggle. “Suck-sass! Suck-sass!”

“Wow,” Caydee said in amazement. “Kids really do pick that shi ... uh ... stuff up fast.”

“Yes, they do,” Yami said with a sigh, wondering how long it would take her beti to forget that one.

Suddenly, without warning, the front of the minivan was surrounded by people. There were people pointing cameras at her and snapping away from the front. There were people with microphones or tape recorders in their hands at the driver’s side window. There were even a few cameramen with professional rigs on their shoulders. They were all shouting things at her, demanding things, their voices overlapping to the point she understood nothing they were trying to say. She felt adrenaline begin to surge through her. What in the hell was this?

“It’s the pap,” Caydee said calmly from the back seat. “Just flip them the bird and tell them to F-off. That’s what I always do.”

Yami did not take her advice. Instead, she rolled down her window so she could tell them to go away. She quickly found that rolling it down just encouraged them.

“Yami!” shouted a man with a tape recorder, pronouncing her name ‘Yam-ee’ instead of ‘Yomm-ee’. “Tell us who the father of your daughter is. Is it Jake Kingsley?”

“What?” she barked, shocked at the very suggestion. “Of course not!”

“Who is it then?” asked a female pushing in just next to him.

“That is none of your business!” she shouted, angry now. How dare they ask me that!

“The public has a right to know,” said the first man.

“Are Jake and Celia and Laura all sleeping in separate rooms now?” asked someone else. Meanwhile, outside, the cameras continued to snap away and she could see that the line of cars had moved, leaving empty space in front of her. The vehicles behind her were now honking.

Through her anger, Yami remembered her instructions as to how to handle a situation like this. “I have no comment about anything!” she told them. “Go away!”

But they did not want to go away. They could sense her intimidation and fear like a pack of coyotes. They continued to shout questions at her. Was it true that Celia and Jake no longer spoke to each other? Was it true that Celia and Laura had had a knock-down fight that had required the cops to come? Was it true that Jake was receiving treatment from Dr. Niven for gender-identity disorder?

Soon, the cars behind her, frustrated, began to pull around her, most honking loudly as they did so. A few flipped her the bird. One of them almost ran over a cameraman, causing him to leap out of her way at the last second.

“Just drive,” Caydee advised, her voice calm and collected.

“They’re in front of the car!” Yami said, nearing hysterics.

“They’ll move,” Caydee assured her.

She could not bring herself to do this. She rolled up the window and continued to stare forward, ignoring the shouting voices, waiting for there to be an opening that she could drive through. Finally, she was rescued by a middle aged man wearing the green and khaki uniform of the San Luis Obispo County sheriff’s office. His badge was shiny and his gun belt was firmly in place. His expression was of clear annoyance. He came trotting up and began yelling at the assembled crowd to clear the area.

“You people know better than this!” he told them, anger in his voice. “You cannot impede traffic on a public street. Everyone who is not back on that sidewalk in five seconds is going to jail!”

“That’s Deputy Crown,” Caydee said. “He’s our school resource officer. He’s way cool. Daddy and Mommy know him from the cop bar they go to.”

“I’m glad he was here today,” Yami said shakily, her body still flooded with adrenaline.

The crowd drifted away to the sidewalk like chastised children being sent to the principal’s office. They began to get back in their cars. The deputy walked over to her driver’s window and made the rolling down motion to her. She numbly pushed the button that lowered the window.

“Hi, Deputy Crown!” Caydee said brightly.

“Hi, Caydee,” he said to her with a smile. He then turned to Yami. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded her head. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I just wasn’t expecting all that.”

“It was her first pap mob,” Caydee said helpfully. “You know how it is?”

“Indeed, I do,” he said with a chuckle. “They’re all gone now. You’d better move forward to get the lass to school on time.”

“Right,” she said, nodding some more. “Thank you very much, officer.”

“No problem at all,” he said. He then looked at Caydee. “Tell your Daddy we miss him down at the Pine Cove. If he comes down some night we’ll keep the pap away from him.”

“I’ll tell him,” Caydee promised.

She rolled up the window and began to drive forward again, quickly catching up with the line just as it was making the turn into the parking lot. She was still shaking with adrenaline. “Does that happen a lot, Caydee?” she asked her charge.

“That depends on what you mean by ‘a lot’,” Caydee replied.

Laura’s new ride was a 2004 Lexus RX-330 SUV. It was forest green to compliment her hair and had all the bells and whistles. The plush seats were heated and there was an entertainment center that could play DVDs to be displayed on a screen above the back seats. It had a premium audio system, front and rear airbags, a blind spot alert on both outside mirrors, and a satellite GPS navigation system built in. And, though it contained three less seats than the minivan it was replacing, it was not a vehicle that Jake Kingsley refused to get into. In fact, he was now sitting in the driver’s seat of it at 8:30 AM as it sat in the garage.

“It’s my Lexus,” Laura said, quite miffed. “If you’re driving it to the Campus and you, C, are driving it home, when do I get to drive it?”

“When we’re not in it,” Jake said simply.

“My driving is not bad!” she barked at him.

“No,” he agreed, his voice soothing, “you’re a wonderful driver. You just drive too slow.”

“You make us crazy when you drive, Teach,” Celia had to agree. “This is California. Nobody pays attention to the speed limit except you.”

“That’s how I was taught to drive,” she said.

“Yes, by those party animals that were your parents,” Jake said. “Don’t take it personally. We still love you. We just get antsy when you’re behind the wheel.”

“Right,” said Celia. “Nothing personal.”

“Besides,” Jake said, “we won’t need to worry about it once Liz and Little Stevie start riding with us. We’ll take the Navigator from that point on.” Liz and Little Stevie would be joining Celia’s band for the workups the following week. Though the two of them still insisted they were not a couple (“I’m old enough to be his mother, for God’s sake,” Liz always declared if the subject was mentioned) they had moved in together shortly after the last Celia Valdez tour had finished up. They had not just moved in together, they had purchased a house together, a rather swanky fifty year old two thousand square foot pad in the Hollywood Hills. They were both still living off their touring income primarily and picking up frequent sessions as studio musicians in LA to supplement. Since both were established, reliable professionals with touring and recording experience on several Celia Valdez productions, they were both in demand and were able to collect premium hourly pay for their efforts. Liz, however, had developed vocal problems over the past month or so and had been diagnosed with vocal cord nodules—a job hazard for military drill instructors and those who sang for a living. Jake, upon hearing about this, had arranged for her to see an ear, nose, and throat doctor who specialized in vocal issues. The first appointment was this week and the thought that Liz might not be able to be their soprano backup singer for the sessions was heavy on everyone’s mind.

Laura was far from mollified about being dissed but she protested no further. She climbed in and buckled up, still muttering angry imprecations under her breath about people who made other people be passengers in their own brand new Lexus.

“You think the pap followed her to the school?” asked Celia as he backed out.

“I’m sure they did,” Jake said, “but it’s no big deal. They know they can’t come onto school grounds. As long as Yami doesn’t stop somewhere she’ll be fine.”

“Makes sense,” Celia said.

“I’ll give her a call when we get to the Campus and make sure everything went alright,” Laura said. She was playing with her heated seat even though it was not that cold outside.

Jake turned left on the PCH since they were heading to Atascadero instead of into Oceano. He could not see the Johansen spot well in this direction so he could not judge how many cars were there. The watchers in the Johansen spot, however, could see their access road and had no problem spotting the new SUV pulling out. They already knew that the Kingsley family had bought a new Lexus SUV because they had followed them on the day they had purchased it. Sure enough, at least two vehicles pulled quickly out of the Johansen spot and began to follow. That was okay. They would not get a chance to harass them. They had no plans to stop on their journey and once beyond the main gate of the Campus they were untouchable and secure.

Highway 1, the PCH, ran concurrently with the 101 just as they entered the Pismo Beach area. It cut inland and less than fifteen minutes later they were in San Luis Obispo itself. On the east side of town the PCH and the 101 split again, with the former taking a meandering course northwest to eventually become the actual coastal road again near Morro Bay. The 101 continued northeast, going further inland to the cities of Atascadero and Paso Robles beyond it, passing through the winery region on its course. Jake stayed on the 101 and they began to climb into the Santa Lucia Mountains, which were not really mountains at all but coastal hills. Just as they reached the top of the highway summit, Laura’s cell phone began to ring.

She took it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “It’s Yami,” she said, worry in her voice. She quickly pushed the accept button and put the phone to her ear. “Yami?” Her face immediately began to darken. “Uh ... hold up a second,” she said. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Laura listened for another two minutes or so, her face getting darker by the second. Jake and Celia glanced at each other, their expressions identical. Something had happened and Yami was upset by it. Was Caydee okay?