Page 172
Story: The Right Sign
She hops off the stool and approaches. As Talia gets closer, the nanny starts huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf after three attempts on the brick house.
I type a note and show it to Talia.
Apologize.
The little girl reads my message, and her mouth opens in a laugh.
I hold her gaze, my eyes narrowing.Do it. Now.
The arrogance disappears from her eyes like a candle blown in the wind. She turns to the nanny and voices, but I know whatever apology she gave was mere lip service. Her body language is stiff—arms crossed, eyes on the ceiling, shoulders rigid.
When she’s done, her gaze shoots to mine with an attitude.Happy?
Do it again. Sincerely.
Her little nostrils flare and I can tell she wants to lash out at me, but I’m the one who holds the power here—unlike her guards and caretakers who do everything she says.
Talia drops her arms, loosens her shoulders and even dips her chin on the second round of the apology. I pat her shoulder in encouragement and the nanny seems a little less enraged when she leaves to collect her hush money.
On the other hand, Talia seems very annoyed as José drives us to my place.
Too bad.
This is just a taste of what’s to come.
Mom and dad are both home when I step in, although dad was just on his way out from the fact that the door is open and his truck is loaded with supplies.
Mom freezes at the sight of Talia.
Dad frowns.
“I brought a guest,” I sign to my parents.
Mom’s eyes widen a smidge. “Who is this?”
“It can’t be a secret daughter,” dad signs with a laugh. He observes Talia’s pale skin and blonde hair. “For obvious reasons.”
“This is Dare’s niece. Is it alright if she stays with us for a bit?”
“How long is a bit?” mom asks.
I honestly have no idea. Earlier, Talia revealed that Dare’s business trips last for weeks on end. I don’t want to share that bit of news with mom yet. Baby steps.
Talia nervously digs her fingers into her suitcase. Poor thing is trying so hard to act tough, but her gaze bounces between me, mom and dad. No one is voicing, so she has no idea what’s being said. That must scare her more than being amid strangers.
Is she starting to regret it?
After a beat of awkwardness, my parents glance at each other. They do that thing where they communicate without using words, calling on the power of decades of marriage to read each other’s minds.
They come to some kind of conclusion because they both suddenly spring into action. Dad takes Talia’s bags while mom waves Talia in. She even invites the bodyguards. Soon our house is crowded with six foot four men and women and a frightened little girl.
I’m flitting around, helping mom pour out freshly squeezed orange juice, when my watch buzzes on my wrist.
I check my phone, and every nerve in my heart lights up when I see who it is.
Unknown:Hey, Yaya. I’m using Mosely’s phone. My phone got stolen between all the meetings, and I never got a chance to reply to you. I have some bad news. This trip is taking longer than I expected.
Yaya: How much longer?
I type a note and show it to Talia.
Apologize.
The little girl reads my message, and her mouth opens in a laugh.
I hold her gaze, my eyes narrowing.Do it. Now.
The arrogance disappears from her eyes like a candle blown in the wind. She turns to the nanny and voices, but I know whatever apology she gave was mere lip service. Her body language is stiff—arms crossed, eyes on the ceiling, shoulders rigid.
When she’s done, her gaze shoots to mine with an attitude.Happy?
Do it again. Sincerely.
Her little nostrils flare and I can tell she wants to lash out at me, but I’m the one who holds the power here—unlike her guards and caretakers who do everything she says.
Talia drops her arms, loosens her shoulders and even dips her chin on the second round of the apology. I pat her shoulder in encouragement and the nanny seems a little less enraged when she leaves to collect her hush money.
On the other hand, Talia seems very annoyed as José drives us to my place.
Too bad.
This is just a taste of what’s to come.
Mom and dad are both home when I step in, although dad was just on his way out from the fact that the door is open and his truck is loaded with supplies.
Mom freezes at the sight of Talia.
Dad frowns.
“I brought a guest,” I sign to my parents.
Mom’s eyes widen a smidge. “Who is this?”
“It can’t be a secret daughter,” dad signs with a laugh. He observes Talia’s pale skin and blonde hair. “For obvious reasons.”
“This is Dare’s niece. Is it alright if she stays with us for a bit?”
“How long is a bit?” mom asks.
I honestly have no idea. Earlier, Talia revealed that Dare’s business trips last for weeks on end. I don’t want to share that bit of news with mom yet. Baby steps.
Talia nervously digs her fingers into her suitcase. Poor thing is trying so hard to act tough, but her gaze bounces between me, mom and dad. No one is voicing, so she has no idea what’s being said. That must scare her more than being amid strangers.
Is she starting to regret it?
After a beat of awkwardness, my parents glance at each other. They do that thing where they communicate without using words, calling on the power of decades of marriage to read each other’s minds.
They come to some kind of conclusion because they both suddenly spring into action. Dad takes Talia’s bags while mom waves Talia in. She even invites the bodyguards. Soon our house is crowded with six foot four men and women and a frightened little girl.
I’m flitting around, helping mom pour out freshly squeezed orange juice, when my watch buzzes on my wrist.
I check my phone, and every nerve in my heart lights up when I see who it is.
Unknown:Hey, Yaya. I’m using Mosely’s phone. My phone got stolen between all the meetings, and I never got a chance to reply to you. I have some bad news. This trip is taking longer than I expected.
Yaya: How much longer?
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