From Broadway to Central Park West
I had just come off of a year touring in the national company of Hairspray and moved back to New York with high hopes of landing a role on Broadway when my boyfriend of six years, Antwon, – you might have caught him on Broadway in The Color Purple or in the ensemble of The Lion King where he also understudied as Simba and Timon a few years back – told me he was calling it quits, he was leaving me… for a guy. Nothing to boost my self-esteem, but hey, at least he didn’t leave me for a thin-as-a-rail ballerina, right?
Anyway, I was temporarily crashing at my friend Melinda’s studio in Manhattan but the place was definitely not designed for two girls. At least, not two heterosexual girls who, obviously, would not be sharing a room, let alone a bed. I’d been auditioning for a few weeks and I just didn’t seem to be able to get a job. My morale was low and so were my finances. I needed to find work ASAP.
When my sister Jenn called me and told me about this nanny gig, I thought: “What? No. I’ve done all the traditional jobs that wannabe actresses and Broadway performers do when they come to New York and struggle: I’ve been a waitress, a barmaid, a dog-walker, and yes, even a nanny to kids of a few stars – I will not name names but let’s just say that I know my way around the Park and Central Park West, okay?
Going back to work as a nanny would be like throwing in the towel and saying that my Broadway career was basically over before it even started.
– Are you crazy? No! No way am I going back to changing diapers and wiping runny noses.
– Kirsty, he’s six and Brandon says he’s adorable. His name is Brody and his mom died of ovarian cancer when he was four.
– Oh my God! That’s so sad!
I’ve always been sensitive to orphans. Remember Annie? Oh my Lord, the musical, the movie, even the all-African American version they produced last year? That’s my favorite story EVER. I can watch all the versions over and over and bawl my eyes out every time. And don’t even get me started on Oliver Twist! Oh my God! My sister was playing on my sensibility. I got myself together.
– That’s not fair, Jenn. Don’t play the orphan card.
– Oh but he’s not, my sister corrected. He’s got a really rich dad. Brandon even says the guy’s a billionaire apparently. And want to hear the craziest part? He’s Kevin Wasserman’s brother. So this Brody kid is Kevin Wasserman’s nephew. Isn’t that just too perfect?
Kevin Wasserman is one of the biggest producers on Broadway. His productions have won more Best Revival Tony Awards than any other producer’s in history. I’d be nanny to Kevin Wasserman’s nephew. Wow… yeah, but no. Using a child to try to get closer to a producer in order to book a gig in a Broadway show? That’s just too twisted, right?
– But what does this Wasserman brother do?
My sister sighed with impatience as though she needed me to give my answer in the next twelve minutes or this opportunity of a lifetime would pass me by. Come on! This is a job as a nanny not the role of Mary Poppins on Broadway!
– I don’t know, and who cares? He’s some sort of rich businessman. Like he’s a banker or a stockbroker or big CEO of a multinational company, I don’t know!
I was both amused and annoyed at my sister’s tone.
– Your friend Brandon couldn’t tell you exactly? Doesn’t he know everything? Doesn’t he always have his nose – and other parts – where they don’t belong?
– Don’t you DARE bad-mouth Brandon! You know very well that I’d be lost without him.
– Of course! Where could you possibly find ANYBODY who could do ANYTHING with that hot mess on your head?
– You can be such a bitch sometimes.
– And you can be such a fag-hag!
We both burst out laughing.
As I kept talking to my sister, there was a ring downstairs. The mailman had a parcel delivery for Melinda. Since she wasn’t there, I had to sign for it. What freaked me out a little is I had also received an envelope which I opened and pulled a very disturbing letter from.
– What? my sister asked, not understanding why I suddenly sounded so panicked.
– Ugh! I was expecting a check from the producers of the tour – you know, like for our per diem – and I just got a letter saying they’ve run into some sort of financial trouble and they won’t be able to send that money before the new year. That’s like over two thousand dollars! What am I going to do for the next four months?
– Hum… sounds like you’re going to need a job, sis.
I hated when my sister was right, but I would have been lost without her. Ever since our parents had passed, we’d gotten even closer. When I had decided to move to New York to pursue a Broadway career, she’d taken an administrative assistant job at Macy’s downtown and had let me move in with her until I started dating Antwon and moved in with him. Now that she was married and had two kids, I couldn’t really move back in with her which – to me – would have been an even worse step back anyway.
So I did take that phone number and I did call Zander Wasserman’s office to inquire about the nanny job. The next day, I walked to the Central Park West – yup, believe it or not, he lived there, too – apartment and office complex that Wasserman owned and apparently lived in. I was escorted to the penthouse on the forty-sixth floor, by some sort of bellboy as though I was checking into a hotel. I couldn’t help thinking that the bellboy in question might be a wannabe Broadway performer, too. He definitely looked like the typical dancer/singer/actor you might catch in A Chorus Line or on any cattle call audition, with his taut little body and tight butt.
In the elevator, I decided to break the silence.
– Have you been working for Mr. Wasserman for long? I asked.
He took a while before he even acknowledged my question and then, when he turned to me, it was as though his eyes were asking: “Are you talking to me?” Then, he said:
– About a year and a half, I’d say…
Now, I was convinced. This guy was definitely gay and definitely waiting for the audition that would give him the big break he was looking for.
– And how is he? I mean, as a boss…
– Eccentric, I guess. Like most insanely rich people.
I wanted to ask for examples but, although this was a very old and very slow elevator, we were almost there and I was more curious about confirming my theory about this bellboy.
– I’m Kirsty, by the way. I’m here to audition for the nanny position.
– Audition? he guffawed.
I chuckled, too, realizing my odd – yet natural – choice of word.
– I mean interview. Sorry. I’m an actress, see? That’s why I’m used to saying audition. I just came off a national tour of Hairspray.
He sounded so envious.
– How long have you been in New York trying to make it big?
– How did you know?
– Oh come on! You clearly work out and go to dance class at least six times a week with a body like that!
He blushed and brushed me off modestly.
– I’m Cameron, by the way.
He handed me his hand as though he was Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I smiled and shook it.
– Oh my God, I hope you get the job. You remind me a little bit of that girl on that show, remember?
It was my turn to guffaw. “Could you be a little less specific?” I thought.
– Do you mean Supernanny? That British woman who told parents what a dreadful job they were doing as parents?
I had said this with a British accent that was probably closer to singer Adele’s than Jo Frost’s from Supernanny, but Cameron didn’t seem to mind. He laughed out loud.
– Oh my God, yes! She was hilarious!
I didn’t know if I should take this as a compliment or not, but Cameron certainly didn’t look like he wanted to insult me, so I laughed, too.
– Here we are, he said as we got off the elevator.
Before he rang the doorbell to the penthouse, I grabbed his arm.
– You do know who Mr. Wasserman’s brother is, don’t you?
– Are you kidding me? His last name is Wasserman. Of course I know who his brother is. Why do you think I took this day job? I have my head shot and resume under the bellhop’s desk all ready, honey, but I still haven’t seen Kevin Wasserman come in here in eighteen months.
We sighed collectively and laughed.
– So? Ready? he asked.
I nodded and he rang the doorbell.
– Hi, Brody, said Cameron when the cutest little six-year-old opened the door.
– Hello, Cameron. How may I help you?
I couldn’t believe how polite this little boy was.
– Your daddy is expecting us. This lovely lady is here to maybe be your new nanny. Her name is Kirsty.
Since Brody had shown such incredible manners, I thought I’d turn all Mary Poppins on him.
– How do you do, young man?
He stuck out his hand but laughed, saying:
– I’m not a man, I’m only a little boy.
– And an adorable one at that.
He smiled at me and turned around, shouting:
– Daddy! My new nanny’s here!
Cameron and I laughed a bit, amused at Brody’s boldness and, suddenly, Zander Wasserman revealed himself, walking in from what I guessed was probably his home office. Dressed in a suit which I guessed probably cost more than three months’ rent for Melinda’s studio, Brody’s father stared at his son coldly and said:
– What did I tell you about screaming in the house, Brody? This isn’t a park or a sports arena.
– Sorry, daddy. No shouting. I forgot.
Without having to say another word, Zander Wasserman made sure his son disappeared. Brody quickly eclipsed himself, vanishing into what I guessed must have been his playroom or his bedroom.
I suddenly felt sad for the boy and very uncomfortable in what had become a very cold and unwelcoming room. Mr. Wasserman started looking me over and I couldn’t read his thoughts or impressions of me. Either he was disappointed with my appearance or the sight of me somehow made him blue. He forced what seemed to be an unhappy smile.
– Please have a seat. I’ll be right with you. Thank you, Cameron.
And Mr. Wasserman disappeared himself, going back into the room he’d come out of. I looked at Cameron with wide eyes, somehow asking him what he made of Mr. Wasserman’s first impression of me. Cameron shrugged like he was saying, “Yup, that’s what he’s like. No surprise there.”
– I’ve been dismissed, he murmured.
My heart sank.
– No, please don’t leave, I whispered.
I realized it made no sense for Cameron to stay for my interview, but I suddenly didn’t want to be alone with Mr. Wasserman.
– I’ll be right downstairs, honey, said my new friend, smiling. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you’re done. I’m sure you’re gonna do fine. Don’t worry. He’s gonna love you.
I smiled nervously. How come I hadn’t had that feeling at all when Mr. Wasserman had looked me over a few seconds ago?
– Break a leg, he whispered before closing the door behind him.
There was dead silence for a moment, something that I had always found very rare in Manhattan. I tried to hear the sirens, the cars honking, the usual background noises that you can’t get away from in New York. I couldn’t help but be very impressed with the incredible quality of the soundproofing of the building. It was almost as if I was in a sound studio booth like the one in which I’d recorded the voice of an animated singing hamster for a dental floss commercial I’d done a few years earlier.
But I was in a home in which a family lived. A two-member, single parent family, but a family nonetheless. How could this household be so quiet with a six-year-old boy playing in the next room? I suddenly felt very sad and didn’t help things much by thinking about what Brody’s mom might have been like and how excruciatingly painful it must have been for her to know that she would not make it through her illness and would leave her four-year-old son, her adorable pride and joy, without ever seeing him grow up, go to school, graduate, fall in love, maybe get married and have children of his own.
My eyes welled up with tears as I sat there looking over Central Park toward the buildings of Central Park East.
– Are you alright, Kirsty?
Brody’s soft, soothing prepubescent voice startled me nonetheless since I hadn’t heard him come out of his room or approach me.
– Oh, hello, Brody. I didn’t see you there. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. It… it must be my allergies acting up, I stammered while quickly wiping the tears from my eyes.
– Do you need a hug?
Again, my heart sank. I couldn’t believe how sweet and thoughtful this cute little soul was. Doing my most amusing Mary Poppins impression again, I mused:
– That would be lovely.
Brody smiled and hurled his little body at me, wrapping his arms under mine, his little hands landing on my shoulder blades, his little face burying itself in my bosom. He squeezed me as tight as he could and I couldn’t help but wonder if this hug was more for me or for him. One way or the other, I didn’t mind because I definitely felt a certain comfort and hoped that my presence and sincere warmth was giving him some solace as well. In that moment, I greatly appreciated this child’s unconditional, unrestricted and open show of affection.
Mr. Wasserman’s thunderous voice startled us both.
– Didn’t I tell you you were supposed to stay in your room?
– Oh it’s okay, sir, I don’t…
– Excuse me?
– I’m sorry, daddy.
– You know what to do. I will deal with you later.
– Yes, daddy.
And Brody was out of my arms and in his room quicker than you can say “control freak”. I looked down at my hands in my lap as I felt that I was not to look up at Mr. Wasserman, as if that would have been interpreted as a rude sign of insubordination. I felt a gust of anger overcome me and my cheeks become flushed. I was sure that if I touched them, they would be burning hot. Zander Wasserman wasn’t even my boss yet and, already, I felt that he wanted to dominate me. I couldn’t help but think that he was probably the same with all his employees, with anybody that came in contact with him as a matter of fact.
– You do understand I am the boy’s father…?
I felt like saying: “I certainly understand that you can be an asshole.” But I didn’t. At first, I didn’t know why because my first instinct was to just get out of there as soon as I could since there was no way I was going to work for such a tyrant, but then I thought about that little boy and I suddenly felt it like a mission to get myself hired as quickly as possible so that I could start giving this child the love and affection that he so clearly needed.
– I’m very sorry, sir.
I think he was expecting some sort of justification for my blatant undermining of his authority in front of his son, but I didn’t give him one. I didn’t even look up at him right away. I don’t know what came over me but it was as though I had an instinct to act submissive, obedient and downright compliant.
– You’ll need to make sure you keep that in check while Brody is in the room or things will just not work out.
– You’re right. I understand.
Again, I was impressed that I hadn’t spat out what I truly felt and hadn’t told him to take a flying leap. It was as though I was playing a character. Suddenly, I was as meek and as fragile as Laura in Tennessee Williams’s The Glass Menagerie. I felt myself smile inside but made sure I didn’t outwardly.
I felt Mr. Wasserman sit in front of me and reflexively looked up. To my surprise, I was taken aback by the charismatic aura that emanated from the man. I had been so repelled and so put off by his coldness and controlling presence when I’d first saw him that I hadn’t realized how strikingly alluring he was. Although I am generally more attracted to black men, I suddenly felt myself scrutinizing Mr. Wasserman’s magnetic features and impressively broad shoulders. That was something that had attracted me to Antwon although they were certainly easier to notice in my ex-boyfriend who was always wearing tight t-shirts or tank tops because he was always rehearsing a dance number or working out than they were in Mr. Wasserman and his dress suit, no matter how tailored.
– I have to admit, you’re not exactly what I expected the agency to send over, he said, sounding annoyed.
Again, I had to bite my lower lip – not literally, of course – and keep my mouth shut. “Well, you’re totally the type of jack ass that I was expecting, you arrogant, egotistical prick!” Instead, of sharing my true feelings, I smiled politely and carefully corrected him.
– Oh but I wasn’t sent over by an agency. My sister is a friend of Brandon’s.
There was a short silence and his eyes glazed over as though he had no idea who I was talking about.
– Brandon Starkly… the hairdresser.
– Oh. Right. Brandon.
There was another uncomfortable pause.
– Is something wrong? I asked.
– No. Nothing’s wrong. I remember Brandon now. He was very close to my wife. She passed away.
I knew this of course but felt I should be quiet.
– Yes, now that you mention Brandon, Barbara had told me I would be meeting a girl that wasn’t from the agency today.
Barbra? Like a flash in my mind, I saw Barbra Streisand with her eyes wide open looking up at the sky in Yentl singing “Papa, can you hear me?” and my heart started racing. He knew Barbra? Oh my God!
– My assistant, Barbara, told me that a friend of Brandon’s knew somebody that would be interested in helping me out with taking care of my son.
– Yes, that friend of Brandon’s would be my sister Jenn and that somebody that would be interested in helping you take care of Brody would be me. Kirsty McKee.
I stuck out my hand, smiling. He didn’t take it.
– McKee, huh? So you’re not Jewish.
Uh-oh. Was this going to be a problem?
– Well, my mother’s maiden name is Cohen. Does that count? I said jokingly.
He forced a smile, looking more annoyed than amused. He was really not making this easy and my resolve to save that young son of his from the morose, depressing, unhappy man that was sitting in front of me was slowly melting away.
– Do you have any experience as a nanny?
I pulled my resume from my handbag and handed it to him.
– Yes, sir.
He pulled a pair of reading glasses from the handkerchief pocket of his jacket and slipped them on. I had a chance to look him over as he perused my non-artistic cv. See, I have a resume for singing, dancing and acting jobs, and I have a cv for “day jobs”.
– You worked as a nanny for the Hesterbergs?
– I did. Lovely family. They gave me excellent references and said I could give their contact information to whomever I wanted if I ever needed a job somewhere else.
He took off his glasses and looked at me suspiciously.
– So why did they fire you?
I felt like kicking him in the teeth. But I smiled. As I opened my mouth to answer his question, I noticed how tense his jaw looked.
– Oh, they didn’t. I had to give them notice because I was hired to play Rosie in a cruise ship production of Mamma Mia! so…
– Oh. You’re one of those…
His tone was so condescending and pompous, I felt like spitting in his face. “Yes, I’m one of those. I’m a slutty actress who spreads her legs as soon as someone applauds or whistles, you conceited moron!”
– What do you mean? I asked politely as though I didn’t know what he meant.
– I mean an actress.
– Yes. I’m one of those, I said with an amused tone, hoping he’d get off his high horse.
– So I can expect you to quit on me at a drop of a hat if some producer comes a-calling?
– I can’t pretend I wouldn’t be thrilled to get a part in a show here in New York, but I’ve decided that I wouldn’t accept another national tour or cruise ship gig, so that really narrows the field of possibilities for me.
– Hum… especially since…
I couldn’t believe he’d actually dared to go there, but was somewhat relieved that he had had the sense to censor himself. Nevertheless, I decided this would be a nice chance for me to even the playing field a little.
– Especially since I’m not what most Broadway performers look like?
– That’s not what I meant…
It was what he had meant and I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.
– Since I’m overweight? Heavy? Bulky?
– I’m sorry.
I had actually expected him to lose patience and throw me out. I had not expected an apology. I was a bit taken aback, I must admit. Especially by the tone, because he sounded sincere and genuinely apologetic.
– Apology accepted.
I smiled at him. He returned the smile, but did not look comfortable.
– Don’t worry about it. I get that a lot. People don’t have as much of a problem when you’re a comedic actress and you’re on the heavy side. But when you sing, dance and act, they have this twisted perception in their minds of a hippopotamus wearing a tutu.
He cleared his throat. I felt he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. I wished he would, but I realized he was probably just afraid he’d put his foot in his mouth again. Silence is golden, right? So he kept quiet, slipping his glasses back on and looking down at my resume again.
– And you’ve cared for the Hartley baby?
– Such a sweet girl!
He took his glasses off again and looked up at me. This time, I saw admiration in his eyes. Or was I misreading him?
– I knew her grandfather well. He was at Goldwin Parks when I first started up and he was the first to entrust me with a substantial loan that allowed me to get things off the ground. A wonderful man, God rests his soul.
Was that caring and empathy I was seeing and hearing? I was also wondering how old Zander Wasserman was. He certainly couldn’t be as old as Madeline Hartley’s granddad! And at the same time, I kept thinking about Kevin Wasserman, his brother, the Broadway producer, and he couldn’t be much less than 70, could he? How old could Zander Wasserman be to have a six-year-old son? Sure, men can father children till they die, but the man sitting before me didn’t look much older than 40. Although he seemed sad and gloomy – probably from not yet getting over his wife’s tragic death, – the man sitting here was a vibrant, exciting, – dare I say? – stimulating, handsome and sexy man.
– So when can you start?
His question had eluded my brain because I was still trying to figure him out.
– My son seems to have already taken a liking to you so… I’d like to hire you on a trial basis and, if everything goes well, we can make it a more permanent situation.
– Oh, okay…
– Of course you would need to move in here…
My eyes widened and he clearly picked up on that.
– This is a live-in arrangement.
I had already guessed that, pretty much, but now that he was talking about it, it was as though I was completely surprised.
– Uh… yes, yes, of course.
– I think you’ll find the guestroom satisfactory. Would that be a problem?
My head was spinning.
– No. Not at all.
He smiled. Was that the first time I actually saw a genuine smile?
– I could start you off at two thousand a week, all Sundays off and every other Saturday. Meals are included and I will expect you to do some cooking and grocery shopping with the allotted budget. Brody loves grocery shopping so you won’t have a problem taking him with you, but you’ll need to watch yourself because I’m told he tends to slip things in the cart when you’re not looking… and he can get pretty demanding, so you’ll need to learn to say no.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was I really going to be paid 2K a week? I gathered this was his way of showing how important his son really was to him. Suddenly, I felt respected, important... and I felt that this might be the way he showed his son how much he loved him.
– Gotcha, I said, smiling.
– You’ll also have access to a special account for any activity you would like to do with my son.
I had a feeling my mouth was agape and that I looked like a total idiot. I could already picture myself bringing Brandon to the zoo and museums and Broadway shows. I was imagining myself taking him to the movies or the library, feeding the ducks or taking a carriage ride in the Park or out for ice cream. This was going to be heaven!
– So again… when can you start?
– Anytime, I replied enthusiastically.
– Good. The sooner the better. You can move your things in and I’ll set up a meeting for you with Barbara… –
Again, that name. Papa, can you hear me?
– … so that she can get you set up with pay roll and petty cash and that bank account I was talking about…?
– Yes, of course.
He stood up and stuck out his hand.
I stood up, too, and shook his hand.
– Thank you, sir.
Again, he smiled.
His name had barely even passed his daddy’s lips that the little boy’s head popped out of his room.
– Yes, daddy?
– Come meet your new nanny.
– I already met her, Brody said, stating the obvious. Her name is Kirsty and she likes hugs.
He ran over to me again and flung his little arms around my hips. I was worried his father wouldn’t react well, but he didn’t seem to mind. I guess that was an improvement already.
– So… what do you want to do today, Kirsty? the little man asked, looking up at me.
– Kirsty has a lot of things she needs to do today if she wants to move in with us, said his father. You’ll need to loosen your grip.
– Tomorrow, we’ll do our first activity together, if that’s okay with your dad…? I said after squeezing him a little before releasing him from our hug.
Mr. Wasserman nodded.
– You can think about it and choose whatever you want to do…
– I wanna go to the zoo, Brody blurted out.
– Kirsty said you could think about it.
– I did. I wanna go to the zoo.
– Okay. The zoo it is.
– So tomorrow morning, I’ll bring some of my things over and… then, we can go to the zoo.
– Is it time for bed yet, daddy?
Mr. Wasserman and I looked at each other and started laughing. This was not the same man that had so coldly and so pompously made me wait on his couch before interviewing me for this nanny position. I couldn’t help but wonder which one I’d be dealing with most often: the guarded, controlling, cold Zander Wasserman or the less shielded, more open, friendlier Zander Wasserman?
– So how did it go?
Cameron was biting down on the knuckle of his left index finger, bracing for the worst.
– I have to go and gather my stuff, I answered, having trouble believing it myself. I’m moving in tomorrow.
The look on Cameron’s face was priceless. He was totally speechless.
– I know, right?
– Oh my God… really?
He was so calm. Almost too calm. It was actually scaring me.
– I didn’t want to tell you this before, but…
My heart started beating quicker as if I was getting ready to step on stage for a big première.
– You’re going to be the third nanny this year.
– I mean, the fourth. There were three before you.
– Oh my God, what happened?
– All of them just quit…, one after the other.
I was dumbstruck.
– Because of Brody?
– Are you crazy? You’ve met the kid, haven’t you? Who would quit a kid like that? He’s the most adorable child you’ll ever meet…
I sighed, discouraged.
– So it’s Mr. Wasserman who makes them run away…
– Yup. Two girls and a guy this year. With the first girl, it was…
– NO! Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. You shouldn’t have even told me how many quit before me. Damn! Now, I’m constantly going to be looking for a reason to run away. Argh! I knew this was too good to be true.
I stormed out of the building, determined to clear my mind and convinced that I needed to make this work for the sake of that adorable child I was already falling in love with. I couldn’t even hear Cameron screaming behind me as I hit the sidewalk on Central Park West and headed to Melinda’s studio.
– But… NO! Kirsty! Wait!
The following morning, when I arrived in the lobby of the building with the two big suitcases that contained all the clothes I own, the backpack that held most of my books and sheet music as well as my purse swinging around my neck, Cameron almost ambushed me like a well-manicured, effeminate private pouncing on an enemy soldier.
– Oh my God, honey! Thank goodness you’re here. I didn’t sleep all night. And no, it’s NOT because I got lucky. I kept thinking about what I said and I felt so bad. I was so worried you wouldn’t show up.
I was just standing there, my heavy luggage pulling my arms toward the floor and making me feel like I’d soon look like an orangutan.
– Can you help me please, bellboy…?
Quickly, realizing how absurd this scene looked, Cameron quickly grabbed my suitcases and they crashed to the floor.
– Holy crap! What are you carrying in these? What are you, a drag queen?
– Let me get a luggage cart.
He quickly grabbed the brass and red velvet-covered wagon and put all my stuff on it.
– Thank you.
There was a short silence. I kind of did want him to feel bad because what was the point of giving me information that would automatically make me prejudge my employer after I’d accepted the job offer? If he was going to tell me this crap, wouldn’t it have made more sense to tell me before?
– I’m an idiot, I know.
– You are.
– You’re not getting a tip today, I pouted.
Cameron pushed the luggage cart to the elevator and accompanied me all the way up.
After giving him the silent treatment for the first ten floors, I decided to break the silence.
– As soon as I met that boy… knowing how he lost his mother and seeing what kind of dynamic was going on in that home, I decided that I wouldn’t let that man discourage me from taking the job, no matter what he did or said.
Again, there was silence. I was expecting Cameron to start talking, talking, talking, but he was eating his humble pie in very small bites and chewing very slowly.
– Not to mention that… with the salary and perks I’m getting, I can certainly take the crap this sad, grieving billionaire widower has to dish out.
– Amen, girlfriend!
I glanced over at him with a very severe look and realized that it was as if I’d taken a lesson from my new boss when he was disciplining his child. I didn’t like that.
– I’m really sorry, said Cameron.
– No, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just scared me a little and I was worried I’d gotten myself in a dreadful mess accepting this job, but I’ll be fine.
Cameron smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.
– If I can say one thing…
– No, you may not.
He wasn’t expecting that and mouthed the word “okay” without making a sound.
I smiled. We would never talk negatively about the Wasserman household again.
That first day, once I put away all my clothes and set up my things in my room – which, by the way, was even more comfortable and homey than I could ever have imagined – I had the best time at the zoo with Brody. I just totally fell in love with this child’s contagious curiosity, his imaginative mind, his generous heart and his sensitive soul.
– Daddy says mommy used to like to bring me to the zoo, but I don’t remember.
That line he nonchalantly threw at me while we were eating cotton candy just shot through my heart and it took everything I had not to cry or react with too much sensitivity that I would make him cry.
– Your mommy must have been a great lady because she created the most wonderful little boy I have ever met.
He took my free hand and wrapped my arm around his shoulder.
That night, before Mr. Wasserman came home from the office, I made the most amazing macaroni and cheese I’d ever created. It was easy to create a dish that would please the child just as much as the father since there was such a vast array of cheeses in the refrigerator that this was not your run-of-the-mill, boring mac & cheese.
– Hum… you’re an excellent cook, said my boss with a tone that almost made him sound worried. And you haven’t even gone to the supermarket yourself yet?
– I want more, said Brody, who didn’t care where or how I had managed to find the ingredients to concoct this. He just liked how it tasted.
– “May I please have more?” is what we say, Brody.
I corrected the boy before his dad had a chance to and Mr. Wasserman glanced over at me with an approving look. Brody repeated the request perfectly and I stood up to pick up his bowl and fetch him seconds. He devoured the second serving just as quickly as he’d eaten the first.
For dessert, I’d managed to create a chocolate mousse that seduced the dad and the son also.
– Tonight, little man, if your dad agrees, I’d like to read you one of my favorite books in the whole wide world. Have you ever heard of A Fish out of Water?
– Hahaha! I loved that book when I was a kid!
I couldn’t believe how spontaneously Mr. Wasserman had answered in his son’s place.
– Daddy! It’s impolite to talk when it’s not your turn. Kirsty was asking me.
I held my breath, worried Brody’s innocent impoliteness of his own might get him in serious trouble with his billionaire father’s pride. I knew it would be better for me to sit this one out and let the parent deal with it as he saw fit.
– You’re right, son. I just got so excited because A Fish out of Water is a wonderful book and grandma Bea used to read it to me when I was your age. I’d love to hear Kirsty read it to you if you don’t mind…
I would never have expected such a request in a million years.
– Sure, daddy. If Kirsty says you can.
We both chuckled.
– I’d be honored, I replied, smiling.
So that day finished in a magical way, just as it had started with little Brody. Sitting in the child’s bed with a captive audience: a charming boy and his intriguing, mysterious father, reading and acting out a classic of children’s literature, Helen Palmer’s A Fish out of Water.
Once Brody had fallen asleep after I had sung him three lullabies while softly stroking his dusty blond hair, I crept out of his room and found Mr. Wasserman having a drink in the living room.
– Would you like one?
I was so startled by the invitation that I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
– You certainly have deserved it.
– Thank you, sir. That’s very nice. Your son is an amazing boy and I had a great time with him today.
Although the room was dark, except for a few candles and the lights of the city, I perceived a smile. He got up and walked over to the bar.
– So what about that drink?
– No, thank you, sir. Not tonight. I think I’ll retire, if that’s okay with you…
I heard him chortle lightly before saying:
– Yes, that’s fine. It’s probably for the best. My son is an early riser and he’ll expect you to be at the top of your game tomorrow after the amazing day you gave him today.
I laughed a little. I have to admit I was flattered by the compliment because Mr. Wasserman didn’t strike me as the type of man who threw praise around loosely.
– I’ll be happy to oblige, sir.
– Good night, Kirsty.
I went to my room and couldn’t stop thinking of Mr. Wasserman sitting out there, a few feet away, sipping what I guessed must have been some über-expensive twentysomething year-old brandy from god-knows-where. Had I done the right thing turning him down? What would have happened had I taken him up on his offer? Why did he want me to have a drink with him? Was I supposed to read anything into that invitation?
I stretched out on my bed and realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth, washed my face or gone to the bathroom before retiring. I’d have to come out of my room to go do all those things eventually. Would he still be sitting out there? A Fish out of Water had been one of his favorite books when he was Brody’s age? I stretched my arm and grabbed the book. Originally published: 1961? That meant he couldn’t be 60 years old or more. I laughed out loud and covered my mouth like a little girl. I closed my eyes and started taking deep breaths, meditating peacefully.
Suddenly, there was a faint knock at my door.
– You don’t mind if I come in, do you?
– Uh… sir, I… I thought this was to be my room. My own private quarters.
– Oh course, but I thought you might need a foot massage after all that walking in the Park and at the zoo today.
– But I…
– Just relax.
My boss was massaging my feet? This rich, powerful, sexy billionaire was rubbing the feet of his son’s nanny? This just made no sense whatsoever. But it felt extremely good.
– Mmmm… but sir, this… this isn’t right. I’m the employee, you’re the employer.
– I want you to feel as comfortable as you can here, Kirsty…
His hands were now vigorously massaging my calves up to my knees. One leg at a time. I suddenly felt my whole body undulating, rippling in the enjoyment of his touch.
– Are you liking this, Kirsty?
– Very much so, sir.
– Would you like to feel more, Kirsty?
– I would, sir.
His hands were now forcefully rubbing my thighs, one leg at a time, powerfully untying knots in my muscles.
– Mmmmm… that feels so good, sir. But what if Brody walks in?
– Are we doing anything wrong?
– I, uh… mmmm… no. I guess not…
He was now caressing the insides of my thighs under my skirt with his thumbs, his hands firmly gripping the tops of my legs. Was I even wearing a skirt? The circular motion of his thumbs was gradually inching toward my panties. I felt his thumbs rubbing against the silk of my panties.
– Does this feel nice, Kirsty?
– Oh yes, sir.
– Do I feel nice, Kirsty?
– You do, sir.
– Would you like to feel more of me, Kirsty?
– I would, sir.
I just wanted him to take control. I wished to just lay there and enjoy his expert touch, his knowledgeable hands, his skillful fingers pulling off my panties. His skilled lips kissing the insides of my thighs, sending shivers throughout my whole body. I wanted to just lay there and enjoy the soft, hot touch of his wet tongue prying open my quivering pussy lips. I wanted to feel his fingers open up my flower’s corolla. It felt like it had been so long since a man’s face – since Antwon’s face and fleshy lips – had been between my thighs. I wanted Mr. Wasserman’s fingers exploring the inside of my femininity.
I wanted Mr. Wasserman crawling onto me and slipping his powerful manhood inside me.
– Is this what you want, Kirsty?
– It is, sir. It is!
He was taking me now. I could feel his potent, strong shaft exploring inside me like a missile. I wrapped my voluptuous thighs around his hips so he wouldn’t leave, so he wouldn’t slip out of me.
– Do you feel me, Kirsty?
I felt him.
– Do you feel, feel, feel, do you, do you…
I woke up abruptly and realized I had slipped my fingers inside my panties. I suddenly felt embarrassed and silly. Was this really how I felt about Mr. Wasserman? Was this really what I was hoping would happen with my boss? As these questions overtook my brain, I noticed I had not stopped pleasuring myself which I hadn’t done since Antwon had left my life. I was pleasuring myself with Mr. Wasserman sitting only a few feet away enjoying his late-night drink.
– Get a hold of yourself, girl, I whispered to myself. What is wrong with you?
The next morning, I rose before Brody even did because I really didn’t get much sleep. My troubling dream and sex fantasy about Mr. Wasserman kept me from sleeping. So before the child or his father were even up, I was in the kitchen cutting fruit and preparing pancake batter.
When they both got up, I was raring to go.
Mr. Wasserman probably thought I was acting weird since I couldn’t look him in the eye. Yet, he certainly couldn’t find fault with my work since I’d managed to concoct a great breakfast with whatever I had found on hand, and I was ready for my day of activities and grocery shopping with his son.
That afternoon, when I came back to the penthouse with Brody and Cameron – who was helping me out with carrying the groceries – I was startled when a strange woman came out of the home office.
– Oh, hello. You’re back.
She almost sounded annoyed.
– Hi, Barbara!
Brody had inadvertently introduced me to Mr. Wasserman’s personal assistant. Papa, can you hear me? Except this Barbara looked nothing like the Barbra of Funny Girl, Yentl and The Way We Were fame. This Barbara was a beautiful yet cold-looking, dark-haired ex-supermodel type who could probably still make a living from people taking pictures of her. Just think a mix of Sela Ward, Olivia Wilde and Julia Ormond… in their thirties.
– Hello, Brody! Did you have a nice day with Kirsty? she asked.
– We went to see the dinosaurs at the Museum of National Natural History, he blurted out, and neither one of us had the heart to correct him. It was so cool! And then, we had lunch in a diner, and then we went to the park, and then we went to buy food and then we came home.
All of us chuckled and, once Cameron had helped me put the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, I discretely slipped him a twenty-dollar tip from the petty cash fund.
– Thank you, honey, he whispered appreciatively. I’m going to like you working here.
He left while Brody kept talking a mile a minute, while none of us really knew to whom he was narrating his whole day.
– I brought the papers Mr. Wasserman talked about, said Barbara. You can fill them out and just leave them on my desk in the office.
I smiled and thanked her and, before I knew it, she was gone, apparently on her way back to the main office of Wasserman headquarters, on some other floor in the building.
Once I’d put away the groceries, Brody and I spent the rest of the afternoon drawing dinosaurs, making dinosaurs out of Play-Dough, and watching The Land Before Time, an animated dinosaur movie, what else?
That charming, energetic little boy kept me so busy I barely had time to prepare dinner but, luckily, Mr. Wasserman came home an hour later than what he told me was his usual time. So we ate at 7 instead of 6. My cooking was a hit again, both Brody and Mr. Wasserman devouring my chicken cacciatore.
– Can Kirsty read A Fish out of Water to us again tonight, daddy? Can she?
Mr. Wasserman and I looked at each other, amused. I realized this was the first time I’d let our eyes meet since the night before and that uncomfortable fantasy I’d had about him.
– I don’t know. Can she? he asked.
– I think she’d be down with that, I replied. But first, you have to have your bath, brush your teeth and get into your jammies.
– Ugh… he moaned, annoyed. All right…
And like the good little boy he is, Brody walked away from the table and started his nighttime routine.
– I better go draw his bath, I said, getting up and picking up the dishes.
Mr. Wasserman got up, too, picking up some of the dishes and saying:
– I can do that. You’ve had a busy day. Take a little break.
I was somewhat startled at the suggestion, but certainly was pleased with his generosity.
– What about the dishes?
– That’s why we have a dishwasher, isn’t it? he said, helping me load the machine with the dirty plates and silverware.
Once we were done, Mr. Wasserman disappeared into the bathroom with Brody for some father-son bath time. I could hear them playing and laughing in there and couldn’t help but be moved by it. Maybe he was a cooler dad than I had thought…
While they were doing their thing, I thought I’d get Barbara’s paperwork out of the way so I filled up the tax forms and employee records information papers she needed and, like she asked, I went into the home office to drop them off on her desk.
I hadn’t gone in there since I’d moved in. I was impressed with the size of the room. Even with two desks – Mr. Wasserman’s massive antique oak desk and Barbara’s beautiful ebony desk – there was still plenty of room to move around. Mr. Wasserman’s chair was really impressive and I couldn’t resist the urge to sit in it and have a little business mogul moment, sitting back and swiveling around once or twice, looking out over Central Park.
When my eyes came back to the desktop, I couldn’t help but notice a picture of Mr. Wasserman with a woman holding a baby who, I guessed, must have been Brody. My eyes widened and zeroed in on my little protégé’s mom. She was a radiant, beautiful, plump woman who – even to myself – bore a striking resemblance… to me!
My eyes welled up. Brody’s deceased mother could very well have been my sister. Mr. Wasserman’s initial coldness toward me suddenly made sense. Upon seeing me, he had been reminded of his dead wife, not only because our faces had a certain resemblance but also because we had similar body types. He had loved a round, curvaceous woman and was now faced with having another one work for him… in very close quarters. How could he have felt with me sitting in his son’s bed with him, reading a bedtime story that he, himself, had loved as a child? I couldn’t take my eyes off Mrs. Wasserman in the picture.
– Kirsty! Kirsty! Where are you? We’re ready for the story now!
When I walked out of the office and explained to Mr. Wasserman why I’d been in there, he smiled. His face was so serene, so peaceful, so loving. I also noticed that his jaw wasn’t clenched like when I had first met him two days before.
All three of us got into Brody’s bed and, again, I read A Fish out of Water to them, my heart suddenly bursting with even more love for this gorgeous child and filling with affection, warmth and profound desire to care for this man who had been so lucky in business but so harshly treated by a life that had stolen his mother’s child from him.
That night, once Brody had fallen asleep, I went back to the living room, anticipating Mr. Wasserman’s invitation for a nightcap.
My boss was nowhere to be found.
The next day was Brody’s first day of school. I was expected to walk him there and go pick him up at the end of the day. Although my first thought was, “Wow, this is going to be a piece of cake, not having to entertain him all day!”, as I was walking back to the penthouse, I suddenly started feeling empty, sad and… a peculiar longing. I realized I was already missing the little guy. Although the feeling was strange and new to me, I embraced it and smiled.
When I got to the penthouse, around lunch time, after having coffee with Melinda and stopping off at a few shops to pick up some ingredients I hadn’t found at the supermarket, I thought I’d be alone, but heard moaning sounds coming from Mr. Wasserman’s bedroom. Normally, I should have just turned around and discretely shut the door, only to return a few hours later, pretending I hadn’t witnessed anything. But my curiosity got the best of me.
I took off my shoes and discretely walked over to Mr. Wasserman’s bedroom thinking, “Why would he bring a woman here in the middle of the day when he must know that I’ll be coming back here before I go pick up Brody at school, right?” As I moved closer, I noticed the door wasn’t even closed. It had been left ajar. That was even stranger to me because it felt as though he wanted me to find him with someone. “Me?” I wondered. “No, not me. Why would he care that I find him with another woman? Was his ego so huge he thought I needed to hear him have sex with another woman so that I didn’t get my own ideas about expecting something romantic with him?”
Honestly, I surprised myself when I got close enough to the room that I could push the door open a little more. As I peeked inside, I saw Mr. Wasserman laying on his back while a beautiful woman with long, dark hair straddled him and rode him, her hips swaying sensually as she moaned with pleasure. Mr. Wasserman’s hands kneaded her buttocks and spread them apart as though he was trying to show me her butt hole. Then, his hands rode up her narrow hips and I noticed that I could see her rib cage. This woman was definitely much thinner than I was. Why was I even thinking about that? Maybe because I was indirectly comparing this woman to his late wife, ergo myself? That was silly, right?
Mr. Wasserman’s hands came around and cupped the beautiful woman’s breasts. They were small compared to mine. But again, why was I comparing hers to mine? What did I have to do in this equation? I wasn’t part of Mr. Wasserman’s private life. I wasn’t part of his love life, of his sex life. But I could see what a beautiful body he had and what a great lover he seemed to be for this beautiful woman who was appreciating his caresses and feeling him inside her.
As he softly pinched her nipples, her head fell back and her knees closed in on his body. She moaned again and flipped her hair to the side. As I caught a glimpse of her face, I heard Mr. Wasserman groan:
– Mmmmm... Barbara!
Papa, can you hear me? Oh my God! Of course! It was her. The beautiful assistant who was a perfect blend of Julia Ormond, Olivia Wilde and Sela Ward. And here I was, a mix of Nikki Blonsky, Ricki Lake and his dead wife!
As they approached climax, I started walking backward to the front door, slipped my shoes back on and exited discretely. Once I was in the hallway, I finally took a deep breath. I felt as though I had held my breath since I had realized I wasn’t alone inside.
As though I was in a trance, I pressed the elevator button, rode down to the lobby, walked passed Cameron who tried to attract my attention, and headed straight for Central Park, almost getting hit by a few cars and cabs along the way.
– What the heck is wrong with you? I asked myself aloud.
And I knew the answer. I just needed to hear myself say it out loud:
– You’ve already fallen in love with this man, you idiot!
I sat on a park bench until it was time to go pick up Brody at school.
When Brody and I got back to the penthouse, that boy was still talking a mile a minute, telling me everything that had gone on at school that first day in minute detail.
– Daddy? You’re home?
“He sure is, sweetheart,” I said to myself, ironically. “Why don’t you ask him what he did during his day!” Oh my gosh! Even in my mind, without even saying these things aloud, I sounded jealous.
– Yes, I wanted to spend some time with my favorite little man, replied Mr. Wasserman.
I kept wondering if this was the first time he’d had sex since his wife’s death or if he’d been discretely seeing Barbara for a while. Oh please tell me he hadn’t been having an affair with her even before his wife’s death. Ugh! All these terrible things were going through my mind and…
– Are you alright, Kirsty?
Mr. Wasserman snapped me out of what no doubt looked like a daze.
– Oh yes, I’m fine. Just thinking up the menu for tonight’s dinner.
– What are we having? shouted Brody from the living room.
– Do you like Mexican? I was thinking enchiladas.
– What’s that?
Mr. Wasserman smiled without taking his eyes off me and I just couldn’t understand his attitude or body language.
– That sounds great.
The way he said it, it almost sounded like he was talking about the sex. Or having sex with me. Ugh! Was that only in my head?
The next few days went on very well, because I made a conscious effort to be the best nanny, cook and housekeeper imaginable. But I also made a very conscious effort to forget any budding feelings I might have had for Mr. Wasserman, concentrating on the maternal instincts that Brody had woken inside me. I stopped being a sexual being – with needs and desires – and I became a surrogate mom.
Then, one night, I think it was the first Friday of October, after the evening ritual of reading to Brody – we’d added a short version of Tom Sawyer and an illustrated version of Treasure Island to the roster, – I don’t know what came over me, but when Mr. Wasserman asked me if I could cook a special dinner the following night – he asked for coquilles St. Jacques and a seafood casserole his mother used to make –, I spontaneously asked:
– Will Barbara be joining us?
Mr. Wasserman looked at me as though I’d asked him the oddest thing in the world.
– Why would Barbara be joining us?
I flashed back to the day of my interview, to that feeling of wanting to kick him in the teeth.
– I’m sorry. I just assumed…
– You assumed that Barbara was more than just an employee?
– It’s none of my business, sir, I’m sorry.
– It’s alright. I guess you did pick up some vibes at some point…?
He really didn’t know I’d spied them having sex. Thank God! He was giving me a nice way out.
– Uh, yes… I… I did feel that maybe you and she were… getting closer and might… eventually make it official?
– You don’t owe me an explanation, sir.
“But I certainly hope you’ll give me one!” I completed in my head.
– Maybe I don’t but… I’d like to give you one nonetheless.
He explained that he’d fought his feelings for a woman he was falling in love with and had fallen into bed with Barbara when she had confided in him about some marital problems she was having.
– Barbara is MARRIED?
– Oh, yes, and very happily so. But, you know, all marriages have their rough patches. Now, they’ve worked things out though, and Barbara and I have both realized that we made a big mistake. I had not been with another woman since Kathy and…
He’d never said her name in front of me before.
– … I didn’t want to give myself permission to fall in love with another woman, but…
He got up and poured himself a brandy.
– … would you like one?
My throat tightened.
– Yes, please.
I had a feeling the first impression I had picked up when he had first offered me a night cap more than two months ago had been the right one.
We shared a brandy and talked for hours into the night while that beautiful angel slept in the other room. When I offered to pour him another drink, he said he would do it and, when he brought me back my glass, he sat next to me on the luxurious leather couch.
– I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Kirsty.
– I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too, sir.
Suddenly, I realized I had never called him anything else but “sir” yet how ridiculous it sounded to call him that while confessing my love for him. We both chuckled.
He moved in and kissed me lightly on the lips. Instantly, it felt right, comfortable, natural. I kissed him back. Our glasses quickly ended up on the coffee table and we melted into each other’s arms. When we got up and started walking to his room while still staying connected in a kiss, I interrupted the moment:
– Would you mind coming to my room instead?
For some odd reason, I didn’t feel comfortable making love to him in the bed that he had shared with Kathy and Barbara… at least not right away.
– The last thing I was expecting with you was a “Your place or mine?” moment.
We chuckled. But he was fine with it and didn’t ask questions.
Feeling his fingers combing through my hair while he kissed me was sending shivers through my whole body. When the palms of his hands brushed against the back of my neck, I would feel my knees buckle. When he lay down next to me, caressing my breasts through my clothes, I just wanted him to rip my dress open, snap off my bra, tear my panties to shreds and eat me whole. Slowly, we undressed each other, allowing our hands, fingers, mouths, lips and tongues to discover every inch of each other’s body.
Although I’d almost always insisted on making love in the dark, especially in the first weeks of being with a partner, I suddenly didn’t care with Zander. I was completely comfortable with him seeing every inch of my over-sized body. I wanted him to knead, nibble, lick and suck on my voluptuous, mother-Earth-size breasts, and his touch was sending me straight to the moon and back.
When I pulled off his silk boxers and his thick, circumcised penis slapped against his tight belly, his body was telling me how much he wanted me, how much he desired my body. I wanted to taste him as he had tasted my mouth, my neck, my breasts.
I slipped his hard member in my mouth, squeezing it lightly with my lips, licking its tip with my hot tongue and swallowing it whole so that my throat muscles could press against his uncovered tip, giving it the message it so deserved.
– Oh my love…, he murmured.
Those words made me want to pleasure him even more. I caressed his bloated testicles and felt them quiver and jump up as his pole erupted in my mouth, his juice cascading down my throat as he moaned in ecstasy. He panted and moaned, whispering my name over and over.
– How did you do that? he sighed, his whole body spread out on my bed.
I chuckled. He wasn’t really expecting an answer. But very quickly, he got up and started kissing me all over, taking his precious time but giving it all the passion and fervor I was expecting. When his mouth discovered my pussy, he devoured me as though he had not eaten in years. His journey through the desert was over and I was his oasis. He worked my clit with his thumb as his tongue, lips, teeth and even his nose buried themselves within my pussy lips. I could feel my juices flowing and worried that he would drown in my pleasure, even though I knew that is silly.
He let go of my clit so that both his hands were free to fondle my nipples as his whole face rubbed itself between my legs. I climaxed like a volcano that had been dormant for centuries. I held back on my moaning and kept myself from screaming in pleasure because I didn’t want to wake up Brody.
But as Zander’s face came up to kiss me, completely drenched in my pussy juice, I remember thinking how much I would love to find myself alone with him soon – in a hotel suite, on a deserted island, on a private beach, I didn’t care – so that I could express my ecstasy to the fullest and hear his roars of unbridled passion.
Even though his girth was a bit overwhelming for my pussy since it hadn’t seen action in many months, Zander’s hard pole glided into me easily. My wetness helped and my comfort in being with him also.
We made sweet love and climaxed again, this time together, as his beautiful son, the young boy that would soon become my adopted child, slept peacefully in the other room.
In the weeks that followed our first time, Zander and I almost made it our adult ritual to make love every night after our child ritual with Brody’s story time. Zander would always come to my room and we would make passionate, sweet love, caressing and appreciating each other’s body.
When Thanksgiving came around, Zander honored me with two precious presents: He had a baby grand piano brought in to the living room for me to play and sing, and also have Brody sing and take lessons. Also, he changed his bed, getting rid of the one he had shared with Kathy and Barbara.
That night, he had a special dinner catered and announced to Brody that Kirsty was no longer his nanny, she was daddy’s girlfriend. At first, Brody was not happy because he thought his dad had stolen me away from him. We quickly explained to him that I would still be taking care of him, still doing everything I had been doing before, only I’d be sharing daddy’s bed now. Brody had no problem with that.
When Christmas rolled around, Zander proposed during the present unwrapping Christmas morning. Although Zander is Jewish, he apparently didn’t have a problem with celebrating this Christian holiday. My engagement ring was wrapped in a huge Big Wheel box which I thought was meant for Brody. I just thought the whole thing was hilarious.
And as if my engagement ring wasn’t enough of a Christmas present, can you guess who my new fiancé has invited to the penthouse for a New Year’s celebratory engagement dinner? My future brother-in-law, big Broadway producer Kevin Wasserman… and I asked Zander that an extra place be added at the table… for my friend Cameron, the bellboy.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could both end up in the same Broadway show?
© 2016, Tristan LeMay. This work must not be copied, transmitted or used in any way, either in part or in full, without the expressed written consent of the author.