The babysitter returns

Her name was Daphne, and she was easily the hottest girl he had ever seen, including the multitude of groupies whom had thrown themselves at him during his brief career as a professional football player. The never-ending stream of pussies had dried up like a thin trickle of water in the desert after the car accident that screwed up his knee and killed his career. Gabe ended up taking the same road so many other athletes were forced to follow, and started coaching. It didn’t take him long to fall in love with his new job, and although his bed no longer saw more naked girls than a fitting room in a boutique, he was quite happy with his life. He got married to the girl of his dreams, a sweet lady named Beth with a slim figure that never put on weight, no matter what she ate. She was a doctor, and although her hours at the hospital were long and irregular, they still found the time to make two beautiful babies together.
It all went well for about five years, and then things started falling apart.

It happened slowly; a decline of degrees that was almost imperceptible at first. She would work longer hours; he would need a break from the kids. She would go on weeklong symposiums; he would go on weekend fishing trips with ‘the boys’. Eventually the regularity of their sex life was reduced to once a week, and then once a month, and finally only on special occasions like birthdays. They grew apart like two different trees in the same pot. They lived together in the same house, slept in the same bed and used the same bathroom, but it wasn’t living as much as existing. And after a while the fighting started, the cruel insults and bitter resentments. They tried a marriage councillor, but neither of them was committed to make it work. Their love had dried up like a plant that been left unattended for a year. It was dead, and no amount of water and TLC was going to bring it back to life.
They stayed together for the sake of the girls, but it wasn’t long before they agreed that they were actually doing more harm than good, and they got divorced. Beth got the girls and enough money for a new house in a different neighbourhood, and he got the peace he had wanted so desperately. Jamie and Leah visited him twice a week in the afternoons, and stayed with him every second weekend. Holidays were negotiated to suit everybody, and life went on. He adjusted; Beth adjusted, and after about a year, the girls adjusted. Beth was seeing somebody new, and he was seeing someone new every week. It suited them both.

The first time he saw Daphne, she was wearing jeans and a loose black t-shirt with the MTV logo splashed across her chest. Her hair was bundled under a baseball cap, and she was on her hands and knees, weeding the garden. Judging by the pile of offensive plants next to her, she’d been at it for a while. It was still early enough for the sun to be pleasant rather than brutal, and he paid little attention to her as he jogged pass her. He thought he saw her looking at him, but he was well used to women doing that so he just kept his pace steady. Despite the fact that he no longer played ball himself, he exercised religiously to keep fit. He had little respect for coaches who don’t practise what they preach, and he knew the same was true for his players. If a team didn’t respect and trust their coach, they performed poorly.
He saw her again the a few days later, but in a different yard. She was weeding again, and he noticed the grey gardening gloves she wore looked a little bit threadbare. Again, he thought he saw her eyes following him, but he was in the zone and he didn’t stop. The third time he saw her weeding, it was in a completely different street. He probably wouldn’t have noticed her if she had not been wearing the same MTV shirt and Yankees cap every time. Intrigued, he slowed down next to her. She was crouched on an old kneeling cushion while she filled rows of little holes with small plants. The knee-high white picket fence wouldn’t keep out a miniature pug, and offered her no protection from his gaze. She glanced up and smiled at him, an absentminded lifting of her lips. He couldn’t see much of her face, only that her skin was roses and cream and that she looked very young. He tried to gauge her age, but it could have been anything between sixteen and twenty. There was a smear of mud on her jaw, but it didn’t detract from her fresh beauty one bit. She dusted her hands self-consciously against her hips.
“Hi,” she said, and he loved the sound of her voice instantly.
“Hey,’ he said, looking at the rows of petunias she was planting. She must have been working since dawn.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked politely when he didn’t say anything else.
“I have a question,” he said, not bothering with introductions. “I’ve seen you work in three different yards now over the past two weeks. Are you like a serial gardener or something?”
His super lame joke actually got a smile, but that it was tinged with pity, so he wasn’t sure that was a good sign.
“It’s just a summer job,” she said. “I’m saving up for college, and I do all kinds of odd jobs around the neighbourhood.”
“Right,’ he said. “I was just curious. See you around, then.”
“Wait!” she called when he took off again. “Will you take my flyer? Please? Just in case you need help with something around the house. I can do anything you need – painting, gardening, fixing things that are broken… anything you can think of, really. I even know a few things about engines.”
It was the tinge of suppressed desperation that made him take the plain white paper, neatly folded in half. He was quite a DIY freak, and loved nothing more than puttering around his house and yard, fixing windowpanes and holes on the roof. And if he needed something painted, he had a whole football team at his disposal. He certainly would not ask a teenage girl to do it for him.
“Sure,” he said, taking the paper and slipping it under the clasp of his iPod. He’d throw it away at home – there was no need to hurt her feelings by refusing it.

He would have thrown it away, too, if his phone had not started ringing just as he put the key in the lock.
It was Beth.
“Can you take the girls tonight?” she asked. “I know it’s my weekend, but David is taking me out and my Ellen just phoned to let me know she’s been diagnosed with chickenpox and I don’t have time today to look for a new babysitter before tonight. David booked tickets to go see a concert and I know they cost a fortune.”
Gabe knew a wall when he felt one behind his back. He couldn’t say no.
“Sure,’ he said. “Can you drop them off, or should I come get them?”
“I’ll bring them in an hour.”
It was only after she hung up that he realised it was poker night with some of his old teammates from his playing days. He considered calling Beth to let her know he couldn’t make it, but that didn’t feel fair towards her and her new fiancé. His eyes fell on the flyer and he opened it, wondering if the Gardening Girl babysat.
The list of things she advertised herself capable of doing was quite impressive, but it didn’t include babysitting. Still, he didn’t have anybody else to call and he kind of got the idea she was hard up for money.
“Daphne here,” she answered when he phoned.
“Daphne, this is Gabe Tucker here. You handed me your flyer this morning.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said. “The serial jogger.”
He had to laugh at that.
“I have a job for you,” he said. “If you are interested. It’s not listed on your flyer, but I’m hoping you can help me out.”
“What is it?” She sounded wary, and he didn’t blame her.
“I need an emergency babysitter for tonight.”
“I… sure. Yeah, I can do babysitting. How many children do you have?”
“Two girls,” Gabe said, “Ages six and seven. They’re reasonably well behaved. If you can be here at seven that would be great. And since it’s after hours and short notice, I’ll pay you triple your normal rate.”
“That sounds great,” she said enthusiastically. “Just let me know your address and I’ll be there.”
He put the phone down a minute later, well satisfied with his solution.

He opened the door at a quarter to seven, and could only stare in shock at the girl standing in front of him. She was wearing white shorts and a purple Tinkerbell shirt that stretched over breasts that were undeniably the perfect size for, well, just about anything a man could think of doing with a pair of breasts, and right now, he could think of quite a few things. Her hair was a shiny mass of mahogany curls, tumbling over her shoulders and back. He could see the glint of earrings through those glorious tresses that he would love to see spread out over his pillow as he hovered over her.