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  A Risk on Forever © 2021 N.S. Perkins

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.

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  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2021 N.S. Perkins

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  Book Cover Design by Murphy Rae

  Editing by The Word Maid

  Formatting by Meet Cute Creative

  À mes parents, qui m’ont donné tout et encore plus.

  1

  Adelaide

  “Please, I can’t lose this job.”

  Even I could hear the desperation in my voice, but I didn’t care. This could not be happening. Not to me. Not right now.

  Antonio, my boss, dragged two fingers over his thick mustache and exhaled loudly. “Look around, Addy.”

  I did as he asked, noticing the same small coffee shop with nonmatching chairs and round tables I’d contemplated for the last two years. What was I supposed to see?

  “There’s no one here,” he added, answering my unspoken question. “I’m really sorry, but we just can’t afford you anymore.”

  I closed my eyes, willing the threatening tears to go away. It wasn’t his fault; this was meant to happen at some point.

  When I trusted myself to look in control, I gave him a curt nod. “Do you need me to finish today’s shift?” Not that I’d started it. Antonio had cornered me as soon as I came in, casually destroying my life with a few simple sentences.

  He winced. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be all right by myself today.”

  I didn’t have the strength to say anything, so I shrugged. I’d rather start looking for another job as soon as possible anyway. With a tight smile, I walked out of the shop. If I’d tried to say goodbye, I would probably have broken down into sobs, and what good would that have done?

  With my head hung low, I headed to the small park on the other side of the street and sat on a cool metal bench.

  Standing in front of Antonio, I’d been able to keep a semi-straight face, but once I started thinking about everything losing my job entailed, panic arose in my chest. The image of the bank statement I’d looked at this morning seared my mind. The nighttime singing gigs wouldn’t cut it.

  God, what would I tell Louis?

  It wasn’t like my little brother would understand what losing my job meant for him, but if I couldn’t pay the rent at the end of the month, he’d know something was up.

  Maybe by some miracle, I’d come home later today and my father would be out of bed, ready to start looking for work all of a sudden?

  Yeah, right.

  I hugged my knees as a heavy wind blew around me. A storm was brewing. Hopefully, it would fall as rain instead of snow.

  My eyes stung, but I again pushed the tears back. Everything would be okay. It wasn’t the first time I’d lost a job. I’d find something new. I had to find something new. I’d beg if it came to it. We would make it through this.

  Everything would be okay.

  Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I picked up my phone. I knew what I’d likely find on Craigslist; I’d been monitoring job postings every other week for an opportunity, in vain. The difference was, now, I wasn’t looking just in case.

  For a few years, there had been a shortage of jobs in Portland, Maine, that didn’t require fifteen years of experience or a college diploma. Finding the open barista position had been nothing short of a miracle.

  I leaned back on the park bench as I scrolled through the ads I had already seen a thousand times. Third grade teacher at the Portsmouth Elementary School. Registered Nurse at the New England Hospital. Experienced dog walker in Ogunquit.

  I huffed at my phone before continuing to scroll, and that’s when a title caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks as I read the ad again. Looking for full-time caregiver. Must have experience working with people with major mobility limitations. For more info, call 207-424-3793. It’d been posted two days ago.

  This was it. A true miracle this time. Pressing my phone to my chest, I looked up and gave a small dip of the head to the gray sky. My mom was watching over me today.

  Just as I was getting ready to call the number listed, I saw a piece of text I had missed before. Interviews for the position will be held for anyone interested on Monday, March 25th, from 8 to 9:30 a.m.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. 8:28 a.m. The address given on the ad for the interview was in Cape Neddick. A forty-five minute bus ride away, if I was lucky. I might be too late, but I had to try to make it. My family’s livelihood depended on it, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration.

  Jolting up from the bench, I dashed to the bus stop, getting there just in time to catch the 8:30 to Cape Neddick. When I finally sat down, I looked down and repressed a groan. I’d gotten dressed as unprofessionally as I possibly could have this morning. My black cotton leggings had a large hole over my right knee, my t-shirt had a small grease stain chest level, and my black Chucks were covered in dirt from the time I’d played soccer with Louis in the rain. Antonio never cared about what I looked like behind the counter. As long as I was there on time and smiled at the few clients who came into the café, he was happy. With this employer, though, it might be a completely different story.

  The ride to Cape Neddick was pure torture. My right knee kept bouncing, reminding me with each movement of the hole that might be the reason for my demise. I tried to tame my curly brown-black hair in a bun behind my head, but there was no way to hide the frizz framing my face. I looked at the time on my phone every two minutes and huffed every time the driver stayed longer than necessary at a stop. When the bus finally pulled to my stop fifty-one minutes after leaving Portland, I was a puddle of sweat and nerves.

  Scurrying out the door as soon as the bus came to a halt, I ran all the way to the address on the ad, my phone’s GPS guiding me to it. Luckily, I got there in three minutes, and as soon as I lifted my eyes from my phone, my breath caught in my throat. The two-story home stood on a cliff side and had an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean. The beige-gray shingles covering the house were in pristine condition, as were the white shutters, which practically sparkled from cleanliness. The windows were large and numerous, and I could only imagine the light they let in during a gorgeous summer day. The whole thing was splendid.

  After ogling the house for a good minute, I reminded myself I had somewhere to be and rushed to the front door, knocking almost immediately. If I thought about it too long, I’d leave this impressive home and run straight to my apartment.

  As I waited for someone to answer, I glanced around. The driveway was empty, so I guessed no one else was here for an interview at the moment. The owners’ cars must’ve been in the garage. The brisk March wind whipped around my head, reminding me I should have left with a thicker coat this morning. I’d forced Louis to wear one, but what applied to others didn’t apply to me, it seemed.

  After a few seconds, footsteps echoed from inside. I looked up to see a tall man opening the door, and my eyes widened when I took him in. He had black hair that was combed back, although a slight wave was still detectable in it. His eyes were also of the deepest of blacks, so dark that discerning the pupil fr
om the iris was impossible. His skin was tan and a closely trimmed beard covered his jaw. His broad shoulders and chest fit perfectly in his crisp black shirt, tucked in trousers of a matching tone.

  Black was definitely his color.

  “Are you here for the job interview?”

  The deep tone of his voice startled me from my gawking. Heat crept up my neck as I forced a smile. “Y-Yes. I am.”

  It seemed as if he hadn’t taken a good look at me before, but after the words left my mouth, his eyes trailed my body from head to toe. I licked my lower lip. When his eyes made their way back to my face, he did not return my smile. His lips were even pinched. Still, he took a step back and held the door open wider for me to come in.

  As I stepped inside, my predictions were confirmed. The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. High ceilings, elegant paintings on the walls, mahogany floors; everything screamed of class and wealth. I followed the man—who still hadn’t introduced himself—through a kitchen that was all modern appliances, quartz countertops, and white wooden cupboards, before arriving in a living room, where I crashed down to earth and remembered the reason for my presence in this luxurious place.

  A lady sat beside a white-tiled fireplace in a large wheelchair. Her head was bent to the right, her ear almost touching her shoulder as if some invisible weight was pulling her down. My neck hurt just looking at her. But even in this awkward position, she gave off a sense of comfort and serenity.

  Her baby blue blouse seemed to be made of the finest silk, and her white pants were of the same quality. A simple golden ring adorned her right middle finger. Her honey blond hair was cut to her shoulders and had clearly been blow-dried and straightened before I’d gotten here, no strand untucked.

  As I took a step in her direction, her ocean blue eyes caught mine. They shone with a hearty light, but the warmest part about her was her smile. Looking at her, I was taken by how much she reminded me of my own mother. Not that they looked anything alike, but the woman had the same energy; one that warmed like a hot chocolate on a winter day.

  I returned her genuine smile as the man sat down next to her, a notepad in his hands. He gestured for me to take a seat on the plush velvet chair in front of them. As soon as I sat, he said, “Tell us your name please.” He wasn’t impolite or rude per se, but his tone told me everything I needed to know about my chances of success here.

  “Oh, of course, sorry. I’m Adelaide Samson. My friends usually call me Addy, though.” I flashed a quick smile that probably looked as awkward as I felt.

  “I’m Matthias Philips, and this is my mother, Helen. Thank you for coming here today.”

  I nodded as I looked at the two of them again. They had nothing in common, from the color of their hair to the tint of their eyes.

  “Before you tell us about yourself, I’d like to tell you a bit about me,” Helen said. Her voice was velvet soft, though her words were slurred.

  “I was diagnosed with ALS two and a half years ago. Do you know what this disease is?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. So, as of now, I have lost the utility of my legs and my arms, as well as some

  muscles on the left side of my neck and head. I still have some control over my right hand, which allows me to move around the house with this chair.” Beside her right hand was a small joystick.

  “What I’m looking for is someone to help me with daily tasks when Matthias is away. I already have a caregiver—Dora—but she can only work a small number of hours per week, and I need someone who can be here on almost a daily basis.”

  This time the smile that took over my lips was genuine. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was perfectly qualified for a job. I’d done this for years with my mother. I could certainly do it for someone else, especially if it meant I’d be able to pay rent next week.

  “So, Adelaide, what makes you think you’re the right person for this job?” Matthias asked, an expression that bordered on ennui on his face.

  “Well, I—”

  A phone rang. Matthias slid his phone from his front pocket and looked at it before frowning. “Please excuse me for a minute, I really have to take this.” He got up and left the living room.

  “He’s a pilot,” Helen whispered. “He has to take his calls when they’re from his airline company.”

  “Oh, I get it. No worries.” I glanced at her again. Her smile hadn’t faltered since I’d walked into the room.

  Her eyes drifted down to my chest. “I didn’t know my teenage music tastes were still relevant.”

  I hesitated before realizing she was looking at my ABBA t-shirt. Pulling on the hem, I said, “Oh, um, this was my mother’s.” A side of my lips quirked up. “She used to say ‘Dancing Queen’ had been written for her.”

  Helen chuckled, then gave me a pained smile, like she knew what the past tense I’d used meant. “I think I would’ve liked your mother.”

  A lump grew in my throat, and I tried my best to push it down. Even years later, the sting didn’t ease.

  Focusing my attention on the floor, I noticed one of her shoes was on the verge of falling off her foot. Without thinking about it, I got up and leaned over so I could put the shoe back in place. I made eye contact with her to make sure she didn’t mind before doing it. When I was done, I returned to my chair.

  She eyed me, and I think her grin got even bigger. “Thank you, that was nice of you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Matthias chose that moment to come back to the living room, but he didn’t go back to his seat. Instead, he stayed on his feet next to his mother, hands in his pockets.

  “Well, Adelaide, thank you for coming. We’ll call you if we’re interested in your services.”

  My eyes bulged. “Oh, but I didn’t get the chance to tell you about my credentials. If you need me to hurry, I can rapidly go over my experience.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for your time.” Then, he gave me his first smile of the day, which screamed fake from a mile away.

  I was frozen for a moment. Had I done something wrong? Yes, disapproval had been etched all over his face ever since I’d gotten here, but did he think it was so improbable for me to be qualified that he didn’t even give me the chance to talk about my experience?

  I turned my head to Helen, who had both eyebrows drawn. At least she didn’t seem to agree with his urgent dismissal. I gazed back at Matthias, who was looking at me expectantly, probably impatient to have the scoundrel out of his clean-cut house. I gave Helen one last smile before getting up.

  As I walked toward the front door, I couldn’t help my shoulders from slumping. This had been too good to be true. A job that I would’ve been good at, that I would’ve liked? Come on, Addy.

  As soon as I stepped out of the house, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened Craigslist again.

  MATTHIAS

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I stopped walking and frowned after turning around. My mom was giving me a death glare.

  “Going to get a cup of coffee,” I answered, my pitch rising as if I was asking.

  Helen rolled over to me, her eyes still boring a hole into my face. I took a step back, but she moved even closer, her wheels almost touching the tips of my shoes. “Why would you run her out the door?”

  How could I not? The girl looked like she had come here straight after hopping out of bed. I mean, what professional would come to a job interview—a serious job interview—looking like a slob and without having called beforehand? Anyway, we’d interviewed great candidates before her. There was no reason to keep her here and let her talk about herself only to give her the same rejection afterward. It would only have been a waste of time.

  But, God, the second I’d told her she could leave, I felt a pinch to the heart. She was beautiful. The kind of gorgeous woman that could make your jaw drop while dressed in a stained shirt and an old pair of leggings.

  Whe
n I’d opened the door, words had escaped me. Her skin had looked so soft, I’d had the weird urge to touch it. It was speckled with freckles, over her nose, her cheeks, and even over her chin. Her lips were plump, the bottom one slightly bigger than the other, and when she licked it in nervousness, I felt it straight to my groin. Catching her large hazel eyes roaming over me definitely was good for my ego. Her cheeks were flushed when our eyes met. Maybe she’d felt the same attraction I had?

  But it didn’t matter; there was no way I could give her the job. I had to remind myself a few times that this interview was for my mother, not for me. And so I’d made the right decision. For Helen. She needed someone reliable. Knowledgeable. Professional. Not some young woman who couldn’t offer proper care, as beautiful as she was.

  Helen wheeled her chair closer to the patio door overlooking the black-looking ocean, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I want you to call her back. Give her the job.” She might not have been able to cross her arms over her chest, but the way she stared at me made her look as serious as if she had.

  Had she lost her mind?

  “I most certainly will not. We’ve seen plenty of perfect candidates for the position. Candidates with experience.”

  Her eyebrows drew closer together. “How would you know about her experience? You didn’t even give her the time to share it with us!”

  I took a breath, feeling the beginning of a headache taking place. I needed coffee. And for this conversation to be over. I turned around and walked out of the living room to the kitchen. “I didn’t need her to. I knew she wasn’t as capable of caring for you as Diane or Monique.”

  She moved closer to me, not allowing more than a foot between her chair and my heels. “Oh, that’s a nasty comment to make, Matthias. I didn’t raise you to judge people by their appearance. At least I thought I didn’t.”