Claire
Work was hard.
Harder than it needed to be.
Maybe it was because I was aching in places I didn’t even know I could ache. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was muddling my brain. Or maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this waitressing gig after all. The novelty was wearing off, and after spending almost twenty-four hours with Seth, I was not only surprised I wasn’t sick of him, but I actually wanted more. I didn’t want my shifts to get in the way of us hanging out. Once the season started and he was travelling for games, things would get harder anyway. If there was something I could do to try and make things a bit easier, then that’s what I wanted to do.
That’s why as soon as my shift finished, I’d raced home, got changed, and spent almost half an hour blowing out my hair. If I wanted to convince someone to hire me as a hairdresser, then I needed to at least look neat, tidy, and put together. Not freshly fucked and feeling every moment of it.
Pounding the pavement wasn’t fun. Actually, it sucked arse, but nothing else I’d done was working. I had to stand out from the crowd, and if it took pimping myself out to do that, then I was going to do my best Julia Roberts impersonation and own that shit.
The first place I visited wouldn’t even talk to me. With a wave of her hand, I was dismissed. She didn’t even want to know about my past experience or what I could bring to her salon.
The second wasn’t much better. Not that I actually wanted to work there. After meeting the owner, who was actually the pseudo husband of the woman I thought was the owner, I knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable working for him. There was something about the thick gold chains that dangled around his neck, chains which I was almost one hundred percent positive were plastic, and the mass amount of thick greasy hair spilling out of his collar, which in itself had two buttons too many undone had me glad I wouldn’t be the last one out at night and left to lock up with him. Just being near him, drowning in the overpowering stench of cheap cologne had me tucking my bag under my arm and making a break for it.
By the time I got to the fifth salon, two suburbs over I was feeling flat and like this whole exercise had been a gigantic waste of time. Nothing was working. No one was hiring. And once they heard that I’d worked for Vickie and been let go, that was pretty much the nail in my coffin. They didn’t even want to hear my side of the story. Arseholes.
Feeling lousy, I stopped in a coffee shop and ordered myself a latte and one of the biggest, most decadent slices of chocolate cake I’d ever seen. When the young guy behind the counter asked if I wanted ice cream with it, I started to feel better.
Grabbing a table outside in the sun, I turned the folder of resumes over, trying to forget they existed for a minute. I needed a break and to get out of my own head. Taking a bite of my cake, I moaned appreciatively.
“Enjoying that?”
Choking on the mouthful I was shovelling in, I turned to find Beth standing beside the table looking absolutely fucking stunning. Somehow, she made the simple look classy and classic. Jeans, boots, and a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt, but it was the deep burgundy lipstick and smoky eyes that made her stand out.
“Geez, don’t choke.”
Coughing, I poured myself a glass of water and downed it greedily. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry. You and that hunk of cake looked like you were having a moment.”
“Get yourself a slice. I bet you’re moaning too!”
“Thanks, but I can’t. What are you doing over in my part of town anyway?” Beth asked, and guilt swallowed me. How did I tell her that I was job hunting? The last thing I wanted was for the info to get back to Isla and for me to lose very much needed shifts at the café. Or worse still, get fired altogether.
“Umm…”
Before I had a chance to come up with a plausible excuse, Beth flipped the folder over filled with copies of my resume. A smile crept over her face. “You’re job hunting!”
“Well…ah…yeah…kinda. I mean, I guess.”
“Hey! No skin off my nose, Claire. We’ve all got to do it.”
“Please don’t tell Isla.”
“Why?” She tilted her head confused.
“Cause I need that job. It’s just, well I don’t want to be a waitress all my life so I was hoping to get a job in a salon so I could finish my qualifications.”
With a wave of her hand, Beth sank down into the chair beside me. “Firstly, never apologise for wanting to better yourself. Ever. Secondly, don’t stress so much. You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you’re thirty and no one wants that. Isla will get it. And she’s cool. As long as you show up for your shifts and give her notice when you quit, it’s all good. She’s not stupid. She knows that people are just passing through. As long as we work hard and play by her rules, it’s all sweet.”
Heaving out a sigh of relief, I smiled. I hadn’t realised how concerned I’d be about jeopardising what I already had for what it was I really wanted. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Now, I better keep moving. I have a date and although I want him to wonder, being fashionably late is a thing, no showing is not good form. I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun. And thanks.”
