Claire
Today sucked monkey’s balls.Besides meeting the cutest guy since I’d moved to the city, everything had turned to shit. I eventually made it back to my car only to find some wanker had broken in, smashing the passenger window, and stole…absolutely nothing. Because there was nothing in there worth stealing. A pair of cheap designer knock-off sunglasses, a couple of old school CD’s, and a towel on the back seat. Why anyone would want to break into my shit box, beat up soccer mum station wagon I had no bloody idea.
After making sure there was no glass on my seat, because I didn’t have time to go to emergency to have my butt stitched up, I drove home, parked on the driveway, and ran upstairs to get ready for work. Finding Isaac lazing on the couch in his boxers eating the biggest bowl of Coco-Pops I’d ever seen, I made my car window his problem.
While I jumped in the shower, Isaac lectured me through the door. First, he was pissed because I didn’t call him straight away, whatever. I didn’t have time to wait for the cops and deal with all that shit. Besides, what would they do? A smashed window wasn’t going to be high on their priority list. Then I told him about my adventures with Seth this morning, and Isaac’s voice turned into a shrill.
“You pulled someone out of the water?”
I didn’t really appreciate his condescending tone. Tightening the towel around me, I yanked open the bathroom door to find him standing there glowering at me. Without answering, I stomped past and into my room, slamming the door harder than was necessary.
“Don’t be like that, Claire Bear!” he whined.
I hated when he called me Claire Bear. Arsehole knew it was my weakness. Reaching around, I did the clasp up on my boring black bra and pulled up my black pants before opening the door.
“Whoa! I don’t wanna see those,” Isaac said, covering his eyes.
“Geez. Drama llama much? It covers more than my bikini does,” I reminded him as I took my shirt off the hanger and shrugged it on.
“And that bikini will be going in the bin. Now, can we stop talking about your boobs and talk about you rescuing some random. What were you thinking?”
“Well, Isaac, I was thinking the guy was drowning and needed help. So, I helped him.”
“I know you can swim, but the surf isn’t like the rivers back home, Claire. You could’ve got dragged into a rip or wiped out by a wave…”
“Isaac! Stop! I’m fine. I know the surf’s different. You’ve been telling me every day since I got here. I’m fine. He’s fine. Now, if I can get to work in the next eight minutes, maybe Vickie won’t have a shit fit and I might manage to keep my job.”
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
It took me fourteen minutes to get to the salon which was exactly six minutes too many. Even after I’d tried to explain about the whole rescuing someone and my car window being smashed, Vickie wasn’t buying it. She fired me on the spot. Told me if I couldn’t be bothered showing her enough respect to be on time, she wasn’t going to waste her time teaching someone like me, a flake, everything she knew.
Twenty minutes later, I had my final pay in my hand, and I was standing out on the street feeling sorry for myself. Life wasn’t fucking fair. I’d tried to do a good deed and got fucked up the arse for it. Instead of breaking down and crying on the street and giving Vickie and her stuck-up offsider Elisabeth the satisfaction, I straightened my shoulders and marched down the street to the café. My breakfast might’ve been later than I’d planned, but at least now I could actually sit and enjoy it.
It was after my second cup of coffee—hey, I might as well splurge a little while I had some cash, it’d run out soon enough—that misery was starting to creep over me. After flagging down the waitress and ordering a piece of chocolate cake, I grabbed the paper and started flicking through. Scanning the employment section was depressing as hell. There was nothing there. A few pamphlet delivery jobs, a mechanic, and a cleaner. I mean, I didn’t want to be a cleaner but would it be so bad. I pondered the idea, one that was becoming less and less appealing every moment as I considered the fact I’d probably end up spending most of my time on my knees scrubbing toilets or floors. Nope. Until the time came where I couldn’t stomach plain pasta anymore, cleaning wasn’t in my future.
My cake appeared brightening up a really shitty day. Pushing aside the paper, I flicked it closed and focused on my cake. It was good cake. Like really, really good cake. Lifting a piece to my mouth, I should’ve known it would end up splattered on my shirt. That’s just how my day was going. Grabbing a napkin, I brushed away the crumbs and attempted to clean up the icing. What a pointless exercise.
Dropping the napkin on the table, I saw the paper’s back page and started choking on air. Yep. I was that special. I was so talented I could choke on my own tongue for no particular reason at all, but today I actually had a reason. Plastered across the back page of the paper was a photo of a shirtless guy sporting a set of abs every girl would love to get their hands on, the perfect ‘v’ pointing to the very impressive bulge under his running shorts. But it wasn’t even the anaconda in his shorts that had my mouth falling open and a gasp escaping. It took some effort, but when I managed to look at the guy’s face, I recognised him. It was the same guy I’d pulled from the surf not more than a few hours earlier. It had to be. He had the same scruff and the same piercing eyes that I swear to God could see straight into my soul.
“No fucking way!” I exclaimed under my breath, pushing the rest of my cake away and picking up the paper again.
Eight minutes and three re-reads later and I was still stunned. There was no doubt. “Rookie Seth Masters Looks the Goods.”
Fuck yeah he does.
He looked so much better than good, let’s be honest.
But I couldn’t believe it. The guy I’d met this morning, the seemingly uncoordinated guy wearing the lime green board shorts was, according to this reporter at least, the best thing since sliced bread and about to reinvigorate the Australian soccer scene.
And I’d been dumb enough to think, even for a second, that I had half a chance with him. Guy was way out of my league. I mean, he was going to be the saviour of the sport, and I was an unemployed apprentice hairdresser. There’s no way he’d ever sink so low to go for a girl like me. Not that I was planning our happy ever after or anything. More, I’d just been wondering how good those arms would feel wrapped around me or how delicious those abs would taste as I traced my tongue over every ridge. Guess I might as well give up that dream and save myself some time.
Reality was a bitch.
Leaving the paper and my dreams behind on the table, I paid the bill and walked out the door into the morning sunshine. Not expecting to have the day off, I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with my new found free time. I didn’t want to go home. All that was waiting for me there was a very nosy big brother and a pile of laundry I’d have to climb over to get to the closet soon. Instead, I wandered into the shopping centre for a look around. I couldn’t buy anything, yet another one of the joys of being jobless, but maybe some window shopping would make me feel better.
Three hours later and I was over it. I was over everything actually. Heading home, I walked past Vickie’s salon and couldn’t help myself but to stop and watch the chaos going on, on the other side of the window. A customer with what looked like pink hair was yelling, like actually screaming at Elizabeth and waving her arms around. Between the threats of lawsuits and the swearing, my day was starting to perk up. And as usual, Vickie was nowhere to be seen when she was needed. She was probably passed out under the desk in her office clutching a box of cheap wine.
Feeling somewhat better, I stopped at the bottle shop and bought myself a present. A bottle of my favourite pink gin before heading home to face the music. Even though I lived with my brother, I knew once I told him I’d been fired he would sound more like my dad. Disappointed and with a million questions about my plans and intentions. Like I had any. The only plan I had right now was to drink my gin and take off this damn bra.
