Bitch. Slut. Whore…

Emo. Goth. Suicide Watch…

Yeah, compared to my past, my present was most definitely a paradise. I repressed a shudder and closed the lid on my old demons before they could pull any tears from my eyes today. As much as I wanted to sweep away my past forever, it still haunted me.

Looking into Abby’s beaming, joyful eyes made it easy to focus on the present. I smiled my biggest smile at her, “That’s so sweet, Abby,” I sniffed, “but Christos and I aren’t married.”

“Why not?” she asked innocently.

I looked up at Christos, surprised by the huge grin on his face. My eyes were watering.

“That’s a good question, Abby” he smiled.

Gulp.

I totally needed a tissue.

“All right!” Christos bellowed to the roomful of kids. “Who wants to draw today?!”

“We do!!!” the kids chorused.

Oh well. Tissues later, kids and crayons now!

SAMANTHA

The drawing lesson with the kids was a blast. Afterward, we said goodbye to the children and walked outside.

“That was so much fun!” I said. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed those kids.”

“Yeah,” Christos smiled, “I never get tired of them.”

“So, what’s next?”

Christos suddenly looked nervous, and ran his hand through his hair. I think this was the first time I’d ever seen Christos nervous. “Would you be bummed if I had to work today?”

Of course I would be, but I didn’t want to say it and sound like a complaining baby. So I half-smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

“I really have a lot to do at the studio today,” he said regretfully. “I’ve got a model coming in half an hour.”

“Oh.” I think my disappointment bled through into my voice. I couldn’t help it. I knew what “a model” meant. It meant a nude woman sitting in front of Christos while he stared at her for hours. I wanted to be the only nude woman he ever stared at. But I knew he couldn’t make a career out of painting portraits of me in the nude, over and over again. Who would buy them? Probably no one. Lame.

Besides, I didn’t want to be painted in the nude anyway. It would almost be like I was getting lumped into the same category as all his other trophy nudes. I felt special because he had not painted me nude. Best to keep it that way.

“Agápi mou, I know last year we had mentor dates every Saturday, but with all the work coming in from Brandon, I don’t think I can swing it today. Maybe next weekend? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I sighed. We hadn’t seen much of each other since classes had started. All I wanted to do was spend the day with Christos, but we both had lives and commitments to attend to. I really was determined not to be “too” needy. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “I really need to look for a job today anyway.”

“That’s right,” he said, sounding relieved.

I hoped not too relieved. Stupid nude models.

“I wish I could help with the job search,” he said with genuine regret, “but I don’t have time.”

“It’s fine,” I said, wishing he could too, but I knew his work was important right now. Just like my job search. It had to get done. Meh. “At least Romeo is coming with me.”

“Awesome. He should liven things up.”

“Yeah,” I said apathetically. Romeo would add some spice, but why did I feel like something was ending between me and Christos? Maybe little Abby was right. Maybe my honeymoon with Christos was behind us, and it was back to the usual daily grind from here on out. Maybe Christos’ rosy fantasy was nothing more than that. A fantasy.

“I should drive you home,” Christos said, “or I’m going to be late for my model.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. Wow, this sucked. I was going to hunt for a job at the first fast-food joint that would have me and my boyfriend was going to hang out with a hot nude model the whole time. Was there something wrong with this picture, I mean, other than the fact that my boyfriend’s portion of it sounded like a double-page spread in a nudie magazine?

Christos dropped me off at my apartment and kissed me goodbye.

I clomped upstairs and called Romeo. Time to start looking for work as a fry cook or burger flipper. I was not looking forward to it.

“Sam!!!!!” Romeo answered. “Are you ready to hunt for a job?”

“If I must,” I groaned.

“It’s going to be so exciting. We’ll be like jungle explorers, beating through the bush looking for the Lost City of Gold!”

“Totally,” I grimaced to myself. The only gold I could imagine we’d find were Golden Arches. But at this point, working at McDonald’s sounded better than going back to Accounting.

“I’ll be over at your place in twenty minutes,” Romeo said.

“Okay. See you then.”

When Romeo arrived we walked westward, toward the downtown area a few blocks from my apartment. We hit up every possible place we could find. Coffee shops, a dry cleaners, a used bookstore, a furniture store, a chocolate shoppe, a bicycle store. Half of them told me to fill out an application or bring back a résumé for future reference.

We even tried a head shop, err, I meant, “An establishment that sells tobacco accessories and smoking paraphernalia.” And black-light posters of Bob Marley smoking a huge joint. Did they think they were fooling anybody with their convoluted tagline? I knew it was for legal reasons, but seriously, did anybody buy a tobacco pipe from a head shop and use it for tobacco?

Maybe I could find out when I went door-to-door conducting my “needy” survey. I bet I could even get paid to do it! Didn’t the Census collect information like that every ten years?

I could totally picture myself holding a clipboard and asking a house-wife with curlers in her hair and a baby on her hip, “Ma’am, do you consider yourself:

A) ‘too’ needy or

B) ‘the right amount’ of needy?

“And, do you use your tobacco pipe for:

A) tobacco or

B) marijuana?”

It was genius. I needed to call the Census Bureau and tell them to add those two questions. They’d hire me on the spot because I wasn’t afraid to address the important issues John and Jane Q. Public were dying to know.

Or not.

Back to my job search.

The restaurants Romeo and I visited needed wait-persons, but they wanted people with experience. Did putting Mom’s cooking on the dining room table and clearing it after dinner count? No? Oh well. Next.

I tried a bar with a HELP WANTED sign out front, but they only hired people over 21.

Two hours later, we were back where we started. I had a thin bundle of worthless applications under one arm.

“We didn’t find the buried treasure,” I sighed. I wasn’t ready to bite the fast-food bullet yet.

“I swear that golden city is around here somewhere,” Romeo said. Even his spirits had sunk. “What do we do now?”

“Drive to the mall?”

We went to the UTC shopping center, just east of the SDU campus. We went from store to store to store. Nothing. The restaurants in the food court were no better.

“You still haven’t tried Hot Dog On A Stick,” Romeo suggested. “They have those awesome primary-colored uniforms. You’d totally look cute in one.”

“You’re kidding, right? I don’t want to wear one of those corny uniforms,” I quipped.

Romeo chuckled at my pun. “I wish I was, but beggars don’t get to choose their uniforms,” he winked.

“Okay, let’s try them. I think I’m that desperate.”

Both girls behind the counter wore those red and white and blue and white and yellow and white and red and white and blue and etc., etc., etc., striped uniforms. While I talked to one of the girls, Romeo ordered a fresh lemonade from the other. She filled him a glass from one of the giant square lemonade jugs.

“Do you guys have any job openings?” I asked the other girl, sounding as enthusiastic about the prospect as I felt.

“Sorry,” she wince-smiled.

“No worries,” I said, glad to be spared the opportunity.

Romeo and I found a table in the middle of the mall’s food court and plopped down.

“Want some?” Romeo asked, proffering his lemonade.

“No, thanks,” I sighed.

Romeo took a long sip on his lemonade.

“I think we tried every single store within a five-mile radius of my apartment,” I said.

“You could be a bootblack,” Romeo offered.

“What the hell is a bootblack?” I scoffed.

“A shoe shiner.”

“Do people even do that anymore?”

“I have no idea,” Romeo grinned. “How about street walking? I hear pimps are always hiring.”

“Tempting. But I wouldn’t work for just any pimp. I’d need one who offers medical and dental,” I grinned. “Can you recommend any good ones?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to be a pimp myself. Drive a Cadillac, wear cool Zoot suits, and smack my bitches around.”

I chuckled. “You’d be the best pimp ever. I can totally picture you in a pink chiffon Zoot suit. But you’d have to be willing to hire me without sampling my merchandise.”

Romeo frowned, leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, “In case you haven’t heard, Samantha, girls are gross.”

“Cool! I’ll start work on Monday!” I laughed. “I just have to buy some six-inch hooker heels first.”

Romeo chuckled and took another sip of his lemonade. “So, how are things with Christos?”

I sighed. “Good.”

“Hmmm. That didn’t sound good.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s busy. I was hoping to spend the day with him today, but he has to paint some nude model or other. I feel like I’ve barely seen him since New Year’s Eve.”