CHAPTER 2

Vera's POV:

 

"What? "Would you mind repeating that?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Brown, but you're not qualified for this position." However, if there is another opening, we will definitely contact you."

In other words, get your fucking ass outta here.

I nodded before dragging my legs out of the business. I can see why they would want someone with more experience and a higher level of education. I did, however, graduate from Pandora Academy. I think I'll be able to get the job.

Then again, this is not the first time someone has told me that I am unfit for the post. It's always one of the three reasons. One, I'm too young and inexperienced. Two, because my high school credential is too prestigious, they advise me to go for a higher degree for the sake of my future. Third, my high school diploma is not good enough.

My head hung poorly as I dragged my legs towards the glass door, almost as if I had left a funeral.

I did.

The funeral for my future self

The funeral of a proper lunch

The funeral of acceptance

I did not carpe diem.

I want to crawl back home at times like this, but I'm still too ashamed of myself. My parents asked me two years ago if I was certain I wanted to marry Sam, and I confidently replied, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yesssss!" only to be separated a year later.

What would they think of me?

Before I return, I want to accomplish at least one thing, such as getting a job.

My parents have always pampered me because they worked their way up from the bottom. They did not become wealthy through the accumulation of generations, but rather by sacrificing their youth and developing a respectable enterprise.

How can I be a proper Brown if I can't even make meaning out of my first name?

"Why are you even hiding from your own family?" I buried my face in my hands. Pride? They've undoubtedly figured out by now that you're divorced. "Just flush that pride down the toilet so you can eat some good steak," I moaned.

I bumped into someone while inhaling a luscious green apple and lemonade. I have always loved that smell. "Sorry, my tears and pride are blocking the path," I said, without looking at the person, and continued heading towards the entrance.

I arrived at the bus stop after going two blocks barefoot since no one cares in the city. I sighed as I gripped the silver rod, which was presumably full of bacteria. When the aroma of freshly cooked hotdogs entered my nose, I burst out laughing like a walrus. My stomach was on the verge of exploding. "I'll get a job and come back for you one day."

I've done odd jobs here and there, but they've always been seasonal. My savings account is currently at an all-time low. I don't want to delve into it until there's an emergency, such as a broken leg or acid pouring on me.

My heels were dangling on my fingertips when the bus arrived. My wild, unruly hair decided I needed to be the lion king today. I took off my coat earlier, and it's now hanging on my shoulders. I probably appear to be a daytime alcoholic.

I lean against the glass and gaze out to San Francisco. I did, in fact, run from New York to San Francisco. I moved across the nation to avoid my ex-husband.

I sighed as I ran my fingertips along the window. "Why?" I ask myself, feeling the bus rock back and forth. "Why me?" I started slamming my head against the glass, disregarding all the strangers' looks.

"Why!" I scream even louder, which makes the baby cry. The mother gave me a deadly look before swaying her infant back and forth.

"The miss at the back," the bus driver announced over the speaker.

Looking around, I notice a single mother with a baby and a man asleep in the corner. Two men were also present, chit-chatting with one another. "Me?"

He looked in the large mirror. "You, yes. "Are you all right?"

A part of me wants to tell him I'm fine and to reassure everyone that I'm not insane or a drug addict. "No! "I'm not fine!" I sobbed, my limbs sagging on the bus seat. "I didn't get the job...again!"

Everyone nods as if they understood my pain. "I understand your struggles," the mother remarked. "I was turned down by over fifty companies before landing my current position." Then I had to leave because of this ungrateful brat." She gently presses her finger against the baby's cheeks, causing him to laugh.

"You're still young," the bus driver said, to which everyone nodded. "Please take your time. Someone will notice your efforts and hire you one day."

I smile, as if the sadness had just vanished into thin air. "Thank you, mister bus driver!"

"Why don't you apply for Vivus?" the mother asked abruptly.

"What's Vivus?"

"It's a brand-new fashion company." I heard they're doing a lot of hiring. Even if you look like an unemployed hobo, you might be hired." She got a bottle from her bag and stirred it before giving it to her baby.

"I look like a hobo?" I asked as I stared down at my clothes.

"To them, you probably do." Her baby was aggressively devouring the milk. "It's a fashion company, sweetheart, and that outfit most likely won't cut it."

I sat there, contemplating my options. I don't want to work in the fashion industry because Sam and my family are both in it. However, if it's a tiny company with a good salary, I can work quietly, and I can always apply for other jobs while I'm working there.

"Thank you, mother of that handsome boy!" I said.

She only blinks once. "She's a girl," she added as she reached into her purse. She takes a bow from her purse and clips it onto her child's single strand of hair.

Oh, how embarrassing. I fold my hands on my lap, drawing a thin line across my face. "She is very pre-"

"Don't," the mother warned.

I instantly closed my mouth. "Sorry," I said quietly. I had to apologize.

"Lisa."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Lisa."

I stood up, straddling my legs towards her, and smiled again. I took a seat next to Lisa. "I'm Vera." I extended my hand.

Lisa shook her head and reached for it. "Don't let a single day ruin your life."

I nod as she shows me her baby girl, Marisa, named after her grandmother. The day did not turn out as badly as I had feared; it turned out to be a very great day. Marisa giggles as I touch her cheek with a single finger.

"She's so pretty," I said quietly.

"You'll get your chance one day." Lisa smiled.

I let out a small giggle before peering out the window and seeing a billboard sign. Inside, his eyes were deep and catastrophic, painted like a great work of art. He sat on the leather couch, his legs perfectly crossed, his head resting against two fingers. loose black silk shirt with hand-carved gold cuffs and black pants. His opulent, dark hair slicks back into place. Anyone would believe he's devilishly attractive just by looking at him.

"Handsome, isn't he?" Lisa remarked.

"Devilishly."

I've only seen Sam on billboards and in magazines during the last year. His eyes were stunning, but terribly empty.

"I heard he's a CEO," Lisa sighs. "If I'm half as attractive as him, I'd also be a model for my company."

"Really? Because it makes him appear congruent...and cheap."

Lisa exhales, her face scrunched down, as if she had a double chin. "He is a billionaire."

"Then, why doesn't he hire actual models?" I knew I was having an unusual tantrum, but I didn't care. "Because he's cheap. "He does not wish to recruit them in order to save money. That's how the rich stay rich; they're cheap!" I was essentially insulting every wealthy family in the world, including my own.

Lisa chuckled, moving her head slightly away from me. "You seem like you have something against him." She hummed softly before leaning inside with her upper body. "Is it because you can't have him?"

I was his wife!

I didn't say it aloud.

Lisa returns her gaze to the billboard and asks, "How can someone be so handsome?"

"Handsome face, cold heart."

"Come again?"

"Nothing." I return my attention to Lisa, twiddling my finger in front of her face and occasionally prodding her fat cheeks.

When I arrived at my location, I said my goodbyes to Lisa, Marisa, and Bob, the bus driver. "At least you made some friends today; so good for you, Vera." I resolve to maintain my positivity.

The soles of my feet were throbbing to the point of no return as I walked two more blocks to the flat. I unlock the door, which opens with an awful creak. I wipe the dirt from my heels by lightly slamming them against the wall before stepping into the kitchen. I grab the broom and sweep up all the dirt I just created, knowing Lilly would be upset if I made a mess. She's already been kind enough to let me stay for free, so I shouldn't take advantage of her generosity.

I hobble towards the couch and massage my painful feet after I finish. "Should I try to apply?" I think to myself before taking out Lilly's laptop. I began studying the firm after entering her password, password 1.

The mouse clicks float in the air for who knows how long until the front door creaks open. "Vera! Guess what I brou-" Lilly came to a halt when she noticed me curled up in a dark blanket, which she referred to as my depression blanky. "You didn't get the job, did you?"

I shook my head and placed the laptop on the old brown wooden table. "No one wants me."

Lilly removes her shoes before placing her backpack next to the couch and a box of donuts on the table. She approached me out of humiliation. "Oh, Vera. Don't worry, you'll get the next one." She brushes a hand against my back as I lean against her chest.

"I'm applying for another position right now."

"Already? I already told you, Vera, that we don't need funds right now. Take some time to unwind. You've been looking for work like mad since you moved to San Francisco."

"But-"

"No buts, take a break." No more applying for jobs, and I best not catch you washing dishes at a restaurant."

I look down at my pruned hands from when I took a job at this sketchy eatery. The work was difficult, but a job is a job. When Lilly saw me, she pulled my a$$ out of the building, declaring that I have more to offer the world than clean plates. I was suffering from depression at the time. I wanted to do anything other than sit indoors and think about my attractive ex-husband.

"Is this all I'm good for?" I asked her as a quick breath escaped her throat. "Being a heiress, then marrying some rich guy?"

 "Behena." 

That nickname, fuck it. She's starting to get serious." Never say that. "You are more valuable than that. You have so much more to offer the world. It will only take some time."

"How do you do it?" I ask, smiling. "You always make me feel better. You're the greatest."

"Now, wipe those tears away and assist me in the kitchen." "We don't want me to burn any more meals," she said, giggling. I nod before sitting up a little more upright. We did our secret handshake, which consisted of hands-slapping and knuckle punches. Before she went back to her room to change,

I took a deep breath and exhale, no longer feeling the weight on my chest. My gaze was drawn to the bright screen, as if it were taunting me. I grab the mouse and scroll through the pages. Before clicking, apply.