Where Are We Going?

Ness sits anxiously in the leather chair as a possible employer read over her résumé. The older woman across the wooden desk peers through her half moon spectacles and reads over the impressive history of Vanessa Cueburt.

“Hmm.” Ms. Jean L. Woodland sighs as she furrows her nicely kept eyebrows.
“Is there a problem?” Ness asks nervously.
“Not so much a problem as a general wondering.” Woodland pauses, “You worked for Warner Productions, pardon my French but, why the hell did you give up a job like that?” This was the question Vanessa was fearing the whole afternoon, the same question that kept her from getting a job with two other companies.
“I was laid off.”
“Why was that, I wasn’t aware they had any budget cuts.” Woodland states, making her seem more powerful and knowledgeable at the same time scarier to Vanessa.
“It wasn’t budget cuts, I got in some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Woodland asks standing up and glaring at the once potential employee.
“Well I was hired to work on a specific project and I started dating the client’s son.”
“So your plan for a promotion backfired.”
“Actually I wasn’t after a promotion.” Vanessa says emphasizing that she’s insulted, “The client’s son asked me out.”
“I see.” Woodland says un-amused.
“Well then, we’re done here aren’t we?” Vanessa sighs as she picks her purse up off the ground and steps toward the double oak doors of the office.
“Miss Cueburt.”
“Yes?” she asks as she turns around slowly in her spot.
“Just out of curiosity, who was the client?”
“Green Day, me and Armstrong’s son.” Vanessa states pathetically hardly bothering to salvage a return interview.
“Well then, I have a few more people to interview so I’ll call you in two days if we have a place for you here.”
“Thank you.”

Feeling humiliated and sick to her stomach Vanessa flees out of the majestic building she so hopefully wanted to work in. Working from nine at night to two in the morning at a radio station isn’t exactly her perception of a career, neither is waitressing in her aunt’s suburban restaurant.
“Have a good day.” The doorman in a dark green velvety uniform says as he opens the main door for her.
“You too.” Vanessa says nervously as she steps out the door. As she does the bus back to her apartment sped past her. “Just my goddamn luck.”

Taking a second to remember her exact location Vanessa is delighted to realize Joey’s apartment is only a few short blocks away. Despite her painful footwear she walks briskly towards the street known as San Fran College Slums. A place known for its mass amounts of fast food restaurants, Staples Depot, bookstore, poetry coffee house, regular coffee house and Club Skunk where the college bands play. It was only a little more than a year ago that Vanessa was part of the College Slum scene.

Nearly getting hit on the head with a stray football on the way into the apartment building Vanessa can’t help but feel even worse about her day but at least Joey would cheer her up. She climbs up the stairs avoiding stepping on an empty pizza box on the way she makes her way to the fourth floor. She knocks on the door, right below the familiar rusted number eight.

“Come in!” a familiarly comforting voice calls. She smiles gratefully as she pushes open the door to find her boyfriend and his roommate playing video games on the battered sofa. “Money’s on the desk.”
“I’m no escort.” Vanessa jokes.
“Ness!” Joey exclaims not peering away from the television set, “Just hold on a minute we gotta pass this level.”

Vanessa sighs as she slips off her shoes and places her bag on the corner desk chair. There’s a knock on the door but neither roommate flinches.
“Can you get that?” Joe’s roommate, Francis asks. “It’s Chinese.” After letting out a short sigh Vanessa grabs the money off the desk and heads over to the door.

Pulling open the door to find a blond haired, blue eyed practically albino guy standing with a Wong’s Good Food paper bag Vanessa hands over the money.
“Keep the change.” She mumbles as she takes the bag from him and shutting the door.

“Score!” Francis yells seconds later as he jumps up from the couch. “We rule!” The two young men start victory dancing making it seem hard to believe they are both already half way through college.
“Lovely.” Vanessa mumbles as she opens the paper bag and pulls out the little boxes of food.
“Sorry about that.” Joey laughs as he pecks her lips lightly, “But we’ve been working on that level all day.”
“Yeeaaahhh.”

Francis pushes past the couple and opens all the boxes of food in haste then ripping apart his chopsticks. By the looks of it, he hadn’t eaten in near eternity.
“So how’d your interview go?” Joey asks as he too grabs a set of chopsticks and starts helping himself to the mass heap of chow mein.
“Well I won’t be getting that job.” She sighs as she grabs a hunk a fried chicken then making her way to her respected seat on the couch.
“Why did you stutter?” he asks absent-mindedly. Vanessa glared at him but he didn’t seem to notice, “Hmm?”
“She asked the goddamn question.” She mutters bitterly as she shoves the piece of chicken in her mouth.
“What question?”
“The why did you give up a job at Warner studios question!”
“Oh.” Joey says turning back to his food.

Not much was said as the three young adults watched television.
“Alright, I’m refueled!” Francis proclaims proudly, “Let’s tackle level twelve!”
“Amen to that.” Joey says tossing aside the Chinese food cartoon. Looking over the twenty year olds Vanessa can’t help but feel like she’s babysitting as apposed to a serious relationship with the one to her left.
“You know what, I want to catch some z’s before I go to work, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Joey says casually as he leans over to kiss her, “later.”
“Later.” Francis teases, receiving a whack upside the head courtesy of Joey. “Ow.”

Trying to keep her eyes from rolling Vanessa heads out the door. She practically flies down the stairs, that is until she steps into the pizza box she had avoided on the way up.
“Just my goddamn luck.” She mutters as she wipes the tomato sauce off her shoe against the railing. She continued on her way to the bus stop, she just made it there as the bus arrived.

After flashing her bus pass to the elderly man at the wheel she looks down the isle of the bus to find not only are all the seats taken but there are a good dozen people crammed trying to hold onto a bar.
“Little cramped huh?” she says to the bus driver as the bus starts up again.
“I know, I’ve been telling the union we need a double bus for this route but with budget cuts it doesn’t look like that’ll be happening anytime soon.” He clears his throat, “And if you don’t mind, I don’t like being talked to while driving.”

Vanessa sighs and tries to see past the sea of people through the side window.
“My stop!” someone screeches as she pushes her way to the front of the bus.
“Ahh!” Ness yelps in reaction to cutting her ankle on the edge of the bar holding the seat in front of her.

Finally arriving at her apartment, Ness bandages her ankle and strips down before collapsing on her bed. It’s not so much that she was tired, just stressed, pissed and aggravated. She figured sleep would calm her.

A nap later Ness gropes her beside table for her watch and is startled to see it’s already eight-thirty, she had to be at work in half an hour. She scampered out of bed and pulled on the pair of crisp blue jeans which were laying on the corner chair along with a plain black t-shirt. She stumbled to put on her socks and shoes before staggering out the door grabbing her sweater and bag on the way out.

As Ness reached the pavement she saw the bus coming round the corner. In a mad dash she ran for the street corner. In her dismal luck she saw a man standing at the stop just as the bus pulled up.
“Wait! Tell the driver to wait!” she cried out. The man didn’t seem to hear her but the bus didn’t move, instead the driver honked. She ran up to the door and clambered in, barely getting her bus pass out in time.
“You know there is a bus schedule.” The driver says bitterly as she cautiously made her way to one of the empty seats near the back of the bus.