“Hello. My name is Clinton Clarke. I wanted to drop off my resume for the job position open in your establishment.”
“Hi there! Clinton Clarke. I saw you had a part-time job opening and I was hoping I could apply. I have my resume right here.”
“Hello, Clinton Clarke. It’s good to meet you. Here’s my resume. I know I don’t have much experience, but I’m a quick learner and willing to be molded for the position.”
“Hello.”
“My name is Clinton Clarke.”
“Thank you so much for your time.”
I put my best foot forward. I was as cordial and open as I could be. And while a couple of the jobs practically tossed my resume in the trash before I got out the door, a few sounded promising. Two of the places where I applied sat down with me immediately. Asked me a few questions. Whether or not I was going to be working around a college schedule. And one of the managers lit up when I told him I wouldn’t have a schedule to work around. That I’d fit wherever they put me.
It wasn’t the most glamorous job. But it was one of the full-time positions.
After dropping off twelve different applications, I promised most of them I’d follow up in a week if I didn’t hear anything. I got pretty good at snuffing out who to follow up with, too. Those who smiled at me, or offered me paperwork to fill out, gave me cues that they were interested. And those that simply nodded their heads before stowing my resume away got tossed out in my mind. If they called, great. If not, no skin off my back.
And when I looked at the clock, I smiled.
“Oh, hell yeah,” I murmured.
I’d spent three hours out, which meant it was almost noon. The morning had flown by, and that made me smile. Only three more hours to go and Rae would be done for the day. I was looking forward to asking her how her day had gone. I wanted to know everything. I told the driver to take me back to the hotel before I paid him for his time. And after I tipped him, I rushed back upstairs.
Where my eyes landed on my journal.
Suddenly, thoughts sprang to my mind. New places to take my book. New plot holes I needed to fill. I snatched it off the bedside table and flipped it open. All the way to the very back of the pages. It was getting full. I’d need a new one before the weekend was out. My hand flew across the page, scribbling in my chicken scratch. I used as many truncations as I could. Anything to make the writing go faster before the images faded away. A smile grew across my face as the stories unfolded. Stories I’d eventually type up and string together.
Possibly hand over to an editor one day.
Wow, what a dream.
For now, everything was a simple stream of consciousness. Not much punctuation. Definitely no formatting. Thoughts in the margins of the pages. Some of it highlighted. Others crossed out. One of these days, I needed to start putting my words into a real document. A legible one. Instead of scratching down in this thing and letting the ink slowly fade away.
Once I get a job, I can save up for a laptop.
I smiled at the thought. As I finished writing and closed my journal, I thought about all the things I could do with my musings. With my thoughts. With my writings. With my poems. I had all sorts of things in my journal. And while the back third of it was being taken up by a fantastical story of betrayal and brotherhood, it wasn’t the only thing I had in here. I had poems dating all the way back to my middle school days. Short stories of love and lust. Pride and humor. Darkness and blood. I wrote whatever came to mind. Whatever inspired me. And over the years, I had collected a great deal of journals.
Twenty-two of them, to be exact.
My writing had fallen off in high school. Mostly because it wasn’t ‘cool.’ I snickered at the thought. How I could’ve been such an idiot was beyond me. But ever since I could write, I’d been writing. Jotting my thoughts down. Turning those thoughts into stories to tell. Lessons to teach others one day with my words. I sighed as I looked up. I set my journal down and walked over to the window. I slipped the curtains open before sliding the door to the side, then I stepped out onto the balcony.
Gazing out over the expanse of L.A. that I could see.
All this time, I’d been waiting for things to feel right. Waiting for things to fall into place. Waiting for pieces to snap into their rightful positions. Maybe the timing would never be perfect. Maybe there wasn’t such a thing as pieces falling into place. Maybe it was all our own doing. Putting things in a prioritized line and feeling good about it.
Seize the chance, Clint. Like you just did with those resumes.
And as the thought crossed my mind, a grin slid across my cheeks.
17
Raelynn
“Hey! Allison!”
I waved her down as Michael popped up from his lounge chair. I slipped through the fence with my bathing suit on and my T-shirt hanging just past the middle of my thighs. Allison slid off her chair and came running for me. She slipped around in the water before crashing into me, holding her wide-brimmed hat to her head. I caught her and laughed as we stumbled together before ultimately crashing back into another chair.
And as Michael walked over, he pulled up chairs for all of us.