The Countdown to Thirty (7 page)

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said confidently as I stood
up and collected my Coke, Sushi making kit and my purse.

“You out?” he asked still from his same comfortable position
in his recliner.

“Yes. Long day and I’m tired.”

He stood to meet me at the door, “Okay Little Kaia. Check
you later then?” He asked hovering over me while leaning one arm against the
open door.

I cleared my throat as a signal of correction, “You mean
Kaia. I’m grown now.”

“Whatever.” He said popping me in the back of the head then
closing the door before I had a chance to retaliate.

“Jerk!” I called out then laughed as I headed down the
hallway.

By the time I’d made it to the four-way intersection before
hopping on the 215 beltway I was convinced Christian was nothing more than he’d
ever been: My overly protective, annoyingly charming, brother-friend-combo.

I thought about Desiree and our Victoria’s Secret run-in and
tisk’d in disbelief, “The nerve of some people.”

Sonya

It was one-thirty in the afternoon and I’d been at the job
fair for nearly three hours attending workshops, passing out resumes and
interviewing with employers. So far I hadn’t received one job offer or
invitation for a second interview. From the description in the newspaper I got
the impression that there were going to be real jobs here for real
professionals. Instead I met employers hiring for entry-level call center reps,
filing clerks, cashiers for grocery stores and warehouse workers. And then to
top it off, they had the nerve to have recruiters here from career colleges
attempting to sell me on a six to nine month training program in medical
assisting or massage therapy that would guarantee me a life changing
metamorphosis.

“Bullshit.” I thought while trying to keep a pleasant look
on my face, but it was hard.

The so-called early registration prize turned out to be a
compact weekly planner and one of those squishy stress pyramids thingy’s. I was
able to pick a purple planner which happens to be the only highlight of the job
fair. When it came down to it I was disappointed. Actually I was pissed. I
wasted money on a new DKNY suit so I could “dress for success” as the ad in the
paper stated, when I really could have shown up in a pair of torn jeans and a
wrinkled t-shirt for the jobs they were offering. It was more than time to go.

I walked out of the Marquee Ballroom and onto the casino
floor trying to remember which direction the parking garage was in. My anger
and frustration seemed to drown out the sound of slot machines and mask the
deep scent of cigarettes. I broke out the stress pyramid and began pumping
away. I was brewing in disbelief of how the job fair turned out to be a joke
and the fact that I was nearly broke.

“Ja-broke.” I thought to myself. “I had a ja-broke fucking
day.” I said squeezing the hell out of the squishy pyramid now.

I located a hanging sign above the blackjack table games
that had an arrow pointing towards the left for self-parking. I veered to the
left and continued walking at a fast pace to get the hell out of the MGM. I
walked past a slew of geriatrics and watched them chain smoke cigarettes and
play their retirement and SSI money like they didn’t have a care in the world.
I wondered how long they’d been sitting there and how much had they lost. In a
way I was envious of them.

They came from a time where the American Dream was still
realistic. Get married, buy a house, have two point five kids, work a job for
30 years then retire. Nowadays that dream has turned into more of a nightmare.
Get married then divorced within five years, foreclose on your house, get laid
off and put your two point five kids in a failing school system because you
can’t afford private.

I needed a drink.

I continued walking and passed by two bars but I knew the
drinks would be too expensive. I was on the strip after all. I decided to play
it smart since my only income was currently my unemployment check of
three-hundred and twelve dollars a week. Instead I migrated over to the penny
slots and took a seat in a crowded row.

I pulled my wallet from my purse and took out a five dollar
bill. Before I put it in the machine I stood up and looked around for the
cocktail waitress and hoped she’d be coming by soon to take orders. I needed
this five to last.

“She’ll be by in a minute honey.” An elderly black woman to
my right playing the slots said.

“Huh?” I replied.

“The cocktail waitress, she’ll be back in minute. That’s who
you’re looking for right?”

I sat back down feeling a little embarrassed and said “Yes,
I’m waiting for her to come back around.”

“Well relax and keep an old woman company if you don’t
mind.” She said as she patted her hand on the leather seat next to her.

I really wasn’t in the mood to talk but she seemed so sweet,
I couldn’t just tell her no. I gave in and thought hell why not, it’s not like
I was in a rush to go anywhere. I sat down and put my five dollar bill in a
game called Jewel of the Nile.

“What’s your name baby? She asked.

“Sonya, what’s yours? I humored.

“Rebecca Wright. I’m in Vegas celebrating my 40
^th
wedding anniversary and my husband Clyde,” She now turned her head from left to
right like she was looking for him, “is around here somewhere, but we got here
last night and we came to town looking for some fun. I’ve never been to Las
Vegas before, have you?”

“Yes ma’am.” I replied. “I’m a local.” I said while pulling
the handle on the machine and watching the reels spin.

“Oh really! What’s it like living in Las Vegas? Isn’t it
exciting?” She asked.

“Well after you’ve been here a while it’s just like any
other place I guess, just hotter.” I responded unenthusiastically.

“Do you work for the casino? You’re all dressed up in that
expensive suit.” She asked while she selected max credits on her game and spun
the reel.

“No I was at a job fair, I’m currently
un-em-ployed
.
“ I phonetically responded.

This conversation was starting to get really annoying really
fast. Mrs. Rebecca Wright seemed to be very out of touch with my reality and I
didn’t feel like explaining my whole life story to her. I started looking out
for the cocktail waitress again and pulled the lever on the slot machine. I
spotted her coming down our isle and tried to make eye contact with her but she
broke it off showing me that she was in no rush to take my drink order.

“Oh Sonya you’re winning! You’re winning!” Rebecca
proclaimed nearly jumping out of her seat.

I shifted my stare from the waitress and watched the credits
on my game as they seemed to multiply right before my eyes. The ringing and
dinging seemed to go on forever.

“Oh my God I’m winning!” I said to Rebecca.

The cocktail waitress made her way over quickly now. She
must have scented the possibility of a fat tip.

“Oh my God look at you!” She exclaimed with dollar signs in
her eyes. “Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked eagerly.

The reel finally stopped and I looked at my credits. It read
sixty thousand. I couldn’t believe my luck. I guess it wasn’t such a ja-broke
day after all. However, this cocktail waitress wasn’t going to get a dime from
me.
What kind of fool does she think I am?

“Yes, can I have a Long Island please?” I said without even
looking in her direction, throwing her the same shade she had given me only a
few moments ago.

“You sure can, and what about you ma’am?” She asked while
directing her attention to Rebecca.

“Oh nothing alcoholic for me honey, just lemonade will do.”
Rebecca replied in that sweet but excited voice now.

I chatted and laughed with Rebecca until the cocktail
waitress came back around with our drinks. It’s funny how money can change your
whole mood. Well nearly.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” The waitress
asked lingering around.

“Rebecca, did you need anything else?”

“Oh I’m good honey.”

I turned and smiled a great big cheesy smile as I replied,
“We’re good, thanks.”

Once she finally got the message that she wasn’t getting a
tip she walked away and muttered something slick under her breath. I wasn’t mad
though, my mission was accomplished. As soon as my long island and conversation
with Rebecca was finished I hit the “Cash Out” button and prepared for my exit.
The ticket read six hundred dollars, I couldn’t believe it.

“Thank you Lord.” I said while standing up. “Thank you Mrs.
Wright, it was really nice meeting you.” I said while pulling my purse over my
shoulder.

“Oh you’re leaving already Sonya?” She asked looking a bit
disappointed. “You’re on a winning streak.”

“Mrs. Wright.” I said as I bent over to whisper in her ear,
“As a rule of thumb, never give your money back to the casino. You have to know
when to quit.”

She smiled and said “You’re right baby, you’re right.”

“Congratulations on your anniversary and welcome to Las
Vegas.” I said full of excitement now. But that could have been because of the
Long Island traveling through my system creating that euphoric “happy” buzz.

I traveled the colorful casino carpeting again but this time
in search of the cage cashier. After exchanging my ticket for cash I slid the
hard working cashier a five dollar tip. Yes I know it’s not much but she has a
job and I don’t. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. By the time I pulled
out of the sweltering parking garage and reached the Tropicana Avenue/Las Vegas
Boulevard intersection I felt satisfied and like I had actually won in life for
a change. I was still unemployed but the extra six-hundred dollars provided a
little needed extra cushion.

v
 
 

By the end of the week reading, watching daytime TV and
reorganizing my new closet at least five times had officially become repetitive
and boring. I was going out of my mind. I’d already been on two interviews
outside of the job fair; one for an Office Manager position at a rinky-dink
plumbing company that never heard the term “racial diversity” in the workplace
and the other for a “business opportunity” (and I use the term loosely) advertised
online that actually turned out to be a casting call for web cam girls!

“Not on your fucking life!” I’d said before I threw the one
paged script to the floor and left the fat, hairy and perverted owner feigning
for a reading from yours truly. Needless to say, I wasn’t wasting my time
waiting for a callback from either job.

“Only in Vegas. Only in fucking Las Vegas. “I mumbled to
myself as I recalled the disgusting memory.

A moment later I grabbed my MacBook and was in the car
headed to Starbucks. I needed to get out of the house and hopefully into a
civilized environment that was anywhere but home. After ordering an iced
Caramel Flan Latte I sat on a cozy leather couch in the corner by the window
and came to the conclusion that I needed to beef up my resume even more.
Apparently something was wrong if I couldn’t even get a semi decent company to
call me back. So I spent the next hour adding key phrases like highly
experienced, team player and professional and mature to my skillsets. From
there I plumped it up with additional experience that I didn’t actually perform
but that I could easily play off. Do I feel bad? Hell no, I need to make myself
marketable. Besides I didn’t graduate with honors because of my good looks, I’m
smart. I just haven’t been able to use my genius because someone’s always
stunting my growth.

Before I started working for Alliance America, I was an
Office Manager for a start-up commercial property management company. I did
everything from meeting and greeting clients to A/R and A/P in addition to
managing the CEO’s scheduling and expense report. I loved my job there plus it
kept me so busy that I didn’t have much time to think about my failed
relationship with Lamont and the miscarriage that followed. I guess that’s when
my healing process really started. But when the owners - two brothers - decided
to move the business back east to Philadelphia to be closer to their sickly
father, I was out of a job, again. I quickly signed on with Alliance America in
hopes of job stability and room for growth. Well, we see how that turned out.

During my resume revamp my phone began to ring and the sound
of wind chimes was abundant. I grabbed it quickly silencing it so I didn’t
disturb the man to my left who was reading ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’…freak.

I looked at the caller ID to see it was Saundra calling.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Hey sissy good morning, what are you doing?” She asked
sounding very chipper.

“Doing what every unemployed person should be doing, looking
for a job.” I responded sarcastically.

“How’s that going? Did you go to the job fair Wednesday?”
She asked with concern in her voice.

“Yea I went but it turned out to be an embarrassment. I
talked to a recruiter from a vitamin manufacturing company and we were going
over my resume and he seemed interested in me at first right?”

“Right.”

“Then his silly ass,” I looked over at the man to my left to
make sure I wasn’t talking too loud. He shot me an annoyed look but I ignored
him. I wasn’t loud and he knew it, “had the nerve to ask me if I was forklift
certified.”

“Forklift certified?” Saundra repeated sounding confused.

“Yes sissy, forklift! He told me he was looking for a
forklift driver but if I didn’t have the certification he might be able to get
me a job as a picker, packer or some shit like that.”

Saundra burst into laughter and agreed that that was
ridiculous.

“Girl you can come move-in with me before I ever let you go
out like that. I mean it would be different if you had experience in that kind
of thing but nothing in your job history or education says forklift, picker,
packer or manual worker in that case. What were you wearing?” She then asked
trying to stifle another laugh.

“Aagh I’m so mad, that’s the next annoying thing. I bought a
new suit for the damn job fair and trust, nothing about me said picker, packer
or forklift driver okay.”

“Well I know you can dress but I just had to double check.”
She giggled.

“I did win six hundred dollars in the slot machine though on
my way out.” I said adding a happy note to the fair.

“Congratulations, so it wasn’t a total waste of your time
then. I have to get ready to go so I can take the kids to a doctor’s
appointment but I just wanted to call you really quick to let you know Corinne
is getting married girl.”

“Corrine? The Corrine?” I asked shockingly.

“Yes Sonya she finally found a rich one who proposed and
she’s not wasting too much time on the engagement.”

Corrine was another one of Saundra’s friends from college
and she was known by most who didn’t know her well as a gold digging snob.
Although she held down a great job at the Department of the Treasury, if a man
didn’t give her a generous monthly allowance she didn’t date him for long. And
a man, who made less than six figures, didn’t drive a luxury vehicle and own
his own house wouldn’t even get the time of day. She wasn’t in love with love;
she was in love with money. She was a true character.