Daphne

I'm not used to Boston yet. I've been here for three days and I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm actually here. That I actually left. I never thought I'd be brave enough to do it, but I used the money from my secret trust fund to buy a plane ticket and rent an apartment.

The problem was that there wasn't much left after those two large expenses and I had to choose between food and furniture. I chose the one I actually needed to live. Furniture could wait, I had a door with a lock and that's the most important part anyways.

I had been looking through job advertisements for the past hour and so far I had found nothing. I was feeling hopeless so I decided to call it a night. I could keep looking for jobs in the morning.

I put the newspapers and magazines aside and laid down on the hardwood floor of my new bedroom. It was cold and uncomfortable, but it would do. I felt myself drift off and enter a peaceful sleep.

I jolted awake with a scream stuck in my throat. My breathing was heavy and I was covered in a sticky sweat. This had happened for the past two nights I've been here. I guess once you stop living the nightmare, it finds its way into your dreams.

I knew by now that I'd be up for the rest of the night so I got up and took a long, hot shower. I stayed in until the hot water ran out, I don't know how long that was since I didn't have a phone or any other electronic devices. The only way I could tell what time it was was by looking at the clock in the hallway, but that was all the way down by the elevators and I didn't care enough to know.

With nothing else to do, I decided to open back up the job ads. Dog walker, garbage man, stripper. Ugh! This was awful. I was about to give up and just sit here for the rest of the night when my eyes flashed across an article.

I kept reading and found out that there were interviews being held tomorrow. Apparently this guy was hard to please and was tough on his employees, but it was worth a shot if I wanted to stay out of stripper clubs.

I made a plan to go over to Zolar Inc tomorrow and apply for the job. I owed it to myself to try. I couldn't end up back in Florida, I just couldn't.

I walked down the hall to the clock by the elevators and it read 5:37. Perfect. The interviews started at 11:00 and the article said to get there a half hour early.

Since it was too early to get ready, I sat down on the floor and went over what might be asked in the interview.

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Mason

I don't understand how hard it is to do a simple job. You were hired to do a job so do it. If you can't I'll fire you, it's that simple. These stupid gossip columns just don't understand the simple rules of business and of course they gave away the date of the interview to a bunch of bimbos who will only come in here to try and seduce me. It happened at the last interview which is why I was trying to keep this one private, but someone leaked it.

These people don't understand that I have a job to do. They just want me for my money and my looks, they don't care about anything else. It's ridiculous. If you want money so bad then go out and earn it yourself. I worked hard to get where I am just like every other working person, whether they make pennies or millions. Or in my case billions. There is nothing honorable about marrying for money.

That's why I've given up on getting married. I won't marry someone who doesn't love me for me and I'm a hard man to love. It's the truth, I won't deny it. I just don't like very many people and I don't hide it very well. There are a few people who I love, but not in the romantic sense. I used to think there was someone out there for me, but I've given up on ever finding her. Unfortunately, the women of Boston won't give up so here I am preparing for a bunch of interviews with girls that are more worried about how much skin they are showing than about the actual interview.