Interlude

Chapter 4

Rose was overjoyed. She couldn't believe that Matt had got her two interviews in less than a day.

"I can't thank you enough, Matt." Rose repeated. "You know someone at Ste. Clara Designs? God, why didn't you tell me sooner. They're such a fantastic design company. Even if I don't get the job, to be able to interview there is a huge deal for me."

Matt smiled. "Your welcome, Rose. But I think you should know, I cannot take all the credit. Nash Valani, the Willowbark architect you remember?"

"Yes, I remember." she said, quietly, her mind immediately going to the night of the party.

"He helped me a lot with the networking."

"How did Nash know I was looking for a job?" Rose asked, quietly.

"Oh, I asked him. Remember the party we went to last week. You left early for some reason. But I found out that Nash's old college mate is Dev Malhotra." Matt chuckled. "Can you believe it? I figured, now that's someone who can get you a good opportunity. So I asked Nash. Though," Matt paused, considering, "Nash was quite emphatic that Ste. Clara approached him for a reference."

"I see." Rose murmured.

"Did you know Morningstar Properties uses Ste. Clara a lot? It'll be great exposure for you. And honestly, now that I've connected with Nash, I'm hoping he'll convince someone at Morningstar to work with us. Hell, if that happens, I might be able to steal you back. Till then, you go ahead and gather your experience." Matt genuinely had her best interests at heart. She knew it. Which is why she smiled and didn't say anything right then.

She went home with a sense of forbearing. Thoughts stirred along, pricking at her conscience. Desperation fought with pride which fought with emotion

She was halfway through eating her take-out sandwich, when Samantha appeared looking worn out and irritated. Rose didn't say anything. It wasn't the first time Rose had seen Sam this way and this wouldn't be the last either. She watched as her roommate shrugged off her coat to reveal a mini skirt and a plunging tank top. Sam marched into her room and banged the door behind her. By the time she emerged, Rose was done with dinner and reclined on the patchy, coarse couch in their tiny living room.

"Bad day?" Rose asked, cautiously.

Sam was now wearing pajama shorts and a hoodie. Her makeup was cleaned off and hair wound in a loose ponytail. She joined Rose on the couch, dropping her head back. There was a loud gasp. Sam jumped from her seat. "Ow!" One palm clamped the back of her head.

"What happened!"

"Bloody spring! One just popped out right into my skull." The offensive spot on the couch received a strong smack. "Its falling apart already. We need to find a new one."

Rose groaned. With a lot of effort, a lot, they'd managed to haul this couch from a creepy woman's house across the street then vacuumed and cleaned it for hours. And it had barely been a few weeks.

"Let's just go to Ikea and get a new couch." Sam grumbled, resting her head back very slowly this time.

Rose dreaded accounting for another big expenditure. "Let me see if I can get some used floor model from one of the furniture suppliers."

Rose had met Sam through a Facebook page for Vancouver housing. At the time, Rose had been looking for a place which was moderately close to the city, walking distance to a metro station and most importantly, in her budget, which was meager at best. It was pure luck that Sam happened to be a great roommate and a wonderful person.

That is not to say, Sam didn't have her own problems. Far from it. She came from the bottom, right where people have to rely on food stamps and don't have enough to buy a new winter coat. She grew up watching her parents fight incessantly while her terrified little brother hid behind. Sheer courage and her own labors had made her survive. But beyond mere survival, her heart had managed to retain its kindness and her mind harbored a single dream - to go to medical school. She took classes at the community college, worked day and night, did everything under the sun, just to save up enough to attend a good university.

With genuine fondness, Rose said. "Talk to me, Sam. You'll feel better."

Sam turned her face sideways and gave Rose a tired smile. "A stupid man today tried to pull me in his lap."

Rose's eyes shot up, mouth parted in astonishment.

"Yeah, I know." Sam sighed. "It's fine though. I made sure all the drinks he ordered ended up on his stupid expensive suit."

"Your manager?"

"The man nearly passed out drunk so the manager just had him escorted out."

"And?"

"Nothing. My shift ended."

Rose frowned. "I really wish you would work somewhere else."

"Yeah, me too." Sam exhaled dramatically. "But honestly, this job pays very well. It would take me thrice as much time to earn that kind of cash anywhere else."

Sam worked part-time at Lobby77 an upscale lounge in downtown that asserted itself to be trendy and sophisticated. It wasn't. Behind it's stylish vibe was an unspoken understanding that the servers were there for pleasure. The later the night, the looser the guests became with maintaining decency. Subsequently, the servers were paid exceedingly well. For young men and women with a good face and an attractive body, it was nothing but fast cash.

"What happened with your job search? Did you boss help you out?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, kind of. But not really."

Sam chuckled dryly. "So no?"

Rose shook her head.

"Did you talk to your dad?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, a bit."

Through the years Rose had learnt to keep her father away from her financial troubles. Her dad's life was already a daily battle just to accept that his former days of glory were long gone. To add to it, his own health had been deteriorating. Now to hear that his only daughter lived in an apartment no bigger than a walk-in closet of her childhood home, would be pushing the aging gentleman to a breakdown. There was also the fact that every time Rose spoke to him, she was reminded that her father had gone from owning a construction company to doing minor remodeling jobs in the neighborhood.

"And your friend?" Sam asked, raising one eyebrow.

Through the course of the past couple of months, Rose and Sam had gotten close, sharing their life stories with one another. Rose had told her about Dev, or at least as much as her heart could share. Even before the night of the party, Sam had tried to suggest, more than once, that Rose should call him at least once since she was now in the same city.

"No, Sam. That ship has sailed. I can't talk to him." Rose replied, dejectedly. She bid Sam a good night and turned to her bedroom.

It was a small room with a twin bed, a square desk and a chair. To the corner stood a thin closet. Changing into her pajamas, she stepped into the shared bathroom. Her gaze stilled at her own reflection in the mirror.

Ever since she was a little girl, Rose had always believed that she was beautiful. Maybe it was her dotting mother had built a healthy self-esteem. At five-feet-three, she was shorter than the average but possessed a slender, feminine form. Her smooth brown locks fell past her shoulders, nearly touching her waist. Long curved eyebrows and a shapely nose. And her eyes - a fathomless ocean of blue, relentlessly absorbing every thing of beauty and intrigue. When she smiled those blue orbs glittered like liquid sapphires.

But Rose no longer smiled, not as much as she used to.

She blinked at her reflection and looked away, sighing. She no longer felt beautiful either.

There had been mistakes, plenty of them. And what she lived through now were the repercussions of those. She had no right to complain. All she could do was pay her dues and figure a way out of this mess, by herself.

The next day she called Matt. He did not take the news well.

"But, why?" Matt had asked, flabbergasted. "Why won't you apply?! You were so excited yesterday. Believe me, with the reference that Nash has given, your chances of landing the job are quite high.

"I need to take care of some family stuff." It was a lie.

"Think about it again, Rose. You told me yourself, you need this. It will really help with your debt situation."

"No, it wont." she whispered, quietly.

It would make it worse.