all mine | ft. michael clifford

two;

STEP TWO: FIND A JOB.

My second day in LA was a little less exciting and more nerve-wracking than the first. I had 6 days before my gracious new friend Eddie would need me to pay for my accommodation, meaning I had 6 days to find a job. I hadn't even brought a resume along with me – which, looking back, was quite a stupid move. I'd have to find some way to nail down some work without it; work that didn't involve selling my body on the street or my organs on the black market.

I whistled to myself as I strolled around my new home in a comfy pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that belonged to one of my ex-boyfriends. He wasn't important anymore and the hoodie didn't really hold any memories of him so I wore it because it was warm. Outside was noisy but not the kind that was annoying. I could hear cars and people talking and the very occasional bird. It was nice. Our neighbourhood back home was rich and quiet. No chaos. No character. Just wealth that smelt like isolation.

I liked it here already. I felt better. I felt more me.

To keep my little home from sounding too quiet, I had the television on. Some morning gossipy talk show was on and a bunch of women were discussing some band from Australia; Australia being the only reason I didn't switch channels. 5 Seconds of Summer, they were apparently called. I might have heard of them before but not to the extent where I knew their songs.

One of the members seemed to have a different hair colour in every clip they played of them. He either liked experimenting or was like me; not sure which hair colour was him.

I showered, dressed into some blue skinny jeans and a white, turtle neck woollen jumper and headed out into the very cold LA morning. I'd put my pink locks up into a ponytail, reminding myself to buy shampoo and other necessities while I was out.

The streets were relatively busy but not bustling. Comfortable. I smiled at the people I passed and let my eyes soak in the entirety of the street around me. Leaving Australia for this was definitely refreshing. And I'd so far had no regrets.

"Morning, sweetheart," one elderly lady cooed as she passed me.

I smiled. "Good morning."

Towards the end of Pepper Street on my right was a barber shop called 'Marcy's'. I paused outside the entrance, debating whether or not to go inside and ask about any job vacancies. I had no experience in men's haircuts but that didn't mean they weren't willing to train me or at least let me clean.

"What the hell," I murmured, turning and pushing open the glass door. Inside was heated and it was only then that I realised how frozen my face was.

The shop was small, black and white themed. Modern. There were only two women working, both cutting a man's hair each while chatting to each other.

One looked up as I entered and sent me a warm smile. She was young, not much older than me and had hair that was bleached so blonde it might have actually been white. She had tattoos splashed down her arms and on her neck, just visible above the black sweater she was wearing. Beautiful would have been the only way to describe her.

"Hey, love," she said over to me, combing through the head of hair in front of her. "What can we do for you? We're men's cuts only, you know."

I nodded. "Hey, yeah I know, sorry." I nervously painted a smile onto my face. "I was just wondering if you had any job openings?"

It was worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

Don't be embarrassed, be confident.

"I don't think so, honey, but hold on," the blonde girl told me, putting the comb down and patting the man's shoulders. He rose and came towards me at the counter to pay for his cut.