I Met A Boy (My forged Wedding Fanfic)

Chapter 9

When I wake up Saeki is nowhere to be found. Secretly I'm glad because I feel awkward. We made up, but now I'm even more confused. I hate not knowing my own feelings. Ugh, I think I need to just stay busy. I get up and start cleaning. Luckily Saeki is messy; so I've got plenty to do. I spend all morning cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. Before I know it I look up and it's 2 pm. Maybe I should eat lunch. Really not super hungry though.

I see a piece of paper sticking out of the mailbox. Huh, did the mail come? It's a note Saeki left for me. Did he actually think I'd find it there? Sadie, I won't be home until late. I'll just eat out. By the way, here's a number my agent gave me. Call and see if there's a writing job for you. Ugh! Why didn't he lead with that?! I pick up my phone and quickly dial the number. After a few questions about my background the boss asks me to come in for an interview in two hours. I've got to shower like now!

I get ready at the speed of light and still end up being an hour early. Japanese prefer people be early, but not this early. I'm sitting on a bench outside the building just killing time and playing on my phone. I get a text from Toby. "Wanna hang again? Since I'm lazy I'm free."

I can't help but smile. "I'm actually out right now. I'll text you when I'm out of my meeting."

"Look at you big fancy lady having meetings."

"Job interview actually."

"Nice. Crush that shit. Text me the address and I'll meet you outside after."

I smile as I text him the address. Something about him makes me smile. It's nice for conversation to be easy for a change. Okay, now I'll take that smile and kill the interview. As I go through security and head upstairs I can't help but notice how posh the building is. I'm wishing I had worn a suite instead of a casual dress. When I meet the editor I can't help but notice how sleek she looks. There's not even one hair out of place. I bow formally. She extends her hand for a shake. "Sadie, I presume," she says in English.

"Yes," I say shaking her hand back. "Ms. Itchigo."

"That's me. Would you like a water?"

"Sure," I say.

She hands me a water. "Well I'll get right down to it. This is a freelance position. You'll get paid ten cents a word. This is a travel piece for foreigners. I want you to write about cultural differences for people in the English speaking world. Tell what kind of blunders you made when you first came to Japan."

I smile. "I can do that." I wonder if I should tell her when I couldn't figure out how to use the toilet in my apartment. Then I kept trying to hang a shower curtain in the bathroom and was confused that it didn't quite fit. Would that be too crass?

"Good. Do a good job and this will lead to more work. Do badly and I do t publish, and we don't hire you again."

"Seems pretty straightforward."

"That's how I roll." Did I just hear that from a straight laced Japanese woman in her thirties? Weird. I shake her hand again and leave. I walk out of the building with a smile and finally feeling triumphant.