Winters' Frost

‘Still nothing,’ I complain to Carley as I close my laptop harder than is really necessary, and the table shakes in protest. I had been applying for positions for the last month since I graduated from NYU and still nothing, not so much as an interview or call. My degree was business management and organisation and I couldn’t so much as get an interview for a PA position. I had sent out dozens of applications and so far, nothing.

Carley gives me a small, kind smile from the kitchen, and I know that one of her pep talks is sure to follow. I met Carly in our first year of NYU and we have been best friends ever since. She’s tall, willowy and blonde with blue eyes, a stark contrast to my olive skin, curvy figure, dark, almost black hair and green eyes, but she is sweet, kind and, not that I’d ever tell her this, her pep talks actually do work.

‘Don’t worry honey, something will come up. You are amazing, talented and someday soon someone is going to see that. All you need is that first interview then there will be no competition,’ she states emphatically, and I smile gratefully at her, knowing that she wholeheartedly believes what she says.

‘Thanks, but getting the interview seems to be the main problem at the moment,’ I grumble.

‘No time to dwell now,’ she says clapping her hands together, maintaining her always positive attitude.

‘We need to be out of here in forty-five minutes, so we need to get moving. Go get your cute butt in the shower,’ she orders before making her way into her own room.

We managed to find a 2-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t the biggest place, considering it costs us about $2500 a month in rent each, but it has an open plan living, dining and kitchen area, with 2 bedrooms and a bathroom each. It has a light, modern, minimalistic feel to it and we both fell in love with it straight away, it’s been our home for the last three years.

Heeding her advice, I make my way into my shower and let the hot water spray loosen the noughts in my neck from sitting at my laptop for too long. I stay in there as long as I can get away with, then wrapping a towel around me, I head into my room to get ready for the night ahead.

Since our first year at NYU we’ve been working at a Gentlemen’s Club as dancers to pay our way through school. I know I’m a total cliché, but the money is great, way more than what I would earn as a waitress or store clerk; believe me I tried those options first. My dad had offered to help support me through school, but he was NYPD and living alone in the city too. I know money had been tight since my mom died of cancer three years previously. He was also still paying off her medical bills, so I almost always said no when he offered me money. Carley was already working at the club and got me an audition. I had dance classes as a kid right through my teenage years, so I had a natural good balance and rhythm, and I was offered the job on the spot, although I think my sizeable breasts and J-Lo bootie probably had a good bit to do with it too. I’d always kept myself in good shape, so I was pretty tight and toned from the dance and spin classes I took regularly.

I moisturise every inch of me, checking for any blemishes that I need to cover up. You’d be surprised the difference it makes to your tips if you have any scratches or bruises visible. Thankfully, due to my olive skin, I carry a tan pretty much year-round, so I don’t need to deal with fake tan every day. I decide to leave my wet hair down, so that by the time I get to work I should have a natural beach wave effect, which the customers seem to love. I grab my go-bag and throw on jeans, a shirt and my flats, and head out of my room just as Carley is filling our travel mugs with coffee.

‘You all set?’ she enquires, lifting her head as I come into the kitchen.

‘Living the dream,’ I reply sarcastically with an eye roll, and she sniggers.

‘It’s not forever honey; just remember that,’ she reassures me.

That’s ok for her to say; she’s already got herself a job. Carley graduated same day as me, and two weeks later got a job in a high school in Brooklyn as their new English Teacher, and she absolutely loves it. She’s only picking up a few extra shifts at the club to get some money behind her, while she waits for her first pay check to come through.

‘Let’s do this,’ I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Then we are out the door, coffee in hand.