Cassie - 4

Nope… Nope, and nope.

A weary sigh trails out of my mouth as I cross out the next phone number on the list with my pen. That's the third person who's told me 'no' today, yet I still can't get used to the rejection. I let out a heavy sigh again. It seems the more I go down the list of businesses written on the piece of paper, the more unlikely and unwelcoming my chances seem to look. The job hunt feels utterly fruitless to me, but what can I really expect when I'm cold calling places that aren't looking to hire in the first place? I allow the gloominess of my reality to sink in before I decide to slap myself against the cheeks a few times as a way to motivate and cheer myself up.

Now isn't the time to give up so easily, Cassie. You've been through much worse than this before, and you can do it again. Don't let some stuck-up snob ruin your life and future. Don't let her bring you down.

I sit down on the bench and wait for the next bus to arrive. Surely, I'll have better luck at this next restaurant because they're one of the few places actually looking for waiters to hire. The only problem with this establishment is that it's one of the more high-end restaurants in town which means their expectations for workers will be much higher than other locations. But beggars can't be choosers, so I'll have to try my best to impress them. Getting hired would absolutely make my day, especially since it would mean a steady paycheck and some hefty tips.

This is one opportunity that I can't mess up on.

My feet restlessly shuffle back and forth along the ground while I silently work on the delivery of my pitch. However, the thoughts in my head begin to wander off and I'm left thinking about how I ended up in this awful predicament at all. I shake my head as my boss' haunting words echo in my mind: You're fired, Cassie. A pathetic-sounding chuckle leaves my throat. I know I should feel terrible about being unlawfully terminated from my position, but how bitter must that woman have been to have called my workplace and demand that I be fired? The way my employment suddenly ended out of nowhere due to my 'rude behavior' toward an 'important customer' still astounds me.

But there's no use in dwelling in the past. I made my choice when I took Taylor's side, and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I feel more for the little girl than I do for myself because she has to spend her time around egotistical women like that blonde from that night. And I don't even want to get started on Taylor's father who's also clearly just another rich and handsome douche-bag who has no trouble looking down on people. Sure, he's got those dreamy green eyes which instantly pull you in upon first glance and that refined, older vibe in his attitude and style, but he's still a huge asshole in my book. Even if he is a super attractive one at that.

The bus pulls up in the midst of my deep thoughts and forces me back into reality. Now isn't the time to daydream about other people. Not when I have my own life to worry about. I pay the toll and find a seat in the back of the vehicle while the bus begins to head toward my destination. The beating of my heart appears to grow louder and faster the closer the bus gets to my designated stop area. Showing up in person for an interview is a whole different ballgame than being interviewed over the phone. There's a whole lot more pressure on my shoulders when I know somebody's going to be quietly staring at me and judging me on every word and subtle reaction that comes out from me.

Unfortunately, the stressful situation is basically unavoidable as the bus gradually pulls up to the stop that I'm supposed to get off on. There's no backing down once I step out of the vehicle and my legs start to carry me over to the restaurant, albeit with a heavy heart. It's only when I finally make it to the actual storefront that I can feel the class disparity in the atmosphere. Every single worker inside is young and attractive, their smiles bright and their movements quick yet professional. I look down at the slightly-faded and loosely-fitted black dress suit I have on and the heels on my feet which are obviously one size too big for comfort.

Great. The interview hasn't even started yet and I already feel like I'm doomed for failure. This isn't good.

I'm nervously pacing around the front entrance and wondering if I should reconsider when a young and familiar voice excitedly calls out to me: "Cassie!"

My whole body jumps from the unexpected call out.  At first, I feel a bit silly for reacting so strongly to the name because there are certainly other Cassies in the world. But once I turn toward the voice to get a look at the speaker, I realize that I wasn't mistaken at all. That little voice was calling out for me.

"Hi, Taylor!" I exclaim in surprise as the little brown-haired girl eagerly waves her hand at me. Yet the excitement in my voice quickly dies down when I realize who's standing next to her. Tall and ruggedly handsome with a pair of brilliant green eyes to top it all off, it's Taylor's father -- the man I had a brief argument with that one night in front of the library. He's dressed sharply in a dark grey suit from top to bottom, the polished sheen of his dark leather shoes shining brightly even within the sunlight. Compared to the sophisticated image he has on right now, I probably look like a huge, messy fool.

My eyes lower from his emerald gaze in a bit of slight embarrassment. The last time we spoke was under the moonlight where our faces were shrouded by the darkness of night. The shadows provided by the moon made it much easier to speak to him then, but now that I can see him clearly under the sunlight, I find myself feeling a little nervous in his intimidating presence. To think that I once had the courage to tell a rich and good-looking man like him off so easily like that -- what the hell was I even thinking?

Well, this is awkward. I can't seem to even look him in the face right now without feeling somewhat ashamed by my rude behavior that night.

"So what are you doing here, Cassie? Are you here to eat, too?" Taylor asks with an overly excited expression on her face. "The food is really good here. It's one of my favorite places to eat."

Taylor's innocent reaction leaves me at a loss for words. The rich really do live in a completely different world from the everyday working class people. I can't lie and say that my heart doesn't ache at the thought of a little girl being able to casually eat a whole day's worth of my paycheck in one sitting given the astronomical prices of the restaurant. But I can't really blame her or hate her when that's just the lavish lifestyle she's used to.

And before I can get the chance to answer her, the hostess suddenly steps outside to speak to us: "It's good to see you again, Mr. Bishop. Will it be a table for three today?" the woman beams. Although she's looking around and talking to us as a group, her stare is particularly focused on me for reasons which I can only assume to be because of my strange and unkempt appearance. She clearly realizes that I don't exactly belong, so I go ahead to clear up the misunderstanding myself.

"Oh, no. I'm not with them. I'm here for a job interview," I immediately blurt out while taking a step to the side to increase the distance between me and the father-daughter duo. But my statement only causes the situation to become even more awkward as Taylor's father furrows his brow in surprise at my remark. I turn my head to avoid his gaze.

Even though it's pretty obvious that his girlfriend is the culprit behind my job termination, I'm not petty enough to publicly voice my complaints or point any fingers at him. What's done is done.

The hostess' smiling expression doesn't change, not even after hearing my clarification on the matter. "Okay, I'll grab the manager for you after I seat these guests. Please kindly wait here."

I nod my head. "Thank you."

The hostess turns her attention toward Taylor and her father without dropping her smile for a moment. "Right this way, Mr. Bishop and Miss Bishop." She gestures her hand toward the interior of the restaurant and begins to lead the way toward the father and daughter's designated dining area.

The gorgeous green-eyed man follows the hostess into the restaurant without a second thought while Taylor clings onto his arm to keep up with his brisk pace. I stifle my amused laughter as I watch the young child stare at the steaming hot dishes on the waiters' trays with a ravenous look in her honey-colored eyes. She's practically drooling from the sight of every meal that passes by her, so enthralled by the savory aromas that she doesn't even notice her father moving quickly ahead of her. However, Taylor eventually snaps out of her hungry stupor to turn back around to look at me. She gives me a little farewell wave and parting smile before she finally turns the corner and disappears.

A tiny chuckle slips past my lips from Taylor's simple yet kind gesture. I strangely feel more at ease after seeing her innocently smile and wave at me. At least I can proudly admit to myself that taking her side in the disagreement wasn't the wrong choice because it's clear as day to me that she's a good little girl with a gentle heart. I would make the same decision again and again to protect her if I had to -- even if it means having to suffer through the wrath of that petty girlfriend more than once. And even if I did foolishly land myself into this predicament of being jobless due to my own meddlesome behavior, the thought of failure and being rejected for this waitressing job doesn't scare me as much as it does anymore.

This is just another one of life's many obstacles that I have to get through on my own no matter how unfair the circumstances are. I can't complain, and I definitely can't be afraid. The only thing I can do is to keep on moving forward one step at a time.

***

"Thank you so much for your time. It was a pleasure to speak with you," I say with a smile as I walk over to the exit and close the door behind me. A weak sigh instantly travels out of my mouth when I'm finally alone and out of the interviewer's sight.

Well, at least the interview discussion went a lot better than I expected it to go. I guess I should be glad that the manager gave me his answer without keeping me hoping and waiting, especially when it's obvious that the answer was a no.

I take the crumpled list out of my pocket and cross out the next phone number on the paper. Four down and two more to go. Another sigh parts from my lips as I stare at the remaining options on my list. If these last two don't work out, it's back to scouring through more sketchy Craigslist ads and cold calling more businesses. Just thinking about the tedious work that I have to do which might not even result in anything fills me with extreme exhaustion.

My hand moves to cover the huge yawn that barrels out of my mouth. All this social interaction is seriously physically and mentally draining, and the only cure that I can think of for my fatigue is a hot cup of coffee. I scan through the busy surrounding streets for a quiet coffee shop to grab a recharge and to make a phone call in when my name is called again in that excited tone of voice: "Cassie! Cassie!"

The little girl charges out of the restaurant with full speed while clumsily dodging the walking pedestrians. I smile at her childlike enthusiasm. Seeing the genuine joy and excitement on her face as she races toward me warms my heart. I can't help but find it a little endearing how attached she is to me even though we only spent a day together. But I suppose friends are difficult to make for a little girl her age, especially considering her social standing and the constant isolation that she's put in by her own workaholic father.

I reach out to catch the speedy young child who bumps right into me. "Whoa! Be careful, sweetie. I don't want to see you fall and ruin your pretty dress," I smile. "How was your lunch?"

"Yummy. Very yummy." Taylor rubs and pats her stomach with a satisfied grin. Her adorable response makes me laugh until I catch a glimpse of someone walking toward us in the corner of my eye. It's Taylor's father, and he seems as stone-faced and as coldhearted as ever. Even when he manages to meet my eyes, it's almost like he doesn't care to acknowledge my existence at all. I shake my head and glance at the energetic and radiant little girl and then back at her brooding and unapproachable father.

How can this precious young child standing in front of me be related to someone as unpleasant as that man over there? I simply don't want to believe it. Not even if the birth certificates were shoved into my hands.

"Are you not working at the library anymore?" Taylor suddenly asks. "Daddy told me what a job interview was, and he said that it means you're trying to work somewhere else."

My eyes widen in shock from her unexpected question. Not only is this topic something I didn't want to be reminded of, but it doesn't help that her father is close enough to tune in to listen to the conversation. Considering the fact that he's definitely one of the few people whom I don't want hearing about my vulnerable situation, it pains me to respond to Taylor's inquiry.

"Uh, no, I'm not working at the library anymore," I nervously answer as my eyes shift toward the green-eyed man's location. I can't honestly tell if he's actually checking something on his phone or if he's just pretending to.

"Why not?" Taylor follows up with another question. "Didn't you have fun working there?"

Crap. Another curveball. How do I even reply to that question in a way that a 6-year old girl would understand me? The honest answer would be to tell her that sometimes life isn't fair and that's why even though I had fun working at the library, I couldn't stay there. But the more child-friendly and appropriate response would be to tell her something along the lines of this: "I did have fun. But the people at the library didn't need me to help them anymore, so now I'm looking for another place that needs my help."

I'm worried about whether or not my response is sufficient enough for her young and curious mind, but it seems to be the perfect answer for Taylor because her large brown eyes immediately light up right after. In fact, she almost looks a little too pleased by my explanation.

"Daddy's been looking for a nanny. He needs help," she confidently states while her head quickly turns toward her father. "Why don't you just hire Cassie to be the nanny, daddy? I like her. She's fun, and she's really nice to me." The little girl is practically grinning from ear to ear as she speaks. "Can't you just do that, daddy?"

Taylor's aggressive sales pitch to hire me leaves me stunned. The thought of becoming a nanny is one idea which never crossed my mind during my job hunt. Spending day after day pandering to rich and spoiled brats never appealed to me until I met Taylor who's proven herself to be nothing but sweet and respectful. If she was the child that I was entrusted with taking care of, I'd be completely on board with the suggestion to become a nanny -- especially since I know the pay will also be good because of her father's wealth.

Ugh. Now that Taylor's planted that thought in my mind, it's hard not to get my hopes up when the job sounds right up my alley. Spending time with an adorable kid like Taylor and getting paid for it, too? Where can I sign myself up for that? The notion of becoming a nanny for her sounds like an absolute dream -- better than any of the other jobs that I've been pursuing all day without any success.

However, there's still one big problem remaining even if I'm willing to accept all the responsibilities that come along with being Taylor's nanny. The same delight that's lingering on my face from the young girl's suggestion isn't exactly present on her father's.

"I can't just hire someone because you like them, Taylor. That's not how it works," the man sternly comments with a firm shake of his head.

"But-" The girl tries to contest his statement, but her efforts are futile.

"No means no, Taylor. There are no ifs, ands, or buts, about it. End of discussion," he assertively states with a fold of his arms. "Besides, I already found you a new nanny, so I don't want to hear you complain about it."

I watch the excitement in Taylor's warm brown eyes fade in an instant. She seems completely devastated by her father's strict and unyielding tone of voice and almost crushed to the point where I'm afraid she might break down in slight tears again. I wouldn't even blame her if she did begin crying because hearing that particularly angry and cold voice coming from a parent could put any child to tears. Her father has certainly mastered that authoritative tone because even I felt some chills in my body from listening to him speak.

A tense silence follows after the final word is said on the matter. Taylor is clearly refusing to acknowledge her father while he himself looks way too exhausted to deal with her childish behavior. I take the initiative to bend down so that I can resolve their tiny spat and see the young girl's face. There's a huge pout on her lips and an extremely bitter look in her eyes.

I take Taylor's small hands into my grasp which happens to grab her attention. "I know you're upset, but your dad is right about this. There's more to hiring someone than just liking them or needing them. And as much as I would love to be your nanny, I'm sure your dad can find a better nanny that will take real good care of you. Someone who's even more fun and even more nice than I am."

My lips curve upward into a gentle smile. Although I would have been overjoyed with getting a job that I'm probably unqualified for, I'm already plenty satisfied with hearing Taylor profess her fondness for me. There's just something about receiving a child's honest compliment which surrounds me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. And despite the persisting sour look on the girl's face as she considers my words, she ends up obediently nodding her head in acceptance of them.

"Take care, okay?" I say as I pick myself up and give Taylor one last smile. She promptly returns her response in the form of a hand wave, albeit a sad one.

Feeling as though I've intruded on the father-daughter duo's date with my presence for long enough, I swiftly cross the street as soon as the crosswalk allows me to do so. It was a much needed and pleasant respite for me to be able to briefly bond with the charming young girl. But now that our fateful encounter is over, it's back to reality for me. It's back to the seemingly never-ending job hunt.

My footsteps slowly shuffle across the road in pure dread of my resumed job search. When I finally make it to the other side of the street, I whip out my phone and begin searching for any nearby coffee shops. I'm in the middle of thumbing in my search result when I hear something unusual coming from across the street. I look up and see Taylor running toward me with a frantic expression on her face.

"Cassie! Wait! You forgot this," she shouts from a distance as she holds her hand up with my paper list between her fingers.

I immediately shove my hands into my pockets to check and see if it's there, but there's nothing to be found in them. The piece of paper must have somehow dropped out of my pocket when I bent down to comfort her. But my eyes abruptly widen in fear when I realize that Taylor is running across the road by herself. There's no sign of her father trailing behind her, and the cross light is flickering red.

My body jumps into high gear as soon as I recognize the potentially dangerous situation. I try to warn her to go back and wait for me on the other side, but my voice gets jumbled up in the panic. By the time I can regain a bit of my composure to say something, she's already more than halfway across the road. However, her small yet speedy footsteps are chasing toward me without paying any attention to her surroundings -- especially not at the speeding car which is trying to make a right turn as she's crossing.

A shot of adrenaline sweeps through my body and before I know it, my legs are simply moving on their own. There's not a single thought in my head. My mind is just completely blank, and all I can feel within my body is the natural instinct to protect the little girl from danger. I can already see Taylor's large brown eyes grow wide with fear when she finally sees the vehicle rushing at her. The sudden realization brings a spontaneous pause to her footsteps which gives me the opportunity to grab her and pull her out of harm's way with all of my strength.

I lose control of the direction in which my legs move in and end up stumbling backward onto the street with Taylor safely within my arms. The car stops to honk at us and shout a few unintelligible words through the window before driving off in a hurry. But my body feels way too exhausted to yell back at the driver, especially since I'm still trying to catch my breath with how fast my heart is rapidly beating. I naturally drop down to the floor in defeat.

With the amount of adrenaline pumping in my system, nothing feels real right now.

"Are you okay, Cassie?" Taylor hesitantly speaks. Her tiny voice trembles as she bites down on her lower lip in uncertainty. On her face and in her eyes is the look of a child who clearly knows that she's in deep trouble.

I nod my head and deeply exhale. "I'm okay. But Taylor, sweetheart, you can't just run out into the street like that all by yourself. It's dangerous, and you can get really hurt. Both me and your dad would be really sad to see you get hurt."

The little girl lowers her head in shame and apologizes with a heavy frown on her lips, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to give this back to you because you dropped it." She shakily holds out the crumpled list for me to take out of her hands. There's nothing but pure remorse on her face as she stares down at her feet.

Seeing as how guilty Taylor already looks, I don't think there's any need for me to yell or scold her. Besides, her heart was in the right place. It's just her hasty and poorly-thought out actions that need some extra working on.

My hands reach out to grab both sides of Taylor's small face. Her eyes instinctively look up from the warm presence of my palms. "Thank you," I tenderly state with a big smile.

It's obvious from the startled expression on her face that she wasn't expecting me to thank her, but she eventually returns my appreciation with a shy smile. Unfortunately, the touching moment is interrupted by her father who happens to rush over unexpectedly and in a panic.

"Taylor…" he calls her name out in a grave yet worried tone of voice. There's a flush of red on his cheeks while the rest of his face is ghastly pale. It's the first time I've seen his coldhearted poker face crack, an expression other than stern and strict clearly displayed on his face.

The flustered man breathes a huge sigh of relief when he sees that Taylor is unharmed and uninjured. He shakes his head and instantly pulls his frightened daughter straight into his arms for a hug. The young girl almost seems shocked and overwhelmed by his affectionate reaction, her expression like a deer in headlights. My heart melts at the heartwarming reunion.

I take back what I said earlier about not being able to accept that these two are father and daughter. There's no doubt in my mind after seeing the love and concern in his actions that this irritable and distant man is, indeed, her father.

"I'm sorry, daddy. I already know I did something very bad, and I promise I won't do it again," Taylor anxiously speaks. Judging by the stiff look on her face, she's still obviously wary of her father's unusually gentle response.

But he slowly releases her from his embrace to look into her eyes. "As long as you know," he plainly says while the brown-haired girl enthusiastically nods her head.

A low chuckle slips past my lips. Even though I feel like I'm still trying to catch my breath and get a hold of the situation, I'm glad their fight and disagreement was resolved without tears this time. I try to pick myself up after letting my emotions from the huge fright settle into my body, but an aching pain in my ankle prevents me from properly standing.

"Ouch!" I grit my teeth and grab my ankle. It actually hurts more than I thought.

Shit. I probably sprained or twisted it while I was rushing to grab Taylor out of traffic. I guess this is why people emphasize the importance of wearing shoes that actually fit your feet. These half-a-size-too-big heels aren't doing me any favors.

"Are you okay?" the older man suddenly asks as he comes over to offer me a hand.

My heart naturally tenses up from the deep and gruff sound of his voice. It's the first time that he's spoken to me all day without the same hostility that I was greeted with that night in front of the library. I have to admit that it feels a little strange. His voice just sounds so much gentler when he's not acting aloof, even if his tone does seem a bit awkward.

"I'm fine," I stubbornly state out of embarrassment as I force myself to get up in spite of the immense pain surrounding my foot. My body somehow manages to fully endure the stinging discomfort around my ankle which I bear the ache of through my teeth.

"Your ankle doesn't look fine to me. You should get that checked out at the hospital before it gets any worse. I'll foot the bill, so you don't have to worry about the medical cost," he swiftly suggests.

"No, no. That's all right. Thanks for the offer, but the last thing I want to do is feel like I owe you something. It's probably just a minor sprain anyway. No big deal," I quickly respond.

My eyes make contact with his green irises for a brief second before I subsequently lower them toward the ground. Although the pain around my ankle feels worse than anything I've ever felt before, I can't seem to bring myself to shamelessly agree to his offer. After all, how can I really accept the kindness from somebody like him when his girlfriend is the reason why I'm out of a job and desperate to get one? Even I have my pride to keep sometimes, and this is one of those few moments in life where I feel the need to stubbornly preserve it.

"Cassie, right?" the handsome man casually asks after a little bit of quiet deliberation.

Whoa.

The sudden mention of my name from his lips completely catches me off guard. I'm so surprised by the fact that he even caught what my name was without asking me that all I can do is nod my head yes in response. For some reason, I feel strangely nervous and self conscious after hearing my name being spoken and said out of his gruff voice.

"Thank you for helping Taylor out -- again," he humbly speaks with a stiff expression on his face. "There's not many people who would risk their life like that to protect a stranger, much less react quick enough to jump in and save her. I'm glad that you were there for her."

I blink and stare at him with my mouth slightly agape. Having any sense of gratitude toward other people isn't something I thought he was capable of, especially given his first impression. However, the unexpected nature of his grateful words end up gently tickling my heart. I can feel my body temperature slowly rising and warming up from the creeping impact of his thanks, my heartbeat steadily racing from the intensity of his green gaze.

A weak exhale trickles out from my throat. Honestly, it should be a crime to be good-looking, rich, and mysteriously aloof to the point where it's almost enticing. At this point, I can't deny that I'm not even the least bit interested in him because the attraction is definitely there. He has some sort of a natural charm and hidden allure which pulls me toward him regardless of my initial and lasting distaste for him.

It's just too bad that we're worlds apart from each other. I would have enjoyed getting to know him better under a different set of circumstances. That air of mystery which is floating around him is practically begging for me to solve it. But he knows how to keep his distance and his guard up well enough so that no one thinks twice about trying it.

Though I'd like to think and believe those tender words of appreciation are just the first cracks in his iron façade.

"There's no need for that kind of gratitude," I modestly shake my head. "I only did what I felt was right at the time, and that was getting Taylor out of harm's way. Besides, hearing something nice come out of your mouth actually gives me the creeps," I smirk.

My lighthearted comment elicits a slight eye-rolling chuckle from him. Even he seems partly embarrassed by the disconnect between his rough and cold exterior and the gentle compassion that he's currently showing to me. Yet despite his pompous attitude and his bad temper, I can't imagine him to be that terrible of a person. There's no way an awful man could ever raise a daughter to be as considerate and respectful as Taylor is. She must have gotten and learned her kindness from somewhere or someone.

Wait a minute.

Shit, this isn't good.

The smirk I once had on my lips quickly falls from my face. It seems the more I think about Taylor and her father, the more I find myself naturally wondering with selfish intent -- what about her mother? Where is she in the picture? It's these private and intrusive questions which happen to be swarming through my mind that fill me with unease. This isn't like me. I'm getting too invested. I'm getting too curious.

"Anyway, I have to go and make a few phone calls. Take care of yourselves," I quickly say.

The man glances at his watch and nods his head in agreement. "Yeah, it's about time we get going as well."

A bittersweet feeling enters my heart as we exchange our last parting words and gestures before we both start to head off in opposite directions. Even though the pain in my ankle certainly has most of my attention as I force myself to continue walking along the busy street, there are other thoughts occupying my mind at the same time -- thoughts which I shouldn't be having.

Thoughts about an older man who's already in a relationship and who already has a daughter.