Chapter Text

Chapter 1

          In a few years I am going to look back on this day and laugh. Right now all I'm wondering is why I ever decided to get out of bed. It isn't even 9am yet and I'm already wearing the coffee I purchased not even a minute ago. It also hasn't helped that the porno I made - out of financial desperation - and was only released today has gotten me recognized by three men. And one woman. That last one was a little odd if I'm completely honest, but there we are.

          So here I am, ready to take the bull by the horns and search - desperately - for another job, and my once nice business suit is covered in my coffee. I want to scream in anger at my life, instead I decide to scowl at the linoleum floor that I'm dripping onto. Only to have someone walk into me and spill their coffee. Great, now I'm wearing my coffee and someone else's.

          "Fuck!" The person - a man - curses behind me. "Would you mind moving miss?" He asks, in a strained attempt at politeness and with an all too sexy British accent.

          Still with a sour expression on my face I turn to face him. And stop to stare in awe, because wow, that man has awesome cheek bones and his skin is the colour of a mocha latte. That reminds me ... I shake myself out of it long enough to snap, "Not particularly." His expression sours as he gives me a quick once over, and I watch his brow furrow seeing the coffee down my front, when he knows he spilled his down my back.

          I scowl at him, throw my hands into the air, and storm out of the coffee shop. Returning to my apartment, I strip out of my ruined clothes, say to hell with it and climb under my bed covers grabbing my book. Why couldn't my job search end like Stephanie Plum's I ask myself two hours and a finished book later. Grumbling at my shitty day, I climb out of bed, dress in some sweats and head to the deli down the street for lunch. Maybe I'll stop at the grocery store on my way back because I refuse to eat two year old, open cheerios and that's all the food in my apartment. I can afford food now thanks to that most unfortunate foray I took into acting.

          I'm standing in line, waiting to place my order, when the guy in front on me turns around and walks into me ... sandwich first. Great I think as I look down to find my ratty sweatshirt covered in mustard, and is that prosciutto? The guy's apologizing, I'm cursing, half the shop is laughing, and I turn around to make a hasty exit and see the mocha skinned, British bastard from the coffee shop was standing behind me in line. Out of spite, I scowl at him and tell him to go fuck himself before pushing him aside and leaving. Screw lunch, screw groceries, I'm heading back to my apartment - which I really should give up and move to some place cheaper - and not leaving bed until tomorrow starts.

          Instead I emerge from the covers around five to the hollow, echoing, grumble of my very empty stomach. I should not have skipped lunch, or breakfast. Cursing life for whatever hell it was about to throw my way, I leave the apartment in my pajamas in search of food.

          I find myself at an Olive Garden - how the hell had the server managed to see the porno? - and prepared to place my order. Putting the menu down I look around to find the man from the coffee shop - and the deli - sitting two tables over. I curse silently and hide behind my menu. Having finished placing my order, I reluctantly hand my menu over to the waiter and sit patiently prepared to wait for my food. Only to have a tray of pasta land on me.

          The waiter looks at me horrified by what he had done. Half the restaurant turns to look at me, the guy - who I was starting to think was causing this - included. His dark eyes sparked in recognition and confusion. I took a deep, calming breath, and gave up. I exploded.

          "That's IT!" I yell standing up, pasta dripping down from my head to the floor. "I give up! I survived the Hulk destroying my apartment. I survived fricking ALIENS destroying my place of business. But food - FOOD! - is determined to destroy me." I glared up at the ceiling, "I give up, do you hear me? I - Karen Page - quit! If anyone needs me, I'll be throwing myself off a bridge. Good-damn-bye."

          With my bitching complete I stormed out of the restaurant - not paying - and returned to my apartment. I wasn't going to leave ever again. At least for the rest of today. Tomorrow, maybe, I didn't really want to die so I was going to need to leave for food.

          I stepped out of the shower - again - and picked up the newspaper sitting on my table. Naked, I began searching the classifieds for work and a new apartment, because I was really not going to be able to afford to keep my nice Manhattan apartment. I was twenty minutes into my angry searching when my stomach rumbled and I said to hell with it. I grabbed the stall box of cheerios and went back to my search.

          I woke up with my face stuck to the crushed, empty box of cheerios - great now I had absolutely no food anywhere in my apartment - a crick in my neck and a plan in mind. I showered - hopefully for the only time today - dressed in a white cotton shirt and frilly brown skirt, leftover from my bohemian college days, and printed my resume along with a quickly typed cover letter. Not wishing a repeat of yesterday, I skipped breakfast and headed for the transit way to take me into Hell's Kitchen and Union Allied Construction. I was going to get a job.

          Three hours later I walked away with a time and date for an interview tomorrow. Smiling I stopped in the lobby to pick up a local newspaper - the area wasn't the best off so apartments had to be cheap, right? - and walked right into someone. Strong hands reached out to steady me and I looked up to apologize. Instead I swore.

          "You son of a bitch, you planned everything yesterday didn't you? You cursed me, or something, I know it!" I bitched at the bane of my existence. "Well I refuse to let you take this away from me, so fuck off!"

          I stayed just long enough to see his brow furrow before I turned and left. Unfortunately the bastard laid another curse and I walked into the door as I opened it. The voice of the man I would hopefully call boss said behind me, "Is everything alright, Mr Bakshi?"

          I finally managed to make it out of the building as my hated enemy responded in his cultured British tone, "Yes, quite so, shall we?"

          I imagined punching him all the way back to my apartment. It helped a little.