Fight For You

Chapter Two - Cinnamon Rolls and Interviews

I paced around my room feeling anxious about my upcoming interview, throwing random clothes into a hamper that were more than dirty. How many wears was considered too many? It had been a few days since my last interview and I knew there was a lot riding on today. A twenty two year old moving back in with her dad would be more embarrassment than I could handle.

There was a sharp knock at the door. I checked the time - 7:30. Like clockwork.

"Morning, Mr. Greggs," I called before opening the door. I unlatched the door and tugged it open revealing the weathered old man. He wore a button down navy shirt that was far too big for him and a pair of black slacks that ran too long. What was it with his generation getting dressed for the day so early? I glanced down at my bunny fuzzy slippers and pink robe wondering what he must think about me every morning.

"Good morning," the stench of cigarette smoke wafting over to me as he spoke. He handed me a brown parchment bag, "Here."

I grabbed the small bag from him peering in to see a cinnamon roll. "Mr. Greggs, did you buy this for me?" I asked playfully.

He snorted, "Just wanted to wish you good luck at your interview."

"Mr. Greggs, you big old softy," I pulled the cinnamon roll out of the bag and bit into the sweet and fluffy dough. "I knew you wanted me to stay in the building," I grinned at Mr. Greggs.

"Don't let it get to your head. I can't risk another Ms. Smith moving in. I'm pretty sure I'd murder someone."

I chuckled. He was probably right. The two of them did not get along, which always surprised me. They were both nosier than a town gossip in a Jane Austen novel, but I had always found Mr. Greggs a bit more manageable. Ms. Smith had never bought me a cinnamon roll before.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking at my outfit, "You're not wearing that, right?" The disdain for my clothing choices dripping from his voice.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Contrary to what you think, I have dressed for an interview before."

He gave my bunny slippers a look of contempt, "Maybe that's why you're still unemployed."

"Well, I gotta say, you know how to get a girl's confidence up before an interview."

He shook his head shooting me an apologetic smile, "Sorry. You'll be great. And if they have any doubts, you can give them my number as a reference."

"Thanks, Mr. Greggs." I wasn't sure that the rantings of my senile neighbour who collected newspaper clippings would score me the job, but I appreciated the thought.

He hobbled his way up the stairs and I closed the door behind me. My phone rang as soon as I took in a large mouthful of the sweet pastry.

"Hello?" I mumbled indelicately, mouth full.

"Graceful as ever, Emily." My dad's voice sounded on the opposite end.

I swallowed loudly and cleared my throat, "Sorry dad. How are you?" I flipped through my mail as I spoke to him, eyeing a letter from a certain ex who I was currently regretting giving my address to.

"I'm doing good, kid. I'm just calling to check up on you."

I opened the letter and spotted the words 'sorry' and 'please unblock me, I can't keep writing letters' before I crumpled the paper up and threw it into my trash, missing the bin by a few feet. "I'm doing good dad, I have an interview today."

I heard papers shuffling on his end and imagined he was likely at the station, "That's great, honey. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Well, I haven't gotten anything yet, but fingers crossed. Are you at work?"