i'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart --- (open !) Jan 16, 2009 14:40:48 GMT 10
Post by matt on Jan 16, 2009 14:40:48 GMT 10
And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her.
I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart.
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Oh money. Money was a funny thing considering how it made people act. The current financial situation in the United States didn’t help any either. Matthew, who was not an American citizen was appalled by the state of the country he was living in. Not that he could help that any. Wasn’t the problem a under stimulated economy? Matt couldn’t really funnel money into the American economy because he didn’t have any funneling into his American bank account.
It had been awhile now, a few months, since his father called with the “we’re cutting you off” conversation. Matt had been furious, obviously. How was he supposed to live the life with only a few thousand dollars left to his name? Matt was forced to stay away from his favorite vice: casinos. Responsibility, his father had said. The key to being reinstated was responsibility. But how could Matt possibly become responsible overnight? What did his parents want form him? Matt supposed that as long as he made it look like he was trying and had people who were willing to vouch for him his parents would reinstate him. That was what Matt needed Cecelia for. But, of course, she was another story.
No, he needed other people to believe his crap too. He realized when Cecelia caught him in the chat room being rude his plan to make her think he was the good guy was going to be harder than he though. But the charade had to go on. He couldn’t just quit. He just needed to secure some things before he continued. One thing he needed was a job. Sure, he had some money. But he also had to live on that money. And if he planned on wooing Cecelia he was sure he could only forget his wallet so many times before she caught on.
That was what he was trying to do now. Of course, it wasn’t all that easy considering Matthew was not from this country and he had absolutely no job experience whatsoever. There had to be something out there that wasn’t totally degrading. There was no way that Matt was ever flipping burgers or waiting tables. No, he needed something low-key, yet respectable. Something that would work with both his school schedule and his social hours. Of course he was picky and he certainly already knew that he wasn’t ever going to find something perfect, but he was trying.
Treble Records was the only place Matt could find that both had a help wanted sign and wasn’t equipped with an industrial size lamp to heat processed meat. It still felt wrong to him though. Working in such a place to have pocket change. A year ago he would have laughed at the thought, would have made fun of the guy with the piercing behind the counter. But what could he do now? Hide behind the CD racks and pretend he wasn’t interested in the job?
Well, yes. Yes, Matthew could do just that. And he did. Clad in his blue jeans and black sleeved, white body baseball shirt, Matt stared blankly at the rows and rows of music he didn’t like or wouldn’t buy. There were girls in the corner talking about a row of discs they were standing in front of.
“Ever heard that song Free Falling? It’s by some guy named Tom Petty.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Matt knew it and he probably would have butted into their conversation but right now his mind wasn’t on girls or getting into their pants. Instead he was focused on how degrading it might be to ask for an application.