Sunday, March 10, 2013

Sarah's Story

I was in a rut with Ms. Independent so I started the first chapter of Sarah's story. No worries I'm back on track with Ms. Independent and I'll let you all know as soon as it's complete.



     A wave of nausea sloshed through Sarah’s stomach the minute her six inch heels touched the stained LA sidewalk. The sting of regret pierced her thoughts as she stood in front of the run down law office of Joseph A. Goldman.  Leaving her cushy gig at UC Berkeley was a noble although ill conceived idea. All she had to do was finish her degree and she would have been living the good life on a six figure trust fund.
     Her uncle lived like a rock star in his three story bachelor pad in the Hidden Hills. So when he offered her a receptionist job she assumed she’d be surrounded by glamorous high end clientele. She never would have dreamed she’d be working in a place like this. She envisioned herself fetching coffee for hoity-toity women caring lapdogs dressed in Prada. She’d be her uncle’s girl Friday, filing documents for distinguished gray haired men with wives half their ages by day and rocking the theater circuit by night. The job came with room and board, a small salary, and a car to get to her auditions. It was a pretty sweet deal but her uncle’s law firm was far from glamorous. It was stationed in the heart of East LA right between a Taqueria and a mattress store. The constant blare of sirens was distressing and the entire place looked as if it could use a good scrubbing or maybe a can of gasoline and a match. She wondered what kind of clients retained a lawyer from a place like this.
     Sarah shook her head and swallowed down nervous bile. She’d never even had a real job. She moved out of her parent’s house and into the dorms at UCB. She shook her head. ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ She took a deep breath resolve and determined to make this thing work even if it meant working on the corner of crack and gang. She pushed through the glass door and scanned the shabby desolate office. The carpet was warned and the stucco ceiling was stained yellow.
“I’m sorry doll Jo no longer represents working girls.” Sarah spun around to locate the source of the low husky voice. There before her stood the tallest thinnest woman she’d ever seen. At a loss for words for the first time in her life Sarah looked down at her tight black dress and shook her head.