I am meeting my best friend for coffee in our favorite hole-in-the-wall place; Mama's. It's a little cafe on the east side of town, closer to my place. Rose feels the need to "help" me where she can and taking the public transit is too horrible for her to contemplate since she has her own chauffer.

I walk down the steps of my studio apartment and head down the block. Mama's is at the corner and I'm early so I take my time, you know, to smell the roses. But literally, since there is a sweet old man that has his own flower cart. As I walk by the cart, Roland waves me over. "Miss Beya," he says with a smile.

"Good morning," I say smiling back.

He grabs a single red rose and clips off the end, "Careful now," he says as he hands it to me, "those thorns'll get ya!"

I laugh and pull the rose to my chest. "It's beautiful, as always, Roland. Thank you."

Roland pats my hand and I wave as I walk away. He's always there on Sundays and it's become a strange tradition that on my way to coffee, I stop and see him. He makes my morning, which isn't hard to do these days, the smallest bit of kindness is like a breath of fresh air.

I make it to the cafe with five minutes to spare. Rose will be late, at least by ten minutes, so I take a seat by the window and get out my Moleskine. I try to journal every day, it's a New Year's resolution that I've only broken once or twice so far and since it's nearly March, I'm pretty proud. I take note of the people in the cafe and write down mundane ideas on each person I see. It's an exercise an old writing professor taught me back in college and since I plan to finally finish a novel this year, it's important that I try an old trick.

I've gotten lost in the words when I feel fingers flip my ponytail. I smile and speak without looking up, "You're only a little late today, seven minutes, not bad."

"Jesus, you keep count?" Rose says with a sigh. She sits down and pushes a black coffee in my direction. "And I'm actually only five minutes late. I walked in and managed to buy our drinks without you ever noticing me."

I look up at her and roll my eyes. "That's a surprise, someone not noticing you?"

Rose sighs longingly, "I know!"

Every strand of Rose's blonde hair is in place while I don a knit hat because I know I don't have the time it would take to make it look nearly as neat. Rose is always put together like a perfectly wrapped Christmas gift. It's a surprise she was never picked up by some modeling agency or a talent scout.

I put my notebook away and wrap my cold fingers around the hot cup. The aroma wafts up to my face and it's all I can do to not take a sip and burn the taste buds from my tongue.

"Please, take the hobo gloves off, Bell, come on, this is a family place," Rose says with a crooked smirk.

I look down at my ratty old gloves. They're the perfect kind; mittens that turn into fingerless gloves so I can use my phone or actually grab things without losing feeling in my entire hand. "Don't hate on my awesome gloves," I say as I pull them off.

"What am I going to do with you, kid? It's like raising an orphan. Gotta teach them all over again."

"So, how's the new beau?" I ask changing the direction of the conversation.

"Divine," she says with a smile. "Gorgeous as fuck, a good fuck, to be sure."

My eyes widen and I glance around the space, "Family place, Rose, family place."

Rose shrugs, "Facts are facts, Bell. I'm telling you, I'd like to lend him out. He's uh-mazing. The kind of man you can just-"

"I get it, I get it!" I put my hands up to stop her verbal tirade and try to control the blush crawling across my skin. "So, you're not sick of him yet?"

This is typical of Rose. She has a commitment phobia that she has no problem admitting to. She is the "love 'em and leave 'em type and she's beautiful, so she can get away with it.

"Eh, not yet. But it's only been a week and he's been good about not calling me more than once a day."

I shake my head, "You're…"

"A fucking goddess? I know."

We both laugh.

Rose and I have been friends a long time, ever since we ended up in a required political science class together; this subject made me move farther away from the legal system while it drew Rose right in. She graduated from law school last year and has climbed her way up to almost partner in a matter of eight months.

"So, how's the job hunt?" asks Rose.

This is a rough subject for me. I would rather not talk about sad things, depressing things. My professional life, just like all the other parts, has taken a hit. My previous job, a job I loved and worked my ass off for, is gone, like it was never there in the first place. I don't really have anyone I can blame but myself.

"Listen, Bells," Rose says, "fuck him, okay? He's a fucking dick and he fucked you over. Get the fuck over it and get going."

I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that a man had something to do with my downfall, it makes me feel weaker somehow. Like I said, it was my own fault. Never dip your pen in the company ink. Not only did I dip but I moved in and slept with the company ink. It was like I was asking for it. "I'm working on it. It's not like I can put him down as a reference! I have to start from the beginning."

"Why? Weren't there other managers there that you can reference on the DL?"

"The only other manager was Leah," I reply sadly.

"So?"

"That's who I caught Jake screwing in our bed!"

Rose cringes, "Oh yeah, right. Nevermind, that was a bad idea."

She taps her manicured fingers against her steaming mug, "You know, if you need something quick, something for the time-being, per se, I may have an in."

I perk up. "Oh yeah? That would be awesome, my savings has really taken a beating."

Rose nods and rubs her chin."Yeah, my daily screw runs a small publishing firm. He's always looking for interns and stuff and since you have a degree in English, you could get an actual gig,"

I'm tempted. "I don't know, Rose, working with your guy? What about when you ditch out? That could get awkward."

Rose shrugs. "I wouldn't worry about it. Edward is a lot like me, he doesn't get attached so easily."