Chapter 1. The job interview

Neal Cassidy looked at his watch and tapped his fingers on the table. He looked around the small café and took a long, calming breath before smoothing his T-shirt for the millionth time that morning, then proceeded to check his jeans and boots. Not the usual interview attire... at least not the one he was used to.

'Times have changed,' he reminded himself in silence. 'The only thing that doesn't seem to change… is your bad luck.'

He scoffed, and at that very same moment, a blond girl in a ponytail and glasses, wearing a flower-patterned dress and a jean jacket, entered the café. She took a look around the place with a frown, but there was not much to see apart from Neal, the only customer sipping a cup of coffee in the tiny little café. Neal saw her eyes fall on him for a second, and then she turned on her heels and made to leave.

"Excuse me," he said, standing up before the girl had the chance to walk away. There was absolutely no way he would risk missing the only interview he had managed to schedule through that job agency! "I'm sorry, but are you Emma Swan?"

She looked at him, still frowning from behind her glasses.

"Yes," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "I'm sorry, but you are…"

"Neal Cassidy," he replied with a friendly smile as he outstretched his hand. "We have an appointment at 10:30."

"On, I'm sorry," she said, shaking his hand but looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "There must have been some sort of mistake."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have an appointment with any Neal Cassidy," she answered, opening the folder she was carrying. "I'm supposed to meet a Nelly Cassidy at 10:30."

'What the?' Neal thought, trying not to let his surprise show.

"Are you… are you sure?" he asked, blinking.

"Yes," Emma replied, shrugging. "I'm sorry."

"Do you mind if I…" he muttered, pointing at the folder.

"Go ahead."

He picked up the piece of paper with the agency logo to check the contact information on it.

"Ah…" he whispered. "See, that is the problem… they spelled my name wrong."

Of course they did. If his job interview didn't start with something weird, like, him having a girl's name on his interviewer's file, then it just wouldn't be him.

"But the rest of the information is correct," he said, as his eyes ran over the other lines, "…including the gender."

Emma took the paper back from his hands and her eyes went wide.

"You're… a man?" she muttered, still looking at his file.

"Busted," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling, trying to dissipate that awkward moment of awkwardness.

"Oh, I'm so sorry…" she whispered in response. "I just wasn't expecting it, I mean, are you sure? Are we really talking about the same job opening?" she asked, just to make sure they were on the same page after the little mishap with the man's name. "Because I am looking for a maid."

Neal swallowed, realizing that job interview was likely to be a fiasco.

"Uh, yeah," he said, smiling his most charming smile. "Housekeeper," he made sure to point out the correct term in his file. "It's me, I… I applied for that job, yes."

He saw her raise her eyebrows quickly, only to smile afterwards.

"Well, in that case…" she said, pulling a chair to sit at his table. "Then I think we should get started."

Neal resumed to his seat, and his fingers dangled nervously around his cup of coffee. He had expected Emma Swan to be somewhat older. Much older. He stole a glance towards her as she looked at his file. How old was she anyway? Seventeen, eighteen?

That was not going to work.

"Ok… Neal," she started, smiling again. "So, I take it you can cook, clean, iron…"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, trying to sound as confident as possible.

"Ok. Uh… You're divorced?"

He blinked and bit his lip. Of all the questions, she had to poke at that specific open wound.

"Yes," he replied, after swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, fumbling with the papers. "I shouldn't even be asking. I've never interviewed anyone before."

He nodded, trying to smile again to make her feel slightly better about her faux pas.

"So…" she continued, after clearing her throat. "Tell me about your last job."

He let out a sigh, and a rather bitter sneer.

"Tell you what," he said, trying to hide his discomfort as he cast a flirtatious look towards his interviewer. "Let me buy you a drink, and I'll tell you."

Emma, however, was less than amused at his remark.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked quietly, after sliding her glasses further up her nose.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, quickly lowering his eyes to his cup of coffee, and he knew he was blushing. What an idiotic thing to say! That was a job interview, for Heaven's sake! "I'm so sorry, I… I tend to crack jokes when I get nervous."

She looked at him with the same unimpressed look as before.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter," she said, getting the papers together and putting them back into the folder.

"No, please, Emma," he muttered, and her eyes shot back to him. "I mean… Ms. Swan. I'm… I'm sorry."

She closed the folder and tapped her fingers over it, raising an eyebrow.

"My last job was at a law firm," he answered, looking at his own hands as he did so. "I am a… well, I worked as a lawyer."

"A lawyer?" she repeated, barely bothering to hide her surprise. "Why in-"

"I went through a very complicated divorce, and lost everything I had to my ex-wife," he whispered, still avoiding her eyes. "Including my suits. All of them. So, I figured," he finally raised his eyes to hers, with his carelessly charming façade ready to go. "Maybe it's time to find a job where wearing jeans and sweatpants won't be a problem!"

By that time, Emma Swan looked slightly more sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

Neal nodded in response. He was sorry, too. Mostly, he was sorry for having gotten married, in the first place.

"But, uh, sorry to be inconvenient, but you are… or were a lawyer, right? How did you get ripped off?"

He had to concede it was a fair question, although it was one he really wouldn't like to answer. But she did look genuinely interested, so… whatever.

"Divorce litigation, Ms. Swan, as well as pretty much every kind of litigation…" he said, and his fingers danced around the cup of coffee as he spoke, "is a lot like an arena full of hungry lions. And, as a lawyer, sometimes you have to choose between what will make you win, and what is right."

He took a sip of his coffee, studying her face.

"That explains why I am unemployed, too," he muttered.

"So you're saying you're a man of principles?" she asked, tilting her head with a friendly smile.

"I try my best to be," Neal responded, smiling as well. What a strange thing. He had just met Emma Swan, and yet he was now realizing that talking to her about his biggest failures in life was, in a way, rather comforting: she made him feel strangely in peace with himself. "But I must say I'm starting to miss hot meals," he completed. "A life of honesty sometimes doesn't exactly grant you many benefits."

"Oh, it does," she said. "Maybe not material ones… but I suppose that being able to sleep well at night, knowing you did the right thing… I guess that is a big benefit."

He forced himself not to sneer. If there was one thing he had no idea what it felt like, it was "sleeping well at night". But he chose to remain silent not to let his bitterness sour the conversation.

"Well," Emma said at last, closing the folder and looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Your references are great, so is your resume… I won't make any promises, but… what do you say we meet tomorrow morning at my place?"

He smiled. At last, a ray of sunshine amidst the dark clouds above his head!

"I will give you a challenge, and if you pass…" she said, taking off her glasses to clean them with a napkin. "The job is yours."

She had nice eyes. And a nice mouth too. All of a sudden, he found himself wishing the challenge was something rather kinky.

'Keep it in your pants, will you?' said a voice inside his mind, slapping him back to reality.

The two of them stood up and shook hands after she wrote down her address. For now, he should focus on getting that job, and nothing but that.