Clary tucked the serving tray under her arm and pulled at the hem of her shorts as she walked back to the bar. The leather shorts were tight, but not tight enough to keep them from riding up as she walked around the club. Setting the tray on the bar, she let out a sigh, drawing Helen's attention to her. The bartender had ended up going home sick, which cut Clary's formal training short as Helen had to fill in. Clary had been thrown to the wolves, but she felt like she was handling herself pretty well.
Helen leaned across the bar, giving Clary an unsolicited view of her ample cleavage. "See that man over there?" she asked, pointing to a table in a secluded corner of the club.
Sitting alone at said table was a man who Clary could only describe as tall, dark, and mysterious. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans with a dark grey V-neck clinging to his upper body. He ran a hand through his onyx hair, as his dark eyes scanned the club. They stopped as the passed over the bar, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"What about him?" Clary asked, returning her attention to Helen.
Her turquoise eyes sparkled. "That's Sebastian Verlac."
Clary quirked an eyebrow at her new coworker. "And?"
Helen shook her head, a few strands of wavy blonde hair falling into her face. "That man is the richest of the rich. He's pretty regular, comes in here almost every night. Also a very good tipper." She managed to lean a little more across the bar. "And a little birdy told me a certain redhead has caught his attention tonight."
Clary felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "Oh, uh, what do I do?"
"That blush of yours is going to get you far here, Clary," Helen said as she straightened up. She pulled down a glass, added a few ice cubes, and then poured in an amber brown liquid. "Scotch on the rocks is his favorite." She slid the glass over to her. "Just take it to him and introduce yourself."
She picked up the glass, the coolness of the drink contrasting greatly with the warmth of her fingers. Maneurving around the other patrons of the club, mainly men, Clary had the same thought she'd already had multiple times that night. How many of these men were like Raphael? They were dressed in designer clothes, their postures screaming power. A few of them were being entertained by strippers while others were chatting with women of a higher caliber. She wondered how many of them had girlfriends or wives waiting for them at home. How many of them would go home intoxicated and knock their significant others around a little just to prove that they could? Just to prove that they were as powerful as they looked?
She shook the thought away as she approached Sebastian's table. His dark eyes had been on her the entire time, and the smirk on his face widened as she reached him. She bent over to set his drink down, pulling her shoulders back to push her breasts forward just as Helen had shown her earlier in the night.
"Scotch on the rocks," she said. He nodded but continued to stare at her. It was a little unnerving, but she smiled through it. "I'm Clary."
He picked the glass off the table and took a sip. "Clary? Hm. That's a nice name, but it won't do."
"Excuse me?" She didn't even try to hide the surprise and slight offense in her tone.
"It's just not special enough."
"Special?"
"Special. I like to give all the girls here nicknames. And I think I have the perfect one for you, sweetheart."
Clary looked at him, waiting for an elaboration. When it didn't come, she guessed her wanted her to ask. "What is it?"
"Cherry," he said with a grin. "Because your hair is that delicious red, and you give me the sense that you can be quite sour if not ripened up enough."
"Cherry," she responded, forcing a smile. "I like it." That was a terrible, terrible lie. She hated that nickname. It sounded like something children on a playground would use to tease her. It also sounded like something one of the strippers would be named. At least if she had to stoop to that level one day, she'd already have a good stage name to use.
"I'm glad." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Thanks for the drink, Cherry." He winked at her has he handed over a few bills.
She glanced down, noticing he not only gave her the cash for the drinks, but an additional hundred-dollar bill. She looked back up at him, eyes wide. "A hundred bucks?"
"If you keep me happy, Cherry, there's more where that came from."
Clary slowly climbed the rickety stairs to her floor, the fluorescent lights flickering obnoxiously over head. Her feet ached, and she was exhausted. The only thing keeping her from collapsing was the prospect of her bed. Well, that, and the fact that if she fell asleep in the hallway she'd probably end up smelling like cigarettes, urine, and hopelessness, just like the carpet did.
She rummaged through her coat pocket, her hand brushing against a stack of folded bills, to find her keys. Approaching her door, she noticed a piece of pink paper taped to the front. In big, bold letters were the words eviction notice. She yanked it down, too tired to even worry about how long she had left.
Unlocking the door, she stepped into her tiny, one bedroom apartment. She relocked the door behind her before picking up a pile of mail off the floor. She threw the mail, along with the eviction notice, on to the counter. She didn't need to look through it to know what the envelopes contained. It was always the same. There would be bills. Letters about overdue medical bills. Letters about payment installments from funeral expenses. Letters about upcoming student loan payments. Any time an envelope came through that slot on her door, it was always someone asking for the money she owed. Money she didn't have at the moment. Money that, if tonight had been any indication, she would be closer to having in the future.
She walked straight to her bedroom and undressed. Without even brushing her teeth or putting pajamas on, she got into bed and fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow.
A hand roughly shoving her arm pulled her from one of the best night's sleep she'd had in months.
"Wake the fuck up, Clarissa," Isabelle's angry voice growled.
Clary flinched at the use of her full name. Only one person had used that on a somewhat regular basis, and it was never good when he had.
"Don't call me that," she groaned her into her pillow.
"I will call you whatever the fuck I want when you've been lying to my face!"
Clary opened one eye and looked at her best friend. Izzy was standing next to her bed, her hands placed firmly on her hips, and fire burning in her dark blue eyes.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"This," she seethed, removing one of her hands from her hip. Clary hadn't noticed the piece of pink paper in it earlier. "I come here, trying to be a good friend and help you get ready for a very important interview, only to find a goddamn eviction notice sitting on your counter."
"I just got it yesterday," Clary mumbled.
Izzy threw hands in the air. "That's not the point! The point is, you've been telling Simon and I that you're doing fine. Getting evicted is not fine! How could you keep this form us?"
Clary finally sat up, crossing her arms and staring her friend in the eye. "Because I don't want your pity, Isabelle."
The anger seemed to dissipate from her instantly, and she sat down next to her. "You won't get my pity, Clary. I know things have been hard for you lately. I just want to help."
"There!" Clary pointed at her friend. "I can see the pity in your eyes! 'Oh, poor Clary. Her mom dies and then her boyfriend kicks her out. She's really struggling right now. That poor thing is down on her luck. Just needs a little help and everything will be alright,'" she said, doing her best snooty voice.
"Speaking of, you should have fought Raph harder. That house was yours as much as his."
Clary rolled her eyes. This argument again. "His name was on the deed, Iz. Plus, when someone's yelling at you and calling you a gold-digging whore, the last thing you think of doing is asking for a house."
She sighed. "Whatever. On to more pressing issues. Your interview with Jace. Seems like landing this job just got a hell of a lot more important."
"I highly doubt I'll get it, Iz. I'm not exactly qualified to take care of some stranger's child."
"I dunno," her friend shrugged, inspecting her nails. "Jace is getting pretty desperate. Says he just can't find a good fit for his little angel."
"Oh, God. A good fit? Please tell me this kid isn't one of those spoiled brats who scares off anyone who even tries to have a role of authority of them."
Isabelle let out a laugh. "No, no. Celine is actually a very well behaved child. There's just a lot of applicants who are only applying to get to Jace. But I'm almost positive he'll see you're different."
"Let's hope so, or else I'm one hundred percent fucked, and not in a good way," she sighed, throwing off the bed covers. "I'm guessing your goal right now is to make sure I make a good impression?"
Izzy nodded enthusiastically. "Go shower so I can work my magic."
Clary stood in the tiny bathroom at the coffee shop, the smell of disinfectant and flowery aerosol spray assaulting her nostrils. She had arrived with a good half hour before interview, her nerves having caused her to show up earlier than what was usually socially acceptable. Not feeling like sitting around the shop for an extended period of time, she ducked into the bathroom to hide. She was down to the last ten minutes of her wait.
Staring at her reflection in the streaky mirror, she exhaled loudly. Looking the way she did, she thought she'd feel more confident. Izzy had really outdone herself this time. Her red hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and her make up covered all blemishes while managing to still look natural. Izzy had even brought her a brand new outfit as a "good luck gift." A sky blue button up shirt was tucked into a charcoal gray pencil skirt that clung to her curves, and a pair of black stilettos adorned her feet. She looked better than she had in years, but it wasn't doing anything to make her feel better.
There was so much riding on this job. Without it, she was going to have to hunt for a new place to live, and she was already living in the cheapest apartment she could find. She didn't even know who would take her with an eviction in her history. She had to make a good impression, and she had to land this position, but she wasn't sure some fancy outfit was going to make up for her lack of experience in childcare.
Taking one last look at herself, she gave herself a mini pep talk before leaving the bathroom to meet with the man who was about to decide her fate. She looked around the café, her eyes landing on a man sitting at a two-chaired table by himself. His back was to her, but something looked familiar about the golden locks of hair on his head. Judging by the expensive business suit he was wearing, she guessed that was her guy. Izzy had said something about the meeting being during Jace's lunch break. She took a deep breath and strode over to the table.
"Mr. Herondale?" she asked as she approached the man, trying to sound as sure of herself as possible.
The man turned to face her, and she nearly gasped as she recognized the honey colored eyes of the man before her. The same man she had met at the mall just the previous day.
"Clary?" he said, his brow furrowing. He seemed equally surprised. "Are you the Clarissa Fray who's applying to be my nanny?"
"Yeah," she replied lamely. "But this isn't me trying not cash in any favors. I honestly didn't know it was you."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Because I thought you would have recognized my name from that business card I gave you."
She smiled sheepishly. "I, uh, might have thrown that away."
"And why would you do that?" he questioned as she sat down in the chair across from him.
She shrugged. "Didn't think you really wanted me to be calling you for any favors."
He clasped his hands on top of the laptop that sat in front of him. "I assure you, Miss Fray, I don't hand out my number to just anybody. If I didn't want you to use it, I would not have offered it."
She looked at him, slightly taken aback. "Oh, uh, that's good to know, I guess."
"Well," he cleared his throat, "how about we get this interview started." He opened the lid to his laptop and pressed a few keys. "Alec sent me a copy of your resume. I don't see any jobs in the childcare industry under your employment history."
"That's because I don't necessarily have any. But I did used to volunteer teaching art classes for children at the community center. Controlling a room full of twenty kids under the age of ten was a feat in itself."
"Hm," he nodded, his eyes scanning his screen. "I also see you attended NYU for three years but never completed a degree. Want to tell me about that?" He looked up, his golden orbs meeting her emerald ones.
"Oh." She was hoping he wouldn't ask about that. She found herself regretting putting that on her resume, but she figured some level of higher education was better than none. "My mom got really sick during my junior year. I ended up leaving to help take care of her."
"So you at least have experience in taking care of other humans, just not children?"
She nodded. "Yes. You could say that."
"That makes you a little more promising. Now, why did you apply for this job?" He put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands under his chin.
"The honest answer?" He gave her a slight nod. "I'm about to lose my job at Bane's because the store is closing. Izzy, being my best friend suggested I apply for this position. Now, if you had asked why I think I'm the person for the job, the answer would be that I've always enjoyed children and have felt like I've been oddly capable of handling them. I went into my first art class at the community center having never even babysat a day before in my life, yet I was able to control the classroom better than people who have worked their for years. And I formed a bond with a lot of the students there. I'm hoping I'd be able to form the same bond with your daughter, if given the chance. And after taking care of my mother, I know all about sticking to schedule, driving to and from appointments, running errands, making meals, cleaning, and keeping a person entertained. If you knew my mother, you would know she's not very different from a child on the inside."
When she finished her little speech, Jace continued to sit there just staring at her. There was something calculating in his eyes, and it was very unnerving. She fought the urge to fidget under his gaze as her train of thought ran wild. She was worried that she had said something wrong or just made a complete fool of herself.
His Rolex began to make a beeping noise, and he glanced down. "Well, Miss Fray, I have to get back to the office in order to make a meeting soon. Do you have any questions for me before I go?"
It was then that she realized she knew absolutely nothing about this man, and there was one question bubbling in her mind. "What exactly is it you do, Mr. Herondale?" she asked. She was curious as to why this man needed a nanny. He must do something very important and time consuming.
He cocked his head to the side. "You don't know?"
"Would I be asking if I did?" she countered and immediately internally cringed. She should not be giving him attitude if she wanted a job.
He didn't seem to mind, though, and let out a slight chuckle. "I'm a businessman. Let's leave it at that. I would suggest you do a little research on potential employers in the future." He glanced at his watch again. "I really must be going. It was nice to see you again. You've definitely given me a lot to think about." He pulled out another business card from his pants pocket and handed it to her. "If you have anymore questions, or don't hear from me within the next few days, give me a call. And I sincerely mean that, Miss Fray."
She took the card from him, smiling shyly. "Got it. Um, thanks for taking the time to meet me with me," she said, standing as he did.
"The pleasure was all mine," he responded, reaching out to shake her hand. She felt the same electric shock as the first time they had touched, but passed it off as a strange coincidence. "I'll be in touch."
Clary was handing empty glasses over to Helen, who was still covering the bartender, when Simon walked approached the bar. He was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with security written in bold, white letters on the back. She could see the plastic spiral of an earpiece hanging against his neck. He leaned against the bar and glanced between the two girls.
"Sebastian's in booth three. He's asking for someone named Cherry?" he said.
Helen let out a snicker as Clary sighed. "That's me," she groaned.
She could tell Simon was holding back a laugh. "Really? Cherry? Are you about to take a swing around one of those poles?"
"Shut it, Lewis," she growled, waiting for Helen to make Sebastian's usual. "He picked it, and if it means he keeps tipping me Benjamins, then I'll let him call me whatever the hell wants."
"I don't think he's going to be the only one calling you Cherry now."
She took the drink from Helen and turned to Simon, her eyes hard. "You call me that, and I'll kill you. Or worse, I'll convince Izzy to put a sex embargo on you."
He mock gasped at her. "You wouldn't."
"Don't test me, Lewis."
Drink in hand, she made her way to booth number three. Sebastian was sitting there by himself, and she wondered if he always came alone. Then she wondered why he would need an entire booth all to himself, and figured he must just be waiting for some friends.
She set the drink on the table, and he smiled at her. "You know, Cherry, those heels are much better than sneakers you were wearing last night."
Clary looked down at her feet. She had kept the stilettos from earlier on. Helen had advised her in putting more effort into her appearance, saying it would lead to better to tips.
"I'm glad you like them, Mr. Verlac," she said, trying her best to give him a flirty smile.
"Please, call me Sebastian."
"Okay, Sebastian. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?"
"Oh, Cherry, there's so much you could do for me. Sadly, none of it is within your job description, so I'll have to let you go tend to other customers. Here's something for your troubles."
Just like the previous night, he handed her enough for the drink and a hundred dollar bill. She took it from him happily, saying her thanks. She pushed down the slimy she had after interacting with him. She needed the money more than she needed to feel like a respected human being.
As she slid the bill into the back pocket of her shorts, she felt a vibration coming from her phone. Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, she quickly pulled it out to check the screen. She was receiving an incoming call from an unknown number. Without giving it a second thought, she ducked into a quiet corner and pressed accept, hoping it was what she thought it was.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Clary? It's Jace Herondale," his honey smooth voice came over the speaker. "I'm sorry for the late call, but I wanted to let you know that I've made my decision. I'd like to hire you as Ceecee's nanny."