Chapter 3
By Sam Black

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Location: Hiding Behind Blendum's
Objective: Avoiding Visual Contact
End Goal: Getting A Job

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"Okay, keep cool. Keep cool. I'm just gonna call and see what the job is about."

Drew took a deep breath and pulled out her cell phone, looking at the phone number on the flier she could immediately tell that it was probably a cell number. Looking around the corner of the Blendum's building she spied the cute red-head handing out fliers. 'Probably her cell phone.' she thought confidently.

Now, normally she wouldn't have gone through so much trouble, she might have walked straight up to the girl and inquired about the job. But after about 10 or so botched interviews she figured that phone calls were safer.

The kid, Mac, had told her that the job would probably be a lot of cleaning and fixing things. 'He was a nice kid actually,' Drew thought with a nod, 'Probably as polite as they come.'

But the job was the important thing, the wage was decent, not GREAT, but decent. Decent enough to pay the bills. And the work didn't seem that hard, there was just a lot of it. She could handle that too. The only thing bothering her was the little voice in the back of her head that reminded her of her biggest hang-up. The one thing that kept her from dialing the number and charming the heck out of whoever answered.

She would have to take care of imaginary friends.

She had absolutely no idea how that would work. Drew knew nothing about imaginary friends. Okay, sure, she knew the basics. Like they were imaginary, but also real. They usually stayed with the kid until they grew too old for an imaginary friend. Well, usually. Her neighbor, Zach, has had his imaginary friend since he was eight, and he's 35 now. Hiccup was a good guy, great sense of humor, craziest fur she'd ever seen, likes peanut butter a lot.

But when it came to everything else, she was clueless about that kind of stuff.

'I mean, how do they heal? What if they get sick or hurt? Do they fall in love? Do they have nightmares and dreams? Do they have goals? Do they age? I know nothing. NUH-THING!' she thought worriedly, looking around in a self-induced panic she resigned herself to biting her nails. Realizing this was completely useless and began digging around in her bag for a better bad habit.

Finding her Kool's she opened the pack and retrieved the lighter from her pocket, 'These things are gonna kill you Drew.' she scolded herself as she lit up.

Sighing as she leaned against the wall, her thoughts troubled her as she exhaled pale gray smoke. Sure she needed a job, and she REALLY needed the money. But these are living creatures, what if she messed something up? What if she sucked royally as an "Assistant Estates Manager". Taking another puff she felt her self sliding down until she was seated on the cold ground of the alleyway between Blendum's and some electronics store.

Clearing her head seemed to be getting harder and harder. The doubt and what-ifs kept making it impossible to think. But the cigarette was helping. A little.

She sat in that alley a little longer, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Looking at the flier and examining all the intricate little details. Not that there were many. It was straight, simple, and to the point. A little sheet of paper that pretty much screamed something along the lines of "HELP ME! I'm stuck in a well! Somebody go get Lassie!" in the way of classified ads.

Finally Drew snuffed out her cigarette on the asphalt and stood up. Shaking out her shoulder and rolling her head she psyched herself up.

'Okay. Just chill, okay? This is going to be a snap. Just call them up and see, no big deal. Noooo big deal,' taking a deep breath, Drew punched in the number and waited for the ring.

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"Hello, Frankie Foster speaking."

The voice on the other end of the line sounded nervous, "Um...yes, I was just calling to inquire about the job offer for an assistant?"

Frankie smiled, 'That was quick', she held the phone between her shoulder and ear as she continued to staple up fliers.

"Yeah, we're currently looking for someone who can help me clean and cook and look after the place." she said, trying to juggle numerous object was proving to be a struggle.

"Well, sounds pretty standard. I worked as a short-order cook for a few months, so cooking isn't a big problem. What kind of cleaning?" The woman seemed to be gaining confidence.

Frankie groaned, "A lot. Dishes. Laundry. Mopping. Sweeping. Vacuuming. You name it, I do it. That's why I need the help," she explained, "Ow! Damn. Paper cut." she swore dropping the fliers and stapler and putting her finger into her mouth.

The woman laughed, "I'll bet. Sounds like you've got a handful." she said with amusement.

"So yeah, if it sounds like too much work-"

The girl cut her off, "No, no! Um, I don't mind. Actually, working in a place filled with imaginary friends sounds kind of...interesting." she assured.

Frankie arched an eyebrow, "Really."

"Yeah, "The girl continued, "Never really had an imaginary friend of my own, so I think it would be kind of cool. You know?"

Frankie looked surprised, "Want to set up an interview?" she asked, patting her pockets down for a pen, "I can explain more about the job, have you fill out some paperwork, do a background check. When would you be available?" Ah-ha! Found one. Reaching down she grabbed up a flier and flipped it over.

The voice on the phone faltered, "Um...I think..tomorrow?"

Frankie grinned, "Great! How does 1 o'clock sound?" she asked looking around for someplace to write on. The only thing available was a bumpy phone pole. Grimacing, Frankie put the paper against it an began to write, still keeping the phone securely between her head and shoulder.

"Perfect. Um, I just go there, to Foster's?" the girl asked.

Frankie nodded, "Yeah. What's your name?"

"Drew Beck."

"Need the directions?" Frankie asked as she capped her pen and folded her paper up.

Drew shook her head, "Nah. I've been there before, never been inside, but I've drove past it a few times. Shouldn't be too hard to find my way back." she said confidently.

"Alright, great! See you then, Drew."

"Yep. See you then." Drew replied weakly.

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Drew hung up and let out a huge breath of air, "Oh God, I got an interview." she whispered.

A guy in sweats jogged past her, the birds were chirping and trying to peck at people's dropped French fries, the air smelled fresh. To Drew, the world seemed impossibly chipper.

"1 o' clock. Fosters." Slipping her phone into her bag she stared down at her shoes, "Great."

'I should probably dress nice, ' she thought to herself, as she began to walk home, "OR MAYBE...I won't!" she exclaimed. Stepping off the curb, she proceeded to jaywalk across the street. Liked to live life on the wild side, that one did.

After a moment though and a few more steps she decided that dressing nice would probably be a good idea. No use fucking up a perfectly good interview just because she was stubborn.

'Now what to wear...' she pondered this for a moment as she strolled down the side walk that lead to her 4th floor apartment, pet cat, and a slice of chocolate cake with her name written all over it..

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A/N: Wow. Chapter 3. Now let's see if I can stick this out to the end.