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It's Friday.

THAT Friday.

Zayn job thing Friday.

I don't know what I'm walking into here, I only have the address and information that they're are making changes in staffing so if there's ever a time to get in, it can only be now.

Oh, and also that my boss was/is the boss? Something along those lines but my game plan is to slip in without any ripples so I can avoid him as best I can, how often do CEOs pay attention to the entry level? It'll be fine.

I pray--

The rain has stopped for a bit, the sun is out and bright. And if there's a sign that it'll all be fine, this has to be it.

I have bigger things than Mr Sin to worry about. I haven't seen him since I got him hijacked and I know I have a lot more apologising to do there. I take full blame. Especially since he also repaid my stolen cheque into my bank account.

I practically danced when I went over to shopping complex, just taking chances on the card-- hoping to swipe Nebula some Purity if I had even R50 in there.

And there it was. Full amount. And not a cent more, which I respected.

I could get a few things, and also get a whole stack of thrown away cardboard boxes that I used to insulate our shack now that's it's been raining and it's going to be cold until September.

I think Mam'Ntombi has bronchitis and I've been trying to get that under control these past few days. I had to take some time off from both my jobs to deal with the fever.

I couldn't leave her alone with Nebula when she's feeling like that, a 2 year old used to that unnecessarily big house of theirs with all the toys and tiled floors, electric heaters and electric blankets. Indoor plumbing and any kind of food she wants... only I should deal with bringing her down from that, not my sick mother.

But today she's feeling better and Mam'Noni said she'd come over to check on them, so I feel a little comfortable leaving them alone for a few hours as I resume a ritual I'm much too familiar with--

Skirt. Shirt. Heels. Hair brushed, middle part and tied at the nape of my neck. My life's worth printed on some papers in my bag.

I didn't get a good night's sleep last night and I had to be up early this morning to make them breakfast and cook the lunch they'd eat later on if I'm to get home a bit late.

I try to squash this little anxiety playing in the middle of my chest. My heart is beating like crazy and my stomach is starting to hurt from all the twisting of my guts.

I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get anything there. What I'm going to do about Nebula? How I'm going to able to take care of my mother who as much as it kills me to admit, doesn't seem to be getting any better?

Siphesihle? My brother. It's only about time before he dies, the turnover for nyaopes in this township is high especially for those that steal to feed their habit. If I don't save him, he'll die one way or another.

And even if I did stop caring after everything he's done, if he dies it ultimately becomes my problem. I'm the one who's going to pay in the end. I'm the one who's going to be running around to bury him, meaning I'm the one who's going to need to look for money for feed this whole neighbourhood for a week.

I can barely feed myself.

Where the hell am I going to get money to slaughter a cow?

I don't have the money anymore, I don't have any options.

Mam'Noni says there have been community gatherings where they talk about "mobilising against crime". Community justice they call it, which is just mobs going around beating these kids to death.

It's only a matter of time before they get him.

Funerals cripple and bankrupt normal families, what are they going to me?

I try not to focus on such thoughts but then my baby... Vivid is not answering my calls, nothing. And for the first time since I got pregnant, hasn't called to check in on Nebula. Meaning I'm truly truly alone here.

It's all on me.

And it's all riding on today.

A couple of hours and taxi rides later I finally make it to the tall greystone and glass building, having followed the directions I scribbled down to the t.

I stop outside to compose myself for a second, the street looks like just any other-- not too busy for mid morning, a few cars passing by but through the glass doors I can tell that the ground floor is packed and busy.

I fix my hair, touch up my makeup. Refusing to give them any excuse to not hire me. I even broke out the new shoes Rea gave me the other day, that I saved for this exact moment and are killing my feet but I'll live.

I've been all piled up and squeezed in in overloaded taxis, did some brisk walking/mini jogging up to here, and up the little unnecessary steps they put down there so even I know I'm bound to not look my best.

But I'm no rookie. I've had worse days than this going to interviews.

Okay, so I take a very deep breath and hold my head up. Whatever happens, I'm just going to try my best. Use every arsenal I have. And if it still doesn't work... if still I don't work... Jesus is still king.

It's not necessarily as chaotic on the inside as it looks from the outside. Must be the trick of the glasses. But it is damned packed and very big with two elevator banks on both sides of the room and in a c-shaped desk in the middle manned by 3 very efficient women and one guy who have the organised the crowds in three separate lines.

There's at least 50 people here, making me the 51st. Both men and women. I doubt I'm even the last. Chances of getting a job are getting slim to none as if I didn't already have the odds stacked against me.

I can't go back and I really don't want to be that clueless girl already who showed up late, first impressions and what not. The key is confidence here.

So I confidently ignore the stomping of my guts and cut all the way to the front, gathering a few murmurs and complaints along the way.

I put on a big smile as soon as I get to the desk, interrupting some poor blonde girl who's talking to the closest receptionist I could get to.

"Hi, I'm sorry," I say immediately.

"Excuse me, please wait your turn like everyone else," The blonde pushes back.

I drop my smile, "I said I'm sorry."

"Doesn't mean you get to--"

I smile back at Amber, one of the girls working the desk, "Hi, I'm here to see Zayn Sin."

And it's like I killed a baby unicorn or something with the reactions I get just for saying that.

Amber smiles a little too condescendingly for my taste, "Besides the fact that you have to wait your turn Ms, I'm afraid that's impossible."

There are no snorts or murmurs but I can feel the judgement in the air, because how dare I walk up in here and ask to speak to a board member.

Because there's no way a girl like me could be friendly with the Zayn Sin.

"Why is it impossible? He works here, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he works here," She stresses, "But Mr Sin is a busy member of the board, you don't get to him without an appointment."

I pause and raise an eyebrow at her, "How do you know that I don't have an appointment? You didn't ask, didn't check? You just work on a gut feeling?"

I'll play the race card if I have to, that's the way in this country and a black child is on her own here.

"No, because then you'd know that both Mr Sins aren't available today. They're not in even the country," Amber says, still with that snarky look on her face.

I don't have plan B, I'd planned to go straight to Zayn and then let him show me exactly where to go and I didn't count on him not being around.

"Nice try," That blonde scoffs behind me.

They're all waiting for my next move, for me to tuck my tail between my legs and walk all the way to my place at the back of line.

I deflate a little but keep on trying, "Okay, look it slipped my mind that he won't be in today. But he told me to come see the hiring manager today..."

"Mr Zayn Sin personally told you?" That comes from the blonde whose existence doesn't matter to me anymore.

"How else would I know that they're hiring today?" I address Amber, hoping that the longer I keep talking, the longer I can think of a way to get my ass up those elevators.

"How else does everyone else here know?" This Amber girl is sharp.

"Okay, how else would I know that you're changing CEOs today?"

Now she's showing the annoyance, "Everyone who reads a blog knows," She sighs, "Now am I going to need to call security here? Back of the queue please."

"I can't stand in a queue," I blurt out.

"Unless you're the elderly, have some mobility impairments, or are pregnant then you have to wait in line like everyone else," She says back to me with no politeness whatsoever.

"I'm pregnant," I blurt out again.

She drops her gaze to my stomach and raises her eyebrow, "I don't think so."

I blow out my belly to at least seem like I'm a little pregnant, I haven't been eating well these past few days and I don't know how well trying to seem at least bloated is working.

"I'd like to speak to your supervisor," Might as well Karen with indignation, they do it unnecessarily.

"And I'd like to lick Henry Cavill's armpit," She deadpans me right back.

I'm stuck stunned gaping down at her for a few seconds because what the fuck and who the fuck?

"And I'm sure Henry Camphill would love that and you seem like a really nice la-"

"I'm sorry, mam.. we're going to need you come with us," Two very big security guards materialise next to me and I realise that I definitely did make some ripples.

Should've went to the back of the line when I had the chance and now I'm about to thrown out in front of all these people.

I could either leave now empty handed with my head held high, or I could embarrass myself further and cause a scene. None of which matter, Zayn is not here and I'm not going to get the job anyway.

I glance back at the blonde, she's pretty and smug. So is Amber, those other girls. And they're all waiting to see what I'll do next.

I take a little breath and straighten my back--

No one can say I never tried my best and did everything I could. No one can ever say I stood by and watched my family struggle.

Whatever happens happens, and I'll deal with it how I can.

"Well, thank you for all your help," I say with a fake smile, "Amber." My voice is thicker.

This is not about them, they didn't do anything wrong but be a bunch of snarky assholes. Typical basic bitches.

I purse my lips with a smug look too, "Let me let you get back to your... menial tasks... of your dream career... which you pride yourself at--"

I'm cut off by a hand gripping my arm and tugging me.

There's a collective gasp and some soft murmurs--

A little too dramatic even though I'm the one causing the drama but no one has the right to put hands on me especially if its throw me out like some pest.

I firm my stance in these pain shoes and tug back.

But when I hear a stern, "Stop!"

I stop.

I know that voice.

I catch a whiff of that too familiar scent.

Shit.

Amber scrambles around with a reticent look on her face, "Uh.. I'm sorry Mr Sin, she was--"

"I'll handle this Ms. Kotze thank you, excuse us," I can feel the annoyance rolling off Mr Sin.

My Mr Sin. Not Zayn.

Why not Zayn? I need Zayn right now and him I can deal with... Mr Sin is a whole different story.

I never know what to expect with him...

My tugging didn't loosen his grip any so I pointedly stare at his hand.

This is how many times now that he's put his hands on me?

"Let's go," He pulls his hand away a little too late.

"Who's let's?"

"Walk, Ms Olifant," Now he's getting pissed.

You could hear a pin drop in here. Jaws have dropped. And eyes go back and forth between him and I. It's a different kind of attention now. A different type of judgement.

And I know not to mess about when he's in this mood, even more so in front of this many people including his employees.

But I must take a second too long to obey his command because he takes my hand this time and yanks me along as he starts walking.

I turn my head back to the Amber and blondie them and poke my tongue out at them.

Ha ha suckers!

They're still gaping at us, possibly finding it hard to wrap their heads around the incongruity of it all. They didn't believe that I know Zayn, and some of them haven't even breathed the same air as Mr Sin judging by the way they're gawking at him, he's practically a god around here it seems.

I notice a few people trailing behind him and I wonder if it's the people he came with or just nosy ones who want to hear exactly what is going on here.

Either way, I try pull my hand out of his, "I can walk just fine on my own," I hiss at him while slapping his hand away.

He really needs to stop touching me yet he just tightens his hold and pulls me into the elevator that opens at the exact moment we arrive.

Its only the two of us inside yet everyone waits for another elevator including the people who were following him.

"I think you should fire your receptionist. She's rude," I say to him as soon as the elevator doors close.

"I'm not firing anyone and Ms Kotze is an exceptional receptionist."

"She would've made a pregnant woman stand in that long queue," I let him know exactly what kind of receptionist she is.

Who makes a pregnant woman wait in a long line?

He sighs, "You're not pregnant."

"She didn't know that," Is my comeback.

He takes a look at my stomach and then at my face, "Yes she did."

"You can't know that," I keep arguing to quell my nerves at finally being alone with him since he put me in the back of that SUV.

I try to not to think about that morning, not because of the trouble I tend to be constantly causing him--

That morning turned out to have taken more of a toll on me than I'd initially realized, I can still feel the scrapes and bruises even now.

I talked myself up in the back of that Lexus, and my jaw was so tight I swear Craig heard it crack when he glanced at me in the mirror. He looked a little worried and concerned, but kept it to himself.

First thing I did when I got home was take off my shoes, I had them on all night and my feet were definitely feeling worse than now.

My room is first from the front door, if we can call them rooms now that I've seen what other people call rooms out here, and there was enough evidence of Nebula being home.

I don't know how can one small little person who wears pink and was poof pigtails be that destructive? I should've known Mam'Ntombi would let her get away with anything.

I couldn't do anything until I straightened out my room which then lead to cleaning that whole shack especially my mother's room to move the bed for some reason.

Then I took a much needed bath after I remembered that I'd been rolling on the ground and sat on a hospital bed, I needed to wash that whole night off me.

After taking the chicken out of the freezer for lunch later on and having hot water ready for them to come home and bath--

I finally decided to sit down and at least drink a cup of coffee--

I needed to breathe. Collect myself. Put on a mask for my mom and my daughter. They couldn't know that I was barely hanging on by a thread.

I boiled the water and set out the ingredients on our small kitchen table.

And the problem started when I was finally sitting, resting and having to add those ingredients to the cup of boiled water-- the milk went in fine. But when I had to spoon in the coffee and sugar, things got a little difficult.

I couldn't keep the spoon steady in my between my fingers which ended with more white crystals around the mug than inside.

I put everything down and took a good look at my hands-- they were trembling. I closed them into a tight fist a couple of times and opened them again, and the tremors were still here.

I panicked and sat on them for a few seconds, out of sight out of mind right?

Things only got worse.

My ears started to ring and I just seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into dome tunnel hole. Couldn't see anything. Black spots popped up blurred everything, couldn't even see the mug in front of me.

I was going to throw up, I could feel it rise up in my throat--

The elevator pings open, and my hand is grabbed again and I'm dragged out.

I stare at our connected hands as I stumble behind him trying to keep up with his long strides and too puzzled to say anything. He's holding my hand infront of everybody at this point, he does know that right?

I don't try to pull my hand away this time.

Even when his shocked swarm of secretaries try to bombard him with messages and requests, all while giving my presence questioning looks.

He ignores them all and pulls me into what I assume is his office.

The second we step in, he locks the door behind us and pretty much traps me against it.

"What are you doing here?" His breathy voice is taut and barely above a whisper as if he's physically restraining himself from doing something, "Are you okay?"

If my heavy breathing is any indication, I'm not okay.

Not when he's this close to me. Imprisoned me against the door. Breathing my air and glaring down at me.

I did not prepare for this.

I especially didn't prepare for his fingers to cup my neck and gently tilt my jaw upward.

If I thought my heart was racing and my gut was twisting earlier, and if I thought I was trembling the other day... this is nothing compared to that.

I'm about to melt.

He's inspecting the cut on my neck. Pretty much healed up now but I can tell by the relief dancing in his eyes that he's been very worried about me.

"It's healing well," He says taking a step back from me.

I immediately feel the distance, the absence of his warmth. And when he drops his fingers from my neck, my whole body turns to ice.

I clear my throat and cup my wound out of reflex, "It wasn't that deep, I told you."

"And I told you I'll be the judge of that."

I roll my eyes at him and that gives me a second to regain my composure and sense into which Mr Sin I'm dealing with today.

As he walks away all tall and broad shouldered deeper into his fully furnished office, I know I'm not dealing with the playful Mr Sin of late, or even the cold asshole I've been working for but rather something in between...

"You still haven't told me what you brings you here..." His voice doesn't echo but it reaches me as I follow him deeper into the office that looks like a mini living room.

His entire suite is not even this furnished. And it's definitely not this warm and inviting even though it too is a million miles in the sky.

"I...uh... I'm looking for a job?" Don't know why that comes out as a question.

"But you have a job," His distracted by papers on his big, wooden desk.

"I want a better one," It should be obvious, "Preferably with benefits."

"If you weren't happy with your job, why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because we talk?"

"What do you call what we're doing now?"

I shrug, "I'm asking myself that as well."

He rolls his eyes.

There are two large chairs in front of his desk, I take neither and continue to stay standing despite my dead feet.