Chapter Two: The First Week.
It's so much easier for sims to get work than in our world. ~The Watcher.
The first thing the four friends did next day was to find work that would start later that week. Isabel jumped at the chance to work for the local art museum, while Francesca timidly applied for work at a magazine house. Alas, neither Hera nor Attie could decide what to do. They sprawled on the sofa while mulling over their decisions.
"Don't tell me you DON'T want to go on Broadway, Hera," Attie said as Hera scratched her head about the online classifieds.
"I do want to go on Broadway, but I want to play computer games as well."
"Choose one or the other."
"If I could do that, or both at once, I wouldn't ask you, Attie," Hera said peevishly, "Not that you'd give me good career advice either." She stood up, shut off her phone, and went to her room to sulk.
"Attie, you're a big hypocrite," Isabel remarked. "You're also having a hard time deciding now that there's no more openings for sportswomen."
"Unlike Hera, I have a backup plan in mind," Attie said proudly. "Look, clerk required for the Secret Service."
"You don't even like office work," Isabel said in surprise.
"If I play my cards right, Isabel, I'll be out as a super spy in no time," Attie said. "Amelia Bonn sounds like a pretty good spy name," she said with a grin and applied for the job.
Isabel sighed. "Once an adventure junkie, always an adventure junkie," she muttered. She then went upstairs to the balcony and started drawing. As she drew, she became aware of a brassy little voice talking in her ear. She turned to see Francesca complaining about something while holding the remains of her bacon breakfast in one hand.
|It was Isabel's cousin, Francesca.|
"I'm worried about my job, Isabel," Francesca said. "I don't even know what sort of things to write for women's mags. I mean, I can't write about bugs! I hate bugs, especially cockroaches. I turn red at the idea of writing about woohoo and the only fashion statements I know are Goth-nerd or super casual..."
"Fran, you could review the makeup you use," Isabel said. "Can't you paint with your words?"
"Not when I collect makeup from Manic Panic's discounts or receive them as birthday-slash-Christmas presents from my aunt Greta!" Francesca replied and finished her bacon. "My mom's sister, I mean," she explained.
"Don't worry, the company won't throw you right into the middle of work. I've looked things up and your typical beginner usually assists the full-time members with research and proofreading. Little things like that."
"Oh... Then I shouldn't worry too much, right?" Francesca asked, staring at her cousin with big black eyes.
"Yep. Word of advice, Fran; don't go to work all made up in your Goth-punk finery. The magazine house you applied for is smack in the 'prep' mainstream. They won't like extreme dark punk girls at all."
"I'm no Tara Gilesby," Fran said with a small laugh. "Thanks for the help."
"You're welcome," Isabel said, and turned back to her drawing. Francesca went back inside and browsed for ideas on her computer.
As Francesca browsed the web, she patted her forehead. "Too big," she muttered. "I've always been fond of severe ponytails for their drama factor, but not the resulting forehead. Time for a makeover."
She undid her ponytail and retied it, leaving some of the hair to frame her face. She smiled when she looked in the mirror. "Not so much forehead this time."
A beep from her computer caused her to look back. It was an email from her parents asking for news of herself. She replied to the email:
I'm alright, mom and dad. How are you?
Just got a job at the SimCity Magazine House that will start later this week. I've got my own room. I'm not going to go all out in 'dark punk', don't worry; I know when to be 'preppy'. I'm eating well, the Lion Twins are good cooks. Attie can fry spicy bacon that doesn't burn tongues.
By the way, how's Dennis? Is his homeschooling going well?
She sent the email as Isabel knocked on her door and asked, "Fran?"
"What is it, Isabel?"
"Attie and I will be heading out to get groceries. Prepare some sandwiches for lunch, please," said Isabel. Francesca nodded in reply and Isabel sighed in annoyance. "At least say yes, or no," the older Lion said.
"Oh... Yes then," Francesca said. Isabel shut the door and left.
Preparing sandwiches was easier said than done, unfortunately. As Francesca tried to cut up the lettuce, the knife slipped and nicked her left hand.
|She cut her finger.|
"Wish Psylocke would make more appearances," Francesca muttered as she flipped through an issue of X-Men. "But not if they're going to focus on her rear or her being trapped in another body and not much else."
Hera spent all morning sulking and browsing game soundtracks to listen to. "Play games for a living? Conduct music for a living?" she pondered. "Gaming seems like the lesser of two evils, if the dark-punk trend is here to stay,"
She considered again and muttered. "I am not, will not, shall not conduct heavy metal. How can you conduct pure noise? I might as well ask what Fran thinks, even if she's the punk of the ball."
Hera heard the Lion Twins come back and talk to Francesca about their shopping trip. She shrugged and came out of her room to join in the conversation too.
Next chapter: Later That First Week.