Addison

As I stare at the papers, it takes me back to my childhood when my mother and father's marriage came to a final end and all my mother did was stare intently at her divorce papers. It's something I swore I would never allow happen to me, but here I am sitting in a cold old courtroom after the judge just basically gave everything to my cheating ex-husband. The outrageous lies and manipulations actually worked on this half-witted judge.

"Addison, we can appeal this," my lawyer Mr. Carlson says. After folding the divorce papers up and placing them in my briefcase, I force myself to mt feet. 

"No, I just want this whole ordeal over. The judge did manage to find some compassion and gave me thirty-thousand dollars. Although that will not last long so it's time for me to get back to work."

"We can fight this, Addison. You're entitled to half of everything that accumulated during your marriage to Cole. My guess bought the judge and that's how he ended up with nearly everything."

"You might be right Mr. Carlson, but the main thing I wanted I finally got. I got my divorce I also got thirty-thousand dollars. That will give me a little time to find a decent job, I hope."

"Where will you look, Addison?" Mr. Carlson questions me.

"Well, I am going home taking a much-needed hot bubble bath, then I will look in the newspaper and online. I will drive around looking for help wanted signs if I have to. I am not about to curl up into some pathetic ball and give Cole and his new plastic Barbie the satisfaction of watching me have a breakdown," I assure him. 

"Good for you. I know you can do this, Addison. Your grandfather would be so proud of the lady you have grown into."

Thank you. If you will please excuse me, I need to get home and start my job search."

"I wish you nothing but the very best Addison," he softly smiles.

"Thank you again, Mr. Carlson," I say and quickly I make my way out to my car and start my journey home. After arriving at my house, I thank my lucky stars I didn't lose what my grandfather left me. The house he built right after he and granny got married.


"It's not as luxurious as the house I had with Cole, but I don't care. This will always be mine," I whisper.

"Let me just grab my paper from the bed and look at the help wanted ads before getting myself in the tub. So many job opportunities that I'm not qualified to do. Oh wait, this could possibly be something I can do."

Help Wanted. Full time live in help. Must be able to cook, do light housework, and laundry, and help the man of the house with appointments. Call 555-5599 Ask for Martha.

"I can handle this, but I have to move in full time. I'm desperate, I know I will have to do somethings I don't want to do in order to keep from losing what little I have left. Ok, I will call her later."

After deciding to take a quick shower, I quickly get my night clothes on and climb into bed. My eyes look down at the newspaper and I grab my cell phone. I silently say a little prayer as I dial the number hoping this job is the answer to my prayers. 

"Hello?" A man's deep voice answers.

"I, um, I think possibly dialed the wrong number," I reply not expecting a man to answer the phone.

"Ok, who are you wanting to speak with?" 

"Martha. I am reading the help wanted ad in the paper and it says to ask for Martha," I inform him.

"Oh, no, you didn't dial the wrong number. What is your name?"

"Why do you want to know my name?" I ask and hear him laugh.

"Well, so I know who I'm interviewing, miss," he replies. 

"Oh, you will be the person interviewing me. I'm Addison Foster " I sigh in embarrassment.

"Only if you decide to show up in the morning. Be here at eight-thirty, not a second late. The address is 715 Lakeview Road. Do not keep me waiting. I do not like people who disrespects my time, Ms. Foster. I'm a very busy man. Make certain you do not keep me waiting on you," he insists then ends our phone call.

"Wow! I can already see he is on the arrogant side, but I need this job to help pay the bills and keep this house. I mean seriously, how bad can he really be? Damn, I more than likely just jinxed myself. I'm too tired to worry about this tonight. I just need to make sure I'm there on time in the morning."

After spending half the night tossing and turning unable to stop worrying about the interview in the morning, I finally fall asleep and before I know it, the blaring alarm forces me to leap up. I screech after seeing the time, seven thirty-five.

"No, I thought I set the clock for seven. Damn it, Addie," I scold myself and start stripping out of my night clothes and hurry myself into the shower.

After quickly washing myself, I hurry back out of the shower and begin drying my hair and pull it up into an attractive twist. Then I scurry towards my closet and decide to wear the dark blue knee length business skirt with the matching blouse.

"Damn, what time is it?" Oh my god, seven fifty-six. I have got to get myself on the road." I say as I bolt down the steps and outside to my car. The entire drive there I keep glancing at the clock.

"Eight twenty-four. Thank God, I made it with six minutes to spare," I smile. After quickly applying some lip-gloss and blush to brighten my cheeks, I basically run towards the beautiful golden door. As I lift my hand to knock, the door opens. Standing in front of me is an older lady with a hint of gray in her hair and a sour look on her face.

"I'm assuming you're Ms. Foster?" She glares with an annoyed tone. 

"Yes, I'm Ms. Foster. I have an interview at eight-thirty," I inform her.

"Follow me," she coldly says.  Once we make our way down the long hall, she opens a dark wooden door that says, Mr. Dominic Bradford on it. After entering the door, I gasp seeing how beautiful his home office is. There's a white sofa with a chase near the fireplace. A golden glass top desk with appears to be lion's legs and two matching white chairs. Near the door is a mini silver beverage bar.

"Wow! It's so beautiful," I whisper.

"Thank you.  and you're late. I was insistent on you not being late, Ms. Foster," he snaps.

"It's eighth-thirty, I'm right on time, Mr. Bradford," I point to the large clock over the whit stone fireplace.

"Ms. Foster the business I'm in being right on time is considered being late," he says pointing to his watch.

"Oh, I apologize. What business are you in?" I question him and notice the angered look in his eyes.

"You don't know who I am?" He questions me.

"Well, the front of your office door says Mr. Dominic Bradford. I'm assuming that's you."

"Yes, Ms. Foster, I am Dominic Bradford. Ok, maybe we should start this over. I accept your apology, and I am willing to interview you. But no more being right on time, like I said before, that is considered being late," he reminds me. 

"I understand. It won't happen again, I give you my word," I try convincing him.

"I'm very happy to hear that, Ms. Foster. Let's get on with the interview."