Jenna got up from her chair and, unfortunately, left me with that. "Are you hungry?"

Just when she asked me this, I could hear my stomach growling. I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and, I didn't even come to the conclusion to eat something after the kiss. I was more than ready to puke because of my nervousness.

The thought of it made me so insecure, and I was more than just mad at Harry so that I really wanted to put his image into something bad in my article.

But somehow the relationship between Harry, the businessmen that work with him, and our magazine was so, so important so that I had to really pay attention to FIRSTLY what word I wrote and SECONDLY what I shouldn't, so that I wouldn't lose my job.

My job which I couldn't understand why I even got it, being the way I was. I was just Shay. Miss Smith had to really tolerate me.

"Yes," I murmured. "It's almost lunch, we can order some salad."

Jenna looked at me with bright, wide eyes and I could analyse the judging look on her face right away. "Salad, Shay, you and salad!? Damn, I should've talked to Miss Smith so that you didn't have to go to that event!" She laughed so that I understood it as a joke. "Don't worry, but that's way too much of the new Shay, I don't like her that much , I think."

She stretched the word "way" and rested her hands on her hips. I looked at her in shock and stood up as I pushed her lightly.

"Hey!" She smiled with a bright smile, "I'll make something good for us. Do you like Fajita?"

"You can make Fajita?" I asked her in disbelief.

"Duh!" She sneered, "C'mere, I'll show you something!"

She disappeared from the bedroom and made me follow her into another room which looked like a rubbish bin. I let my eyes glide through the room as I entered it, finding many folders and clothes on the wooden floor, including what seemed like old furniture and vases. Also, kitchen contents which were still unpacked.

I nodded into the direction of the mess that was laying in front of me, "What do you do with all of that?" My arms were still crossed when I asked her that, watching her running to a cupboard that seemed to be attached to her white wall and opening it, searching for some specific folder.

"Nothin'," She said. "I wanted to sell a lot, but," She turned from her messy folders to me and smiled at me, "You can have something."

"We could sell it at the flea market," I suggested. "Tomorrow is Sunday, and you can sell it at Wolff's Flea Market."
I loved flea markets because they were my opportunity to get many valuable things for little money, and I loved leaving the city.

Of course, it was incredibly annoying to live outside of Chicago and to have to drive here every day. But I also loved to travel and to not have to see Chicago.

"Ain't that in Rosemont?" Jenna asked me, referring to the flea market as she turned back to her folders.

"Yes," I replied. "But it's close to here."

"I dunno, I've never sold anything at a flea market."

"You should think about it, I like to go there!" My eyes brightened at the thought of flea markets, eating good food on the way there and looking for other Road Trip adventures as I liked to call them – Road Trip adventures that my heard strove for, which was always up for adventures but never dared to go for one.

I looked out of the window and then heard a loud noise. "Jenna!?"

I saw Jenna suddenly sitting on the floor as she held up a folder. "Found it!" She laughed, "Now, come here, you're already dreamin' about your stupid flea market."

For some seconds, I felt insulted. It wasn't that much of a bad idea, was it? I took a few steps to Jenna and helped her to get up when I refused to sit with her on the dusty, dirty floor.

"So," She began, opening her folder and blowing air into the pages, trying to clean them somehow. As she arranged her next words in her head, she disappeared back into the bedroom through which we had to go to when we wanted to go to the kitchen.

I followed her excitedly and saw how she leaned against the kitchen counter, constantly leafing through her documents. "Oh, there we are!" She rejoiced loudly and pulled out a document out of a punched pocket, which she held up high.

Blue letters were written on a large font, her name Jenna Álvaro Valenciano underlined in bold.

"You're a cook?" I repeated the words of her certificate and looked at her in disbelief.

"Damn," Jenna dropped her hand that was still holding the sheet, shaking her head and laughing. "Not really."

"What?"

"I'd be one but I didn't pass the test."

"How'd you get the document?" I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at her wonderingly.

"It's fake," She explained. "I really wanted to stay, or slay, in the "cookery branche", I told my mama at least. You should've seen her, she was so angry that she didn't allow me to move back to hers and let pay my small apartment myself. Life in Laredo is hard!"

"What does this have to do with the document?"

"Uhhh.. I couldn't afford my lil' flat no more, so I moved out and sold many of my things to make some money. I found a small motel near Laredo and paid a lotta' money in advance so that I could live there for a while. I told 'em I was a cook. I could cook but just didn't pass my exam. They needed someone with a certificate at that time, 'cause their current cook was already kinda old and wanted to go into retirement. So I made a fake certificate," – She held up her fake certificate again – "and boom, Jen' suddenly had a job and a new home!"

I looked at her and imagined the whole story in my mind like a cool American movie about the American Dream. Considering she now worked at a magazine was kind of fulfilling the American Dream.

Although she had experienced so much bad things, having her mother not letting her move back to hers anymore and with that, not excluding Jenna living on the streets of Laredo, I was envious that she was a woman on her own feet that I could dream of. I didn't have my own car, I had to go to work every  day, dealing with this incredibly amazing job regarding the punctuality and reliability of Chicago's trains!

I was the one now staying at Jenna's, not her staying at mine.

"I didn't know you could cook," I said in all honesty. She seemed really lazy, sometimes. She was swift when it came to Black Friday, and she liked going to clubs, but in the short time that I knew here we were at McDonalds more than hundred times and sometimes ordered pizza to our office whenever Miss Smith left earlier. We knew that Laylah would never say anything.

For that, she was too nice of a woman. But Jenna and cooking? It didn't fit.

Nor did Shay and making out with businessmen.

Jenna held up her fake certificate again and then put it back into the punched pocket. "Fuck the test," She muttered. "I think that I would've been Laredo's best cook!"

"Too bad," I agreed with her and raised an eyebrow to a challenging look to signal her to start with her Fajita. She took out many ingredients of her kitchen cabinet and placed them one by one on her silver counter.

"I wish ya could watch how I make this artwork," She said. I looked at her confusedly, letting my arms fall.

"Huh?"

"You're busy with your articles. Fuck off!" As she spoke, I laughed and laid my head back. Though I had already started to cuss quite a lot, and Jenna thought it wasn't her fault, I was still surprised by her use of words.

"Will you tell me when it's finished?" I asked her, referring to her what was about to be the most delicious food I had ever eaten. I blushed when I noticed how stupid this question actually was.

"You'll smell it when it's ready."

I nodded, putting my weight in my heels as I was about to turn around.

"Ah, Shay," I turned my head back to Jenna but still directed my body to her bedroom. "Please don't worry 'bout the articles, you'll do just great."

I nodded at her, smiling and made my way to the computer which still had my file opened.
 

Well then, Shayleen.