The Accent

Ch 15 - God, I'd Rather Die Than Not Do

A/N - Guys it's gonna get sexual. You've been warned. To warn you again though I'll put *** so you know when it's starting and when it's over. Don't read it if you don't want to :).

Chapter 15 - God, I'd Rather Die Than Not Do

"Sir, if you could just look-" I called to his back, desperately waving the piece of paper after him. The door closed behind him as he left without looking back.

What a dick.

Letting out a sigh I fought back tears of frustration that were building behind my eyes, that had been the fourth manager I had spoken to today.

I was never going to get a job at this rate.

The same thing seemed to be happening everytime I stepped foot inside of a testosterone filled garage; I'd walk in, they would try to help me with a car that I didn't have, I'd explain that I wasn't there for car trouble and that I was actually there for a job. They would then look me up and down, taking in my smart navy pencil skirt and white blouse that I was wearing along with my flaming hair in a neat bun (therefore realising I was a girl), laugh at me like I was crazy and then dismiss me without even bothering to look at my experience filled CV.

Was it so hard for them to believe that a girl might know a thing or two about engines?

Taking a deep breath, I shoved my now slightly crumpled CV back into my handbag. Maybe I just needed a new way of dealing with this?

Without looking back towards the place where the rude manager of the garage went to, I walked out into the heat and wiped my eyes of the tears that nearly fell.

Okay, so I needed a new approach, obviously the current one was not working for me.

The problem was, that when I walked through the door the first thing they probably noticed was that I was a girl, then again when you're wearing a skirt, that's the first thing most men notice.

Does that mean that for them to take me seriously I should dress up as a boy?

Growling in annoyance, I put both my hands over my face as I tried to think of a non-ridiculous solution to an incredibly stupid problem.

Dressing like a man seemed crazy, but I was pretty desperate ...

No, I was not dressing like a dude just to get them to talk to me about the possibilities of a job opportunity. I would wait until I was really desperate before I pulled out the fake eyebrows and sideburns.

Today was Thursday, I was flying home tomorrow, last week I'd chickened out of calling the garage's straight away and had left things till the last possible moment. Between booking my flight home -that cost five hundred pounds, by the way- and paying for that overpriced dress, I'd had a stressful week of worrying over money, making me hugely desperate for a job.

Any sane person would have been using their last week before they went home to look for a job then, but, with assignments, keeping James happy and packing a small suitcase I never had time to call them, let alone go around asking for a job.

That's total bullshit. I had time, I just didn't want to go because a garage full of sweaty men kinda scared the everliving shit out of me.

And, I wanted to work in one, I know I was mental.

The sound of buzzing of my phone brought me out of the crazy idea's I was having of turning into a boy called Vincent, I dug in my bag for my phone and quickly glanced at the screen.

I had thoroughly learned my lesson of answering before checking after doing it one too many times with my mother, Rhys' nickname of sexy slut lit up the screen with every buzz.