khloe fitzgerald
socialites of london
i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie
collab with @twobytwo 
set inspired by @curious-and-young

January 24th:
Use today sort of as a free day to play out your storyline. If you don't have one, hang with your girl or guy or chill at home.
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I was determined to get a job today. If I couldn't find a job soon (and by soon, I mean yesterday) then I didn't know what I was going to do. I had to find a way to pay all of that money back and pay my rent. And trust me, that was a few more thousands than I had right now. 
I had a newspaper in hand as I sat down on a bench on the sidewalk. Hopefully, nobody would bother me. As I looked through the Classifieds, I got lost in my own mind. I read, I crossed out for the crappy ones, I circled for the good ones, and then I moved on. By the time I was finished, almost a half an hour had passed.
Just as I stood to go off to find the first destination, I heard my name being called. At first I thought it was just my own imagination, so I kept on walking. But then I heard it again. "Khloe, wait up!" I turned to find Imogen running towards me. 

"Hey, Khlo. What's up?" She asked as she fell into step with me. I glanced at her and then back down at my newspaper. 
"Scouring London for a job that doesn't include cleaning houses or picking garbage up from the side of the road." I replied, feeling a bit out of place. Here I was trying to find a job, while Miss. Socialite next to me was carrying a $3,000 clutch in her hand. 
"I was too! Gabrielle Teare was a bust and I would love to start working. I can't just sit around my flat all day with Linds. I'm going off the wall." She said. My eyes brightened a little bit. Sure she was rich, and didn't even need the money, but if I could get the help from Imogen then I knew that would increase my chances at finding a job. 
"You want an actual job? Most girls like you wouldn't be dead working." I asked her, a bit taken aback. Was she serious, or was she just trying to play me?
"What do you mean 'girls like me'?" 
"I just meant girls well off with trust funds and parents that supported them." I told her, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I said it kind of bitterly- maybe I was still a little upset about my own parents.

"Oh. Well, I need to do something. I need to get out of the house. I need to be around normal people other than the Elites." Imogen told me, and the tone of her voice made me think that maybe, just maybe, she was being sincere.

"Well, I don't know if where I'm going is really the place for you," I informed her as we walked down the street. I glanced down quickly at my newspaper, double checking the address. "You're more of a party-planner girl, and well, I'm... not." 
"No!" Imogen exlaimed, reaching her hand out and placing it on my arm. "I may be like that, Khloe, but that doesn't mean that I'm above getting a job."
I raised my eyebrows. I didn't know if I could trust her. Now that everyone knew about me getting evicted, and being sabotaged, I didn't know if I could be around these girls. "What about your beloved social status?"
"What about it?" She answered, and looped her arm with mine as she dragged me down the street. "Now, where's first?"

"I might head over to Topshop. I heard they're hiring." I said, still feeling a little bit wary about her coming with me. I suppose that I would just have to trust her and see where that took me. 
"Oh, I love Topshop. What if we worked at the same store?" She asked me, cheerily. "And, if they aren't we should head over to Harrod's. They are always hiring."
"Okay." We maneuvered across the street, cutting in front of a taxi. The taxi didn't honk and the driver didn't stick his head out of the window and yell like they would have back home. They just waited patiently until we had stepped onto the sidewalk.
I hardly ever went into Topshop anymore. Once upon a time, it would have been my go-to store. But now, I couldn't afford to go shopping or spend money on luxuries that I didn't even need. I glanced around the store, letting my eyes wander over all of the clothes and accesories. 
We walked up to the counter where a young blonde looked up as we approached. "Hi, we were wondering if you were hiring?" I asked her in the most professional tone that I could muster up.

I snuck a glance at Imogen, curious as to whether my voice was sincere enough. It seemed that she gave me a reassuring look, but it could have been my imagination. 
"What position were you looking for?" The blonde behind the counter asked me. I noticed that her hair was pin-straight, her makeup perfect, her outfit well put together, and her nails -- French. I looked down at my chipped nails, frizzy hair, and jeans. I felt out of place, and my face flushed.
"Um," I hesitated, and thankfully, Imogen picked up for me. "We were interested in the salesperson position," Salesperson? Was I really that convincing? Could I do something like that, get someone to buy something? I wasn't sure, but it was too late now.
"Great," She smiled, and stepped out from behind the counter. "Please follow me," As we walked deeper into the store, I couldn't help but notice how long her legs were and how high her heels were. I shook my head. Why was I even acting jealous of her?
She pushed a back door open and we followed her inside. I cleared my throat. It was dry, and I knew that as soon as we were out of here I would head over to get a drink. Whether or not Imogen joined me, well that was her choice. But all I knew was that I needed a drink.
"Here you are," She said and smiled. It was fake, I could tell.

The clerk placed two papers down in front of us. "Please fill these out and I'll get back to you later tonight to let you know if you got the positions." She added, biting back a grimace. She headed back out to the front of the store, leaving us alone in the backroom to fill the forms out. 
"She was as fake as her hair color." I commented when she was out of earshot. Imogen laughed at that- the girls roots were obvious as the sun shining in the sky. 
"I hope we get this job." She said, tapping the pen against my bottom lip. I filled in my name as she spoke, only looking up once I was finished with the first section. 
"So do I. I kind of need it." I said, hoping that I wasn't letting on to how desperate I was. Desperate never looked good on anyone, especially a B-Lister. 
"Up for a drink?" I asked with a sigh when we finished filling out the required information. She nodded enthusiastically and we headed back out to the front of the store.
"Here you go. And, maybe next time, you should act a bit more professional." Imogen slid the papers across the counter towards her. I furrowed my brow, wondering what in the world she was talking about. Of course I didn't like this girl, but that didn't mean I would attack her for no reason at all. 
"What do you mean?" Her voice was high with accusations. 
"You have to ask? Twitter, really?" Before the girl could even reply, Imogen turned on her heel and headed towards the door. I stared at the blonde as her jaw dropped, and then turned to follow Im. I now had no hope that we would get this job. 
"What was that about?" I chuckled, trying to hide my annoyance. It was no big deal, really. I would just go to another store and fill out another application. How long would it take to get a job? 
"I have no tolerance for rude people." 

A grin broke out across my face. "Well, I'm glad because that was genius," I chuckled a little, and so did she. "I wish I could have thought of something like that."
"There, there, young one, you'll learn," Imogen patted my shoulder gently as we walked down the city street. 
I snorted. "Yeah, right," I looked up and saw Claridge's Bar up ahead. My throat burned with the want of alcohol, and I swallowed thickly. I pushed open the door and held it open for Imogen. "Thank God," I said as the sound of the bar engulfed us. I heard the clink of glasses, the pitter patter of heels, the loud, chaotic sound of buzzed laughter. As we sat down at the bar together, I sighed. "I've needed a drink all day,"
"So have I," Imogen answered after she ordered her drink-- typically, a Cosmopolitan. I ordered a Screwdriver, being a vodka girl myself. She took a small sip, easing herself in. "I hope that girl calls us back after I confronted her. I'm sorry, I really just couldn't help myself. She was getting on my nerves."
I chuckled. "Don't worry about it. She was being a biitch anyway. If we don't get the job, well, then we don't get the job." I shrugged.

"Can I buy you girls a round?" A handsome man our age sidled up to my side. He had shaggy light brown hair that fell over his eyes nicely and a smile that seemed to light up his face. 
"Maybe next round?" Imogen replied. The guy slipped onto the empty bar stool next to her. I scrunched my nose. Sure he was attractive, but I wasn't into guys like this. "This is Khloe. I'm Imogen." 
"Hi. I'm Jack." He smiled and waved the bartender over. "I'll take a beer." 
"Typical boy." She laughed, and when she did, I downed my drink. I ordered another one from the bartender. Imogen's phone started ringing, and she clicked it on. "Excuse me."
Imogen went through the conversation, as I shot her various looks of confusion. It couldn't be the blonde from Topshop, could it? I shook my head. She would never hire us. But God, I hoped that I was wrong. 
"Guess who just scored jobs?" She grinned, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I jumped up and enveloped Imogen in a huge hug. I had a job. I was going to get money. I wasn't going to be evicted. I could pay back all of that money. /Yes/. 
"You girls don't seem like the job type." Jack said, interrupting.
"I, in particualr, am super happy that I landed a job." She sat back in her seat, taking another sip of her drink as she got back into the conversation with... what was his name? Oh, right, Jack. The most common, boring name in the world. 
"Where are you girls working?" 
"Topshop," I interrupted, proud to be able to say that I was working somewhere. 
"That store on the corner?" He pressed.
"Yep. That one." Imogen replied. When she did, I noticed the corners of her mouth upturn, and the flirty way she batted her eyelashes. Imogen /liked/ this guy. Immediately, I turned away, careful not to ruin whatever they had going. 
"Maybe I can get your number. Just for a few fashion types, of course." Jack smiled. Immediately, she grabbed a pen from her clutch and scribbled her name and number down on a spare napkin that was on top of the table. 
"Oh, of course." She smiled, and I poked my finger into her thigh. 
"Enjoy yours drinnks." And with that, he loped off towards the other end of the bar.

I looked at Imogen. "What the hell did you just do, Imogen?"
She shrugged, a smug look on her face. She took a sip of her drink. "You just watch, he'll call sooner or later," Imogen told me. "And sooner, rather than later." 
I chuckled. "Oh, you are really something, aren't you?" I took a swig of my drink, twirling my brunette hair around my pointer finger. Like it was fate, I heard the soft sound of a jingle. Both Imogen and I looked down at her phone, and then back up at each other. I laughed out loud. "Oh, my God,"
"Look who was right. I bet you fifty bucks that it's him,"
"Well then on that case, I don't bet. I don't have fifty bucks. You win. You always win." I downed the rest of my glass as she answered the phone. I nearly blocked out the conversation until she was off the phone. I ordered another drink, and nursed it slowly. "So, was it him?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course it was him!" She exclaimed, a silly little grin playing on her face. "He asked me out,"
"Did you accept?" I asked her.

"Yes. I mean...he was so good looking." She replied, getting lost in a daydream. I knew she was trying to conjure up what they would be doing on their date, what they would talk about, what she would wear. 
"Where are you two going?" I asked her, draining the last of my drink. On cue, the bartender headed over with a fresh glass. I thanked him, and took another sip. I could feel the effects starting to do their magic. 
"Dinner later this week." She sighed, but it was a happy sigh. It was a I-love-my-life-because-I'm-going-on-a-date kind of a sigh. I couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. When was the last time I had been on a real, sincere date? Oh that's right... Never. 
"Oh la la. You have got to tell me how it went down." I smirked, and she nodded. 
"I definitely will." Imogen couldn't keep the smile off of her face. I scanned the crowd, looking for possible 'love' interests. All I saw were middle-aged men trying to hook up with sluttyy girls. And then I realized- I /was/ one of those girls. I sighed, shaking my head. I took another sip of my drink, trying to forget about all of it. 
"Good. Now cheers to new jobs boys." I raised up my empty glass, clinking the edge of it with Imogen's. It felt good, as I pushed those horrid thoughts out of my mind, to be able to throw some drinks back with a friend. A real friend, at least I hoped so. In my mind, our cheer was to new jobs and new friends, because that's all that really mattered right now. "Another round?" 
"Why not?" She shrugged with a grin on her face, and together we drowned ourselves in happiness. 

* * *
Comment 'happiness' if you read! Tagging my SOL girls... @curious-and-young, @twobytwo, @luxecouture, @haute-hippie, @istylista, @xoluxury, @dreaming-of-couture, @mademoisellecoco, @jennnyy, @glitterinmyviens, @karisinlove, @gorgeousdoll, and I think that's it. :))
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