Pulling into his parking spot, Matthew put his head down on the wheel, groaning. Something about the way the interviewer had spoken to him rattled Matthew to his core. When it was all over, he stood up and didn't offer his hand to Matthew, saying his favorite words, "We'll be in touch."

He slammed his fists on the steering wheel, muffled screams slipping between his gritted teeth. "Whyyyyyyyyyy?" he asked himself, swinging his hands against the car's wheel again. He grunted and leaned the driver's seat back as far as it could go. The headliner fabric was stained from who knows what, but at least it didn't smell as bad as when Matthew first bought the car five years ago. The faint, lingering smell of cigarettes was a welcome relief.

Frowning, he sighed and closed his eyes. "I'll replace it, I promise," he whispered, rubbing the water-stained door panel.

Toby knocked on the window. When his roommate didn't reply, he opened the car door. "So...I take it that it didn't go well."

Matthew turned his head away, shrugging.

"Judging by how you're, like...like, dreading to get out of Lloyd."

Finally turning his eyes to Toby, Matthew got the seat upright and unbuckled himself, swinging his legs out the car door and sighing, face in his hands. "Fuck me."

Toby patted his shoulder. "...sorry," he offered.

"I don't know what happened," Matthew started, his head still down. "Just...something about his phraseology shook me. The guy was so condescending like he seemed to know everything about childcare, and I was just there to usurp his spot as head honcho." He stood, gently closing the blue Beetle's car door. "I don't know," Matt whispered, turning to lock the door, "maybe I should just give up now and recoup my losses." He tore open a new nicotine gum packet and threw a piece into his mouth, the taste disgusting.

"Did he know Audrey?" he asked.

"Again, I don't know," Matthew answered quickly. "I don't know, that's the problem. He searched for me online and found what Audrey said about me, he caught wind of me from another school, a friend of his whispered that I'm a faggot, I don't know. He, just, assumed that I automatically couldn't take care of his kid."

Leaning against the car door, Toby crossed his arms, listening to the traffic just off in the distance. "Aren't you glad Liza and I convinced you to get rejected in more than one field?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"I-I'm sorry," he admitted. "That was really 'Liza' of me to say. I don't even know where that came from."

Matthew looked at his roommate and sighed. "When're you guys going to fuck and get passed this, like, sexually-charged anger?"

Toby snorted, chuckling. "Dude, this isn't first grade. I can hate someone and not want to fuck them. Consider Audrey. You hate her. You want to fuck her?"

He shook his head, glowering. "No. Never. I don't hate myself that much." That was a slightly hypocritical statement to consider.

Toby tipped his head towards Matthew, a smug grin on his face. "She's like the sister I never wanted but got." He sighed, turning away. "The annoying-as-fuck little sister you tried to sell my stuff on eBay that one time."

"I just want to find something," he whined, teeth grinding the gum as hard as possible. In the month since first applying for nanny positions, he'd received a total of three offers. They were so offensively low that he had to decline purely for his morale, or because the children clearly required more intensive care than Matthew was trained for. Acquiring interviews for a school became few and far between, most avenues ending in emails saying "We found a stronger candidate for the position" or "Unfortunately, we feel you would not be a good fit".

Toby rubbed his arm.

Shoving the chewed wad into his cheek, Matthew sighed and asked, "What other fields can I get rejected in?"

He hummed. "HR's always hiring. Probably."

Mathew spat the gum somewhere in the grass, the nicotine taste gone. "Good to know. I need to unwind."

The two moved inside, Liza working ferociously at the counter. "Hello, ladies. How was your hair appointment?"

Matthew's and Toby's gaze met, only one of them rolling their eyes.

Toby retreated back into his bedroom.

"So I saw you out there," she started, pressing the same button on her laptop with such vigor that Matthew assumed she would break it. "Are you finally going to sell that old blue scrap? Because I have a guy lined up to give you good money –"

"If I have to tell you this one more time, I'm going to fucking kill you, Liza. Leave Lloyd out of this," he snapped.

“Okay, but, buuuuuut.” She held up a finger. “You didn't hear my reasoning.”

He glared.

“I don't want you to be a liability.”

“Leave Lloyd out of this.”

"Yeah, okay, but, like, lets just say your cute renovation project, which you haven't even fucking started yet, doesn't pan out. If someone hits you, you're dead."

Matthew rolled his eyes, sighing. "I have a better chance of slipping in the shower than being hit on the highway with him. I don't take him that way, anyways." Turning, he continued, "Besides, Lloyd's the first big thing I ever bought for myself. He's lasted longer than anything else I've ever bought. I can't, just, get rid of him."

Liza studied him, lips pursed. "What is it like being so sentimental? It's disgusting."

"Says the girl who hoards sweaters."

She leaned back, mouth ajar. "Those're fighting words."

"Your closet is 90% sweaters. And you don't even wear them."

"Their designs are cute!" she insisted.

"So's Lloyd!"

"Okay, well, when Lloyd's brakes stop working, let me know how that compares to my sweaters getting holes in them, okay?"

"I can replace them. At least I'm not going to be getting rid of my car like a sweater with a fucking hole in it," he muttered.

"Excuse –" Liza paused, turning to see Toby standing in the doorway to the bathroom. "Yes, hello. Are you fucking Matt Damon? You going to blend something for us, Dickson?"

Toby shook his head, grinning. "It's just a treat to watch you get flustered like this."

"'Flustered'?" she asked. "Who are you, Shakespeare?"

"This's so much fun," Toby replied, sneering and clapping like a toddler. "I'm making myself a sandwich."

“Oh, make one for me, too,” Liza told him.

“Not with that attitude,” he said back.

Matthew shook his head and flipped open his phone, moving to his emails. While his roommates snapped back and forth in their strange frenemy-like language, he sifted through, and deleted, the slew of junk mail and spam, saving the rejection emails and one from his mother. Before he could read it, one caught his eye.

Dear Mr. Robinson,

I apologize for this email's tardiness, but, after considering your resume and the references included in the application, we would like to move forward with the second round of the process and invite you for an interview.
I am fielding applicants this coming Wednesday between 1 and 5 PM. Would it be possible for you to come for an in-person interview at 2:30?

Looking forward to speaking,
Deborah Weiss, Recruitment Manager

"Got another interview," Matthew sighed, opening a new document to type out a quick response to confirm. "It's from the 'Desperate Dad' guy."

Slapping his hands together, Toby announced, "'Desperate Dad', new band name, called it."

Matthew eyed him, whose smug of accomplishment only made him roll his eyes, despite how amusing the comment was. "60% chance I'll get rejected."

"Audrey can't follow you around forever, right?" asked Liza.

"She can, she has, and she will," he said back.

"Well, you know, worse comes to worst, you can always seduce him for the position," Liza suggested.

And for the first time in a very long while, Matthew contemplated killing her. "I'm bi –" Groaning, he shook his head, muttering, "It's not worth it. Oh my God, it's just not worth it."

"Oo! Oo! That's what Liza's dates say when they see her!" Toby mocked, grinning.

Liza, sighing, turned to Matthew and said, "Why do we keep him?"

"I'm fun," Toby broke out laughing. "I bring the, the joy...in-into you."

"That's what she said! That's what she said! That's what she said!" Liza screamed, bouncing in her seat.

"How dare you," he began, clearly indignant. "You come into my house –"

"My name's first on the lease!" she laughed.

"You come into my house –"

"Who pays for your cereal, Capt'n Crunch?" Liza spat back.

"How dare you," Toby retorted, another insult on his tongue.

While the conversation divulged, Matthew retreated to his room, unable to listen to the two. He considered it a miracle that they hadn't killed each other yet. He also wasn't entirely sure how they stood each other long enough without him intervening. Maybe it was because they were roommates with him, but Matthew wasn't sure that was enough of a reason. "God, I really do hope they just fuck and get it over with," he muttered, scanning through his emails and opening his mother's.

Just wanted to touch base with you. How're you doing? How's your job search going? Dad tried reaching out to you before, but it must've gotten lost in the mix.
If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. We always have a spot for you open if you need it. If you want, too, you can work from home if that suits you best.
We wanted to know if you're free this weekend so we can catch up.

Mom

His mother's email signature – CityVault's geometric logo with her contact information – made the email immeasurably impersonal.

Matthew deleted the email without a second thought.

Another email came through confirming the time of the interview, along with some other information and PDFs, but he wasn't interested. Opening his laptop, he scoped out his bank account, almost overdrawn and red from unpaid loans building with interest.

Something inside him itched for a cigarette. He shoved another piece of gum in his mouth and chewed it with vigor.

Letting out a slow breath, Matthew tipped his head back and closed his eyes, hoping the peppery-tasting gum would sedate his craving. He straightened up, filling out applications for another five teaching, four tutoring, and three nanny positions.