Chapter 5
“I’m going to politely ask you to take two steps back.”
“Oh really? And what will you do if I don’t obey you?”
“You’re invading my personal space.”
“As much as the morning client?”
“So you know who left me the tip.”
“Of course I do. I always suspected you were a slut hiding behind a good girl disguise. A man like him doesn’t give money to a nobody like you without a reason.”
My stomach churns as I simultaneously confirm he’s as despicable as I always suspected. “If you’ve seen the footage, you know nothing happened, except for the regular treatment I give to all clients. Now I’m asking you again to step away from me. This violates all labor rules. I feel harassed.”
I hope with all my heart that appealing to the man with the insane look in his eyes and reminding him that our relationship is purely professional will give me enough space to run away, but I need only look into his eyes to understand that it won’t work.
I don’t want to show fear, but the truth is, I’m terrified.
“I’ve watched almost all the footage, but you know perfectly well that I wouldn’t be able to see what happened at the kitchen entrance. We don’t have cameras here.”
I’m not even bothered by his insinuation that I sold myself for money anymore. What I immediately grasp is the fact that he says we don’t have cameras at the kitchen entrance, which is exactly where we are now. If he does something to me, it won’t be recorded.
Trying to breathe to calm myself, I glance over his shoulder at the clock on the wall and realize it’s time for the first customers to arrive. But before I can even enjoy the feeling of relief, he twists my arm behind my back. Thomas is so close I can feel his breath.
“Let go of me. You must be crazy. Don’t do something you’ll regret. You’ll be a father in a few months.”
Remember what I said about nervousness? I keep talking non-stop, desperately trying to argue for him to snap back to reality, but he only moves closer.
“Are you one of those who fight?” he asks, mocking, as he grabs one of my breasts.
“You can bet your life on it, you idiot.”
With my free hand, I grab a pan from the shelf and with all the strength I have, I hit him in the face. I hope it knocks him out, but it only makes him release my arm. He’s still standing.
Forgetting all my belongings, I run to the door, but before I even reach the handle, I feel his hand grab my hair from behind with such force that I’m sure he’s ripped out a handful of it.
“What’s going on here?”
I almost cry with relief when I see a police officer—who is one of my morning clients— enter, but the relief is quickly replaced by panic when I hear what Thomas says next:
“She stole money from the cash register.”
“That’s a lie. Help me. He was trying to touch me against my will,” I blurt out, incredibly nervous.
“It doesn’t matter what you say she did. Let her go,” the officer commands, putting his hand on his holster, where his gun is.
Thomas hesitates for a moment, and the pain in my head is intense, but when he finally obeys, he practically shoves me, causing me to lose my balance.
“What happened, Olívia?” the officer asks.
“He accused me of providing . . . um . . . sexual favors to a client in exchange for a hefty tip, and then he tried to grab me.”
“You lying whore. I’ll ruin your life. She’s lying. You can check the cameras. She spent a few minutes in the morning with a client at the kitchen door. If it wasn’t sexual favors, she probably robbed the poor guy.”
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll check the cameras. Especially that last part of the night when you chased an employee to the door, applying physical force to try to stop her.”
“They’re currently off, unfortunately,” Thomas replies.
Hearing that gives me the certainty that I need to get out of here. He knew what he was doing by confronting me, and now I realize he had bad intentions from the beginning.
“You’re out, Olívia. Grab your things and hit the road.”
“Can I file a harassment complaint?” I ask the officer, because either way, I wouldn’t stay. How could I feel safe with that lunatic around?
“Have you lost your mind? If you do that, I’ll accuse you of theft!”
“Yes, you can,” the officer replies, ignoring him. “Do you need me to accompany you to the back of the store, miss?”
“If you could come with me, I’d appreciate it, yes.”
I’m doing my best to show strength, but my body trembles so much that I feel like I’m going to fold in half.
When we reach the entrance to the employee restroom, the officer speaks again. “Olívia, is this the first time this has happened?”
“Yes. Like this, yes. Before, he just made insinuations that made me uncomfortable.”
“I presume you don’t want to go to the station today.”
I shake my head, declining. The only thing I want is to go to the safety of my home.
“If you do decide to file a report, just come find me,” he says, handing me a card. “I’ll be there the day after tomorrow, or if you want to go tomorrow, I’ll let a colleague of mine know.”
“Thank you very much. Could you wait for me while I change clothes? This uniform is from the restaurant, and I don’t want to be accused of stealing anything else.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll be waiting.”
Five minutes later, I emerge in my worn-out jeans and a t-shirt.
I stop in front of the counter, expecting payment.
“I’m not going to pay for today.”
Before I can respond, the officer intervenes. “Yes, you will, or else I’ll have to take you to sleep at our hotel,” he says sarcastically.
Thomas still tries to show arrogance, but I can see he’s afraid. “Here you go, but this isn’t over. I’m sure these bills are wrong, and I’ll prove it.”
I don’t reply.
I’m overwhelmed by such a mix of emotions that all I want to do is leave.
The officer offered to walk me home, but I just wanted to be alone. When I finally step into my little room and close the door, I let the tears I held back for almost half an hour escape.
How can a day that started so well turn into this nightmare?
And now? What am I going to do?
I still have many debts to pay, besides needing to eat and have a roof over my head.
My savings are pathetic. What wasn’t destined for rent, food, or bank debts, I saved for my dream trip—which now amounts to exactly thirty-five dollars in savings.
No one will stop me from dreaming, even though deep down I know these plans are light years away from reality. I’ve done a lot of research. The cheapest ticket to Brazil costs around a thousand dollars, and there would still be all the expenses for food and accommodation.
So the term “dream trip” is a perfect name because if before the only money I saved for it came from the night’s tips, now the poor little piggy bank will quickly be emptied so that I can survive.
Wiping my eyes, I get up and head for the shower.
“I’m sorry, Mama. It wasn’t the right time yet. We’ll have to postpone our plans.”