4
Oh My God. What is this place? The street is deserted and I am facing a huge industrial building with an enormous steel door, blocked by a man who looks like a huge Rottweiler.
I take a couple of steps forward, still keeping a safe distance between me and him. “I’m here for a job interview. As a waitress,” I emphasize the last word and his expression doesn’t change.
“You're armed?” he asks and motions for me to get closer.
“No. Why would I be armed?” I answer feeling sick.
He pulls my backpack off my shoulder, rummaging through it and then slides his hands down the sides of my body. “What are you doing?” I fidget uncomfortably.
“You can go in.” He opens the massive door for me and I hesitantly walk inside.
“Wow!” I blurt out in surprise. Unlike the neglected look of the building on the outside, the inner space looks amazing, shiny black marble tiles, square tables are scattered throughout the room, surrounded by leather sofas and high-backed wooden chairs. A glance to my left reveals a long black marble bar, with glass shelves filled with bottles.
“What do you want, baby girl?” A male voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn my head toward it. Three men and that rude girl that I met this morning are sitting at a round table in the left corner of the room. “We donated at the office already. Get the hell out.” The voice blares out from the red-headed guy drinking from a beer bottle. He has a tattoo on his wrist with the letters BP under a long sword.
“You’re late,” The rude girl says and waves her hand, signaling that I should leave. She’s not wearing the clothes she wore this morning. She’s in a tight long black dress.
“What is she late for?” the man whose black hair is bleached at the tips asks, as he examines me closely.
“I told her she could come for a job interview,” Rude Girl says in an amused tone. “She threatened to sue if we didn’t give her a fair chance to work here,” she mocks.
“Another junkie kid who’ll get us in trouble with her rich parents,” the third man mutters without turning round to look at me. I look at his scarred profile and feel terrified. Deep scarring, that were probably made with a sharp knife, cross his face from his forehead to his jaw horizontally and vertically, but toward the bottom part the scars aren’t as symmetrical as the top. His hair is light brown, straight but ruffled. “Get her out of here,” he says still not looking at me.
What did I walk into? What is this place? And why am I still here? My intuition is screaming at me to run, but knowing that running would kill my dream, I stay put.
“You heard him,” the girl says coldly. “You’re late. You missed your chance.”
“No.” I say quietly. Stretch out my neck and straighten my shoulders. “I’ve come all the way here and there’s no good reason for you not to interview me for the job.” I put my backpack down on the floor, attempting to make a point.
“Carly, you found a real stubborn kid,” the redheaded guy laughs again. “Okay then… if you want us to give you a chance so badly, what are you waiting for? Strip.” He takes another swig from his beer bottle and my eyes widen in panic. “Come on, pretend there’s a pole and some music. We don’t have time to organize all that bullshit right now.”
“Strip?” I manage to repeat in a trembling voice, before my whole body freezes.
“Mike, she’s not here to be a stripper.” Rude Girl, whose name must be Carly, smacks him lightly on his head.
“Then I guess she’s here for my department,” the guy with the bleached hair says and puts his hand on his mouth to stifle a yawn. I see that he has the same tattoo on his wrist as the redheaded guy. “Go upstairs, pick a room and wait on the bed naked.” He gestures with his head toward the staircase behind him. “I’ll send someone who’s not as tired as me to check you out.”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that,” I say, shocked. My body has gone completely numb. Now I know why the cab driver was so worried and I regret not letting him tell me about this place.
Carly stands up. “Tommy, she’s not here for your department.” She smooths out the creases in her dress and sits down again. “She wants to be a waitress here in the bar.”
Scarface turns around and looks at me for the first time, almost spitting his beer out. I hold my breath. The scars covering the right side of his face are blurred and I stare at the left side of his face, which looks so different. A smooth, angelic, masculine face with a pair of shining green eyes. His lips curve a little and he smiles at me with contempt.
“You want her to be the first thing that our guests see?” He asks Carly, but is still looking at me.
“Hey, come on,” she says dismissively. “I thought you'd be amused to see someone like that come in here for an interview. You don’t have to take life so seriously, y’know.” She gets up and goes to the bar, ignoring me completely, and comes back to the table with a soda can in her hand.
“They didn’t find it as entertaining as I did,” she hisses at me and puts a straw into her can. “I’ll call you a cab. Wait outside.”
This place is a strip club and a brothel, I think to myself in terror, but the room I’m standing in now is a bar. Just a bar. And I need a job. I’m desperate for a job. It won’t kill me to wait tables here, especially if the pay is good as Carly mentioned this morning. I’m beginning to feel my body again, and the only numbness I feel is the one I always use as a safeguard which I've done for the past twenty-five years.
“I’ve come all this way instead of going out to celebrate a very big accomplishment, so I’d appreciate it if you’d agree to interview me for this job,” I say calmly and they all look at me, shocked.
“No. I asked you to leave,” Carly raises her voice. “You should go now, before I call security to take you.”
“No,” I say, still in that same calm tone, “I need a job, all I'm asking for is a fair chance.”
Carly stands up angrily but Mike quickly takes her by the elbow. “Sit down.” He pulls her down. “This kid is funny.” He looks me over curiously. “And anyway, you’re right. Why shouldn’t we be entertained?” He leans back on the leather seat and motions me towards the table. I walk over and stand in front of them. “So, you ready for your interview to start?” he asks formally, with a hint of contempt in his voice which does nothing to my self-esteem. I nod. Suddenly, he leans toward Carly. “Remind me what I need to ask her…” he whispers and everyone around the table bursts out laughing. I clear my throat and they all fall silent, still smiling. “My name is Elena. I’m twenty-five, a second-year physics student. I finished my first year with honors.” Their look of disdain turns into something else. Not exactly what I was expecting. I think they’re shocked. I stop talking and Tommy, the guy with the bleached hair, puts his beer bottle down on the wooden table with a thud.
“Okay. We get it. You’ve failed the interview. Feel free to go, we wish you the best of luck down the road.”
“But why?” I ask angrily. “It’s just a waitressing job. If I could pass a course on Einstein’s theory of relativity with honors, I think I could manage to serve a few drinks.”
“What theory is she talking about?” Mike, the redhead, asks, and Scarface shakes his head in despair.
“There’s a menu on the bar,” he says, looking through the green file in front of him. He has the same tattoo on his wrist, as well. “You've got a minute to memorize it and then come back to the table.”
I approach the bar slowly, understanding he’s just given me my last chance to get this crappy job. I’d better use this chance well. I pick up the white menu, photograph it in my head and put it back on the counter.
“OK, I’m ready,” I say, as I'm walking back towards where they're sitting.
“I thought you’d be a little more thorough,” Tommy, with the bleached hair, yawns again. “After all, you’re an honor student of some bullshit theory by … whatever his name is.”
“So, what can I get you to drink this evening?” I ignore his sarcasm and fake a smile.
“Whatcha got?” he yawns again and this time he doesn’t even cover his mouth.
“Well, you look like your about to fall asleep, so I’d suggest something strong to waken you.” I continue smiling. “We have an Old Ballantruan – single malt, Bowmore 12 or 15, Bushmills, Balvenie DoubleWood, Ballantine’s, Johnny Walker Black, Gold or Blue, Jameson, Jim Beam, Glenlivet 12 or 15, Glenmorangie, Glenfiddich…"
“OK,” he cuts me off. “You’re making me dizzy.” He rubs his forehead and looks at me suspiciously. “What do you recommend?”
“How should I know what you like?” I answer irritated.
He shakes his head, not pleased. “Wrong answer!”
“She’s funny. Give her another try,” Mike, the redhead, looks amused. “Try to flirt with him a bit,” he winks, and I grumble silently.
“What do you recommend?” Mike repeats his question.
“Great question.” I force myself to plaster a huge smile on my face. “I’m sure that an impressive man like you knows exactly what he likes and I have a feeling that you like nothing but the best. So…” I stop talking and run the drinks menu through my head again. “So I’d pick the Glenfiddich 19 for you.”
Scarface bursts out laughing and everyone looks at him in confusion. “She convinced you?” he asks Tommy.
“I guess so,” he answers and rubs his red eyes.
“Good. Idiot,” Scarface replies and laughs again, the scarring on his face deepening. “She just sold you the most expensive drink on our menu and you can’t drink anything stronger than that beer you’re holding.”
Everyone starts laughing and I'm still standing there in front of them, not knowing what I should do next.
“That was certainly an entertaining interview,” Scarface winks at Carly and then turns around to look at me. My breath catches again as I stare at the angelic half of his face. “You look like a good girl,” he says to me and lights a cigarette. “There’s nothing for you here. Go and get a job as a waiter at one of the cafés in the city.”
“I don’t want to be a waitress at a café.” I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly. “I passed your weird interview successfully and now you have to give me a chance.”
He shakes his head saying no and I'm just about to continue persuading him, when suddenly Mike gets up, pushes his way past Carly’s legs and stops in front of me.
“Listen…. I didn’t understand anything in this interview…” he scratches his head and looks thoughtful. “But the truth is that I’m sick of all the idiots who work here.” He turns his head toward Carly. “Except you, of course.” He smiles at her affectionately and she giggles. “So if my friends agree, I'm willing to give you a chance tonight.”
“Thank you very much,” I say excitedly and turn to look at Tommy and Scarface. The guy with the bleached hair shrugs indifferently and Scarface nods once without looking at me. I turn to Carly, who looks as surprised as I feel.
“Wow,” she rubs her hands with pleasure. “I would have never believed that my prank would end with you actually getting a chance to work here.” She stands up next to the redheaded guy and puts her arm through his. “As you can see, Mike manages our exclusive dance club. Tommy…” she points at the guy with bleached hair, “manages our special hospitality rooms and Liam…” Scarface looks at me, “manages the business bar. You’ll be working mainly with him.” She walks alongside Mike towards a steel door on the left side of the bar. “Good luck.” She giggles to herself and they both disappear behind the door.
Tommy stands up and skips up the stairs to the top floor. I remain alone at the bar with Scarface, and look around. Oh my God! I think I’ve just been given a chance to work in hell.