Restored Hope
1467 Words
The hallway of my homeowner's building smelled faintly of damp concrete and old paint. The building was oddly too quiet for a Tuesday morning. My heartbeat sounded louder because of it. I shifted my weight nervously, questioning why I had to come to him instead of him coming to me for the rent. I clutched my work bag tighter against my side, not for fashion as a weapon.
I was already running late on my first day of a new job. If not for the payment deadline for the rent being today, I really wouldn't have had business seeing this man this early. Or at all, now I think of it. As I knocked and waited, my mind went to last evening when I followed Cynthia to yet another bar. She worked part-time.
We've really taken this job hunting to serious heights. We went to see the manager of the club of Rouge Noir, where Cynthia has had a part-time job for some months. He didn't have a vacant spot for me though. So he pulled a call to one of his friends. I went from being a two-job holder to a three-job holder. Good for me.
So the restaurant is a tip-top, badass rich establishment for the elite, classy populace. Not so far from my neighborhood, making it easier for me to commute. Plus the pay is good.
I knocked again, remembering where I was. I heard footsteps from inside before Mr. Salgado pulled open the door with a scowl on his face. He filled the door frame with his broad shoulders and his tall height. On seeing me, an amusement flicked across his face. His shirt was unbuttoned too low for comfort, his eyes wandering all over my body, taking in every detail. I immediately felt my skin crawl in disgust.
“Well,” he said, smiling. “What a surprise.”
I forced my mouth into a forged excuse for a polite smile. “Good morning, sir.”
He leaned one arm on his door frame, trying a little too hard to avoid sounding flirty. “Won’t you like to come in?”
My stomach rolled.
“No, thank you, there won't be any need for that,” I said quickly. “I’m actually on my way to work.”
His smile widened, slow and knowing. "We won't take long." His voice suggested something else.
“I’d rather not,” I said, keeping my tone even. “I just wanted to speak with you.”
His gaze dropped, lingered, then lifted again.
“About the rent?”
“Yes sir.”
He straightened slightly, disappointment crossing his face before being replaced by something harder. “I hope you're not coming here to beg me, because I have already given you enough chances and I ain't got anymore to spare.”
“I know,” I said, controlled. “But I have got part of the rent.”
“Part?” he repeated. He's furious and I can tell. “That’s not how agreements work.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out an envelope, holding it out to him without stepping closer. “Please give me more time. Count it if you like, but my aunt and I need an extension.”
He stared at the envelope but didn’t take it. “I’ve given you lots of extensions, you know that.”
“I’ve been nursing my aunt's sickness,” I quietly pleaded. “Plus, I just added a third job to the row.”
His eyebrows lifted. “A third job, huh?”
“Yes sir, I'm starting today,” I replied flatly. “I’ll pay the rest as soon as I get my next pay check. And I plan to pay a little more because I plan on staying a while more.”
He kept quiet for a little longer than needed. He took a step closer. I stepped back. No way do I want to smell his stinking breath.
“So a little more time, huh?,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m not going to disappoint you this time.” I can't come up with a good reason as to why I said that, but I guess anything will stall for more time.
He reached out and finally took the envelope, weighing it in his hand. “You sure you don't want to step in for a bit. I’ve got soda, and we can talk properly.”
My jaw stiffened, realizing with disgust what his intentions were. “Oh yeah, I'm sure. Plus I'm late for work already, so...”
Something flickered in his expression. Annoyance, maybe even irritation. But it passed as soon as it came.
“I give you two weeks, max, after that I won't be so generous,” he said.
Two weeks? It was at the tip of my tongue to negotiate for two months, but I stopped. I had already pushed my luck today. “Thanks a lot, I appreciate it,” I said instead
He went inside, closing the door behind him. I could hardly believe my luck. I immediately turned around and headed for my shift.
I arrived really late. As I entered the front door, I spotted Cynthia tending to a table.
"Office, now." I startled, looking in the direction of the voice by my side. I see my angry looking employer. Oh, great.
I followed him, ignoring the curious looks of staff and customers alike. The office was so spacious, invoices and correspondences meticulously pinned to the walls. He closed the door behind us.
“You’re late on the first day, what kind of business do you think I run that you assume you could resume anytime you choose?” he said flatly.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. "It was an emergency that came up. It won't happen again, I promise." I should really stop promising things I'm uncertain about.
He looked like he was going to ask what the emergency was. “It has better not,” he snapped. “I don’t care what your excuse is. If you want to keep this job, you show up on time.”
“Of course, sir.”
He studied me for a moment, as if deciding whether I was worth it. “Get changed. We need help with the tables.”
“Thank you so much,” I'm so grateful I didn't eventually mess this up.
I went to put on my uniform and went to work.
Cynthia caught my eye immediately.
“There you are,” Cynthia said, falling into step beside me. “I thought you weren't feeling up to it.”
“What can I say? I went to my homeowner with the part payment for the rent. It went better than I expected,” I explained.
Cynthia squealed. “That’s good.”
“Be quiet or else we'll both get fired.”
The work was exhausting. These rich dudes have an attitude. I mean what the hell is on their menu anyway? And the prices? Just breathtaking.
Our break finally came, and we went out to get something to eat.
“You don't look so good,” Cynthia said, unwrapping a sandwich.
“Aww, thanks.”
“You know I mean it lovingly,” she said, pouting. I looked at her and snorted.
“Guess, what?” Cynthia said after the short silence that followed. To that, I didn't bother to reply because I knew she'd say it anyway.
“I have something for you,” she said, searching her bag for a while before bringing out a wad of cash.
I stared. “What the hell is that?”
Cynthia slid it across the table. “It’s for you. You have an admirer now.”
“Huh?” Was all I could say. “Stop joking around like that, Cindy. This isn't funny”
"Before I closed yesterday, one of your secret admirers gave it to me. Apparently he overheard our conversations last night. How you needed rent and another job. He asked me to give this to you."
“Well, I can't take it.”
“Don't start,” Cynthia said, trying to sound threatening. "He asked about you. About your aunt. About the rent. He told me to give you this." Now she's trying to sound convincing.
I shook my head, too stunned about this. “I don’t even know him.”
“That was the plan, I guess. Don't think of sharing it with me. He gave me mine too,” she said, actually blushing.
Who the hell was I kidding? I collected it and thanked her.
Cynthia reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “You’re not alone. Remember that.”
I nodded, finally believing her.
- Writer
