14
Judge
No sooner have we walked through the door of the restaurant than the fat, balding man starts screaming. The restaurant is empty. It’s just before the lunch rush. It’s desolate apart from the fat man, a waitress with a rake-thin body and a makeup-covered face, and me and Emma. At first I assume he’s shouting at the waitress.
“Where the hell have you been?” he roars. He stands behind the bar, gripping two beer spouts, face shaking with rage. “What the hell time do you call this? What the hell is wrong with you? What do you think I am running here? Do you think this is some kind of charity? Do you think this is some kind of social club and you can roll up any time you feel like it?”
The makeup-faced waitress looks down, ignoring him. And then Emma walks a few steps forward and my
