by Mel Ryle
“Is it that hard to believe? I don’t always have a foul mood,” I replied with a smirk.
“True. But you looked like you wanted to say more,” he disputed with a soft chuckle as he sat beside me. “So are you ready to go?” he asked, looking at me from d to toe.
“This doesn’t look ready to you?” I asked, feeling a little insulted. Maybe my plain white shirt, jumper, and Converse aren’t an appropriate outfit for him.
“I may not be the kind of guy you expect, but I still know fashion, woman,” he stated cockily, his lips twitched in amusement.
I lightly punched his shoulder before standing up. “Let’s go before you receive more than a punch from me. I don’t want to murder anyone yet. It’s still too early in the evening for that,” I said as I grabbed my jacket and satchel, shaking my head in disbelief.
Peak hours in the restaurant started at seven in the evening. I was jumping from table to table, taking orders, and serving meals. The night started out like any other. The only difference was that I didn’t have a whole roster of douches I had to cater.
“This must be your night, Andy. No douches yet, and it’s almost nine,” Terry remarked when he passed by me as I got a tray of orders from the counter.
I rolled my eyes at his words and stuck my tongue out like a kid, which only compelled him to tease me more by mentioning what I said last night.
“So, you have a thing for tall and muscular blonds?” he asked as he stood next to me as I punched in an order.
“Really? That’s what you’re using against me?” I asked him in disbelief when I finished.
“Yes. Why ever not?” he asked, talking in a British accent.
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “If you were straight and talked like that to a girl, she would swoon,” I remarked with a menacing grin, voicing my counter attack. I would not let him get away with teasing me about that.
“You know we can talk about men, right? After all, I am —” he explained, trying to reason with me.
“Don’t even start, Terry,” I interjected, shooting him a deadly stare, as though I was daring him to contradict. I know that he doesn’t like talking about his relationship (even men in general) and only opened up the topic to tease me. Besides, he knows that I had almost zero contact with men since my father and I came to the city for his treatment. And I had a good reason for my lack of dating prospects.
“I wasn’t saying that you should sleep with the guy, Andy. I was only implying that he was your type,” Terry stated, sighing in defeat.
I looked at him, feeling slightly guilty for getting worked up. “I know what you mean. And yes… maybe, once upon a time, he was my type,” I admitted reluctantly.
Terry was about to tell me something else when the manager interrupted by telling us to stop chitchatting and get back to work. Well, there goes the immunity I thought I had due to yesterday’s incident.
That night, I decided that I would tell the manager I had to change my shift to accommodate my new job. However, it dawned on me that I had no idea what the job was about. So, I had to wait for Terry to finish his shift since he was the only one who knew about it.
I immediately asked Terry about the job when I saw him outside our locker room. I had to be quick, too, because he might forget the subject if I delayed mentioning it.
“You’ll be working at my friend’s club. And if you are wondering, yes, it is the club I always go to at night,” he replied with an evil grin.
“Are you really that desperate to get me to a club that you had to kill the previous worker to get me this one?” I asked after I regained my wits from that revelation.
“Yes. I am,” he replied with a booming laugh. “Actually, the previous worker got this new, hotshot job in another state and disappeared when he got hired. He was a prick, so I told Jack about you. I also told him you play nice as long as no one messes with you,” he added after he slightly calmed down.
“Good. Bartending it is,” I said in defeat. I looked up at the heavens for a second and shook my head in disbelief. I can’t believe I’m doing this out of desperation. And I am desperate for a job.
The ride to the club wasn’t long, maybe ten… fifteen minutes tops. When we arrived there, I got off Terry’s motorbike as he was turning the engine off. And after I carefully took off the helmet, I found myself studying the exterior of the club. There was a huge neon light sign above the door that read ‘Black Jack’. The walls outside the club were made of brick and painted black. All in all, the place was very gothic chic, but it smelled like trouble.
“Are you sure this is it?” I asked nervously, which was hopefully drowned out by the noisy people lining outside the club.
“Yes. Come on,” he replied as he took my helmet and gave me an enthusiastic smile.
When we reached the front door, the guard simply let us through without asking who we were. I looked at Terry with my eyebrow raised, alarmed at how easily we got in. With his hand holding my wrist tightly, Terry dragged me towards the bar. I was too mesmerized by the dim lit room and the sea of people in the middle of the dance floor before I noticed the bartender.
“Jack, this is Andy. Andy, Jack,” Terry shouted close to my ear, which made me abruptly turn towards the man behind the bar counter.
In the dim light, I could only make out a small portion of his features. He looked like a guy in his forties, with dark hair, grey highlights, and a scruffy beard. But it was his deep, dark eyes that drew me to look at him longer than usual. His stare was stern yet weary, a stare I was quite familiar with. It was the kind that had seen a lot of things in this world that normal people had not. It was the same as my father. At that very moment, I gave him my respect.
“Marines or navy?” I asked after Terry introduced us. There was an awkward pause after I said that.
Jack looked at me seriously for a second, and then smiled. “I served for five years in the army, but I was recruited in the marines. I served for seven years until I retired to run this club,” he shouted in reply, his voice deep with a thick southern American accent.
“You’re from the south?” I asked, reeling back in shock. I can’t believe I’m starting to like this guy the longer we talked.
“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised on a small farm in Texas,” he replied with a slight twinkle in his eyes, though his facial expression remained serious and unnerving.
“My father was from Texas too. He served in the marines for fifteen years,” I said with a small smile.
Jack smirked in response then turned to look at Terry, whom we had almost forgotten during our conversation. “I think I like this one,” he stated.
“I told you,” Terry countered in glee as he glanced at me proudly.
“So, when do I start?” I turned to Jack and asked.
“Since you are here, how about giving me a hand with some of these?” he replied as he tilted his head in the direction of a crowd of people on the other side of the counter.
I glanced at Terry for a second, eyeing him for permission, which he replied with a nod. “Sure,” I replied to Jack as I looked back at him. “How do I get there?” I added as I pointed at the inside of the bar counter
“Climb over,” Jack replied, after which he excused himself when a customer called him relentlessly. He was gone before I could react.
“Was he serious?” I asked Terry, looking at him dubiously.
“Jack is always serious. I rarely even see that guy crack a joke,” Terry replied as he looked at Jack’s retreating figure.
I hesitated for a moment. But as I kept thinking about that piece of information, it made this job seem more daunting. However, I desperately needed a job. Without further ado, I stepped on a stool then put my knee on the counter and eventually climbed over to the other side. I was glad that I wore comfortable clothes. As soon as I was behind the bar, Jack immediately handed me an apron to wear, a sign that I had to start work.
About half an hour into the job, I was getting the hang of it. Terry sta
yed in the bar until Andrew showed up with a bunch of people. I was in the zone, getting beer bottles and hosing glasses as the people came and went. But it was slightly hard to manage people’s orders when they are all shouting at the same time.
“Excuse me! Can I get a whiskey please?” a man, with a slight British accent, called to me when I passed by him to hand out another customer’s order.
“Wait for your turn. You just got here,” I replied without looking at him as I gave a few bottles of beer to the customer I was currently serving. I said those words out of courtesy to the other customers. It was unfair to serve a newcomer — even if that newcomer has the power to ruin your life.
“Excuse me. Are you just going to ignore me?” the man asked in disbelief when I went past him a second time, ignoring him to serve another customer on the other end of the bar.
His words finally caught my attention, making me look at him directly. I eyed him for a second in irritation. I couldn’t make out his features because the room was poorly lit, but my voice was clear when I said, “Sir, with all due respect, there are people who waited in line to get their drinks before you, so please be patient and wait for your turn. This is not too much to ask.” My eyebrow scrunched together impatiently at his outburst.
A few of the people nearby heard my reprimand and turned to look at us in awe. A girl on his right clapped her hands and cheered me on while the other guys just smirked and told the guy to wait. This silenced him for a second before he walked away disappointedly. As I stared at the man’s back, I had this strange notion that there was something familiar about this man, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Andy, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jack asked while I was cleaning a beer glass by the bar. It was already past three in the morning and I was beat.
Before I followed him, I quickly washed the glass, put it on the counter, dried my hands with my apron, and took it off when Jack signaled for me to go somewhere else. He led me to a small room at the back of the club. At first, I thought it was the storage area. It turns out it was his office.
When we got in, he lightly closed the door behind him, faced me, let out a sigh, and said, “Did you insult Mr. Maxwell?”
“Tonight was a long one for me. Can you be a little more specific? I may have insulted or cursed on a few people who were being too rude to handle, so I actually have no idea who that one is,” I replied lightly, trying to lighten the mood.
He smirked and walked around me towards a small desk across the door. “For someone who just started, I can’t believe that you had to pick tonight to be clueless,” he said, his serious façade back. Terry was right, the man was humorless.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know who you mean or why you are angry,” I said calmly in reply. I reeled my tongue in and tried not say any more witty comebacks.
“He told me that you told him to wait and deliberately overlooked him. Does that refresh your memory?” he asked lightly, though his voice sounded grave.
As soon as he mentioned it, I was able to refresh my memory. “Ah, yes. I remember that guy. He was a prick if you ask me,” I answered, snorting in disgust as I recalled that scene.
“You don’t know who he is?” Jack asked, looking slightly taken aback by my words.
“Well, I did just say that...” I pointed out sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
“William Maxwell, CEO of Maxwell Enterprises. The man owns almost half of the city’s businesses. He co-owns this club with me,” Jack explained quickly, giving me a gist of the man’s background.
“Holy...” I started, but trailed off as a memory came to me. He was the man who I served in the restaurant the night before. He was the boss of my boss, only now, it turns out he was also the boss of my other boss. It just dawned on me that I disregarded twice the man who has the power to ruin my life, which is putting both my jobs at risk.
Four
Jack was very calm after I admitted—innocently—that I didn’t know who he was. He forgave my lack of knowledge and told me to not be rude to the man again. I wanted to comment more on that, but I held my tongue and just nodded. I may have only encountered the man twice, but during each encounter, he made my blood boil. The arrogance he emanated was overwhelming that I almost lost my cool.
After our chat, Jack gave me a lift back to Terry’s apartment since it was almost four in the morning. Well, there goes my sleep. When I got inside the apartment, the sky had turned gray, which signified dawn. I was so exhausted that I didn’t bother to change my clothes and just crashed on the couch.
When I woke up, the sun’s rays seeped through the window, blinding me momentarily. Then someone nudged me, taking me by surprise. In retaliation, I kicked the person, which resulted in a series of profane words.
“I didn’t know you were so violent when woken up,” Terry hissed, his voice suddenly close to my ear.
I turned my face to the side, since it was face down (the way I mostly sleep), and stuck my tongue out like a kid.
“Why are you annoying me? I just got home—wait… What time is it?” I asked in alarm, quickly sitting upright.
Terry studied me with his brown eyes, smirking at my animated actions. “You looked funny. I never actually saw your ‘just woke up’ face,” he said, looking amused.
“Don’t ruin my already sour mood, Terry,” I warned and glanced at the clock. “Shoot! I got to go!” I exclaimed, getting up as I frantically searched for my bag.
“Here’s your stuff,” Terry said as he held out my bag and jacket. “Do you need a ride? Or a shower perhaps?” he asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
I looked at him sternly for a second before getting a whiff of myself. I cringed at how badly I smelled. I reeked of beer (though I never drank last night), sweat, and a whole lot of other things. Basically, I smelled like someone who had a rough night. Glancing back at him, I gave him a grim smile and gestured for him to wait a second. Shortly after that, I sprinted to the bathroom to freshen up. When I finally had a good look at myself in the mirror, I jolted in surprise once I saw my reflection. I almost didn’t recognize myself. Maybe I was just overreacting, but I think I looked like a caveman with my fuzzy hair and dark eye bags.
I sighed for a second before showering really quickly. I brushed my teeth after and then tried very hard to straighten my hair, which I ended up styling into a messy bun anyway. Lastly, I changed into fresh clothes in less than fifteen minutes. When I was done, it didn’t take long for us to be on the road.
I accepted Terry’s offer this time around, since it was already noon. I was already late than usual. On the ride there, I prepared a bunch of excuses on why I was late. It’s quite hard to convince someone who knows you inside and out and could tell if you lied.
“Hey, Dad. Terry is with me today,” I greeted once I entered the room. He was watching reruns again.
“Hi, Mr. Peterson. How are you today?” Terry greeted as he followed me inside, bringing a box of goodies as gift. The truth was I bought those as a peace offering in case my alibi didn’t go well.
“Terry! I’m doing good, son. How are you? Is my daughter behaving well?” my father asked, muting the television as he turned to face us.
“I’m fine, Mr. Peterson. Andy is behaving like an angel, as always,” Terry replied with a smile. The sarcasm in his voice was thick.
I eyed him for a second and rolled my eyes. “Dad, did Dr. Stanley finish his rounds already?” I asked, changing the topic.
“You just missed him,” he replied nonchalantly, but kept his eyes on me like he was studying my expression. “Do you like him?” he asked after a moment.
“What?! Where did you get that idea?” I asked, shocked by his question.
“No reason. I just wanted to know your reaction,” my father replied calmly, and then increased the volume again. I sighed in relief and sat on my usual chair.
Terry stayed with us for a while, but excused himself after mouthing that Andrew wanted to meet up. I simp
ly nodded at him in consent. For the rest of the afternoon, my father and I just watched his favorite reruns. It seemed as if he wasn’t angry about my tardiness, or if he was, he did a good job hiding it. A couple of shows later, I rose from my seat and told him I was going. That’s when he finally spoke up.
“Why were you late this morning?” he asked.
“I was late because I overslept. I know it’s unlike me, but I was doing some extra work last night,” I replied, holding up a finger, as a sign for him to stop when he opened his mouth to interject. This was the excuse I decided to use because there was a little bit of truth to it, hopefully to cover up the real reason.
“Oh. Okay. Just don’t drain yourself. And get some sleep. If you’re too tired to visit, you should just stay home and rest, you know.” He looked and sounded worried.
“I’m alright, Dad. You don’t have to worry so much,” I replied, giving him a hug to hide my solemn expression.
I didn’t prolong my stay, so I said goodbye and rushed out of the room. On the ride back to Terry’s place, I was mostly spaced out. My thoughts were preoccupied with my father’s condition. I never wanted to lie to him, but if I told him the truth, it would make him worry even more and probably worsen his condition. I felt miserable every time I did that. Back then, I never lied to him. But now, I’m lying to him more and more, and it hurts every time I keep doing that to him.
It didn’t take long for Terry to notice my mood when we arrived at work. When I didn’t make a move to remove the helmet, he frantically waved his hands in front of me.
“Earth to Andy! Are you awake?” he asked, snapping his fingers when I didn’t respond.
I simply looked at him with a smirk. “I’m fine, Terry. Just slightly worn out,” I admitted glumly but with a smile on my face.
“I think you need some chocolate mousse cake to cheer you up. And you’re in luck. I know where to get one,” he stated with a reassuring smile.
