Nathaly
The night was just beginning and I wanted to leave. If I worked in this seedy bar, it was only to be able to pay for basic things such as food, electricity, water and the apartment I rented with a colleague, among other things. On Friday and Saturday nights I worked from eight o'clock at night until six in the morning, when the bar closed, and they were my least favorite days of the week because drunks abounded in the business. I had only been at work for three weeks and I wanted to leave, but I couldn't. It was that or being homeless, because my partner, no matter how well we got along, was not going to pay my share of the rent. But I repeated in my mind that this would be a temporary job, that someone would see some of the many resumes that I left in all those businesses and they would hire me and I would be very happy to talk to the boss and give him my resignation.
"What good are I doing to you?" I asked the man in his forties who had just sat at the bar.
"Whiskey," he replied, looking at me shamelessly.
I rolled my eyes. That's why I hated working here so much. The harassment by the men towards us, the three women who were in charge of serving drinks. My partner Beca watched the guy and fluttered his eyes, not caring that he was watching her too.
"I hate working here. I want to leave", Beca murmured in my ear.
"There are two of us," I said, giving him every reason. The harassment we suffered was quite great. Often, the guys spoiled us, believing themselves to be intelligent, handsome and all some heartthrobs, when in reality, instead of conquering us, they provoked disgust.
My first day of work I had the need to go to my boss to notify him that one of the clients did not stop telling me obscenities. I expected him to take care of kicking that guy out of the bar, but I was surprised when he told me to put up with it for a couple of hours, not to exaggerate, that I was just an employee and he was a customer. Exactly, I was the employee, I worked here and I deserved a correct treatment. He as the boss and owner of the bar was to kick the man out or ask him to behave. I didn't have to put up with this, it was unfair, but I couldn't reproach my boss for his decision. I needed the money.
I handed the glass of whiskey to the man.
"Scholarship, I'm going to the bathroom," I warned my partner, who nodded.
I got into the women's bathroom and took out the phone to call Mom.
"Hello, I'm glad you called, how is everything going?" He asked. She sounded happy.
"Okay," I lied. The night was disgusting.
"How about the work?"
"Great," I pretended to smile.
Mom thought she worked in a night coffee shop, because if I told her I worked in a bar full of drunk guys harassing me, I would give her a heart attack and make me come home. Before graduating from high school, it was always clear to me that I wanted to become independent and move to an apartment near the university. I was accepted at the University of Washington, in Seattle, they gave me a half scholarship, which meant that my plan went to the letter, so I moved from New York. The ugly part of the plan was all this, the part of also having to work, but it was all because of my college degree. My mother didn't want me to move to Seattle, she thought I wasn't ready to live alone, to be away from family, but I begged her to leave me because I needed to take this important step. These are personal achievements that I wanted to have.
"When are you going to come and see us?" With your father and your brothers we miss you very much.
"Mom, I've just started college," I smiled. I also missed them very much. It was what I wanted, but it was hard.
I stayed a few minutes talking to her and then told her I should cut her off. I went back to the bar and saw a tall boy entering the bar, with a furious expression on his face. Usually, in my three weeks as a worker, I noticed that the clients were always the same drunks, but I had never seen this guy before. He noticed my gaze on him and walked towards me immediately.
"What do I do to you?" I asked him when I had him standing in front of me.
It was higher than you could tell in the distance. His gray eyes were accompanied by his half-frowning eyebrows, which gave him that intimidating touch. His musculature was noticeable, not excessive, but you could tell he exercised. I immediately caught several bruises on his arms, bruises that seemed to be several days old. Her jet black hair caught my eye, it fit her too well with her intimidating personality.
"I need to talk to the owner of the bar."
"Why do you need it?"
"I come for the work of security guard. Well, to the interview," he replied. His hoarse voice was very seductive. He had an English accent. And I had a great weakness for guys with accents.
He stepped forward and his perfume reached my nostrils, delighting me. It was a perfume that seemed to be expensive. Then, thinking about it, I looked at his clothes: he was wearing a white V-neck T-shirt, black jeans, black sneakers, and wearing a silver watch on his wrist, which, by the way, also looked expensive.
"Are you okay?", his voice brought me back and pushed away my unnecessary ramblings.
"Yes, forgive. What did you want?"
"Talk to the bar owner, I'm coming for an interview."
True. The interview.
Jacob, the forty-year-old, owner of this disgusting and expensive bar, summoned new employees at inappropriate hours. I was lucky enough to be summoned in the morning, but Beca, my partner, did not: the boss summoned her at nine o'clock at night. Beca also had the same need to work as me, so he attended the interview. Unfortunately, this guy's interview had to be done by me, not the owner.
"Yes, come, stop by," I beckoned him to follow me.
We entered the break room, which had a small desk with chairs for interviews. An old but comfortable black sofa lay at the other end of the room. Daniel took a seat in front of me.
"Will you do the interview?"
"Yes, why?" I replied, seeing it strange. I sat down and left my arms on the table after searching the drawer for his resume.
"I thought you only served drinks."
"Me too, but my damn boss likes to give us jobs that don't belong to us," I smiled on the side.
Daniel didn't answer, he just nodded, with that same serious expression with which he crossed the bar.
"So... Daniel Mickerson...", I read his name.
"Yes."
"Here he says that you have previously worked as a security guard in two bars in England."
He affirmed with his head.
"Why did you come to the United States?"
"That's a bit personal, don't you think?"
I shrugged.
"You said it yourself, until today at the beginning of my shift, I also believed that I only served drinks, but my boss has commissioned me this interview. I have no idea what to ask you," I admitted. Judging by the heat rising to my cheeks, I think my cheeks were already red.
Daniel, pushing away his serious expression, gave me a slight smile.
"So why don't we just leave this interview and you tell the boss that I have convinced you and that he has to consider giving me the job?"
Smiled.
Of course. He wanted her easy.
"I don't want to have a dishonest security guard in the place where I work."
He smiled slightly once again.
How cute it was.
"Dishonest?" You don't know me," he raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly," I looked at the slight bruises on his arms and, even if it was none of my business, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. Maybe he got into a fight. Daniel had that air of getting into trouble. Yes, I know, it's wrong to judge by appearances.
His voice pulled me out of my little submission. Trapped.
"Do the muscles in my arms catch your eye? Yes, I know, I have a good physique", his tone was one of arrogance.
I rolled my eyes.
How he hated people being like this.
"Arrogant."
"I'm just telling the truth," she replied, with that look that could go through my eyes and make me feel uncomfortable. I stirred in my seat.
Big-headed.
"So... Nathaly", looked at the name on my shirt and uttered it, savoring my name. His accent was somewhat addictive.
"What?"
"Do I have the job?"
"No, I don't decide that."
My eyes were again attracted by the expensive watch on his wrist. Yes, it really looked expensive.
"Do you plan to steal my watch? I mean, because of how you look at it."
And again the arrogance in its tone.
I looked at it badly.
"You are very upset, have they told you?"
"You're bad at hiding looks, have they told you?" Maybe I should tell our boss that you tried to steal my watch.
I enlarged my eyes a little.
"When did I try to do that?" Liar. Also, really? Our boss? You don't work here yet.
"Exactly. Still."
Incredible.
"Well, yes you are arrogant!"
He smiled, showing his perfect teeth. Daniel had a very cute smile.
"I don't usually am, but I really hope I can have this job," he replied, suddenly becoming serious. Wow, there were also sudden mood swings in him.
That's a question asked in interviews.
"Oh, well, that's a good question: why do you want to work here?"
"Because I'm new to the country, to the city, and I have to work. I need the money," he replied, obviously.
"Well, the boss will call you if he thinks you are fit for the job."
Daniel leaned forward, taking my right hand and putting a little pressure.
"I really need the job," he repeated, with that serious look, combined with a little bit of worry and despair?
It took me a few seconds to stop seeing his eyes and remove my hand from under his. Daniel watched my action.
"Excuse me."
"Ah, you're arrogant, but you apologize," I joked. I think.
I didn't really know much about Daniel, but his look of I need the job and his worried tone reminded me of my interview, which, by the way, was my first. I was very struck by his deep, gray, penetrating eyes, especially that English accent that was divine with his voice. They were probably going to give it to Daniel at work, because he was the only one who was interested in the security guard post. In this bar the fights were frequent, always ending something broken, such as glasses, bottles, or the face of a drunk. He understood that the three previous guards resigned for the number of fights in the week, they ended up quite injured when trying to separate the opponents. If Daniel wanted this job he had to know what awaited him.
Daniel came out of the rest room when I pointed him out and I came out behind him, ready to warn him about the hairs. I grimaced in disgust when I noticed the number of new customers who came to the bar while I was inside that room with Daniel. This was going to be a long night.
"You're beautiful, my little girl," a guy, in his fifties, told me when I walked past the bar. He held a glass of whiskey and watched me cheekily, with desire.
"And what a disgust you give," Daniel replied, surprising me. His tone was quite aggressive. The guy looked at him, as did Daniel at him, and the first one ended up looking away, uncomfortable.
I exchanged glances with my partner Beca and then kept walking, behind Daniel, who was already walking through the door of the bar. I hurried over and went outside, hugging myself in the cool wind of the night.
"Daniel!", I called him, stopping his step.
"Nathaly," she turned around. He had a peculiar way of saying my name. I liked it very much.
"Thank you for that," I smiled sideways.
"You're welcome."
"You should know that fights here are very frequent, and usually, the one who ends up injured the most is the security guard," I grimaced.
"Are you trying to scare me away?"
"No, of course not, I just tell you," I said quickly.
Daniel ran his hand over his dark hair.
"I'm used to fights. See you soon, Nathaly", replied, surrounding a beautiful, seemingly expensive black car. Did he really need the job? It had a lot of very expensive things.
He got into his beautiful car, started the engine after playing music, and started. I lost sight of it in a matter of second.