The loud bang of Gabriel's fist against the smooth surface of the wooden desk made Esmeralda's heart leap into her throat. "I said you are fired. I want you out of my dorm before the night runs out," he roared, his voice echoing in the small office.
That was the terrifying situation Esmeralda met as she entered his office later that day. She had gotten there, thinking Mr Gabriel called her over to hand out her pay check since it was already the end of the month, only to hear him say she was dismissed. Esmeralda hoped it was some kind of sick joke and she asked again to be sure but the man didn't have that patience. He flared up hitting the desk with his fist.
"Please, forgive me, sir. My family depends on me. They are in debt, and this is the only job that provides me with enough money to support them. I don't understand how they—"
Gabriel cut her off, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't fucking care about your family's bullshit. Just get the hell out of here."
Tears began to well in Esmeralda's eyes as desperation washed over her. "Please, Mr. Gabriel, my life depends on this job. I... I don't have anywhere to go. I don't know what to do. Please, be kind enough to change your mind. I'm begging you. Just tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I won't repeat it."
Her voice trembled, the weight of her circumstances threatening to crush her spirit. "Or is it about the incident earlier today? I already apologized to the couple. Please, Mr. Gabriel, I'm really sorry."
Gabriel regarded her with a smirk, the corners of his mouth curling up as he pronounced her name, "Esmeralda." He leaned back in his chair, his expression unfazed. "It's not about what happened today," he clarified. "I already told you not to worry about that. I have forgiven you for that."
Esmeralda's heart sank further, confusion mingling with her fear. If it wasn't about the incident, then what was the real reason for his decision?
He adjusted himself in his seat, fingers steepled as he leveled a fierce gaze at her trembling form. "I'm firing you because you act so dumb and naive, and I'm sick of it."
Esmeralda's heart raced, confusion washing over her. How could those two words—dumb and naive—be the reason for her dismissal?
"I can stop being dumb and naive if that's what it takes to keep my job," she blurted out, surprising herself with her own determination. Since when had she ever considered herself naive or, worse, dumb?
"I promise to change this aspect about me." She was desperate to hold onto the one job that provided for her family.
Gabriel stood up, moving toward her with a predatory grace. He saw her desperation as an opportunity to get what he wants.
"Since you desperately want to keep this job, there is something you can do to change my mind," he said, pausing to gauge her confused expression. "You can give me something I have always wanted, something I have fantasized about."
Esmeralda's confusion deepened. "And what is that, sir?" she asked cautiously.
He smiled inwardly, his hand rising to stroke her face. "You are a very beautiful girl, Esmeralda, and I have always fantasized about having you right here in my office since you started working for me."
Gabriel had always been a sly old fox who got what he wanted. While he ran a fabric store, he also owned an illicit underground club, maintaining a socialite facade to uphold a respectable image. The fabric store served as a perfect cover for his main business. He employed many girls—those that appeared dainty and humble he kept at the fabric store and those who looked tough and seem as if they could handle any situation, he introduced them to the underground business of the club. Not everyone working at the club was aware of its illicit activities.
Gabriel has always loved young vibrant girls and hence employs them so that he could get into their pants and being rich was a pique on his own because he has easily gotten into the pants of almost every girl under him.
Esmeralda instinctively recoiled from his touch, her instincts screaming that something was very wrong. He couldn't mean what she thought he did.
"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice shaky but steady, desperate for clarification.
"Don't act as if you don't know what I mean. I want you." His voice dropped, filled with a twisted urgency, as he leaned in to kiss her, attempting to force himself on her.
Esmeralda's heart raced, and she cursed in Mexican. "¡Qué el carajo! (What the fuck). Get off me, you bloody idiot!"
She pushed him away, but he gripped her tightly, his hands trying to get under her dress. That violation ignited a fierce strength within her, allowing her to shove him back before delivering a sharp slap across his face.
Gabriel staggered back, shock and pain flashing across his features. He gritted his teeth, anger boiling over. "Get out of my office, you whore!" he screamed, his face flushed with rage.
"You disgust me, Mr. Gabriel," she spat, grabbing her purse. In a rush of anger, she added more Mexican curses, "Para infierno con su trabajo, gilipollas!" (To hell with your job, asshole.)
Esmeralda stormed out of his office, heart racing, fully aware she had just lost a well-paying job.
As she exited the building, she boarded a bus, sinking into the last seat. Exhaustion washed over her as she leaned her head against the window, staring blankly outside.
Her mind raced with worry. Where would she sleep that night? Gabriel had made it clear she was no longer welcome in the dorm where she and other employees lived. Not for free of course. He gradually deducted the rent from their salary every month. She appreciated the fact he didn't take much; everyone did. It's hard get a job and at such, one that provided accomodation.
She had planned to send money to her family the next day, but those plans had evaporated in an instant. The thought of returning to Mexico crossed her mind, but even that seemed impossible without funds for a plane ticket.
Suddenly, her phone rang, jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw the bold word "Padre."
She picked up, forcing a smile into her voice. "Hola, papa."
"¿Cómo estás, mi feisty uno?" (How are you, my feisty one?) he asked, his tone warm and familiar.
Esmeralda could hear the gentle warmth in her father's voice, a soothing balm to her troubled heart. How she missed him! Ever since she was a little girl, he had affectionately called her his "feisty one," a nickname that always reminded her of her resilience. But as she stared down at herself, she felt anything but feisty at that moment.
"I am fine, papi. How are you, and how's mamá and Estelle?" she asked, hoping to keep the conversation light.
"We are fine. We all miss you," he replied, his tone filled with warmth.
Her dad might miss her, but she doubted her mother and sister felt the same way. The thought nagged at her; she could envision them going a decade without her and managing just fine.
"You sound tired. Have you been working too hard?" he questioned, concern lacing his voice.
With a heavy heart, she replied, "Papi, I got fired." The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, cascading down her cheeks.
There was a long silence on the other end, and she imagined him processing the news. "I will be coming back home soon," she continued, her voice cracking. "There is nothing left for me here anyway."
"Shush! Es suficiente, mi feisty uno, (it's enough, my feisty one)" he soothed. "Don't cry. Everything will be alright. We will figure things out when you come back."
She sniffed, desperately trying to regain her composure. "I was supposed to send you money today, but I couldn't. I am so sorry, papi."
"Don't worry about the money. Just come back home. We will be expecting you. Stop crying and be strong like always."
Esmeralda wiped her tears away, grateful for her father's unwavering support. "Okay, papi." As she felt the bus slow down, she realized she had reached her destination. "Papá, I have to go now. I love you."
"I love you too, my feisty one. Remember to take care of yourself, mija," he urged. "Your health is more important than anything."
"I will, papi. I promise," she assured him.
With that, the call ended, leaving her feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. She stepped off the bus, the familiar sight of the Twilight Bar greeting her. Taking a deep breath, she walked inside, seeking solace in the dimly lit atmosphere.
At the counter, she settled onto a bar stool and faced the bartender. "Can I have one of your strongest shots, please?" she requested, her voice steadier than she felt.
The bartender nodded, pouring a shot of whiskey and sliding it across the bar to her. She lifted the glass, the amber liquid catching the light, and for a moment, she hesitated.
But then she tossed it back, letting the warmth wash over her, numbing the pain of the day.