Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“I’m here about the help wanted sign,” I announce, trying to sound as confident as I can but unable to hold my nerve to look the older man right in the eye for too long.
“Come, sit,” he says softly, keeping his friendly face on but shooting the younger girl a hostile look, making her disappear as quickly as she came in through the swinging doors.
The rest of the tables get back to murmuring in low voices, and someone lights a cigarette.
I’m also acutely aware that I’m the only female in the whole room now, making it feel smaller and warmer. Like someone’s just turned up the heat past being comfortable or even normal.
I stand by the table while the old man scans me again, from my toes to the top of my head.
“You work in a restaurant before?” he asks, his smile fading and his voice becoming colder to match his eyes.
I feel my head nodding, but my mouth is so dry that I can’t speak anymore.
“Sit,” he says again, an order this time. Not an invitation.
A single glance at someone else across the room has them getting up and going over to the door.
The sound of the lock snapping shut and the ‘closed’ sign being flipped doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.
The same man is quick to remove the dusty-looking ‘Help Wanted’ sign, which he brings over to the table, murmuring into the old man’s ear in a servile manner.
Something I can’t quite make out, but the old man nods and dismisses him with a subtle wave of his hand.
The old man studies the sign for a while before looking at me again as I slide quietly into the wooden seat in front of me.
“An old sign,” he rasps in a dry tone. “We… My family only just took over this place,” he explains, letting the cardboard slide from his fingers before he flicks dust from them.
I watch it sway midair before it glides another moment, finally slapping itself face down onto the floor, which I notice is bare cement.
Maybe they’re redecorating?
Faded and still damp patches from scrubbing, the subtle yet familiar smell of bleach hits my senses as I briefly look over the wide expanse of the floor beneath us.
Every part of me is starting to click that whatever’s really going on here has nothing to do with restaurants or help wanted.
And it especially had nothing to do with me before I walked into this place.
But the old man’s eyes twinkle some, letting me know that might’ve just changed.
“Who’s your landlord?” he asks me bluntly, jutting his chin at the crumpled pink slip still partially balled up in my hand.
My face flushes, and I feel nothing but anger toward this guy all of a sudden.
I mean, who does he think he is?
I open my mouth to tell him so, to let him know it’s none of his damned business while planning to get up and leave.
But I surprise myself by giving the name, and despite holding them back for so long, I feel the tears flooding my eyes.
I explain the horrible situation, no money, being evicted, and now, losing my job.
But the man’s stony look only seems to flicker with delight as I list my problems.
His short, hairy hand lifts the soggy paper from mine, and he crumples it up even more before he pushes it to one side, making me gasp and forget about crying for a second.
“I know this man, and he’s a cousin. I’ll make sure you don’t get evicted…,” he says, smiling again.
But there’s that look again.
Those ‘terms and conditions apply’ looks that he gives out as if it helps him see better.
“…And… Maybe we can find work for you too. Paying cash,” he adds. Shifting his look to one of a child, wide-eyed and innocent.
As if he couldn’t hurt a fly.
Just an old man who's trying to help a young lady in need.
Yeah. Right…
Somebody coughs and the old man looks up, his eyes narrowing and becoming cold again.
The sound of the lock on the door being drawn back has me turning in my seat, but I can feel him long before I see him.
Once the stranger enters, the whole room is on edge again, dipping his head as his huge frame fills the doorway.
The guy’s huge. And in the best way possible.
He has some silver at the sides of his temples, but it’s the experience, maturity, and power he exudes.
Not old age like the man I’ve been talking to just now.
He’s obviously pure muscle, and the leather jacket he has on is open at the front, with a white T-shirt underneath showing just how much muscle there is.
He has faded denim jeans on, with patent leather boots that match his jacket.
Neat casual done better than just well.
The solid gold Rolex that flashes on his wrist tells me he’s not worried about his rent either.