Page 5 of Scarred King

“Hey, come on,” she says dismissively. “I thought you'd be amused to see someone like that come in here for an interview. You don’t have to take life so seriously, y’know.” She gets up and goes to the bar, ignoring me completely, and comes back to the table with a soda can in her hand.

“They didn’t find it as entertaining as I did,” she hisses at me and puts a straw into her can. “I’ll call you a cab. Wait outside.”

This place is a strip club and a brothel, I think to myself in terror, but the room I’m standing in now is a bar. Just a bar. And I need a job. I’m desperate for a job. It won’t kill me to wait tables here, especially if the pay is good as Carly mentioned this morning. I’m beginning to feel my body again, and the only numbness I feel is the one I always use as a safeguard which I've done for the past twenty-five years.

“I’ve come all this way instead of going out to celebrate a very big accomplishment, so I’d appreciate it if you’d agree to interview me for this job,” I say calmly and they all look at me, shocked.

“No. I asked you to leave,” Carly raises her voice. “You should go now, before I call security to take you.”

“No,” I say, still in that same calm tone, “I need a job, all I'm asking for is a fair chance.”

Carly stands up angrily but Mike quickly takes her by the elbow. “Sit down.” He pulls her down. “This kid is funny.” He looks me over curiously. “And anyway, you’re right. Why shouldn’t we be entertained?” He leans back on the leather seat and motions me towards the table. I walk over and stand in front of them. “So, you ready for your interview to start?” he asks formally, with a hint of contempt in his voice which does nothing to my self-esteem. I nod. Suddenly, he leans toward Carly. “Remind me what I need to ask her…” he whispers and everyone around the table bursts out laughing. I clear my throat and they all fall silent, still smiling. “My name is Elena. I’m twenty-five, a second-year physics student. I finished my first year with honors.” Their look of disdain turns into something else. Not exactly what I was expecting. I think they’re shocked. I stop talking and Tommy, the guy with the bleached hair, puts his beer bottle down on the wooden table with a thud.

“Okay. We get it. You’ve failed the interview. Feel free to go, we wish you the best of luck down the road.”

“But why?” I ask angrily. “It’s just a waitressing job. If I could pass a course on Einstein’s theory of relativity with honors, I think I could manage to serve a few drinks.”

“What theory is she talking about?” Mike, the redhead, asks, and Scarface shakes his head in despair.

“There’s a menu on the bar,” he says, looking through the green file in front of him. He has the same tattoo on his wrist, as well. “You've got a minute to memorize it and then come back to the table.”

I approach the bar slowly, understanding he’s just given me my last chance to get this crappy job. I’d better use this chance well. I pick up the white menu, photograph it in my head and put it back on the counter.

“OK, I’m ready,” I say, as I'm walking back towards where they're sitting.

“I thought you’d be a little more thorough,” Tommy, with the bleached hair, yawns again. “After all, you’re an honor student of some bullshit theory by … whatever his name is.”

“So, what can I get you to drink this evening?” I ignore his sarcasm and fake a smile.

“Whatcha got?” he yawns again and this time he doesn’t even cover his mouth.

“Well, you look like your about to fall asleep, so I’d suggest something strong to waken you.” I continue smiling. “We have an Old Ballantruan – single malt, Bowmore 12 or 15, Bushmills, Balvenie DoubleWood, Ballantine’s, Johnny Walker Black, Gold or Blue, Jameson, Jim Beam, Glenlivet 12 or 15, Glenmorangie, Glenfiddich…"

“OK,” he cuts me off. “You’re making me dizzy.” He rubs his forehead and looks at me suspiciously. “What do you recommend?”

“How should I know what you like?” I answer irritated.

He shakes his head, not pleased. “Wrong answer!”

“She’s funny. Give her another try,” Mike, the redhead, looks amused. “Try to flirt with him a bit,” he winks, and I grumble silently.

“What do you recommend?” Mike repeats his question.

“Great question.” I force myself to plaster a huge smile on my face. “I’m sure that an impressive man like you knows exactly what he likes and I have a feeling that you like nothing but the best. So…” I stop talking and run the drinks menu through my head again. “So I’d pick the Glenfiddich 19 for you.”

Scarface bursts out laughing and everyone looks at him in confusion. “She convinced you?” he asks Tommy.

“I guess so,” he answers and rubs his red eyes.

“Good. Idiot,” Scarface replies and laughs again, the scarring on his face deepening. “She just sold you the most expensive drink on our menu and you can’t drink anything stronger than that beer you’re holding.”

Everyone starts laughing and I'm still standing there in front of them, not knowing what I should do next.

“That was certainly an entertaining interview,” Scarface winks at Carly and then turns around to look at me. My breath catches again as I stare at the angelic half of his face. “You look like a good girl,” he says to me and lights a cigarette. “There’s nothing for you here. Go and get a job as a waiter at one of the cafés in the city.”

“I don’t want to be a waitress at a café.” I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly. “I passed your weird interview successfully and now you have to give me a chance.”

He shakes his head saying no and I'm just about to continue persuading him, when suddenly Mike gets up, pushes his way past Carly’s legs and stops in front of me.

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