Page 86 of The CEO's Revenge

I push deeper into the room, squeezing through the throng. My rucksack hits the back of a seated man’s head as I push through towards the bar and I cringe, waiting for him to go off on me as I stutter out an apology, but he just laughs and waves away my apology. Whoa. Maybe this place isn’t as bad as I thought it was.

“What you got in there honey? Are you running away from home or something?”

“Something like that.” I grin back at him.

“Cheers to that,” he says cheerfully.

He picks up a shot glass filled with clear liquid and swallows it down to a round of cheers and whoops from his table. The grin on my face widens. This place is sure growing on me.

I make it to the crowded bar, and wait until the couple waving money in front of me are served, then push my way into the spot they’ve vacated.

“Hi,” I chirp brightly, when the bartender gets to me.

“ID,” he barks.

“I’m not here for a drink. I saw your help wanted sign in the window,” I explain.

He turns away from me, leaving me standing there, unsure of what to say or do.

“Larry?” he yells. “Someone here for the job.”

He comes back to the bar, and ignoring me, moves onto the next customer. A voice yells something indistinguishable through an open door from the back of the bar. The bartender looks back to me.

“Go on through,” he says, jerking his head towards the open door.

I have no idea how I would get to the door and I stand staring at him dumbly for a moment. He rolls his eyes which makes my cheeks sting with embarassment.

“Coming through,” he shouts at two drunk looking men who are standing at the side of the bar.

They back up a little and the bartender lifts a section of the bar up and beckons to me. I push past the men and squeeze through the gap. It’s so loud here that I can barely hear the bartender as he speaks to me and I wonder vaguely how they have any idea what drinks people are ordering. I don’t catch a word the bartender says, but he points through the door behind him and I step through it.

It's cooler back here and a little quieter and I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and start moving along a corridor carpeted in an ugly red and green carpet.

“Hello?” I call out timidly.

“For fucks sake, get in here,” a voice shouts.

I follow the sound of the voice and find myself in what I take to be an office. It’s a small room, carpeted in the same cheap stuff as the corridor outside. The furniture is shabby. There’s an overweight man sitting with his booted feet up on a chipped desk. A lit cigarette smolders in an ashtray on the messy desk. The man is wearing a suit, but even that looks cheap and ill-fitting.

“You’re looking for a job, huh?” he asks.

Chapter Five

Amelia

I’m kinda speechless by the situation I find myself in, so I just nod.

He gestures to the chair in front of his desk. I don’t really want to sit on it. It looks grubby and sticky, but I park myself on it. I need a job. I can always wash my jeans.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Amelia Till,” I reply.

“Till what?” the man says, and laughs heartily at his own joke.

I smile politely, and mumble, “Good one.”

“I’m Larry Hall, the owner of this fine establishment.”

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