The Halfway House / H.S

"So I guessed the carpet matched the drapes."

Unedited.

| The Halfway House.|

Piper ♀

I sat tall my lanky body at its height, my hands clamped together in a tight sweaty sandwich. My eyes continued to gaze up at the clock in horror, it was nearly time.

When I first opened the local paper in hope of finding a job to fit my minimal qualifications and could maybe help me pay my water bill I wasn't excepting this dump.

I hadn't been living by myself for long and I already felt like I was drowning in quicksand, ever since my parents had kicked me out without a dollar to my name two months ago at the mention of my future (a future the couldn't control) I had been alone.

The confidence I had to muster to tell my parents that I wanted to pursue a career in art rather then carrying on the family tradition of becoming a lawyer, let's just say it didn't go down to well.

Being disowned at the tender age of 19 would have to be a record, and after endless couch surfing and odd jobs I finally managed to save enough for this shity apartment which was located in the most dangerous and dodgy part of London. But at least I had a view of the stars (from all the holes in the roof).

When I first came across the add in the paper I nearly chocked, it was only a couple blocks away from my apartment and waitressing at a pub couldn't be that hard right?

And I desperately needed the money or I wouldn't make rent this month. When the building first came into view I was sure I had mistaken the address only to be unfortunately reassured by the faded logo, this place couldn't actually be open could it? It looked like the roof was about to cave in.

I took a deep breath in and opened the door and walked in. When I entered I was met with the smell of cheap cigarets and even cheaper alcohol and new that this ghastly smell would forever be printed in the back of my head. I looked at my surroundings to see that the interior was just as shitty as the exterior.

It was your standard English pub only more shit. It was bigger inside then I imagined but not tardas worthy, the yellow wallpaper that painted the inside had faded over time and was peeling like a bad sun burn.

The circler bar centred the room witch was matched with worn tatted bar stools, there also was some booths dressed up and down for others to sit and eat ( if you wanted food poisoning). There also was a small stage and the very back were I guessed the entertainment would play and I prayed to god the weren't karaoke fans, a person can only take Celine Dione's my heart will go on so many times.

I saw an older lady behind the bar serving customers and decided I would talk to her. I tried to walk without tripping which had always posed as a challenge because I'm so naturally clumsy, especially when I'm nervous, which was mostly all the time.

When I finally approached the bar (without tripping I might add) I was met with the older lady's eyes witch were light in colour and seemed kind, she looked in her early forties but her smile gave her a younger glow. She lent on the counter and spoke

"You, here for the job?" Her accent thick,

American maybe. She was a long way from home.

I went to answer but she continued to talk while wiping out empty beer glasses.

"Or are you here for the band? I only asked cause you don't look like most of them groupies, to sweet."

"No, I'm here for the job" I corrected shyly

"Good, girls like you are to good for the likes of them, I'll take ya to the boss"

"Your not the boss?" I asked confused