He pushed open the door with a nudge, barely having to put effort into the small movement. The door was well-oiled, it seemed.
His footsteps were quiet, but he was trying to be, so he didn't mind. Clearing his throat, he brought the attention of a man working at the meat slicer to him.
"Hello," the man greeted, not stopping or looking up from his work. "How can I help you?"
"Well," the much younger man began, nerves starting to crawl through his veins. The since-faded marks on this insides of his arms, toes, and other areas beginning to itch. "I was, well- I saw that you were looking for employees."
The man stopped and wiped his hands on the stained apron he wore. "Looking for a job, then?"
The other man nodded, his shaggy hair brushing against his eyelashes as he kept his eyes on his elder. "Yeah. I don't have a resumé with me at the moment, but I'm sure I could put one together for you, if you really need one."
"What's your name, son?"
Blinking a bit, the younger man paused, realizing that he truly hadn't introduced himself. Rookie mistake- he should've known better. "Oh, uhm- Andrew," stepping closer to the man, he held his hand over the counter to him. "Andrew Jackson."
The man shook Andrew's hand and nodded. "Phillip Harold."
Andrew grinned a bit, starting to feel a bit more comfortable in the small deli. "Nice to meet you, Phillip."
The older man rose an eyebrow and stared at the younger man. "You may call me Mr. Harold, son."
Feeling his neck flush red hot, Andrew withdrew his hand and stared down at the laminent counter. "Sorry, Mr. Harold."
"Now," Mr. Harold began, wiping his hands on his apron again. "What sort of work are you interested in, son?"
Pausing to think, Andrew leaned against the counter, staring at no where in particular. "Well," he said, scratching at the inside of his left elbow, "I'm pretty good with a mop. And I'm always good at learning new things." Sending Mr. Harold a smile, he hoped that was enough. "Do you need a resumé, sir?"
Mr. Harold shook his head. "I'm in need of grunt work, son. No need to look through papers to know a man can hold a mop the right way."
Hope swelled in Andrew's chest. Did this mean he had a chance at this? Holding back a grin, Andrew made eye contact with Mr. Harold. "I'm sure I can handle that sort of thing, sir."
Smiling, the older man's eyes crinkled a bit at the corner of his eyes. "Well, then," straightening up, Mr. Harold walked around the counter to face the boy. "It seems you might be up to it." Looking Andrew up and down, his smile grew wider. "When can you start?"
Andrew's eyes lit up immediately. "Right now, if you want." Letting a grin slip free, he stood up straighter, his heartbeat speeding with excitement. This was his seventh try for a job- and he might have just landed it. What luck.
Mr. Harold shook Andrew's hand and let out a low chuckle. "Good, we need you now." Motioning back to a door behind the counter, Mr. Harold instructed Andrew on just where to find an apron and the mop, and told him about the dress code for employees. "And boy," Mr. Harold called after him, once Andrew had began to make his way towards the door. "Call me Phillip."
Andrew let out a barking laugh and pushed at the steel gray door. "Alright, Phillip."
The faint sound of music sounding from earbuds greeted him as he inched the door open. Pausing, Andrew glanced back at Phillip, who had gone back to slicing meat. Taking in a deep breath, Andrew slipped into the room, putting on another charismatic façade.
The mop was gone from it's designated corner, and instead was in the hands of a girl. A pretty girl, at that.
Her ponytail swung with her, nearly at the same rate as her hips as she moved to the music playing in her head.
Andrew's mouth grew dry.
The girl sang along to a small part, and it was enough to make Andrew want to go back to his old life. Let him forget about feeling real, heart-achy feelings and coat them with artificial, wonderfully drug-dazed ones.
He could still remember how her voice, amongst the pounding bass behind the strong sounds of electronics, sounded.
Love me, her voice flowed through her lovely lips and carressed his ear.
And all he could do, then, was stare.
