"Oh momma dear, we're not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fun."
Chapter Theme Song: 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun' by Cyndi Lauper.
••
♡♡
Sanoh
"Wake up! Sanoh!"
"Sanoh!"
"I'm up!" I groan while my little sister pulls at my limb as though she wants to rip it from its socket. "See, I'm up. Issy. I'm already up."
"I learned the moves, Sanoh, and now I can do the roundhouse kick! Jamie won't have anything on me now! Watch me, Sanoh, please!"
"Okay, show me, show me." I cock my head to the side with droopy eyes, pressing my palms on either side of me so I won't fall face over on the mat!
I spent the entire night sewing the Karate suits for the new kids at our home Sparring Gym and now I am just burnt out. What makes it completely worse is that I have to work in less than fifteen minutes...
Oh, shit. Work!
My sister is in the middle of jutting her small hips and doing some form of spin as I throw myself upright and grip my head disorientedly. "I'm coming, Issy; I-I have somewhere to be."
"Ugh, man! But I really want to show it to you, San!" She flails out her skinny arms and legs. "Fineeeee! I'm gonna show it to dad then!"
"Yeah, yeah, do that," I make a circular motion with my finger, "and come back. I'll be ready by then, okay?!"
For a six-year-old, no one knows how to hold a grudge better than she does. Prepare thyself for hair flips and tongue sticks that appear out of nowhere.
She pouts her lips, smeared with pink glittery lipgloss, my glittery lipgloss that I hardly ever wear, if ever, and defiantly stomps out of our shared bedroom, slamming the door behind her. It rattles on its old hinges, and I cringe.
"Hey! If you break it, you buy it!"
I'm not really a lip-gloss girl, I tend to forget I have it on whenever I wear it, and then I just end up eating it...
Yeah, don't ask.
To start my morning, I tap a few buttons, spin a tuner, and blast the hit Cranberries: When You're Gone on my old vintage radio, wiggling my waist to the beat.
I'm positive I look like a worm being trampled on by a size ten shoe right now...
"And I miss you...when you're gonnnnneeeee..."
I have a knack for oldies. Let's just say my head is stuck in the eighties. Today, I'm dancing alongside Sandy Sandra Dee in Grease, 1978. I wish I could sing and dance like one of those disco girls, but nah, I didn't get any of those things. Instead, I got hard, beaten knuckles, short legs, and an impressionable flat chest.
No, my legs are really short, I think my knees are where my upper thighs are.
"And it's hard to carry onnnn..."
I adjust my boxer shorts along my non-existent waist and fling open the top cabinet of my bathroom. I scour the scanty space for toothpaste, but only find a completely flat, pressed out tube at the back of the square box. Damn it! I grab it with a frown, staring down at it. Oh c'mon!
When you have to share resources with your siblings, everything finishes by two. I call my household: TheMultiplication Table. Table as in dining table; mouths to feed? Got that? No? Well, there's three of us, sibling-wise, so three times three means we'll need six tubes of toothpaste for a duration of three weeks...
Hey, I failed Math in high school. Don't think too deeply.
I walk across the compact bathroom, knocking once on my brother's room door before shoving it open.
His hand is moving beneath the sheets, and he scrambles up on his bed, slamming down the screen of his laptop with widened eyes. "Dude! Sanoh, can't you knock?!"
I grip the sill in amusement. Yuck!
With his hair messy over his eyes he resembles that weird kid in Rug Rats. The one with the orange, shaggy hair and glasses? Yuki dramatically grips the duvet up to his neck. "Are you sane? Honestly, is your brain working?"
"Not quite." I waggle my brows.
"GET OUT, SANOH!" He wails, and I laugh, throwing my head back. My best friend says I laugh like a villain. Yuki says I laugh like there's a fat bag of sand in my throat clogging my windpipe. I think my own brother is jealous of me, no?
Now, everyone has an obsession. My Dad is obsessed with our Sparring Gym ( he spends every minute of his life there) and eating from the biggest spoon in our dish drainer (the man eats for two people, so that does shit up our multiplication table because three times 2 times—nevermind). Issy, my little sister, loves Elmo's world and eating pancake syrup with her cornflakes. My brother is obsessed with watching HD porns with stiff-skinned women. He's seventeen, an exact replica of my Dad, and is the most annoying human on this planet. Most horny, annoying human, sorry.
"Relax, mate. I came for toothpaste. There isn't any in the bathroom." I stroll inside despite his eye rolls and scowls, laughing underneath my breath and stepping over magazines and dirty clothes laid out on his floor. "You should really clean your room before you watch porn, you imbecile. Where do you keep the toothpaste, mm? Your ex left hers here the other day, didn't she?"
"Sanoh! Yuki! Please watch me do the roundhouse kick!" Issy is somehow now inside the room, doing that spin thingy again (which is not the roundhouse kick, by the way). My brother groans loudly in frustration and throws his back against the bed.
"Why don't you all just have a flipping family reunion while you're at it?"
"You know, maybe we should." I grin and shield the corner of my mouth with my palm. "Dad! Daaaaad!"
"Sanoh!" Yuki flies up, and I laugh so hard I almost bump over my sister, who is still spinning away. I am pretty sure she is being a ballerina and not doing the roundhouse kick.
But then the room door creaks open, and my father slips behind it.
"Great." Yuki drawls. "It's a whole-ass thanksgiving happening here."
Peter, my Dad, is crouching as though he is wanted by the law. My father is a naturally short man, almost shorter than my 5'2 so that says a lot, but now he looks like an elf as he shrinks to an unusual height. His eyes are splayed wide like he has seen a ghost.
"Are you okay?" Yuki makes a face.
Dad turns around to face us. His forehead is drenched in sweat as he presses a finger to his lips. "Shh. Be quiet. I'm not here. I don't exist; I was never born."
I narrow my eyes as he goes to install himself on my brother's bed. He jerks his legs in anxiety. Yuki skeptically moves his laptop away from my jittery dad, placing it on the next side of him instead. Gotta secure that HD porn.
"What's going on, Peter? Shouldn't you be opening the gym now?" I fold my arms across my chest.
"They're here." He says.
I frown. "Who?"
He looks up at me and dramatically says: the loan sharks.
"Open this fucking door! Or we'll break it down!"
"Mr. Marshall! Open this door now! Or we'll break it down!"
"What loan shark?" I lift a confused brow as yelling comes from the outside of our house, and Dad sighs.
It was at this moment my Dad knew...he fucked up.
"Listen. I-I did something I should not have done," he begins, and my stomach curls, "the Sparring Gym was running down and I had to pay our mortgage or it would have gotten taken away from us. A man approached me in the market the other day, saying he knows a small loan company. I had no idea they were a gang..."
"Dad, you got us involved with the Mafia?" Yuki gasps, his eyes widening in enjoyment, and I fight the urge to slap him upside his head.
"Shut up, that is not the point, Yuuukii." Issy drawls in annoyance, and if I wasn't this anxious I'd have patted my little sister on the head. How is a six-year-old more mature than a seventeen-year-old?
"I-I don't know what to do." My father shakes his head worriedly. "What have I done, Sanoh?"
"Shit, I have to see this..." Yuki hops up from the bed, hoisting his shorts up his waist as he tries to pull the curtains away.
This weasel—
I leap across the room and pinch him by the lower ear, hauling him back towards the bed.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, Sanohhhhh!"
"Sit your ass down." I push him next to my father.
Yuki rubs his ear. "God, it's not that deep..."
"What are we going to do?" I ask, perching my hands on my hips and chewing my bottom lip thoughtfully.
There's a slight pink bruise on the corner of my lower lip where I nip my lip too much. Peter is mostly the cause.
I want to be more mad at my dad, but I also understand why he did what he had. He was driven by pain and obsession. My mother was a beautiful Korean woman who fell in love with my father back in 1993, during some war in Vietnam. Dad told me she was from a rich family, who disowned her for reasons unknown fully to me after she met him. The story is soppy and cheesy and has Yuki throwing up (literally) whenever Dad talks about it, but ever since Mom passed away three years ago, he hasn't been the same. He finds it hard to let go of our family Sparring Gym, though it isn't offering us adequate income anymore.
Back in the day when Mom was alive, our martial arts business was the most popular in our small district of Filadale, and we'd even had patrons from far away cities coming here to train, but since the recent settlement of TechGrow and other companies in Masville, which is really close to our community of Filadale, with their big-ass, more modern equipment (I'm not bitter) are now developed, we are a last priority in the field, sadly. Our Sparring building has run down immensely because we can barely pay our bills. To make matters worse, word had gotten out that a poor kid almost got hit with a falling board once. That incident was completely and solely because of Yuki and his inability to nail a board...
It was my late mother's dream since she was a child to teach Martial Arts. She and my father had set the place up ten years back, and my father had vowed to carry on the tradition even after her death. Any normal man would have already given up on the promise since it has been causing us this much turmoil, but my father isn't any normal man. He loves my mother to death. And we do, too. Except for a few old photo albums with cobwebs and dust squatting all over them, The Marshall's Sparring Gym is the only true trace of her we have left.
"I am sorry, guys. I was wrong. I should not have taken that loan without knowing how we'd pay it back." Peter slumps his shoulders in remorse, giving us that saddened look he did the day we came back from the hospital—the day mom passed away to lung cancer, and my heart can't take anymore of it.
"Open this door or we'll set this place on fire!"
"What are Loan Sharks, Sanoh?" Issy grips the end of my shorts, tugging on it, and I press my lips together as I look down at her in worry.
Yuki's eyes are alight again. This really interests the little weasel, doesn't it? "Issy, Loan Sharks are men who'll ki–"
I slap a hand over his mouth and shove his face away. "Loan Sharks, Issy, are men who...who..." What should I say? Issy tilts her head. "Who w-wants to..."
"Sell us some Sharks?" Dad aids, and I snap my fingers.
"Yeah! That's right, sell us some Sharks..."
Yuki wipes his mouth and grimace. "Jesus, Sanoh, your hand tastes like shit..."
"Sharks?" Issy frowns. "But I don't want any Sharks. I don't like Sharks! They're big and ugly and take the sea all for themselves!" She shivers.
"I don't like them either, Issy..." I start to make my way to the door. They all look at me in wonder.
"Where are you going, San?" Yuki asks, his features mirroring my father's. They look like two desolate puppies, and at this moment, I note how much they really look alike. Yuki and Issy inherited most of my father's attributes. The brown hair, round eyes. While I got my mother's dark oval eyes and black hair. When I'd look in the mirror it'd feel as though I am staring into the black pits of my mother. It is a bit painful to look at myself sometimes.
"Well, no one will threaten us." I tip my chin. "Not under my watch." I start cricking my knuckles. "I'll show them not to mess with us. We, The Marshall Sparring Gym Family, do not respond to threats likely..." I lift my arm, flexing my skinny bicep.
"Exactly. We, are the FLs and MLs of this mafia series. We're the stars." Yuki dramatizes.
I nod. "Mm. That we are. Stars don't die. They lead the show."
"Well, some stars die. Like that movie I watched last night, so freaking ridiculous."
"Well, we will not die. If we do, how will the show go on?" I open my arms smugly.
"Woah, Sanoh, dude. Sometimes, you can be so damn cool." Yuki grins, propping his elbow on Dad's shoulder, who nods his head rapidly.
"Yes, you're my cool girl."
"I'm cool all the time, dudes." I flip the loose strands of my upknotted hair. "Be right back. I've got some faces to punch in." I turn around and march with intent towards the door, but then swiftly make a U-turn and walk straight back towards them. I fold my lips.
"So, Dad, um, do they happen to have...guns?" I whisper. I'm good at karate, not how to dodge a bullet.
"Uh, I don't think so..." Dad says unsurely, and I purse my lips and nod. Okay, okay.
"Be right back."
I slip out of my brother's room and quickly hurry my way towards our flimsy front door. Its board hinges rattle and shake at each pound of the men's fist. They are still chanting their warnings, vowing to set our place on fire if we don't open up. That's...mean. Morning light bleeds through the small crevices, and I peek through a part of the dusty nooks, catching a glimpse of their black garments and blinding jewellery. Oh, man...why do I always have to be the FL? I take a deep breath and shoulder the door open. It creaks awfully as the four bulky men step away. Their faces are hard as stone, and God, they're freaking tall.
Four pairs of dark, menacing eyeballs ogle me. I feel like a chihuahua among pit-bulls. And these pit-bulls don't like chihuahuas very much. They scan me. From my grey roomy boxers, to my tank shirt, to my messy hair caught in a high bun.
I swallow hard and grip onto the knob, squinting from the halo of sun above their heads. "W-Why are you guys beating my door down so early?"
Ew. Don't freaking stutter, Sanoh.
"Where's your father?" Growled the man at the front with bigger, bulkier arms. A large engorged scar runs across his cheekbone and to his left ear. God, someone did a number on him. I cross my arms and tip my chin, trying to appear as though their features aren't intimidating.
"He isn't home. He's out of town for the rest of the day. Should I deliver a message?"
"In fact, you should." He grabs my arm roughly and hauls me towards him. I stumble and land against a tough chest. What sorta weights has this man been lifting? A million pounds? Fat, black grease-stained fingers sink into my skin. He glares down at my short stature with his ugly eyes. I clench my teeth and fight the urge to retaliate. "Tell him this, princessa. And tell him it well. That if he doesn't pay our money back by the fourteenth of this month, we'll kill all the four of you, do you hear me, chica?"
"Do YoU HeAr Me, ChIcA?"
I sigh, almost gagging at the stench of his breath. He must have had fish this morning. Or Tuna. I place my bet on a tuna sandwich. The cheap ones that sell in the trailer park down the end of our road. You get like four of them in a china 2 x 4 bag with a little free mini Soda...
Anyway,
"Yes, yes. I hear you, but...your breath is..." I scrunch my nose and twist away, holding my hands up. "Fine, fine. I got the message, can you all leave now? I have work in approximately two minutes." I brace my waist, looking among the men, but my heart is pumping out of my chest. I won't let them see that, though.
"And let him know this too: if we don't get our money on time, we'll maybe just have to kill everyone else and take you instead." Adds one of the men at the back with his bald head and overly huge nose. "I got a thing for Tomboys." His mouth twists in a shit-eating smirk, and I cringe. Ew.
"You're not exactly my type; sorry to say." I wave a hand, squinting my eyes. "And I'm not a tomboy, so automatically, I'm not your type either, ah, sorry to disappoint...Have a nice day, I have somewhere to be."
"See you on the fourteenth." The man at the front smirks faintly before he turns away with his menacing group and begins to leave the yard, kicking away my flower pot of rose on his way out. Darn it, that was my favorite flower pot!
As soon as they get inside the black minivan and wheel away from the curb of our gates, I release the breath I had no idea I was holding. God, I almost shat my briefs. I turn away, glancing behind me as I return inside, finding my brother and father peeking through the window nooks. These men—
I walk over and slap them upside their heads. They wince and gawk at me in shock.
"Ow, Sanoh!" Yuki frowns, rubbing his head.
"Stop peeking like cowards. It's already taken care of." I fold my arms proudly.
"Eh? What did you say?" My father questions, climbing off the arm of the couch, and Yuki narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"You didn't...sell yourself to them like one of those Japanese mangas, right?" He makes a wave gesture in the air with his palms, visualizing. "The Mafia's Sold Possession..."
I scrunch my face and pull off one of my broken-down sandals, sailing it in his direction. He sights it barely, bumping into the old lamp on our living room table.
"Be quiet both of you. Let me think." I massage my temples, aware that I look like a crazy person. With one sandal on my feet, one shoulder of my blouse hanging down my arm, and my boxers crushed, I am already playing the homeless role. My father and brother study me closely like they are trapped in a cave and I am the only light to their darkness. "Okay, so they want their money by the fourteenth of this month."
"That's in two weeks!" Yuki frowns, and my father crosses his arms pensively.
"Oh, thou of little faith; silence!" I say in a Shakespearean tone, pressing a palm to my chest. "I actually have a plan, little one. Trust me on this." I wink. "How much are we talking about, Dad?" I start picking my nails.
My father looks away at the question, his throat rolling.
"Dad?"
Yuki levels our father with a look. "Peter?"
"A hundred thousand dollars." He mutters, and I almost pass away.
"What?!" Yuki exclaims. "Dad—!"
"I am so sorry, guys! I made a rash decision!"
"Rash?! It's a whole damn sore! What did you even do with so much money?!" Yuki's eyes are wide.
"I paid for the light bill!" Peter raises his shoulders, opening his palms, "I paid for the light bill and I paid the mortgage and the roof—it was leaking so I got some men to—"
"Silence, both of you!" I shout, but they still go on and on.
"Dad, come on; the roof was fine!"
"Yuki, the roof was not fine, when the rain falls, the entire gym becomes a river."
"Then turn it into a swim gym. Simple! Borrowing so much money is ridiculous, what are we going to do now, Peter, we are all gonna die at this rate if we don't work up that—"
"SILENCE!"
The room falls still immediately, and I close my eyes, blowing out my cheeks in relief. "Gosh, thank you. I am going to work extra shifts at the food shop, and I'll have the money worked up by next week. Don't worry about it."
"Sanoh, no." My father shakes his head immediately, but his eyes look a little relieved. "I can't put that pressure on you."
"Dad. Don't worry about it. The gym isn't bringing any money in, so this is all we have." I walk over to him and rub his limp shoulders, sighing through my lips. His eyes shine with shame and he avoids my gaze.
"I am sorry."
"Ugh! Stop apologizing, Peter!" I groan in annoyance, throwing up my hands. "It makes you look like a malnourished Chihuahua. It's going to be alright. Have some faith in me." I start to move towards my bedroom, waving a hand over my shoulders. "I can't stay here and chat with you guys! We have money to make!" I send them a wide grin before disappearing into my bedroom again.
♡
"Oh, fucking hell, I am doomed." I chew on my nails, sifting my mind for an escape out of this hell. "What am I supposed to do, Natz? My boss doesn't have the money for me to work extra shifts."
My best friend sips her strawberry milkshake in thought, the breeze along the outside eating area blowing her brown hair in all different directions. "I am thinking, I am thinking, Sanoh."
I reach a hand up to adjust the blue hat on my head with the huge yellow chicken on it holding a pink cup. I am now at work, feeling terrified that I've spoken to my boss earlier, but left his presence defeated after he rejected my request on the basis of not having enough money. I work at the food stop, Chucky Chicken, outside of my neighborhood. They sell warm food, milkshakes, and coffee. With the competition of a restaurant just a few blocks away, money is slow around here.
"Look, it's not a big deal. I can find a way to borrow the money." Natz says, and I sigh with gratefulness, though knowing she has no one to borrow it from.
Natzy Ollen has been my best friend since high school. She is a cutey, and I mean that in appearance and personality. She is plus-sized, with the cutest set of cheeks ever to be designed. With her long brown hair and flawless fashion sense, she is a walking Barbie Doll.
"There is nothing that cannot be solved in this life! All we have to do is think." She holds up her palms. "Now, I have two options. One." She lowers a tiny finger. "We can just ask my Uncle Steve."
"Natz, you haven't spoken to Uncle Steve in years." I remind her, and she chuckles.
"Wait. Wait. Two." She drops another finger, "we can just rob a bank."
I roll my eyes and reach for my can of coke, downing the entire thing in one go. "Be rational, Natzy, please be rational."
"Sanoh~" She brings a hand forward and rubs my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Everything is going to be okay. We will think up something together, yeah?"
"Natzy; I am about to be taken by Loan Sharks. Loan sharks. They'll bite into my flesh and eat me alive!"
"Don't be silly, Sanoh. You know martial arts better than anyone. You even have a degree in it. You can fight them off."
"You haven't seen these guys. They're tall and bulky, Natzy."
"So? You've challenged bigger men at the Sparring Gym." She sips her milkshake again, and a loud outburst draws everyone's attention to the restaurant inside.
"WHERE IS SHE?! I don't want you to serve me! I want her to serve me!"
I puff a sigh and turn my face away from the familiar man creating havoc inside. "It's him again. That disgusting customer."
"He has an unhealthy obsession with you."
"Don't look over there."
"Where is she?!" The man loudly demands, shoving a skinny waitress out of the way. Michelle tumbles over a table of crockery. Ooh, that might come out of her paycheck...
"Look away, Natzy," I say, and she quickly turns her face around, but the man is already on his way over to our table.
"He's coming, Sanoh," she whispers, and I sigh and pop one of her fries in my mouth (imma need the salt), drooping my eyelids and turning my head to meet his cocky snarl.
He grins wide. "Haven't I already told you that whenever I come by, you should be ready and waiting?" He starts. His breath reeks of alcohol, and heads turn to gawk at our table.
I sigh audibly. "Why are you creating a mess here?" I squint from the sunlight, chewing on my lip. "You should have some respect for the customers."
"I am a customer too." He tilts his head to the side and extends a big hand along my neck. I slap his touch away and shoot him a look.
"Hey. Don't do that." I look away and shake my head. I'm having a bad day, sir, it's best you keep it moving.Now in case you think I have some correlation with this man, I don't. Ever since he first visited the restaurant a few weeks back, he has made it his duty to perplex me. Why? I have no idea.
"Natz. I'll call you before—"
I feel his ring fingers on my skin again, and my best friend frowns.
"Don't touch her, you disgusting pig!"
"What?" The man raises his dark, bushy eyebrows and transfers his attention to her. "Jealous?"
My legs jerk, and underneath the table, my fingers twitch with the need to act upon it. Don't do it, Sanoh, Sanoh, don't do it.
"How about I give you some of the love, huh?" He tries to touch Natzy, and I reach out and clutch his wrist, twisting it around and hearing it crackle loudly in the eating aisle.
Gasps fill the area as the man crouches over in pain, his wrist resembling a piece of rubber in my tight grip. He stares at it wide-eyed, clearly in shock.
"I told you I was having a shit day, man, why didn't you listen, huh? I didn't want to have to do this."
"Ah, ah! Le-let go!"
I jump up, tightening my hold on his wrist as he yelps in pain.
"Ahh! S-somebody help!" He chokes out pathetically, and people chuckle from their seats.
Natz purses her lips in amusement, a hand going up to her mouth.
"Will you touch us again?" I demand with wide eyes, lifting my brows. "Answer me!"
"Ah, ah, no, no, no!" His face squeezes in pain.
"I can't hear you!"
"Ah! No!"
"Sanoh?!"
I jolt with wide eyes and look around to see my boss, Chucky, standing a few feet away and gawping at the scene in stupefaction.
"W-What are you doing, Sanoh?"
"Uh..." I sift my mind for an excuse, shifting on my feet. "W-We're playing? Wrestling..."
His middle-aged face now seems ten years older as he stiffly pushes his glasses up his nose.
The man groans next to me on the floor. I bite my lip, releasing the mewling man from my captivity. "Oh, look, he doesn't seem to like it that much..."
Chuck narrows his eyes lividly. Oh, fuck.
"Uh, I can explain—"
"In my office, now." He bites out.
"But, Chucky...you don't have an office..."
"Inside now!"
Natzy cringes. "Oh, Sanoh."
"It's okay." I smile at her reassuringly, and the man staggers up from the floor, holding his fractured hand.
Chucky takes me to the storage room. He walks around a desk and sits down. I purse my lips.
"Do you know what you've done?" He asks angrily.
"Uh...I crushed a man's hand. Oh, man, he won't be able to use that for a while, Chucky, he might need therapy."
"SANOH!"
I jump. Woah, there big guy. Calm. Down.
His office door bursts open, and crushed-arm tumbles in.
"Sir, you can't go in there!" I hear Michelle say outside.
"Fire this bitch." The man bellows as he comes to a tired stop, "Fire her now!"
I squint my eyes at him, striking the side of my hand beneath my neck.
"Sanoh!" Mr. Griffiths bellows. "Stop. It."
"Do you know who I am?" The pervert sneers, "I can buy this whole damn country in a blink. I am a God in the casino industry; I will crush this business to NOTHING!"
I cross my arms against my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. "Then crush it, Hercules. I mean you're big enough to crush it, just stamp on it with your size twenty shoe."
"Sanoh!" Chucky presses his hand against his forehead.
"Chuck, I didn't do anything. He was trying to touch my friend." I vige.
"Sanoh. Mr. Jan is a popular customer here, he has invested a lot. And what you did is unacceptable."
"Woah, are you ratting on me for this big fucker?"
"Sanoh." Chuck shakes his head and buries his head in his hands. Like I'm stressing him out.
"I've worked hard here, Chucky. You can't be taking his side over mine. I know the customer is always right and all that jazz, but come on. He had it coming."
I know my boss, he's as stubborn as they may come. So when he shuts his eyes and signals that he doesn't want to hear it, I know I am now unemployed.
"Sanoh. You are fired." He says, and the man smirks proudly from next to me.
I glare at the geezer. "You better sleep with one eye open." I look back at Chuck, my features softening.
"Just like that, Chuck?" I ask and cross my arms, hanging my head. "Even though I've been working hard?"
He shuts his eyes and nods. "Yes. Just like that."
I swallow and step back. "Okay. Thanks for having me here."
His eyebrows crinkle with pity as I turn away and go to collect my things.
I exit the restaurant, and Natzy meets me at the door. She looks me over. "Why do you have your bag? Your shift isn't over until seven, San."
I chew on my lip, and then it slowly quivers.
"Natzy." I mewl, slumping my shoulder so my bag falls off and hits the floor. "I'm gonna be eaten alive by sharks."
Her eyes grow wide. "No."
I wanted some extra work, but now...I've got none.
♡
It's late when I get home. Natzy and I spent all evening at the town's outside bars, drinking and reminiscing about life.
I'm twenty-years-old, I'm not ready to die.
Natzy is a bad-ass stylist, and she offered to help me get a job at her workplace. She works for this underground singer at this infamous management agency, who's very snobby. I told her she can pitch in a word if she wants to, though fashion designing isn't exactly my area of expertise. I can't dress to save my life. What I am very good at is fighting, but there aren't many jobs around here for that. Which is why I really can't give up the Sparring Gym. Dad's right. It's that one thing that makes us who we are—that keeps our family together. I keep hoping and wishing that one day it'll go back to the way it once was. People coming to and fro, money flowing, and my father having a giant, proud beam on his face.
I sigh as I haphazardly lift the note off the covered dish on the kitchen counter:
I made your favorite today. Rice and Beans with minced chicken. I love you, Sanny~
—Dad.
I scoff at the handwritten letter, shaking my head at its corniness. He hasn't called me Sanny in a while; he's buttering me up to pay off the loan, isn't he?
But still...I love my father so much.
My shoulders slump tiredly as I take up the plate and grab the biggest spoon from the dishwasher. Dad's spoon. I am far too hungry to use a fork, I need to eat globs at a time.
I eat a lot, but I still don't weigh much. I'm kind of skinny, but not all that skinny. My hips protrude because of the way my skeleton shapes.
I didn't have lunch earlier today. We had the most customers we've had in a long while, so I told Chucky I could go without food. So much for sacrificing.
Even when Natz came during my evening break, I just could not eat with the worry of those bulky loan sharks.
Now, I know I'm a bit impulsive, but since I got fired anyway, I should have just ripped that perv's wrist right off his hand.
I switch our box tv on, still wearing my polo shirt and jeans, which I forgot to return. Chuck's not getting these back, and cock my sock-covered feet up on the center table. I smell something funky, and wrinkle my nose, bending over to sniff the socks. I reach down and yank them off, wiggling my toes. Feels good to be home.
I chunk up a load of rice and put it into my mouth, staring at a clip of someone making strawberry ice cream on Tv. "All you gotta do, is crush these strawberries..." Oh, fudge. I wish I could have some ice cream right now. My mouth salivates and a sour sensation fills my tongue. I don't want to be ungrateful so I reach for the remote and quickly switch the channel. I stop on an action movie trailer that's on the verge of ending.
The blue light illuminates the dark living room, allowing me to see the contents of the plate as I sort it with the spoon. He sure filled this up.
"...First on the news is Mr. Malik Hilton's recruitment drive. The young, twenty-nine-year old CEO of The Cryptic Hotels is calling all skilled, professional, and able bodies to try out for his special security team—The Core."
I look up at the news from my food as Yuki breaks the corner of the hallway, yawning as he opens the fridge. "Hey, Sanoh."
"Sup." I turn the Tv up.
"It is rumored that the labor will definitely be worth the pay...Right, Clifford? Shed some light on it..."
Worth the pay?
"Sure, Denise. Speculations are that this is due to the attempted attack that was made on his life only some weeks ago. Persons over the age of twenty are asked to visit The Cryptic Auditorium at the head office between tomorrow and Friday."
I grab my cell phone, the spoon trapped between my teeth, as I check today's date. Yuki rustles in the kitchen.
"Hey, all the meat is gone, Sanoh! There are only beans in here!"
I roll my eyes to the ceiling as I calculate in my head. Today is Tuesday and the drive's tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday.
"Sanoh, there is no meat! There's only beans in here, dude! I swear, all you think about is your gut!"
Everything around me becomes a blur as I think about the fact that, if I were to get this job, things would really turn around for me...
Angels sing hallelujah in my head.
🎶Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, halllllaaaaylujah.🎶
I grab my phone and tap on the google icon to search for the CEO's name. "Um...what's his name again...um...Mal...Mal..."
"...The first Cryptic Hotel has been around for over..."
"Cryptic, I'll just type in Cryptic Hotel." My fingers fly over the keypad as I type the words in.
"Dude, give me some of this." Yuki grabs my plate of food from the couch and walks away, but I'm too occupied to notice.
The search comes up without much hassle, and I scroll through the many published articles, most of them having his name: Malik Hilton as the headline. I go back up to the tab and add: Recruitment Drive, 2022beside it, then tap on the first result. It takes me to a site with requirements.
•The Cryptic Hotel: Malik Hilton's Recruitment Drive
Must be 20 years and over.
Must have a degree in Martial Arts or high Militant Training.
Must not have any underlying illnesses.
Must have height between 147-198 centimeters.
Must weigh 148-267 pounds (67 to 121 kilograms)
Must be from a good background.
Must not have flat feet.
Must be fit. (Future Medical Proof Will Be Required Upon Acceptance.)
"Woah..." I shake my head and blink my eyes at the article, "Is this the navy or what?" I frown and throw my phone down, shivering at it. "That has stress written all over it..."
I stretch out my limbs and lean back on the couch. Screw it, I'll just send out some resumes early tomorrow. Yeah, everything will be fine. I won't stop until I get something. I'll do applications all day and night. No rest. No rest.
I close my eyes and drop my head against the couch. But then it's as though a light switches on above my head and something I've overlooked highlights amidst the gloom.
"Wait!" I jolt upright and grab my cell phone again, searching and searching down until I find the small series of digits at the bottom of the article.
Guaranteed Monthly Income: $20,000.
My eyes bulge from their sockets, and I choke on air. "Woah. This man's a whole billionaire."
I tuck my legs underneath me and chew on my lip. Okay, okay, not bad. I can do this...
I smile wide and tap on the attached application form. "Oh, yeahhhh." I crick my knuckles.
Name...
Age...
As soon as I fill in my relevant details, a box pops up onto the screen like a malware attack. I jolt.
•Batch 589– Interview Time: 12:00 pm•
"Wait. Just like that?" I lift an impressed brow. "Woah. Easy peasy."
I smile and lean back proudly, contently feeling next to me for my plate but realizing it's gone. That weasel—
"YUKI!!" I scream, flying up and running to his room.
~
A/N: Please vote if you enjoyed and leave me a comment😊💕We'll be meeting the arrogant Malik soon <3
Thoughts?