Distant Howl

This was insufferable, and that idea was always on my mind: find another job that was better enough and had nothing to do with what I was doing. Although he probably would have found another job easily enough, he wasn't skilled enough to land something he wasn't already doing. And that was defending against punctures in the bars. Also, the waitressing job gave me a good schedule, the tips were awesome to help save for school, and at the end of the day, I had to think about my future and where I was headed.

So here she was, five, sometimes six days a week, waitressing from six at night to two in the morning. Yes, work like this was clearly tiring, but I had been doing it for a long time, probably habit made the shit that this work represented more bearable. And soon the daily work would begin. I could already see some ``characters'' who were on the premises.

"Hello darling".

I put on my tight-lipped, but still friendly, smirk to set the sixth beer down in front of Jake, a Foresta's regular. He was an older man with an angular face, a long, graying, not-too-manicured beard, and sported a long beer belly that hung over his pants because yes, it was almost unmistakable that he'd had excessively drunk too much in the past... and still he persisted with it in the present.

But I put up with it because even though he liked to throw sick and endearment words, he never tried to get over me or touch me, he didn't touch my butt or "adjust" my name tag, which was just above my left breast. He was just hanging around, like one of those creepy old perverts who had nothing to do with their time but gobble down beers as he watched the girls barely drinking age walk in.

"Let me know if you need anything else," I said, but I didn't wait for him to reply, I just turned and headed for my tables, not staying too long at them, especially since it was very clear the guys had too much to drink and he had little or no self-control.

I was at the bar when I heard the loud conversation of the new customers who had just arrived at the place. I didn't have to turn around to know they were young guys, teenagers, probably already drunk from partying, going from bar to bar. But when I looked over my shoulder, it was to confirm what I already knew, and then I groaned, because of course they had chosen a high ceiling at my station.

"Thank you, Alex," I murmured as the bartender placed my drink order on my tray. She had the look of riding hard and enduring the bullshit around her, as if he'd lived a hard life in the city, but still survived. He saw too much with his dark gray eyes, but he had a warm smile and a smart mouth when he disrespected any of us.

``Good luck with that cute group.´´

I gave him a pained, grateful smile, and placed my last order on the table of twenty-somethings celebrating a bachelorette party. I made my way to take the drink order from the obnoxiously rowdy group of guys. I would have to be on top of my game with this group, because I could already smell the liquor coming off of them before I even got to the table. Yeah, bar hopping for sure.

``Good night, boys. What can I start with tonight? Maybe a couple of baskets of breadsticks to soak up the alcohol churning in his bloodstream?'' I put on my trademark fake smile and looked each one of them in the eye, something I forced myself to do when I was feeling a little sluggish. little out of place with drunks. It was a silent way of showing them that he was stronger than he seemed.

They all had that glassy look in their red, bloodshot eyes, a sheen of sweat on their foreheads, and their polo shirts and button-down shirts were wrinkled and askew, as if they'd been pulling and adjusting them all night, they were enveloped in a haze of drunk.

"A round of Irish car bombs."

I looked at the one who ordered. His voice rang out and I forced myself not to wince strangely as it rang in my ears. I had a feeling he would be the one to give me the worst in this fucking order as the night wore on. I called it my drunken sixth sense. And I was usually pretty spot on when it came to these matters.

"Consider it done. Do you want anything else?"

The guy he ordered smiled in such a way that he told me he was thinking of something totally obscene and disgusting that obviously had to do with me. I curled my lip and tried not to roll my eyes. "I'll take your drinks." I turned on my heel but felt them looking at my behind, as if their eyes were fingers reaching out and stroking me. I suppressed a shudder and leaned against the counter after placing my order with Alex. I absently and unnoticed glanced at the clock on the wall, grateful that the night was winding down and passing faster than usual, with only a few more hours left to finish my shift.

"Here you go, doll."

I gave Alex a grateful smile and carried the tray to the table, set down his drinks and mumbled "Enjoy it" but just as I was turning to leave, I felt a thick palm slam into my behind with such force that it unnerved me. completely. That feeling moved up my back and wrapped around my throat. It didn't feel good at all.

I slowly turned around, the one who touched me was grinning from ear to ear as he looked at his friends, the other three were smiling and almost patting each other on the back, almost trying to say to each other "Excellent friend, good job".

“Hey, how about you hang out with us after your shift?” He leaned forward, his warm, yeasty breath wafting over me and making my stomach turn. He didn't wait for me to respond before he extended his hand. as if he was about to wrap a hand around my wrist and pull me closer.

I didn't see myself doing it, didn't even realize he'd done it until I had his wrist in my hand and squeezed as hard as I could. He wasn't strong by any means, but I felt a pang of pleasure from his grimace and the way he jerked free, but it was also clear that he didn't want to look like a fagot in front of his friends. This was going to turn into something bad for everyone, especially me.

"Hey, keep your fucking slimy hands to yourself before I go behind the bar, take the hammer that's kept there for such occasions and use it against your fingers." It was all barking and no biting, because he could never bear to do something that violent, but this little piece of jerk didn't need to know that. I also had no idea if there was a hammer back there, probably not even a knife, but the threat sounded good in my head, so I told him like that.

I looked into his eyes and made sure he could see all the pure poison and fire seeping from every single pore in my body, made sure he could feel how serious I was right now. I was at the end of my rope tonight, and him putting his hands on me had pushed me over the edge.

“Damn stupid crazy bitch,” he complained, his friends muttering similar “sweethearts,” but they left, angrily throwing cash on the table to pay for their drinks and nearly tripping out of the bar. What a damn stupid, after all they were young immature and drunk.

I felt the customers staring at me, but they'd had enough, so exhausted from this shit and feeling like I was on my last legs. I grabbed the money and headed for the bar, not looking at anyone or anything, my attention firmly planted on my feet.

"Enid, can I come to my office for a moment?"

I gritted my teeth as Rikard called out to me and I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn't bother to wait for her to answer before turning and walking to the back.

I placed my tray on top of the counter, and Alex gave me an understanding smile.

“Rita, can you watch my tables for a minute?” He asked the other waitress, and she nodded and waved before moving on to her new customer.

With a frustrated exhale and hoping to get this shit over with, I headed for Rikard's office. He was already sitting behind his cheap desk, acting like a king who was at court with me.

"He close the door please."

My fingers tightened in my palm before loosening and I did what I was sure to do, because God doesn't want me to.

For a second I stood there by the door, the little bit of space between him and me not far enough for my liking. He stared at me with his dark eyes that always seemed bloodshot, as if he'd been inhaling shots here just to deal with life.

"We need to talk about something; your attitude," he finally said, and I felt my mouth go slack. As if legitimate, my lips parted, and I felt my jaw drop at what he had just said.

I shook my head slowly, blinked a few times, and finally asked, "Ehh…excuse me?"

He leaned back in his chair, the fake leather making a sickening creak as his weight settled further.

“With clients, that's what I mean. You have an unpleasant attitude towards them. "

I opened and closed my mouth. Then I repeated the action, because I was really speechless.

"I saw how you spoke to that young man who just entered with his group of friends." She clasped her hands over her protruding belly and drummed her fingers.

Slowly my shock gave way to annoyance, then anger. I felt him bubble up, so sick and tired of this shit. My cup is running over the brim.

"Oh, you mean the stop with the four jerks who said disgusting things to me?" I crossed my arms over his chest and dared to take a step toward Rikard.

"You mean the idiot who sexually assaulted me and put his hands on my body without my consent?" I took another step forward and felt my anger contort my face. I saw Rikard's eyes light up slightly, and then he shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with this side of me. "Those customers, Rikard?" She was a woman taking control and I was finally done with the fucking shit that men threw at her on a daily basis. Yes, that was me at the time.