“Not a problem.” If this will make the transition smoother for everyone and I get to earn some dollars in the process, then it’s a win-win.
“I’ll put something together for you now. Rebecca should be starting in ten minutes, and Tarsh is due for a break then. Why don’t you make Tarsh and yourself a coffee and I’ll have the boys in the kitchen rustle you up something nice for lunch?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Tony must be in a good mood today,” Tarsh says, as I place two coffees on the staff room table in front of her.
“Yeah, must’ve got lucky last night.”
Tarsh blushes and makes a weird sniggering kind of noise. “Ha, yeah,” she says quietly. We have a casual chat while we eat a chicken and roast vegetable salad that the guys prepared. It’s kind of nice—the chatting, that is. It makes me realise that I’ve probably been coming across as a bitch. I really need to put in more of an effort to make new friends. If I’m going to succeed in a new job, I’ll have to push the self-doubt side and really try.
I give Tarsh some pointers on how to deal with the guys in the kitchen, particularly Theo. She was very excited to find out that if you simply bat your eyelids at him, he’ll pretty much do anything.
“You heading back out there, Tarsh?” Tony’s familiar deep voice comes from behind me.
“Sure am,” she says and stands. “Thanks for lunch, Tony.” She places her hand on my shoulder and smiles.
“I’ll see you next shift, Tarsh,” I say, mirroring her smile.
“Awesome,” she says sweetly, and walks quickly from the room.
Tony hands me an envelope with my name written messily on the front. “I’ve emailed a scanned copy to you as well so you can easily forward it on.”
“Cheers, Tony.”
****
On the way to my car, I stop at an ATM and take money out. Not even the fact that my account will be bone dry after I pay rent and then the bank will get me down today. Hopefully the bank won’t come down too hard on me for being a week late. Once I’ve paid Rocco rent, I’ll have a hundred and twenty bucks for food and stuff until next pay.
I slip my purse into my handbag and pull it tight into my side. Thank God I have that much money left over, because without it there’d be no petrol in my car, and my treasured jelly and noodles would be off the menu.
Once I’ve parked my car on the street in front of the apartment, I finally get up the courage to open the envelope and read Tony’s letter. I remove the letter from the envelope, slinging my bag onto my shoulder.
I dawdle up the path, and take in a deep breath.
To whom it may concern,
Sophie McKenna has worked at Wild and Free Range café for more than four years.
During this time, Sophie has proven herself to be a dedicated, hard worker. She is loyal, has a strong work ethic, and is a valued employee. She is determined, and has put as much effort into this business as if she were the owner herself. Her dedication to customer service and organisational skills, particularly in highly stressful situations, are second to none. My business would not be the success that it is, without her.
Tony Marasini
Owner
Wild and Free Range café
I pull out my phone and open my emails. Tony’s email is waiting for me, as promised. I forward the reference to Julie with a brief, yet polite message. She doesn’t know how much I’m looking forward to hearing from her. I slip my phone in my pocket and look at the reference again.
The roar of a loud bike from behind startles me. As I turn to look behind me, I jump back as the bike zooms beside me on the footpath. The rider’s arms swings out. My shoulder is violently yanked forward. I gasp as the strap on my handbag bites into my upper arm, then burns its way down to my wrist before being ripped from my body. With the momentum I collapse. My knees and palms break my fall on the unforgiving pavement.
Panting heavily, I move my hair from my eyes with the back of my wrist. My hands shake as the sting sets in.
“No!” I scream out, my voice catching in my throat.
I watch in horror as the bike skyrockets up the street and takes a sharp turn between apartment buildings.
Motherfucker.
I can’t believe it. My rent money. My spare cash for the next fortnight. I was gonna be square. Now it’s fucking gone. Gone!
I shakily stand up in my now-scuffed heels and inspect my grazed palms and knees. The skin is pierced and small pebbles and dirt cling to the blood seeping out. I grit my teeth. I will not cry. I’m too pissed to be sad about this. I bend down and pick up my prized reference before the breeze carries it away.
I don’t even have my keys, so I can only hope that Rocco is home. I reach for my jacket pocket and am relieved when my fingers curl around the familiar device. Thank God I have my phone. I can’t afford to go replacing that, but now I have to get a new licence, my cards … Tears bank up in the corner of my eyes, blurring my vision. I grind my teeth. Fuck me dead, I don’t need this shit.
Just when a sliver of hope appears, the darkness weaves its way in and swallows it. It’s so fucking typical of my life.
I hobble up the stairs and once I reach my landing I knock on the door, careful not to clench my fist, because it’s stinging like crazy. I swallow down the acid rising up my stomach. Blood. It’s warm and it’s trickling down my shins. Gah! I reckon I’m only moments away from spewing with the gross excess saliva in my mouth.
“Argh,” I growl. “Toughen up, Sophie.”
The door swings open. “What?” Rocco’s eyebrows are pulled together, one hand wedged against his hip. He’s barefoot, and wearing a stretched black tank top and the black skinny jeans he seems to wear every day. As he looks me up and down, the cockiness fades, and he stammers something as he moves forward and slips his hand around my hip and smooths his palm to rest on the small of my back.
“Suds? What the fuck?”
“Blood … I need it off,” I choke out. “Quick.” I swallow down the rising vomit, and cough as the acid burns the back of my throat.
He aids me to the kitchen, keeping me upright as I madly kick off my heels along the way. He ushers me to the sink and slams on the water. I thrust my hands into the stream. The ice-cold liquid shoots off my hands and in every direction—into my face, down the front of my shirt. I turn to Rocco, and he’s drenched too.
My knees buckle as a white haze casts over my vision like a shadow. Something that sounds like a nervous giggle comes out of my mouth. I focus on the tattoos over Rocco’s shoulders, and the ones peeking from the front of his stretched tank top. He never parades around in less than a T-shirt. He doesn’t show much skin. Except for his giant peen that was out and proud the other morning. Great. Now I’m thinking about his dick. At least it’s temporarily taken my mind off what just happened. I can’t believe I got robbed.
I strangle a sob that tries to climb up my throat.
“Hey,” Rocco says, his voice firm yet comforting. He switches off the water and grabs a tea towel from the dish drainer. Slowly, he shuffles me back against the counter and pins my body in place with his hips. With the towel, he tenderly dabs at the wounds on my hands, making a calm shushing noise, as a parent would when tending to an injured child.
“You gonna tell me what happened?”
I take in a stuttered breath, followed by a few deep ones to calm myself. “Bike,” I grunt out.
“A bike? You got hit?” His voice grows agitated.
“Some arsehole … on a shitty street bike … stole my handbag.”
“Fuck!” he roars. “We need to ring the cops.” He looks around, presumably for a phone.
I shake my head. “What’s the fucking point? I barely saw anything. The only thing of real value in there is cash, which included your rent money. I’m sorry.”