The interview-
Nick leaned back in his chair and chewed on a toothpick, making an earnest attempt to keep his eyes down. He was trying not to stare at the door marked ‘private’ or the young receptionist; a bit to pretty to be professional, as she scribbled in a notebook and occasionally answered the old telephone. But as anything a person tries not to stare at, his eyes kept darting back. He made a game of counting the paint chips that had peeled off the walls and fallen onto the floor, he would count as high as a hundred before his eyes would shoot off again, first to the door, and then to the girl.
His mouth was sticky, he swallowed but that didn’t help. His body was as damp as his mouth was dry. He thought about taking off his thick suit jacket, but was sure that the wet circles under his arms wouldn’t make a good first impression. The room was quiet except for the scribbling of the girl’s pencil and the ever-present ticking of the clock.
The phone rang and the girl answered it: “Prince Protection, how may I help you?”
Nick raised his eyes at the sound of her flowery voice, he stole a quick look at her lips as she was speaking through the phone, but she of course caught him as young girls always do, and rolled her pretty eyes before he could look away. She hung up the phone after jotting a few notes. Closing the book she turned to Nick.
“Yes?” she asked. The corners of her mouth rose just a bit with the question. Nick hadn’t thought to say anything to the girl, he just meant to look, and blushed at her attention.
“I um,” he started, and trailed off as she slowly appraised him with a long movement of her eyes that lingered on his large shoulders before meeting his open mouthed gaze.
“Yes?” She asked again with raised eyebrows. She gave a little turn of her head that bounced her hair. The movement reminded Nick of the vids he had seen of Old-Town fashion models striking a pose and bouncing their hair on something the Voice Over called a catwalk.
“I just…” He started; she nodded eagerly making him feel like an overly shy child.
“I just,” he paused, trying not to look at the girl’s chest, with a little prayer he looked again to the door marked ‘private’. The closed door left Nick feeling stupid and willing to run out of the building to be saved from his own awkwardness. The clock seemed to be ticking louder now.
Finally, He looked back to the girl, or her breasts anyway, “Dimmit!” He mutters to himself, then quickly, ever so quickly he looks up. He expects to find an angry affronted look on her face. But she has warm eyes that seem to say, “Don’t worry, I work with big dumb men all day everyday.”
Nick cleared his throat, and loosened his tie in what he hoped would be seen as an apology.
“I haven’t seen many working telephones…” he managed. She smiled encouragingly.
“I mean, since I left The City.”
Her eyes went as wide a child’s then narrowed.
“You left The City?” She asked. “How long ago?”
Nick swallowed hard, wishing he had never mentioned that he had lived in The City at all. He fumbled about in an attempt to answer, but a loud crash and shouting from the room beyond the ‘private’ door spared him the pain of an explanation. Nick was on his feet before the girl even had a chance to look surprised. He squared his shoulders and reached into his jacket for the gun he had left at the entrance to the building.
‘No matter,’ he thought. Men like Nick didn’t need guns in close quarters like this. In an instant he inventoried the room, a window, a chair, the girl’s desk, the door he came in through and the door that was about to come crashing open. He looked to the girl, who had begun scribbling again, before he grabbed his chair, and held it above his head like a club, waiting.
A moment later the door came flying open, and a large man, even bigger than Nick (an impressive size considering Nick is over six feet and 200 pounds), came falling through. Nick jumped back to give the fallen man some room to stand, the girl didn’t even flinch.
A man, Mr. Prince, as Nick recognized him, stood filling the door frame.
“Get the fuck out’a here!” He spat down on the now crawling giant.
“You sorry piece of shit, the sight of you makes me sick,” Prince shouted.
The man got to his knees. His face was scarlet red and marred with greasy streaks as sweat matted down his grease ball hair. Nick couldn’t see anything wrong with him, other than the fact that he was obviously not in Mr. Prince’s good graces, in a village that paid good money to have the favor of Mr. Prince. The man was not injured in an obvious way, but he did not stand. He looked up pleadingly at Mr. Prince.
“Please,” said the man shakily. “Please just give me a shot, my family hasn’t eaten in a week.”
Mr. Prince scowled. He took a step forward leaning down to the man’s lowered head, positioning his mouth just next to his ear, but paused for a moment. The room was silent; the girl even stopped scribbling to watch the scene. But before Mr. Prince spoke, he seemed to notice Nick for the first time. He locked eyes with Nick as he talked into the kneeling man’s ear in a loud voice.
“I don’t hire pussies, I just fuck em.”
He held a cold stare on Nick for a moment, but Nick refused to look away. Nick could hear the clock ticking again, the man still hadn’t gotten up from his knees, and worse, now he was crying. Mr. Prince turned his head back inside the room, “Hey get this fuck out’a here would ya?”
Mr. Prince faded into the shadow of the room beyond the ‘private’ door but Nick could hear him lamenting, “all these slobs coming to me, looking for a free hand out!”
Two more big guys came through the door dutifully. Without any ceremony or sympathy they simply placed their hands under the arms of the kneeling man and dragged him from the room. Nick watched the man as he was hauled out the door, he didn’t make a sound. He didn’t look surprised or sad. His face was no longer red. It was completely empty of emotion. Nick had seen this expressionless expression from time to time, it happens in this line of work. Seeing that hollow face, knowing that he had made a man or two look that same way himself, made Nick wish he had been born in another time. In a place where there was no need for men like him, like Mr. Prince, and the two hard faced guys dragging that poor broken bastard with a hungry family a crossed the floor.
It was times like these that made Nick consider farming as a serious line of work, or possibly simple guard duty for one of the village markets. The girl stood up and followed the men out of the room without a word. Nick watched her ass as the door closed behind her. Nick was left alone. He had just seen a grown man, a giant man, reduced to tears on his knees after a meeting with the village crew boss. Most people would be inclined to leave the office at that point. But Nick, if anything, was not like most people. He was a smart man, in a tough world. He figured that you are either the guy pointing the gun, or the one with guns pointed at you.
Nick was considering what he should say, or not say, when he finally got his turn behind the door with Mr. Prince. It hadn’t been long before a fat head peeked out and interrupted Nick’s mental preparation.
“Hey guy,” said the head. “Big man’s ready for you.”
The head disappeared back into the room and the door slowly opened. Mike stood with no caution at all and confidently walked through the door and into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the pungent odor of cigars, which were rare enough. The fact that there was a whole box of them on the desk did not impress Nick in the least. The gesture of the displayed wealth would be sign of this crew’s success, to some. To Nick the shiny box full of fat cigars so casually displayed was a red flag of vanity and a possible sign of greed. Men in this business didn’t have the luxury of being greedy. Nick knew all too well that the greedy bosses were the ones with the most enemies and the fewest friends. And vanity was always a mistake; Nick’s own father schooled him that “people can’t take from you what they don’t know you have”.
Mr. Prince saw Nick eyeing the cigars and smiled.
“Welcome to my castle,” said Mr. Prince.
Nick nodded to the great boss and looked solemnly at the two other men flanking either side of the boss, both big guys with the look of well-fed health.
The room was clean and large, but not well lit despite the large window behind the desk. The desk itself was very large and made entirely of wood carved intricately so that it seemed that the flat top table rested on the shoulders of muscular shirtless men.
(INSERT NAME OF GREEK MYTHOLIGY HERE)
Nick recognized it immediately, and wondered if Mr. Prince had any idea what the meaning behind his desk was. If he really thought that the matters that he solved on his desk were the weightiest in the world. Nick was sure that he was one of the few people in the village that had any idea about Greek mythology. Also, there were paintings on the walls, some of them were obviously shameless reproductions and poor prints at that, but there was one that Nick was rather sure he had seen in a museum in The City before he left.
‘So maybe Mr. Prince has a bit of culture,’ Nick thought hopefully. Culture, as Nick knew it, would be a rarity anywhere outside of The City, and Nick had not hoped to find it in a crew boss.
Mr. Prince sat casually puffing his fine cigar as Nick looked unabashedly around the room at what the crew boss undoubtedly considered treasures.
Nick noticed a chair sitting on its side in the middle of the room. Mr. Prince followed Nick’s eyes to the fallen chair.
“Have a seat,” he said.
Nick moved to the chair, turned it upright and sat. Mr. Prince didn’t offer Nick a cigar, but lit another for himself. He took a few puffs, then held the smoking thing looking appreciatively.
“You know how hard it is to find a good cigar in this damned desert?” He asked.
“I can’t imagine,” Nick replied coolly.
Maybe too cool, Mr. Prince stopped smiling.
“You know Vick-” He began.
“It’s Nick, sir,” Nick corrected him.
The two men behind Mr. Prince winced, at the interruption. They both looked at Mr. Prince expectantly.
“Nick,” the boss leveled icily. “I hear that you are new to the village.”
“Yes sir,” Nick replied, not used to calling anyone sir, but realizing the need for such humility if he intends to get a steady job with this crew.
“I hear things about you, Vick,” the boss paused for just a moment; Nick didn’t bother to correct him again. The boss looked at Nick expectantly, but Nick, suspecting where Mr. Prince was going with this particular tactic, didn’t respond.
“I hear that you know things,” Mr. Prince paused again.
“Things about how things work, isn’t that right boys?” He looked over each of his shoulders to the men flanking him.
“Yeah, that’s what we hear. Guy knows things about things,” said one of the men.
Nick still said nothing but continued to meet the gaze of Mr. Prince.
“You see, Vick, I built this village,” he paused to smile, “with my hard work and my balls.” The boss paused for a round of reverent nods from his men.
“But most importantly I have stayed on top because I know things. Things about things. Just like I know that you have some things to tell me,” he said.
Nick was quiet for a moment, wondering what the boss could be referring to. Nick did have his secrets, just like anyone with a past, but exactly what “things about things” did Mr. Prince expect Nick to tell him about. He decided to play dumb and go for humor.
“I am not sure I know what you are asking me about, I am here for a job interview. I am a little early, maybe you have me confused with this Vick guy,” Nick said.
“You think you’re fuckin’ funny?” Asked Mr. Prince.
The boss reached into his coat and had his gun out in less than a second. Mr. Prince pointed the gun dangerously at Nick, who sat still without needing any encouragement.
Mr. Prince smiled and his men, showing a lack of discipline, laughed. Nick kept his face calm as the boss came around his desk to place the gun against his head.
A person never truly knows what to expect from themselves when a gun is pressed tightly into their quickly pulsing temple.
“It’s nice to think that you might keep cool, you know, stay confident and keep your shit together,” Mr. Prince held the gun casually as he spoke. “But for most people, when you feel cold metal make contact with any part of your personally prized skin, trust me, staying calm is the last thing on your mind.”
But Nick surprised himself by staying calm. This wasn’t the first gun, or the first thug that threatened to kill him. He has lived through tougher times. But like as not, even a man as hardened as he was, might flinch to the barrel of a cold nine millimeter.
Prince looked down into the unworried eyes of this new applicant. He pressed the pistol further into Nick’s boney skull, and Nick would later admit that it took all his personal strength to keep the pain from showing on his face.
At that moment a knock came at the door which soon opened to admit the pretty young receptionist carrying a tray of sandwiches followed by the two large men who had obviously dumped their package of the previous applicant. All of whom seemed to consider their boss holding a man by gun point an everyday event.
The two men stood to either side of the door. The girl set the tray on the table and brought a sandwich to Mr. Prince, who still held a gun to Nick’s head. She put the sandwich in his free hand then stood on her tip-toes to whisper something into his ear. The boss munched on his sandwich and listened showing no expression.
The girl walked slowly to the door, but made eye contact with Nick showing him a warm smile before she left.
The boss waited for the door to snap closed before he let loose an open handed slap a crossed Nick’s face.
“You mother fucker, you looked at my sister’s tits,” he said quietly. All four men looked respectfully at the floor. But Nick was hard-pressed not to react to blow. His big shoulders bunched up in his suit-coat stretching the fabric. The slap was a blow to his ego as much as to his face. He consoled himself with the fact that it was an open hand, and not a fist. Had it been a fist, he told himself he would have had to react.
“Don’t be ashamed to break a stinking sweat, most guys do, when in your situation,” Mr. Prince smiled and almost seemed charming.
Nick wondered then, for the first time, if his life was in fact in danger. He was unarmed against five guys, one of them holding a gun firmly to his head. He had seen many guys whose bodies would tremble from head to toe in this same situation. The few who lived through it had said that, yes, its normal to feel a small release in your bladder area while praying to god, telling him you would give damn near anything to have that gun pointed someplace else, or even at someone else. Nick felt strange, were his knees shaking? No, not yet anyway.
“Last chance Casanova, tell me what you know about The City,” Mr. Prince said then casually took a bite of his sandwich, chewing loudly and dropping bits of ham and bread onto Nicks head and chest.
Nick didn’t move, he didn’t show any sign of even understanding the boss’s demand.
The boss finished his sandwich and made a motion to the four men who then moved in and surrounded Nick on his chair.
Mr. Prince gave a disgusted snort. “You are a hard son of a bitch Vick,” he snapped his fingers and one of the men brought him another sandwich. He took a bite, and said to Nick between mouthfuls, “now get the fuck outa’ here.”
Mr. Prince didn’t put his gun back into his jacket, but kept it pointed at Nick as he walked slowly to the door. Nick turned before leaving the room, and smiled graciously as if he was leaving a fine luncheon with his chums.
“Thanks for the time, I enjoyed myself,” He said.
He left, still showing that he was in no hurry, but secretly glad to still have his brain in one piece. The pretty receptionist smiled brightly as he came through the waiting room. He gave her a small bow, “Miss,” he said as he crossed the floor to the exit.
He had made it down the flight of stairs and collected his gun from the guard at the front door when the receptionist came running down the stairs. He didn’t bother to watch her coming (although he would have liked to), she was going somewhere in a hurry, maybe the boss had run out of sandwiches.
He had barely stepped foot into the grimy street when she caught his arm.
“Wait!” She said.
“What?” He asked
She smiled and batted her long eyelashes at him while she caught her breathe.
“The boss told me to tell you that you start tomorrow at nine,” she said, pressing a thick brown envelope into his hands.
“What’s this?” He asked, already knowing the answer, he had been around the block a few times before.
“Your first payday,” she answered, “See you tomorrow?” She asked hopefully.
Nick blushed; guns don’t make him half as nervous as ladies do.
“Yeah, tell the boss to save me a cigar would ya?” Nick asked.
The girl nodded promptly, and turned to go back inside, but stopped.
“My brother kills anybody who looks at me, its kind of a test,” She looked away from Nick’s shocked face. “All the new guys have to sit in a room alone with me. Its nothing personal,” she said, but then smiled as if to a private thought.
“Yeah, so?” Nick asked.
“He must really like you… I like you too,” she gave him a little shove.
‘What are we little kids’ he thought? But then another look at that pretty face and he was glad that she even touched him at all.
Obviously a post modern world, hit by plauges and disasters and various deadly and dangerous things, the current order is mostly brought through mob rule. Any good? Should I keep working on this? |
