Just A Minute - Prologue

It’s nine in the morning. The sun is barely up on the horizon, slowly coming up as the fog starts to clear on the streets. It’s colder than I thought it’s going to be when I put on a skirt without tights and very thin green coat. I see some cars passing by and some people walking vigorously, probably to work where they spend most of their day. Some of their faces are buried in the scarves and I can only see their tired eyes poking out. On the other side of the road, there’s a woman arguing with a policeman about her tickets for parking at double yellow lines. She is red on the face, almost matching the colour of her coat. Trees are moving lightly to the wind, creating multiple shadows on the path. Some of them look like very twisted creatures, some have a similarity to animals.

I stop in front of the old restaurant called “Mamba”. The paint from the building was coming off, showing previous ugly pink walls. The doors seem no to close fully and the knob is almost falling off of the doors. The windows are dirty, like they were never really cleaned. I sigh and look at the leaflet in my hand. They are hiring. And I need money. It’s the last place I want to work in but I know that bills won’t pay themselves. I’m desperate.

I touch the knob and almost instantly regret it. It’s sticky. Very sticky. Feels like someone poured honey all over it and left it to dry. I hold off the feeling of being sick and push the door in. The little bell above my head rings and the lady at the bar looks at me very seriously. She scans me from my head to toes. She sees the leaflet in my hand and smiles lightly. She goes around the bar and stands in front of me.

‘You’re Aurelia’ she says, looking straight into my eyes. ‘You’re here for an interview’.

‘Yes, but how -’

She stops me speaking with one movement of a hand and smiles even wider. She points at one of the tables, implying I should sit and wait. That’s what I do. I sit down and put my leaflet on the table. It looks as much sticky as the door knob. There’s circles all over it, made of the glass bottoms and plates. I decide to take my coat off. It’s hot in here. Hotter than it should be. I check my armpits to make sure there’s no stains on my yellow shirt. There’s none. At least not yet.

I take a look around. Floral wallpaper was coming off the walls, some wooden tiles look like they were ripped off the floor. There’s some outdated pictures in front of my table. It looks like this restaurant several years ago. The bar has no paint on it, it’s just plain red brick with dark wooden top. There’s only couple of tables around. The restaurant is very small. All tables are round and have four chairs around them. I start to think about cleaning a whole restaurant. It needs it. A lot.

With the corner of my eye I see the bar lady, coming out of the back room with a man. He looks like he’s in his 40s, has a black beard and moustache, very nicely trimmed. He wears, what it seems to be, an expensive suit. He approaches me with a smile on his face and put his hand in front of me.

‘Fred Jensen’ he introduces himself. ‘I’m the boss around here’.

‘Nice to meet you’ I say, and before I have the chance to introduce myself, he starts speaking again.

‘So you’re looking for a job’ he says slowly, slower than he should.

‘Yes’ I answer and my voice is shaky, and I have no idea why. ‘I was looking for quite awhile now and-’

‘I have a job for you, Aurelia’ his fingers are rubbing his beard. He looks at me, smiling mysteriously and I don’t know what to say. I’m hypnotised with his smooth movements. ‘I think you’ll be perfect for it’.

‘What’s the job exactly?’ I start to play with my jumper nervously. Why? Why am I feeling so nervous? It’s not like me. ‘If I start working here, I want to know what are my responsibilities and how much I will get paid for it. Your leaflet didn’t say much about it’.

‘Yes’ he says very calmly. He reached behind him, to the bar lady and she hands him a big envelope. He puts it in front of me, on a little table. He nods towards it.

I reach for it and open it with my shaking hands. I read the title. “Contract of employment”. I read through it and I get shocked about how much money I would make just for tending a bar and taking orders from people dining in this restaurant. It was a good contract. I read briefly everything and put it down on the table again. I look at Mr. Jensen and smile for a second. I feel intimidated. His presence is strong and I don’t know how to deal with that.

‘Why so much money?’ the question is escaping my mouth before I get a chance to think about it. ‘It’s just not the amount I was expecting for easy job like that’.

‘Is it not good?’ he asks as his brow is sliding up slightly.

‘No! It’s great. I just am shocked, that’s all’.

‘It is a good job to have, Aurelia’ he says, standing up quickly but with grace. ‘If you want it, you can have it’.

He looks at me, waiting for my answer. I take a minute to think about it. It’s just bar-tending and taking orders from the tables. Easy, pretty close home and maybe I could afford to move to better neighbourhood after taking it. There’s so many pros about it. I have to take it. I just feel like I don’t want to regret it after.

‘I’ll take it’ I say in the end.

He smiles widely.

‘You start tomorrow’.

I stood up and shook his hand. He takes off pretty quickly but the bar lady stays. She is scanning me again and her expression is unreadable. I can’t figure out what she’s thinking so I just put my coat on and I wrap my scarf around my neck. I smile to the bar lady and she doesn’t smile back. So I get out of the restaurant, happy that I have a new job. I walk across the road. I get a coffee on the way back home. When I was paying for my coffee, something strikes me like a lightning. Something that I miss through all this time, through all this interview. I didn’t know how it slips through but it did. And all of the sudden I get scared and anxious.

I replay a whole interview in my head, trying to figure out if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me or if I am right. And I am right.

How the hell Fred Jensen knows my name?