“For either one of you.”
lisa
two
“Lisa! Girl, where have you been?”Sasha whispered as I ran into the back room and quickly pulled on a “Mama’s Lunchbox” t-shirt.
“Did he notice?”
“It’s all he’s been talking about for the last five minutes. I told him you called me and that you were stuck on the train. If you didn’t show up when you did, I think he would have fired both of us.”
"Thank you," I whispered and hugged her.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes before grinning. “How was your audition?”
I struggled to keep my face neutral, and my stomach lurched. My audition was terrible. I overslept because that drunken dickhole woke me up in the middle of the night. I was forty-five minutes late and begged the casting director to let me sing. It was obvious that he gave in because he felt bad for me, and I had zero chance of actually landing the part.
It didn't matter how well you could sing if the director was worried that you wouldn't show up on time for rehearsals, or God forbid curtain. Excuses didn't matter, you're either there, or you’re not.
Of course, knowing that I had an ice cube's chance in hell of getting cast shattered my confidence, and my performance was less North Carolina School of the Arts graduate and more American Idol contestant eliminated in the first round.
“We’ll see.” I plastered on a smile. “Fingers crossed!”
"Okay, let's go. We've been back here for over three minutes. Any longer and Mike might say something that will finally push me over the edge."
We left the stockroom and rushed to get behind the bar. Sasha had obviously worked double time to get it mostly set up to cover for me. It was the bright spot of an otherwise shitty day.
Sasha was tall, beautiful, and willowy with a complexion of polished copper and eyes the color of dark whiskey. She was also the first friend I made in New York when I moved here eight months ago and the closest thing I have to a family member here. I gave her a look that said, "I can’t believe you did this for me.” She rolled her eyes and gave me a look that said, “I love you, but if you start crying, I'm gonna punch you.”
Mike approached the bar, and we braced ourselves.
Mike was the bar's general manager and the owner's son. Which made him smart enough to avoid crossing the line with any of us, but with enough job security to make working for him a living hell. He was white, taller than me, but shorter than Sasha with hair that didn't know if it wanted to be red or brown, which he kept in a military-style haircut though he'd never served. Mike would almost be considered attractive if he never opened his mouth.
He never hesitated to make lewd or derogatory comments. We all employed an unspoken buddy system when going into the stockroom or cellar so no one would get stuck alone with him. I put up with it because it was the only job I could find where, with limited experience, I could work four days a week and bring home between a thousand and fifteen hundred dollars. My rent and utilities were almost half that amount, plus student loans, lessons, and other bills. I really needed the money and flexibility. If that meant putting up with Mike, so be it.
“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her holy presence?” he sneered.
"Sorry I'm late, Mike." I shot a quick glance at Sasha. "I was stuck on the train."
"Yeah, right, you're lucky you're so cute, or I would have fired your ass a long time ago." He snorted magnanimously like he expected me to bow. "Don't let it happen again. And what the hell were you two doing in the back room for so long? Did I miss the show?" He snorted again. "Just make sure to wash your hands before you start serving the customers. This isn't a seafood joint." He turned and walked away.
Sasha narrowed her eyes and closed her fingers around the handle of the bar knife. I put my hand on her wrist.
"Let's cut the lemons first. Then it'll hurt Mike more when you stab." I looked up at her, cracking a smile. Her angry demeanor fell away, and she grinned at me.
“Ooo, I can’t stand him,” she gritted.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Join the club.”
Twelve hours later and three hundred and seventy-two dollars richer, I flopped into my bed fully clothed, hoping that tomorrow would be better.
“Good morning, mija.”
“Hey, Mami,” I groaned, looking at my watch. The universe was conspiring to rob me of a full night’s sleep.
"You usually call me after an audition, and I want to hear all about it."
"It's eight o'clock in the morning."
