Page 17 of Scarred King

“Because I need money to live and this stuff is expensive, too.” She shows me the transparent capsule with the white powder inside.

“But you don’t have to use that,” I insist.

“That’s the only way I can get through the nights here.” She shrugs and approaches the mirror.

“I just don’t understand it,” I mutter and look her over. “That’s so screwed up!”

She turns her head to me quickly with a furious look on her face. “You don’t get to judge anyone here.” She says angrily. “If you want to feel superior, go do it somewhere else.” She pushes past me and leaves.

Damn it. Me and my big mouth. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut for once? Why do I care if her excuse is one of the most idiotic things I’ve ever heard in my life. She’s not my friend, and I really don’t care what she does or why she’s so stupid.

I go back out to the bar and when I pass the girls, they stop talking and one of them hisses “Bitch,” at me. Great, that’s just what I needed. Enemies in Hell.

Charlie puts three bottles of beer and a glass of wine on the counter and asks me to take them to the round table. I take the beers, serve them and place a paper napkin by each bottle.

Scarface looks concerned and doesn’t even say hello.

“Those Frenchies,” says Mike, scratching his red hair. “They've always been and always will be whores. I told you they can’t be trusted.” He drinks some beer and slams the bottle down on the table. “Let’s go there together, I’ll get that son of a bitch and say ‘neek ta mar’ - ‘Go fuck your mother.'"

“Nique ta mère,” I correct him with the correct accent and giggle. I rearrange the napkin he moved and when I look up from the table, they’re all looking at me.

“You talk French, too?” Scarface asks, circling the bottleneck with his thumb.

“Not by choice,” I reply and return to the bar. I take the wine glass and go back to the table.

“I have an idea,” Scarface says and stands up. Carly thanks me as I place the glass in front of her. “If all three of us go there now, it will be the end of us cooperating together, and it will take us a long time to find new suppliers. But if I go alone and figure out their scam, I can make them give back the two kilos they cut off our last delivery.

“Oh, and they’ll just give you the info?” Tommy asks mockingly.

“No, but if I go with a hooker who just happens to speak French, she can tell me what they’re talking about when they think that no one can understand.”

“Do we have a hooker like that?” Mike asks, and Carly elbows him in the ribs and laughs.

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Tommy says and leans back. Now everyone is looking at me.

“What?” I ask uneasily.

“You’ll come with me this evening to the meeting with the Frenchies.” Scarface smiles at me smugly.

“I’m the hooker?” I speak so loudly that the girls get quiet and look over at us curiously.

“Not a real hooker,” Scarface is still smiling. “Pretend that you’re acting in a school play or something.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Mike smacks his forehead and laughs. “Elena will be the hooker because she speaks French.”

“Shut up,” Carly nudges him angrily. She probably realizes that I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“I can’t,” I shake my head and take a step backward. “No one will believe…. I can’t.”

Scarface looks at Carly. She stands up in front of me. “Elena,” she says in a motherly tone, “We gave you a chance to work here even though we really shouldn’t have. Now we need your help, just for one night. Don’t let us down.”

“But what’s that got to do with my job as a waitress?” I refuse to give in to her emotional blackmail. "I’ll do a great job tonight. Here.” I turn towards the bar and Scarface approaches me.

“Don’t you also start.” I sit on the barstool and arrange the napkins in three equal piles. “It won’t work on me!”

“Fine.” He gives me a wide smile. “Then I’ll just tell you that if you won’t go with me tonight, you’re fired.” His smile disappears and I'm shocked to see that the hideous side of his face has taken over.

“You can’t do that,” I say angrily.

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