Janet
"Hey Jane, order up!" boomed Jeremy, my co-worker, from across the counter. "On it!" I yelled back, grabbing the drinks and weaving through the crowd like a seasoned waitress. Years of doing this job made me dread that question from high school teachers: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Stuck here, I always thought, stuck in this dead-end job. Having my son Archie was the only thing I hadn't planned on.
"Hey! Watch it, you clumsy idiot!" a harsh voice screeched. A redhead, looking half-drunk and barely dressed, glared down at me. Ignoring her seemed safest. "Sorry, ma'am, my fault," I mumbled, forcing a nod.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course it's your fault, you… you…" Don't react, Jane. She's drunk, and I need this job. Plastering on my fakest smile, I repeated, "My fault, ma'am."
Her eyes narrowed, scanning me up and down. She grabbed a drink from the tray and – oh no. Before I could react, the cherry-red drink sloshed all over me, soaking me from head to toe.
The sticky red mess seeped into places it shouldn't have, and I wanted to scream like a banshee myself. This crazy woman deserved an earful, but losing my job because of her wasn't fair to Archie. He needed a roof over his head and food in his belly.
Through my blurry vision, I saw her stupid smirk. This wasn't over. Red was the only color I could see, the loud music fading into a muffled hum. In slow motion, I grabbed the last drink and splashed it right back at her.
She shrieked, "How dare you, you lowly waitress!"
Choking and sputtering, she glared at me. A smirk tugged at my lips. "How dare you? You're a drunk mess needing a babysitter, not a fight in public dressed like a… like a…" My mind blanked, but the feeling was clear.
Her smirk faltered. This wasn't the reaction she expected. With a screech, she lunged, digging her nails into my arm. Fight or flight? My instincts took over, and I yanked her red hair as hard as I could. Her banshee screams pierced the air.
"Oh crap, Jane!" Jeremy's panicked voice cut through the chaos.
My boss, Mr. Jones, a portly man with a perpetually worried frown, materialized beside me. "What's going on here?!"
The redhead, free from my grip, pointed a shaky finger at me. "This… this woman attacked me! Make her apologize!"
Mr. Jones' face turned red, mirroring the spilled drink. "Jane, what on earth...?" His voice was a low growl.
"She started it!" I blurted, adrenaline still pumping.
"She soaked me with a drink!" I pointed at the redhead, who was sniffling dramatically.
Mr. Jones sighed heavily. "Look, Jane. I can't have this kind of behavior in my bar. Apologize to the lady and clean yourself up. Or find another job."
My blood ran cold. This wasn't fair!
The redhead, sensing victory, sneered. "Apologize and get down on your knees, you barfly! And mean it!"
Mr. Jones shot her a withering look. "That's enough, ma'am. Security will escort you out if you can't behave."
She huffed but kept her mouth shut. Turning to me, Mr. Jones' voice softened slightly. "Jane, a simple apology will do. You know I can't afford brawls in the bar."
I looked at the floor, defeat heavy in my chest. This wasn't right, but I couldn't lose my job.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled to the redhead, who rolled her eyes.
"Not good enough!" she snapped. "Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness!"
That was it. My anger roared back to life.
"I will not!" I declared, my voice surprisingly strong. "You started this mess, and I won't be your doormat. This place is a dump anyway!"
I ripped off my nametag and threw it on the counter. "Consider this my two weeks' notice! You can find someone else to clean up after your drunk customers!"
Mr. Jones sputtered, his face turning even redder. "Jane! You can't quit! You're fired!"
The redhead cackled with delight. "Finally! Serves you right, you…"
I ignored them both. With my head held high, I stormed out of the bar, the music and angry shouts fading behind me. I may not have had a job anymore, but at least I had my dignity.
The second I slammed the bar door shut, I gulped in huge chunks of air, trying to calm the storm inside me. Streetlights cast long shadows across the deserted sidewalk, and the only company I had were the gleaming, expensive cars parked outside – none of them mine, of course.
With a defeated sigh, I started walking. Anywhere. Just get to a cab or a bus stop, whichever came first. Kicking at stray pebbles and bits of trash, I tried to distract myself from the giant mess I'd just created. How was I going to face Archie when I got home? The thought made my breath catch in my throat.
Feeling utterly defeated, I slumped down on the cold pavement next to a homeless man. He seemed lost in some kind of daze. Honestly, I didn't even want to know. Just needed a moment to breathe. Looking up at the vast expanse of stars, I let out a shaky breath.
Suddenly, a raspy voice startled me. "Pretty sky, ain't it?"
Eight hours on my feet, a brawl with a crazy woman, and now a chat with a stranger? Not exactly what I had in mind. But I was too wiped to even muster a reply, so I just let out a weak hum.
"Things will get better, you know," the man rasped, his voice full of weary wisdom. "Gotta believe that."
I finally turned to face him. He was weathered, with kind eyes and a smile that revealed a mouthful of crooked teeth. "You really think so?" My voice barely rose above a whisper.
He gave a slow nod. "Life throws curveballs, honey. But you seem strong. Stronger than you think."
"Even if I messed up?" I mumbled, guilt gnawing at me. "Lost something good?"
The man's smile widened, revealing those unusual teeth. "Honey, everyone messes up. But what matters is what you do next. You gonna keep feelin' sorry for yourself, or are you gonna grab life by the horns?"
As if on cue, a nearby billboard flickered to life, bathing us in bright light. And that's when I saw it. An ad so bizarre it took my breath away. "Wife Wanted," it blared in giant letters, and the salary… well, let's just say it was more money than I'd ever seen in my life – a hundred thousand dollars an hour! I rubbed my eyes, convinced I was hallucinating.
