The next day, by 10 am sharp, Thorne arrived at the Sweet Cafe in his best clothes. A lady with a short blonde bob and bright lipstick was sitting at a corner. Behind her chair was a hulking man with a shaved head and a stubble on his chin. His employers or bosses or whatever.
He walked over to them. "Good morning."
"Soory," the woman snapped, "I've already taken my order. I'm waiting for a boy named Thorne Duskwalker."
You're revealing too much. He wanted to point out but instead he said, "Actually, I'm Thorne Duskwalker."
The woman looked at her black watch. "You're late. Sit."
Thorne sat.
She reached out her hand and it took Thorne a moment to notice he was meant to give her his paper and card.
"Uh... Here."
She popped some gum in her mouth and chewed as she stared at his documents. Then, out of nowhere, she spat it in the paper and scrunched it up.
She gave him back his card. Thorne wanted to ask why she'd just ruined his paper but he knew she was the type not to ask questions to.
"Well," she said, "welcome to The Evadolon."
****
"You're going on break, Thorne?" Regina, a middle aged woman with ginger hair, asked.
Thorne nodded. "Yep."
He went out to the balcony and lit his cigarette, staring at the night sky as he took a drag. His first week in The Evadolon had been confusing and even now he was still learning the rules.
When Thorne had first arrived, he'd marveled at the gleaming white building and latest shops. Though, unfortunately for him, he'd been stuck serving room 28, the worst room in The Evadolon. The occupant was bossy and irritating but Thorne knew never to talk back at him. However, he was shocked when he went to ask a colleague a question.
"Excuse me," he asked a tall, slender man, "do you know where the-"
"Shh," he replied. "Staff aren't allowed to talk to others while working. It's rude."
That was the most favourable rule. You can't take bathroom breaks, no jewellery, no dressing better than the customer, no informal speech, and you must, Must, listen to every applicant whether you're assigned to them or not. Thorne already had five occupants begging him for a kiss, a touch, bad things.
He sighed and leaned more against the white balcony. He took another drag and watched as it disappeared into nothingness when he puffed it out.
He stared at his bank account.
Eighty thousand dollars. It was worth it.
Was it?
Thorne's stomach growled loudly and he felt instantly embarrassed even though no one was there.
He smiled to himself.
"Chinese takeout."