Once Upon A Prostitute

CHAPTER 3 - GETTING UP

Journal entry
Sometimes I get so lucky, it feels like a lie. Maybe this good luck is fate trying to balance out the bad things I experienced in the ring. It's nowhere close to balancing out, but it's a start.

"What are you doing in my chair?"

I swing the swivel chair around to see to see a lanky blonde-haired boy with bluish eyes. He is handsome in a cute boyish way but has a frown on his face.

"Sorry" I quickly apologize and stand up "you must be the sick staff". I slap myself inwardly. Way to go, Mina. Great first impression. "I mean, previously sick... you know"

Now that I'm standing, I notice he is just about an inch taller than my 5ft 5". Not so intimidating after all. He regards me with narrowed eyes and arms folded across his chest.

"Who are you? He queries.

I open my mouth to speak just as Eve comes carrying a tray of delicious smelling croissants. "I see you've met Matt". She says as she drops the tray on the counter. "Set these in the warmer for me please".

I get to work arranging the croissants so carefully you'd think they were jewelry. Eve turns to Matt. "What did I say about coming in late?"

"The guidance counselor wanted to talk about college applications." He replies offhandedly. "You didn't tell me we were getting a new staff."

Eve scoffs. "Like I discuss business decisions with you.''

"Are you trying to replace me?"

Eve sighs at the same time I roll my eyes. Such a baby.

"Get to work Matt and stop whining." She scolds.

She goes into the kitchen and Matt eyes me meanly. "I get all the tips".

"Whoever serves a customer gets the tip. Now get your ass in here Matt", Eve yells from the kitchen.

He fixes his collar and straitens his shirt, then walks to the kitchen after giving me what he thinks is a glare. I just shake my head. Highschool boys!

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I've been working at Eve's corner for a week now. I spend the mornings cleaning surfaces and prepping food items for Eve's baking. The afternoons are pretty lazy and boring. I wish I had a book to read. By 4pm or thereabout, Matt strolls in. We're actually really cool now. All that drama on the first day must have been about establishing his territory or something. After seeing that I had no experience whatever and will be understudying him, he was more relaxed. Turns out his also a good cook. I was impressed when I tasted his mushroom soup - it reminded me of Tetura's achara soup. Not bad for a seventeen-year-old. I told him he will be one of the greatest chefs in a few years. Of course, he agreed arrogantly. That's Matt.

Now I'm not going to lie, I miss Nigerian food. In the ring, we sometimes pulled funds together and prepared a delicious Nigerian soup which we ate with swallow. I miss foo-foo and native soup; it was my favourite meal. Most weekends, we made Nigerian jollof rice with fried chicken. I miss my motherland cuisines but Matt's delicacies almost make up for it. Eve is the master of all delicacies though and she always gives me a pack of food before we shut down every evening. Beneath all that tough cop attitude, she is just a mother hen.

I like to take my dinner home and eat in the confines of my little caravan. It is still bleak and empty but it is calm. In there, alone with my thoughts, I can be me, vulnerable, angry, sad. I have my moment. I usually eat just half of the food, then I warm up the other half and keep for breakfast. Luckily my accommodation came with an electric stove in the kitchen, I only had to buy a small pot. It is nice to eat something in the morning before going to work. Those pastries are often too tempting to ignore on an empty stomach. Eve sometimes passes me a bun, but I prefer to save it for lunch. I can't ask her for three meals a day, I'd feel like a leech. Coffee is always free though so I have that. It keeps me going.