NO DOUBT [bwwm]

• 1 • Soave Giulia

Death has always seemed to follow me. All three of my parents, my boyfriend. Even the nursing home, but more specifically, Ms Gilmore. And I have always ran away. That's all I know.

The last death came with a slight perk that didn't help bring sweet Genevieve Gilmore back, though it did help me run away. 50k$ of old money to the one person who actually gave a shit about her. That money made me run from the hellhouse that was California to New York.

Sure, that was more zeros than I could count in my lifetime's paychecks, but I couldn't sit on the small fortune like a lay-about. Living is, well, expensive. That is unless you choose death. But Mama Rose taught me better. And I wish someone had taught my ex the same.

So the first thing I did when I arrived at Manhattan was to search for a job that will get me away from all the wickedness of death. Though I had some experience, I couldn't possibly go back to working at a nursing home, or a hospital, I refused to work as a babysitter knowing myself, I would get attached to those little monsters.

And with the little experience I had and nothing but a high school diploma, I couldn't go much far, most if not all jobs available were bound to have some sort of costumer contact. So I settled for catering. Working in a restaurant meant a more diverse clientele. People whose names I didn't have to remember. It was the better choice.

I had spent a whole week wandering the streets of New York, hopeful for a position in one of the many restaurants scattered through the avenues, in vain. New York. The place where dreams are made of. Alicia was right, it is one hell of a jungle. But I like to think of myself like more of a forest animal. A deer, perhaps. And this deer had no place in the wasteland that is the wild city of New York.

Therefore, I began looking for something outside of Manhattan, its epicentre and also the borough where I reside. And that's how I landed on Soave Giulia. As the name indicated, this place was indeed sophisticated. I was surprised they were looking for waiters, let alone an assistant manager. Just by the looks of it, you'd think everybody would jump on the opportunity to work at that restaurant.

It was located in a busy street in the middle of Newark, NJ, and stood out by its elegance and its uniqueness in architecture. It had a European Renaissance vibe to it that reflected the italian heritage of the owners. As I stepped into the restaurant I automatically felt out of place. My wild curly hair was tied into a neat professional bun. I had made an effort to get out of my usual baggy jeans and oversized graphic t-shirts and wear some dress pants and a blouse, but, though I could act like it, I couldn't possibly fit into such setting.

The building was deserted of any client which was odd since it was the middle of the day. I was welcomed by a gorgeous middle-aged woman and what seemed to be her husband. With salt and pepper hair and a freshly shaved beard, he stood at maybe a solid 5'10 in contrast of his wife who was 5'6 in heels. She was ravishingly beautiful with her auburn shoulder length curled hair and her piercing grey eyes. I gave them my best and most genuine smile as I walked closer to the pair. I tried to not let show that I was intimidated by their shiny jewelry, perfectly cut clothing and designer shoes. For restaurant owners they seemed quite fortunate...