Wild Bastard

12

Marina

In the morning I wake up to the sound of someone furiously banging on my door. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my head with the pillow. Whoever it is, let them go to hell.

The hope that the uninvited guests would disappear fades as soon as the sound of the opening lock reaches the muffled eardrums of a pillow.

Oh, shit. The housekeeper. She's the only one with keys. She uses them in case I don't open the door or I'm just not home.

I reluctantly climb out from under the pillow, ready for the tantrums of a woman who could easily compete for the title of the most scandalous in a radius of a hundred thousand kilometers. I get out of bed just as the door creaks open and I see her corpulent body in the hallway.

"So, you are at home". She starts up a tattered record in a grumpy tone from the doorstep.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dean" I greet her sleepily, trying to guess the reason why Big Momma might have left her den and visited earlier than expected. Usually one reason is rent, but it's too early now. I've got one more week for sure. I'll have time to get my paycheck, "Do you want some tea?"

"She offers me tea, look at her. Now, honey, listen to me carefully. You have one hour to pay for the month, pack your stuff, and leave the apartment."

After throwing a bucket of cold water on me, with a loud slam she closes the door behind her and enters the only room with her hands at her sides.

"What do you mean, to leave?" I can't tell from her appearance that this person is capable of jokes on principle. That makes it even worse.

"That's what I mean. I'm tired of waiting for you to pay me. Last time It took you three months to pay."

"But I paid later."

"Yes, later. And then last month you were late again."

"Because my salary was late" I explain for the third time, because twenty days ago I told her how everyone at the bar had been held back on their money.

Sticky sweat begins to run down my spine.

"Salary, yes, I know what you do for a living!" The venom from the sarcastic mouth stung, but not fatally. - Life has hardened. People often assume that if I'm from an orphanage, I can't do anything but make a living with my own body. So I just clench my teeth, hoping that the woman will let off steam now and go back to her den, because at this price to find an apartment is not real, and for I don't have money for a more expensive one. "Anyway, I don't want to hear anything. I will make repairs here and take normal tenants who are able to pay steadily. And who will not bring clients to my place. To my apartment!"

"What? What clients?" I can't stand the false accusations. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play the fool with me. I won't take money for the whole month, though I should. For moral damages."

I feel anger coming over me in invisible waves. My pulse is racing, my palms are sweating.

I suddenly realize that in a short time I won't even have a place to go back to after work.

"I have nowhere to go," I tell, looking straight into her fat face.

"That's not my problem anymore" Mrs. Dean snorts, turns around, grabs my scarf from the nightstand, and tosses it in my direction. - Get packed!

I caught the one thing I cared about, preventing it from falling to the floor.

"Don't you dare throw my things" I warn her through gritted teeth.