Unlucky Encounters

Chapter 1

PLEASE READ:  For any of you who didn't read the "announcement" chapter, thing before this (tisk, tisk), then I just want to let you know that this book is set three years is the future... so yeah thanks :)

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"I'm not giving you a fucking raise!  You crazy bitch, get out of my pub!"

    "Please, don't do this.   You don't have to give me a raise.  Just pay me what you owe me and I won't ask again." I'm saying anything I can, trying to convince that bastard to let me keep my job.

     I desperately need this job.  I live with my older sister, we're both "aspiring" artists, I guess you could call it, and neither of us are making ends meet.  She wasn't making enough to live on her own and since I'm turning 18 I was going to move out of my parents place anyway, so we thought we could help each other out.  I moved in last year, but with the crappy jobs both of us have we only have enough to just barely pay the bills on time and get our groceries once a month.  We won't be able to support ourselves if I don't have a job.

     My boss slams the door and I know that I will not be going back to work tomorrow.  I swear to god, I can't find anything secure or steady.  I guess when the only thing on your resume is a volunteer theatre group, junior high student council, and multiple other minimum wage, gutter jobs, not many people want to hire you.  As the tears that were pooling in my eyes finally overflow I hear the squeaky pub door swing open.

     "Here's what I owe you, BITCH!"

     His tone startles me as he throws a tiny crumpled piece of paper at my head.  I jump to catch it but miss, causing me to stumble backwards down the steps and bump into a stranger on the street. Muttering "sorry" I turn to see a damp, balled up cheque in the wet street get run over and torn to shreds by a huge 18-wheeler. What are the fucking odds?

     "Hey, are you okay?"

     A low, Australian accent startles me, but I don't look up, knowing there's makeup running down my face and that I'm probably beet red from embarrassment.

     "Not really." I reply. "You heard all of that?"

     "Hard not to.  Fucking awful what he called you."

     "Yeah, well it's him that's the fucking bastard.  I've covered his sons shift ten times this month already and I come in whenever he needs me, always staying late, and he has the nerve to say that stuff, deny me a raise, or even vacation days!"

     I sit on the curb, the lump in my throat growing, my body trembling from anger and stress.  I don't know what I'm supposed to tell my sister.  Without a job I have no money, which means she barely has an money, and we don't have food or an apartment.  And I can't ask my parents for anything. They're mad at the both of us for me moving away from home "so young", even though I was a month from turning 17 when I moved out, and there is no way we would be paying them back anytime soon.

     "How much does he owe you?" The stranger asks, sounding concerned.

     I don't know this person at all, I haven't even seen their face, and so I don't know why I'm telling them anything.  I guess it's since I'm upset I'm just not thinking clearly.

     "Six thousand dollars." Saying it out loud makes me realize I was practically working under forced labor.

     After a few minutes of silence, other than the sound of the cars passing on the street, the stranger slides something into my lap.  I open my eyes to see a six thousand dollar cheque.