The Scarred Man

Chapter 4

0200 comes quick. But most things in life do.

I grab a set of clothes, which happens to be a tight fitting black v-neck long sleeve shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and combat boots.  I may be scarred as f*ck, but that does not mean I'm unfit; I am a Marine.

Walking into work proves hard since my new boss is an a*shole to soaking wet citizens. I stand on one side of the glass door while he stands on the other, warmer side with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh come on, I'm your employee! You can't keep me out here!" I pout. 

"You're not coming inside."

"What kind of heartless creature are you?!  Let me in!"

"You are essentially worthless. And, you are wet. Why should I let you in?" He questions.

"Because I'm cold!" I shiver with my arms wrapped around myself. 

"You're wet!"

"It's your fault!" Realizing what I said, I begin to laugh. He scowls and demands me to stop.

"Enough! Stop acting like a child!"

I don't stop laughing. I lean against the door and press my smiling face to the glass. With my face smooshed against the door, staring right at him, my breaths of laughter fog the glass then seem to swallow the fog, effectively coating the door in my spit. I know I look like a chubby, demented red head child like this and it only makes me laugh harder as I see his let out an aggravated yell and order to door to be opened. 

"I win." I say as I collapse on the floor right inside the door.

"Get up! And clean your disgusting spit from my door!" He commands.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" I mock as I drunkenly lift myself from the floor.

"Are you drunk?" He questions and I chuckle, "That would be ironic wouldn't it? But no, I am not intoxicated."

He stares blankly at me.  I smirk back at him and let out a 'woop!' when I see his lips lift slightly. 

" I seen that! You smiled-er-smirked....but it was there!" I holler as I point at him. He stops smirking and pushes me forward. 

"Get working."

I moon-walk backwards to the back of the counter all the while smiling at him, "Yes Sir!" And with that, I get to work.

-----

Hours later with boss-man in his office I stand bored at the counter. 

"Another!" George, who is having a mid-life crisis, suggests. I bring forward another shot of blueberry vodka and set it in front of him. Barely able to move his hands enough to grasp the glass jar, George tips the glass back and swallows. 

He is definitely about to pass out. Knowing protocol with new Mr. Boss-Man, I decide to try to gently persuade George to leave.

"Hey George, why don't we get you a cab?"

"Uhhhhh wa?" He questions. 

"Why don't I get you a cab? I think you've had enough, George." He stumbles back and out of his stool. Seeing this, I hurry around the counter to help him only to be pushed backwards. George takes the glass and throws it at me. I dodge, but unfortunately for me the glass that is worth more than my life to my boss crashes to the floor. 

"Ooooh, come on George," I plead, "That cost like- alot- why don't you just calm down and I get you your cab so you can go home?" 

"Shh--up Scar-face," he growls at me, and okay-ow, "ge way from meh! Ugly piece if shi-"

He's cut off with a growl, " Excuse me, you worthless drunk, but that is my employee you are talking to! Now, apologize and leave." When George does nothing Boss-Man gets his men to forcefully put George on his knees. Boss suddenly gets out a gun and points it at George's head.

"Woah, Boss! He's just drunk; I'm pretty sure you don't need to blow his brains out!"

"He broke our glass-" I interrupt his sentence, "I will personally buy you a new one!"

I can't see this again. Not now, not when I've come so far.

"and he insulted my employee-you." He finishes.  "And don't act like you can actually afford the new glass."

"Okay, I can't, but if it's about the insult I get them all the time! I'm ugly! It's expected. Alcohol only tells everyone what is on the mind." His head snaps to the side so his eyes meet my own.

"I don't care. He. Insulted. YOU. You are not ugly, and drunks never tell the truth. Not always, and not this time. You are MY employee, and I will not have people walking over you!"

I can only stare. 

"Okay, okay....he his opinion was mean. But please don't shoot him. I-I..." I look into his cold brown eyes and try to somehow telepathically message him. 

My face scrunches up, my lips pucker, and my hand reaches towards my temple and finally, finally, he understands.

I can't see another death right now. Not now.

"Okay," he withdraws his gun, "get the man out of here. And Miles?"

"Yes?" I question.

"Stop trying to communicate with me telepathically; you look like an idiot."

"Okay....wait, does that mean it was working?!"