Dance Central: The Beginning

Mo- A Job Hunt

Mo clutched his striped hoodie closer as he strolled past the dark alleyways that defined the city of San D'Angelo, California. Life had been rough the past few years, ever since Mo had graduated high school. He'd had no plan when he'd turned eighteen... but his parents sure had expected him to. They kicked him out, telling him to get a job, and while he was at it, a life. He roamed from place to place, living in apartments, or houses belonging to landlords who didn't mind renting out their tiny pads to a pretty much broke, fresh-out-of-high-school student. Mo worked odd jobs at bizarre hours. He earned enough to support his basic needs, but not much extra from that. In his mind, a committed career just wasn't for him; ho was used to the chaotic structure, but to be honest, he enjoyed it. Mo liked not knowing what would happen next. His best friend Terrell, had talked some sense into him a week earlier, hoping he would change.

                                                                              

"It's just not good for you, man," Terrell advised. "You can't keep livin' like this," he said while visiting Mo at his current residence, a cheap, deteriorated apartment room. Mo handed Terrell a can of beer.

"Aw, c'mon, you talkin' about me changin'? You ain't changed one bit since elementary school, Terrell," Mo joked. "Things'll pick up, trust me. This just temporary."

"Things shoulda picked up by now," his friend replied, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "It's been three years." He took a sip out of the can.

"So?"

"I'm sayin, you should have somewhat of an idea of where your life heading right now. If you don't have a job, you should at least be goin' to school."

Mo grinned.

Terrell answered, "You know your parent's ain't happy. They love you, and they want better for you."

Mo didn't say anything after that. Terrell had a point. Here he was, stuck in a dimly lit apartment, with yellow walls, a light green couch, a narrow TV, and in the only other room was a mattress with a covered with a pillow an blanket. The kitchen was a complete joke, and and so was the bathroom. Both were ill-designed, and the plumbing in the kitchen and the bathroom were barely efficient. The appliances in the kitchen barely worked. And Terrell? He owned a mansion, yes, a mansion.He was one of the city's most successful businessmen besides that creepy old dude who owned a dancing corporation.

"Look, I'll pay your rent and other bills if you go get a job. It's 'bout time." Terrell ruffled his formal, expensive business suit. "Please, man, please. Any job."  A sudden look flashed on his face. "Ooh, forgot somethin'!", he exclaimed. He dug into the pocket of his suit, and retrieved a business card. "You know that place a couple blocks down, The Sweet Seventeen?"

Mo nodded with a smile. "That place is killer," he said. He loved that nightclub, sometimes going there for fun and busting a move, or trying to score a lady as well.

"Well, I know the owner of the place," he casually mentioned, "and he's lookin' for a bouncer."

Mo, confused, asked, "A bouncer? What club doesn't have a bouncer? All clubs are supposed to have a bouncer? And didn't they have a bouncer?"

"Nope, not anymore," Terrell sighed. "Rasa fired him 'cause he slacked off on the job. Too many bribes and drinks." He paused. "Rasa's my buddy and the man who runs the place," he explained. "I told him about you, and he'd be willing to hire you for the position if you accept it."

"Oh, so that's why you came. To tell me you got me a job." Mo groaned.

Terrell smiled, "Maybe, but also I wanted to check in on ya."

"Well, I ain't takin' it. No way. Tell yo' buddy Rosie no."

"Just in case, here's the card. You might be changin' your mind sometime soon. Just show this card to Rasa or the lady he works with, tell'em you're from me, and you'll be havin' yourself a job. I'll be be seein' you later. The two men got up from the couch and embraced in a hug. Terrell's coffee-dark hand patted Mo on the back. "You got good things ahead, brother," he told Mo. The rickety door slammed shut behind him. After Terrell left, Mo caressed and felt the sleek, shiny card. It had a black background with a distinctive logo, a pink 'R' printed on the front.

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