Chapter 1 The mafia boss stutters
Groaning to the blaring sound of the endless ringing of my alarm, in reluctance I got up from my bed walking sluggishly to the bathroom looking at my pale skin, tangled red hair that stood like a bed nest and my full green eyes that has loss it Sparks.
I could feel a throbbing ache all over my body, life isn't a bed of roses working two jobs was hell...one as a waitress in a cafe and the other a stripper known as mermaid girl. I got bills and college tuition to pay.
I had no choice but to sacrifice a little pride to get what I want but my virginity was an exception.
Pulling off my night wear and ready to embraced the cold shower, how much I hated Fridays the start of a horrendous weekend.
After bathing and brushing my teeth, I skim through my closet taking my uniform with the popular name in french Delicieux cafe, which meant delicious in English..lies only the coffee taste great thanks to my good skills that always brings compliments.
Delicieux is an exquisite cafe for the rich owned by a French asshole and arrogant slob who believes his female workers should look more like sluts by giving us outfits that show off our boobs and tan legs.
The pay is the only thing that entices me from quiting.. putting on my slutty outfits and brushing my hair to perfection applying a glowing oil to arose it vibrant red.
I made my way out of my apartment with my favorite chocolate bar as breakfast.
Walking the streets of newyork city taking in the fresh air..I got to the cafe on time greeting my colleagues with a force smile, I prepared myself for the busy day ahead.
Wiping the tables to keep myself from the boredom a ding of the entrance bell was heard which signifies the presenced of a customer..
Signing I walked up to the old man dressed in an expensive suit, and reciting my daily routine of politeness.
Welcome sir to Delicieux cafe what would you like to have, forcing a smile that got my cheeks aching..
It took him half an hour to decide ordering a cup of coffee, bacon and eggs.. damn was I tired of standing, taking his order I dragged my feets, placing his order to the chef while making his coffee.. my instincts told me the seven hours of working here is going to be the longest hours.
