‘Why the fuck are you doing that?’ he screamed. He cocked his gun.
It surprised me he had brought a gun and was planning on shooting me, right in the front window of Adam’s Hut. My mind was racing, I knew I had done nothing wrong but how do I explain that to someone so irrational? Was my excuse going to suffice or was my explanation going to incur further wrath of the brainless bouncers who had taught me this practice? My choices were a bullet in the gut from Joe or a punch in the head from the bouncers. I went with the latter.
I quickly explained to Joe, as calmly as I possibly could, that two bouncers had taught me to collect money from either the doorman or the clients themselves. I would then walk across the street to the other club, go out the back door to the kebab shop’s fridge and retrieve however many drinks were ordered.
Joe’s right-hand man was becoming quite nervous by this stage of my story.
With the gun still pointed at me I closed my eyes and screamed out: ‘Ask Frank, he was there when they taught me! All I know is I do exactly what I’m told.’
Joe turned to Frank in disbelief. ‘Did you know about this?’ he asked in a soft yet chilling voice.
I could feel the atmosphere growing thicker in the room. I could hardly breathe. My life hinged on how Frank responded now, he was either going to make me or break me. The way Frank stared at that coffee, you could have sworn it was speaking to him. He finally raised his head and looked directly at me, drew one last puff of his cigarette, sipped the last of his Greek coffee and admitted he had indeed trained me and that I was not to blame. But Joe didn’t want to hear the rest of his story or any excuses. Frank being involved was enough for Joe. I was excused and permitted to live.
Joe placed the gun on the table in plain view of the street, waitresses, other diners, he didn’t seem to care.
‘Listen, koukla, you are good girl, don’t sell beer where police can see, OK, now go get back to work.’
***
Every night ended the same way, a compulsory three am dinner at Adam’s Hut. This was exclusively for the top tiers of the hierarchy and their dates. As Joe’s nephew’s girl, I was expected to make an appearance directly after work—this was not negotiable.
Marc was sitting with his usual group of thugs, none of whom I liked. Marc held out the chair for me to sit beside him. I ordered my meal, then sat silently while Marc and the boys finished their conversation. Finally Marc turned and looked directly at me. He seemed to be taking in every freckle, every colour in my face, then all at once he said, ‘Why do you wear that diamond in your nose? I wish you’d take it out, it cheapens you.’
I was a bit taken aback by the directness of his question and statement. Thankfully our meals arrived, which gave me a temporary reprieve from having to answer his question. I even tried changing the subject.
‘I had my busiest night ever at the kiosk tonight. I’m thinking about getting a popcorn machine, what do you think?’
He was not to be dissuaded. ‘Annika, I asked you nicely to please remove that fucking eyesore.’
‘Look, Marc, when you met me my nose was already pierced, why are you now trying to change me?’
‘Are you telling me you will not remove it, even though it pisses me off?’
‘I’ve never asked you to change. Why are you doing this to me, can we not talk about this later?’
His friends were loving the entertainment, but pretended they couldn’t hear what was being said two chairs away.
‘Now, and this is the last time I will ask, get that fucking thing out of your nose.’
I felt like saying ‘or what’ but decided against it. I said, ‘Marc, you have two choices, live with it or you can choose to stop spending time with me.’ I was petrified, I had never gone against him before.
He just looked at me unemotionally and nodded then resumed eating. But within seconds he put his knife and fork down then picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. With his napkin still in his hand, he backhanded me.
The room was silent, but nobody dared look at me. Marc had already begun eating again.
My jaw felt unhinged. My chair had fallen backwards with the force of the blow. My legs were dangling in the air. I grabbed my bag and pride and stormed out.
I could hear Marc in the background as I was leaving: ‘Good fucking riddance.’