The New Job

Note: All characters and situations used in this piece were all created by the author’s mind set. Exceptionally, the author chose to use her own last name for the main character. 

Point of View: First Person

Title:  The New Job

Setting: Some roads in Philippines,present time

Teaser: I was a writer. But tonight that is going to change.

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My rugged black shoes steps on the edges of that dusty road. I can feel on my skin the awful warmth of exhaust coming from those random vehicles that were passing by. Even though the wind is constantly blowing, I can feel the vehicle exhaustion rather than the air breeze. That is not surprising if your feet are stepping on a common Philippines high-way road.

I look up and saw the cloudy sky. I think it is going to rain.

My eyes turn to my wrist watch. It is sharp six in the evening.

I look at my back, assuring myself that no one is watching or following me to this one place where I am heading to tonight. My brown eyes looks around. I see nothing but the night lights and those random unfamiliar faces. Then—-I feel a grain of rain touches my right cheek. I lift up the cap of my stripe red hoodie jacket and walks faster. This jacket feels uncomfortable to me and I can’t stretch my arms well. But it is the only thing that I have for tonight’s purposes. It can at least hide my figure.

I must reach to that place before this rain gets heavier.

I am a typical looking Filipino-American. I have that creamy brown skin, I stand 5’7, I have straight black hair which reaches just two inches below my shoulders, I have a lean body, and my brown eyes look fierce. My physical appearance shows that I am simple person who have hidden strong personality.

I am walking right now, then I stop when I feel something beneath the sole of my right shoe. I step my right foot aside and when I look down, I see a pen laying on the ground. I bend down to pick it with my left hand. When I hold it in my hand i feel its rubberized body. For a few moments I was standing there looking at the tip of that pen.

The pen’s body was made from fine rubber and it has silver edges. I am mesmerized by the object. It makes me remember of who I was. I was a writer—– but tonight, that will changed.

My right hand clinches and with pain in my heart, I threw the pen away, then I continues to walk.

Now I am walking on this dark road, where the walls are painted with random vandals of graffiti. I can feel the rain falling heavier as it slowly soaked the clothe covering my head. I can feel it slowly wetting my black hair beneath that cap.

How I used to hate cold weathers. I remember myself before; I used to be freezing even in the slightest cold temperature. Yes——-I was a weakling.

And so was my heart.

My heart used to need someone, and my body used to need someone to held me and keep me warmth.

Now—-

Everything is changed.

I woke up one day, totally changed.

I didn’t know who I am.

I can’t feel any chill on my brown skin from this cold rain that is slowly wetting my jacket and this old denim jean that I am wearing. The rain feels nothing but like the normal red liquid that runs inside my veins. How could I feel any coldness when my soul is colder than the air that is blowing and the water falling from the sky? I continue to walk as I feel the rain gets even heavier. My feet feel heavy. Every footstep gets heavier to take.

I know I am about to do something that will changed my entire life. Something, that can help me forget about the pain of the past.

Then I feel a thing fell on my cheek. Something that is warm. No, it wasn’t the cold water from the sky. It’s from the warmth of anger and bitterness inside me.

It’s tears.

I am crying.

My vision turns vague as tears slowly block my sight.

I walk as fast as I could. It’s getting darker and darker with every foot steps. I am trying to stop the tears that are eating my sanity. I cannot let this pain eat me. I just can’t. I must do this. I have no more time for the past, I only need my tomorrow. I don’t need anyone but myself and this job.

Then finally I reached that place. It is located at a dark corner. It was lit by red bulbs outside. The outside is so silent. No one is around. The banner on the wall that says “Wanted Dancers” caught my attention.

I sighed.

Yes, I am about to step in on a place where not even in my worst nightmare I would want to see, a place of those people who sells their meat for living, and for those flesh who are hungry for sex. I turned my eyes toward the door’s direction. I walk forward to reach for that wooden door. Then I read the cardboard pasted on the door that says “WE ARE OPEN AT MIDNIGHT.”

I pushed the door and stepped in anyway.

I need to get a job, one way or another, and I am ready for this.

When the door completely opens I see nothing but vastness of a huge room that was lit with one red bulb on a center stage. It has random tables everywhere. In each table were set of bottled beers. I stepped in.

No one is here.

My heart beats faster.

Something is odd.

Something—— is not right.

“Cubol.” A baritone voice of a man from my back. It made my heart jump in a sudden fear. When I look back, it is an old man, around fifty years old, with a clean-cut white hair, brown eyes, and mustache above his upper lip.

“Patrick told me that you are looking for a job.” The old man said as he slowly walks toward my direction.

I nod.

The old man stopped a meter away from me. He is standing there, calmly, as he looks at me with cold stares. “Are you ready for something that will change your whole life?”

“Yes, I am.” I responded plainly.

The old man looks at me, scrutinizing me from head to foot. “Remove your jacket”

I heave a sigh. I know this is going to happen. I hold the edge of my jacket and then removed it. The sleeveless cut of that brown racer back top exposed the skin of my arms.

“I already told you she is physically fit.” I heard Patrick’s voice from somewhere. Then there, I saw Patrick in his rugged denim pants and V-Neck blue shirt, standing a few meters away from us.

The old man turned to Patrick then says, “Well then— she is yours to judge.” The old man started to walk away from us. “And Patrick—-tell her that her cold eyes should have a life. Her stares can ruin her on this job.”

Patrick nods then he gives me a warm, friendly smile. I smiled back, or at least—I tried to. After all I owe him this “future job”. “Let’s go?” Patrick said moving toward to the door’s direction.

“Where?” I asked as I wear my jacket back. Was that it? No more “job” interview or anything?

He turns to me and smiled again. “Don’t worry you are already accepted.”

“By who?” I asked again. I am following Patrick.

“By me” He responded. Patrick has those set of brown eyes. He stands 6’1 and has a masculine appearance. He had that friendly face that hid the true colors of his job.

Patrick steps out of that place, followed by me. “So starting tomorrow, I will be your handler and you will be working under my supervision.” He turned to me, looking straight to my eyes. “Are you ready for this?” Patrick asked as both out feet landed on that muddy road.

So the rain stopped leaving some moist on the ground huh?

We slowly walk together away from that place.

After a few moments I stopped walking.

Patrick stopped too.

My eyes looked around. Then with all the courage I removed my jacket and threw it on the ground.

I stared at Patrick, he stared back at me. “What —what are you doing?” Patrick asked, looking at me as his eyes are wondering.

I let out a deep breath then—-

With one quick move, my body spins in the air. All of a sudden my right foot swiftly strikes on the empty airy space and it landed at Patrick’s right jaw. I hear the sole of my rugged black shoe cracked as I kicked Patrick as hard as I can. Patrick fell on the ground, holding his right jaw. His face is in pain. I fell on the ground too. I feel on my hands the wet soil on the ground. I am gasping for breath. That kick took a few ounces of my strength. I look at Patrick who is on the ground right now, looking at me, with that physical pain on his face. Then I say, “I think I’m ready.”

The pain on his face slowly disappears and it is replaced with a smile. ‘I think you are—-“he nodded. “– and—-I think I just fell in love.” He got up from the ground then walks closer to my direction and hand me his right hand, helping me to get up.

I smiled back at him and take his hand. “Stop it. I heard spies don’t fall in love.” I then, chuckled.

He chuckles too as he hold my hand, helping me to get up, then he says, “Welcome to the Squad, agent Cubol.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~