Abigail's pov
Have you ever felt… speechless?
Confused?
Nervous, in fact?
Like you had to make a really important decision but there's not enough time to make it?
Knowing that if you chose the wrong one it would hint at you for the rest of your life?
That is how I feel right now.
Before him, unable to decide what to say.
"Marry me."
The question escaped his hoarse lips making my heart skip.
A question I never thought he would ever ask me, a question I never expected anyone to ask me.
I swallowed hard, as his green eyes remained on mine, waiting patiently for an answer.
How did I get into this situation?
Well…
It all started two weeks ago.
I worked at one of the busiest nightclubs in the middle of New Orleans.
Fluxx hour.
Well…the there men were perfidious.
At least the men that frequent the club.
The manager was no better. He was a Latino man in his early sixties, with jet black hair with and a few white strands sticking out.
"White hair runs in my family peeps, it represents good will," he would say with a crooked smile playing on his lips.
But we all knew it was old age.
Sometimes we would catch him struggling to get up from his seat, his hand resting on his chair for a short while because it ached badly.
Still even with a wife and four kids at home, he was no different from other men.
He would force us to wear really short skirts while we worked and sometimes grope the employees.
I had always watched from a distance, for some reason he never did it to me. The customers did, and sometimes I would get into a fight with them.
But for Mr. Sherman? Since my years in fluxx hour. He never did …until tonight.
A customer had ordered three shots of tequila.
He was also a Latino man in his early thirties with black hair that fell perfectly on his forehead when he smiled, which revealed a space between his teeth.
And as I walked off, I heard him mumble something in Spanish. I didn't understand, but I knew it was a remark about my body.
Edward, the bartender, placed the drinks on the bar. "Here you go, Abby," he said with a smile on his face.
"Thank you," I muttered under my breath.
I was exhausted, but I had to keep working, debts were piling up, and this job was my only option to pay them off.
Rent has been due for a week, and the landlord has been on my neck.
"I will leave your things out on the street if you don't pay back soon!" He'd barked in anger.
I picked up the tray, sweat running down my face and turned to head back to the table but froze as I saw the manager standing before me.
He was dressed in a pair of black pants that was twice his size and a white skewed shirt with a pair of blue suspenders hanging over it.
"He has a very unique sense of fashion," the workers would usually joke.
I always thought the suspenders were an excuse to hold his pants up.
I frowned. I wasn't startled. It was normal to find Mr. Sherman just confused.
Why was he staring at me like that though?
Was he drunk again?
"Is everything okay, Mr. Sherman?"
"I want to have a word with you in my office."
"Where are the drinks, puta!" the Latino man who had ordered the shots called out.
And for some reason, his friends laughed.
My gaze quickly shifted back to the manager. "Okay sir, I will just serve…"
"Now," Mr. Sherman said, his voice sounding urgent.
"I will take that." Susan, my colleague, with brown hair tied in a ponytail spoke as she quickly pulled the tray away from my hand.
"Just don't piss the leech off," she said, her eyes fixed on me and Sherman, who was already heading towards his office.
The leech. It was a nickname the girls had given him because he would always follow them around and try to touch them.
"Thank you, Susy," I said, taking a few strands of my short black hair behind my ear and headed towards Mr. Sheatman's office.
I placed my hand on the cold doorknob and brought it open, revealing a dimly lit office.
There was a chair positioned at the far end of the room with a desk before it.
My gaze searched the place.
There was no sign of Mr, Sherman.
"Mr. Sherman?" I called.
I shut the door behind me and reached for the switch on the wall to turn on the light only to hear his hoarse voice fill the room.
"Leave it."
I let out a loud shriek as I turned around to face him.
"Mr. Sherman." My voice cracked. "I didn't see you there." I said, almost out of breath.
I pressed my back on the cold wall, my heart racing rapidly
He smiled at me. The room was dark, but with the little light that came in through the window, I could see his smile.
Mr. Sherman has never smiled at me like that.
"Did I startle you?" He asked even though it was obvious.
He pulled closer to me. So close that I could feel his disgusting breath on my face.
It was like mixing alcohol and bird poop.
Yes…that is what his breath smelled like.
But no one would say farewell to him.
I slowly nodded. "Yes…you did."
He pulled even closer, so close one would think the room was closing up against us that he had to be so close.
Anyways, I had begun to feel uncomfortable.
"Why did you ask me to meet you, sir?" I asked, eager to get this over with.
"Patience, mamita, estoy aquí para ayudarte." he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
His bad breath was killing me. "I don't speak Spanish, sir," I said as I tried to move away from him.
But he was quick.
His hands came around mine, coldly, as he placed me back against the wall, this time with his hands going around my waist, making sure I couldn't move.
"I hear your landlord is on your neck for rent," he said.
My heart went ten times fast against my chest, as I panicked. I didn't like being pinned by him like this, knowing his reputation, he was up to something.
"How did you know that?" I asked, knowing that I had never told him that.
"Your colleagues talk," he responded.
It must have been Beth.
Beth was one of the workers and also Little Mr. Sheatman's sex doll. Everyone knew. Mostly because she wouldn't stop bragging about it. She got the same pay as everybody else and even better treatment.
She would sit through an entire shift and do nothing, leaving the rest of us to work like dogs.
"I can help you," Mr. Sherman said.
My gaze went up.
Not out of excitement.
Not me. Sherman didn't care about anybody but himself. If he wanted to help me, then he wanted something back.
"I'm good, I will get paid soon."
As I spoke, I pressed my hand against his cheek and attempted to push him off.
But his face turned cold.
And his smile faded.
With a single wave he swept my hand away from his chest and groped my ass so tight his fingers could leave a print.
My skirt was so short that I could feel his hand directly on the skin of my buttocks.
My whole body curled with disgust, with my heart, still racing with panic.
"Why do you have to be like this? You can be my little puta just like Beth, and you'll get whatever you want."
The thought of it almost made me throw up.
"I don't need your help," I said quickly, turning my face away as his face drew closer to mine.
His hand moved away from my ass and moved up. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I felt his hand come around my breast.
And then suddenly
A loud sound echoed through the room.
Mr. Sherman looked at me, shocked, his eyes red with anger.
That was when I realized that I had slapped him.
"Get out," he barked.
My hands trembled.
He was wrong. I knew he was.
But I couldn't lose my job.
My heart broke into pieces as the words came out of my mouth. "I…I'm sorry, sir."
"Get out!!" He barked in anger again.
My body jerked in response. I stared at him in disbelief and then rushed out of the office, tears closing my eyes.
"Abigail? Abigail, what happened?!" I heard Susan call after me, but I didn't answer as I ran out.
Immediately after I got out of the building, crying out my eyes, my phone began to ring. I didn't want to answer. I wasn't in the mood to speak to anybody right now.
But the phone wouldn't stop ringing.
Annoyed, I reached into my pocket for my phone.
It was Cathy, my neighbor.
Why was she calling this late? I wondered as I answered the phone and placed it against my ear.
"Your landlord is here," Cathy spoke before I could say anything.
My brow creased. "Tell him I'm not home, Cathy," I said, wiping tears off my face with the back of my hand.
"Abigail, he's throwing your things out of the house."
I halted.
My gaze, going up.
"What?" My voice shook.
Cathy continued to speak which actually lasted a whole minute. But whatever it was she'd said I didn't hear as my mind was flooded with so much thoughts
My life was over, and I lost my job and my home on the same day?
My knees buckled as I fell to the floor.
It really is over.