CLARA'S POV
My dad always said patience is a virtue. That staying calm and clear-headed is the best way to solve any problem.
Well, Dad, I tried. I really, really did. But… it's just not happening today.
"Fuck you!" I cursed, my voice a sharp crack in the hushed, fancy restaurant.
I was currently straddling the old pervert's waist. And let me tell you, I doubt he was in a kinky mood anymore. Not with the beating he was getting.
"Old…" Slap! My palm connected with his cheek with a satisfying smack.
"…perverted…" Punch! A quick jab to his shoulder.
"…mother-fucking…" A rapid one-two slap combo to both sides of his face, followed by a solid knock on his bald head with my knuckles.
"…bastard!!!"
I kept going, a whirlwind of righteous fury, until my knuckles were throbbing and his face was a lovely, swollen palette of black, blue, and bright red. That would teach him to keep his hands to himself.
Finally, I got off him, giving his leg a harsh shove with my foot for good measure. He grunted as he slid off the booth seat and landed on the floor with a solid thud. Ouch. That had to hurt. I shook out my hands, blowing on my red, stinging palms. Disgusting leech.
I turned around. The entire restaurant was frozen, staring at me. Plates were suspended mid-air, forks halfway to mouths. I'd caused a spectacle. A group of teenagers at a corner table started whooping and cheering, and I couldn't help but break into a huge, triumphant smile. A few middle-aged women looked at me warily, but I saw the hints of approving smiles on their faces. Meanwhile, a table of men in suits, probably the pervert's friends, were clutching their napkins and looked pale enough to faint.
I won't lie, in that moment, I felt like an absolute action heroine. The awe, the fear… I had victoriously conquered my enemy and—
"ARRGH!!"
I literally jumped in the air, my heart leaping into my throat. My boss, Mr. Henderson, was standing by the kitchen doors. His face was a thundercloud, and his icy blue eyes were locked on me, sending a chill straight to my core. His gaze swept over the scene: the groaning man on the floor, the stunned silence, the cheering teenagers. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a sneer of pure disgust.
"CLARA! TO MY OFFICE! NOW!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the silent room. I flinched.
He then transformed. He rushed to the injured man, helping him up with a concerned expression. "Sir, I am so terribly sorry. Let's get you looked at." He snapped his fingers, and another waiter scurried off to call an ambulance. He spoke in low, soothing tones, convincing the man not to press charges, offering complimentary meals for life, smoothly ushering him and his shell-shocked friends out the door. He solved the entire multi-thousand-dollar problem in less than thirty minutes.
He turned back to me, the mask of civility gone. "I just solved the problem," he hissed, leaning close so only I could hear, "that you created."
"Oops," I mumbled. I guess I'd been talking aloud.
He stormed off towards the back offices, his stiff back telling me I was expected to follow him immediately. I could practically see smoke coming out of his ears.
Scary shit.
I offered a sad little smile to my co-workers, who all gave me identical looks of pity, as if I were a lamb heading to the slaughter. I followed the devil incarnate, also known as my boss.
I was totally screwed.
Long story short, the condom broke. Ha! Just kidding. I was fired. Brutally fired.
"We have a zero-tolerance policy for violence, Clara," Mr. Henderson said, not even looking at me as he scribbled on my termination papers. "Collect your things. You're done."
"He groped me!" I protested, my voice shaking. "He grabbed my breast!"
"You should have come to me. Security would have handled it. Now, get out." He thrust the papers at me and pointed to the door.
Five minutes later, a security guard the size of a refrigerator was escorting me—well, more like dragging me—to the staff entrance. He gave me a little shove, and my purse and I landed on the damp pavement of the alley.
"Hey! That's physical assault!" I called out after him.
He just walked back inside and locked the door, not sparing me a glance.
"Fuck you!!" I shouted at the gleaming, unfeeling back door of the five-star restaurant. I huffed and puffed, my fists clenched… then I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran when I saw another security guard round the corner.
I walked down the street, feeling lower than Humpty Dumpty after his great fall. Unemployed. The realization was a physical weight on my chest. The salary hadn't been amazing, but it paid the bills and kept food on my table. What was I going to do now?
My rent was already a week late. I'd promised my landlord I'd have it by Friday. It was Wednesday. I was broke. It was only the first week of the month, so my final paycheck wouldn't make a dent.
"Ahh!!!" I cried out to the uncaring city. I needed someone to blame. Oh, wait. I had someone. That old geezer.
I'd just been minding my own business, politely asking for their dessert orders, when the bastard had the nerve to look me up and down and ask, "Are you on the menu, sweetheart? Because I'd like an order of you to go."
I'd ignored him, my face burning, and tried to walk away. That's when he'd grabbed my wrist and yanked me down onto his lap! It took every ounce of my self-control and the intercession of the virgin Mary herself not to grab the nearest steak knife and introduce it to his throat. I'd asked him, through gritted teeth, to let me go. And he'd just laughed and squeezed my breast.
That's when I lost it.
It wasn't my fault I had self-respect. If he wanted a hooker, there are plenty of brothels in this city. But he had to try his luck with me. Well, luck wasn't on his side tonight.
And it sure isn't on yours either, Clara.
I had no idea what to do. At this rate, my only option was selling my liver, a kidney, and maybe an eye. I've been told my eyes are… a sight. Grey irises with blue pupils. In middle school, they just called me a freak. Fortunately, puberty decided I'd suffered enough and blessed me with what people call a 'banging body' to take the spotlight off my face. I'm 5'8", with long legs, a toned figure, voluptuous hips, perky boobs, and a nice round ass. The full package, or so I'm told. Too bad beauty doesn't pay the bills. I was still broke and potentially homeless by the weekend.