Branded

1

Florian

Twenty minutes, twenty minutes until the end of my shift.

I love working at the bar, but some evenings are just straight from hell. I get it, I’m the youngest barman here by at least a decade. And even though this is not technically a gay bar, the place usually packed with men who are looking for dick instead of pussy.

I check the stack with cards next to the till. Fifteen, fifteen men who gave me their number, usually scribbled on the back of their business cards. Classy.

“Hey, beautiful.” I ignore the catcall, hoping one of the other men will serve him instead. “Hey, you, with the purple eyes.” Great, the one feature that sets me apart from the rest. My eyes, purple, like all angels have. The one feature that distinguishes me from humans, though luckily most people presume I’m wearing lenses or they’re too drunk to be taken too seriously.

“Fine, fine. What do you want?” I turn to the man, I know I should smile, but it’s been a long night and I just want out, lock myself in my room, have a quiet evening.

“Some of your juices would be nice.” The man grins, showing me rows of discoloured and crooked teeth.

“Maybe in a different life.” I pour the man a beer, pretty sure that was what he was drinking before his attention shifted to me.

“Don’t be coy, pretty boy.” The man leans over the bar.

I’m about to step back, away from the drunken man, but someone is behind me, blocking my way. The person wraps his arm around my shoulders and leans forward to the man. “Don’t be rude to everyone’s favourite barman. Apologise.”

I try to get away, out of my boss’ arms. “It’s fine.” I shrug.

“You sure?” Boss-man glares at the customer, who mumbles an apology. “See? Problem solved.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Boss is a big man, tall and very built, he looks out of place in a dingy bar like this, but at least he keeps all the creeps away from me. I turn to another customer, but Boss grabs the back of my shirt.

“I think you’ve had enough for the night. Forget those last fifteen minutes. I’ll get you your portion of the tips later.” He points towards the back of the bar with his thumbs.

I nod, glad to be away from the bar early.

“I just expect the bar to be squeaky clean when I come in tomorrow.” Boss laughs as he lets me past him.

“As usual.” I take my phone and keys from behind the bottles of booze. I walk to the back, close the big door behind me and let out a deep sigh as the quiet embraces me. It’s not exactly quiet, but the difference is significant enough that I can finally hear my own thoughts again.

I check my phone as I walk up the stairs to my flat on the second floor. The first floor is Boss’ place and he is nice enough to let me live upstairs from him. I don’t have to pay rent, but I also don’t get paid, just the tips. In exchange for living here I work at the bar most evenings of the week and keep the bar clean. I don’t think it’s a bad trade, the tips are enough for me to live on and pay for the things that Boss doesn’t cover for me. The best thing is that he doesn’t ask too many questions, like why I don’t have any work references or even a diploma.

I open the door, the stale air in the apartment almost choking me immediately. I try to hold my breath as I grab a beer from the small fridge and my pack of smokes from the table, I also open one of the windows a tad to let some fresh air in. I quickly back out of the room, close the door, lock it behind me again and walk further up the stairs, towards the roof.