A love forged in Darkness and Desire

"Alessias

The man in the cheap suit smirked at me as he slid a crumpled bill across the counter, his eyes lingering far to long on my chest. I could barely resist the urge to shove it back at him.

"Keep the change, Alessia", he drawled, his grin crooked and irritatingly self assured.

I stared at the greedy bill like it might catch fire. " Change? This isn't even enough to pay for the damn coffee"

His smile flattered. " What did you just say?"

"You heard me" , I shot back crossing my arms " Next time try tipping the barista instead of ogling her ".

The mans face turned, red his smile replaced with a sneer. " You're lucky I'm feeling generous today, sweetheart."

" And you're lucky I didn't pour this coffee down your damn throat."

The sharp bark of my boss's voice yanked me out of my anger, I turned to see Carlo stomping towards me, his beefy hands balled into fists, his face already blotchy with rage.

" What the hell is wrong with you!!"

I gestured at the man, who was now stomping out of the cafe, muttering insults under his breath. " He was trying to stiff me!".

"And what do you think you're doing, You don't insult the customers!" Carlo waved his hand towards the now empty door like the man had been his most prized patron. "Do you know how many jobs you've lost because of that mouth of yours?"

He wasn't wrong this was my 39th or probably Even my 40th job over the last 6 months. It's bad enough having to do this laughably low-wage job. It was busier today, and tips were low-earning money from pouring a cheap cup of coffee for drunks and tourists who thought tipping was optional . I folded my arms across my chest and more or less defiantly chose not to move.

"I need this job, Carlo," I asserted, to keep my voice calm. "And you know why."

He had the scowl of a man forced to be unpleasant but still trying to maintain some veneer of authority. I thought he might take back his awful order. "Alessia..." "Please."

I swallowed hard again and made myself breathe. This could not be happening. "I promise I'll keep my mouth shut." For a moment he looked at with me in way that seemed pitiful but that expression was quickly overshadowed

"I can't. I told you the last time was your final warning." "So you're firing me?" "I'm giving you a choice." I didn't need to hear what came next. It was just too shameful.

I felt utterly humiliated to be standing here in front of him, the way he expected me to, vulnerable, peeved, and ugly-crying.

I stormed out of the cafe ,the door slamming behind me so hard the bell above it jingled angrily. The chill of the morning wind but at my face as I stepped onto the bustling Sicilian street, pulling my coat tighter around me. My chest heaved with frustration but mostly shame.

Fired again.

The weight of my situation hit me like a truck, I had no savings left My mom's hospital bills weren't going to pay themselves, and now I was one step closer to loosing everything.

I needed a job and I was running out of options.

When I reached the run-down bar located in a forgotten corner of Palermo, my anger had turned into determination. The bar's neon sign flickered and buzzed faintly, casting an inauspicious, sickly red glow over the cracked pavement.

The Rusted Barrel. Not exactly prime dining real estate. But I needed to find a job. I stepped inside. The air was thick with the odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies, the conversation buzzing low and hum-like, punctuated by the occasional laugh or loud toast.

At the far end of the bar sat Marcello, the owner, propped up on a stool and wiping a glass with a ragged dishcloth. He looked up when I approached, his brow raised and bushy eyebrows giving the appearance of a man who was about to have some fun.

Marcello's good-humored face belied the fact that he had just fired me when I had last worked here.