How I Live Now - 13. Day 14

Day 14.

Work flew by today, but I don’t have much to say about it. Oh, I got my staff uniform; and it fits perfectly. So, I am an official employee at Organico now after today. I'm pretty happy with how everything is going lately. Plus, I got to see that boy again after work. Get this, I left the building, and as I was walking toward the parking lot exit, I noticed Amy. She crossed the small road in front of the store and got into a car parked by the entrance. The boy who looked for pants last time got out of the passenger seat and slid into the back of the vehicle. I was shook, still kind of baffled, actually. Now I realize why that guy looked so familiar; maybe he is related to Amy. If that kid is Amy's son, then she produced one hot spawn.

Why are Latino boys hawt?

Okay… I mean, most boys I see, I like without origin interfering. My family expected me to settle down with some pretty white girl from the south. Is it weird that settling down with some hot Latino boy from the south an odd dream? I'm not saying I'm looking for a relationship or want to be committed. I'm not thirsty. Okay, I get the occasional craving, but that doesn't mean like… damn… I wanna bang YOU… You, and YOU (points at random old guy purchasing a pack of Marlboro cigarettes.)

Right, I’ve gotten sidetracked. I mean, is it a bad thing if I got talking to someone, and something happens? Maybe I'll run into that boy again. If that is her husband who drives the car, then perhaps the son will ride along for the drive when picking up Amy from work, and I'll get to see him again.

BTW, I stopped by that pawn shop I mentioned. I wasn't sure about it at first when I stepped inside; it seemed very dingy with a small man hunched over the counter at the end of the room. The old guy reminded me of Einstein, but this chap had more wrinkles in his face than a glacier has crevasses. Must have smoked like a chimney pot when he was a kid; 50 a day when WW2 was happening. Is it funny that I can picture the old-timer under a parasol, set up on a cardboard box, with poker cards and five cigs hanging from his bottom lip, the smoke wafting the entire area? Though, to my surprise, the man didn't start sputtering or rasping like some broken banger when he spoke. I dug into my jacket pocket and removed the watch I wanted to pawn. The geezer tugged at the leather strap through the protective bars, then lifted it from the counter.

“How much I can I get for this?” I asked.

The old man pondered a moment, giving me a sceptical glance.

“$10,” Smokie said.

I felt a bit hurt by the lowball offer.

“Surely it's worth more than that,” I added.

The old guy swivelled in his rotating chair. He lifted up a small carousel with plenty of watches swaying from little hooks on the counter behind him. Pointing to one of the cheaper models, he looked to me.

“This watch… $10…”

Smokie held up my watch with his other arm, "Your watch... $10."

Then Smokie tapped on the glass case in front of him. I looked down at a shiny watch lying at the bottom of the display.

“Rolex… $250.”

Smokie then placed the small carousel back on the cabinet behind him, then turned back into the glass container.

"Your watch $10."

“But…” I murmured.

I felt belittled, I was going to counter his offer, but Smokie cut me off.

"$8… if you keep pestering me," Smokie added.

I need all the money I can get. So, I chose to sell it. I'm not sure if I could have gotten more for it in the long run. I'm not a jewellery appraiser, but the watch bought me dinner, if nothing else. I swear, if that ass-wipe swindled me, I'm going to lose my shit.

To top things off, Doug reminded me kindly about forking up my advance for emergencies. I'll get it back if I moved out, he implied. I hope Organico pays me something descent. I never asked how much the job pays; I should have done that at the start. However, I don't think it would have mattered; I'm desperate, so money is money.

Right, I'm going to call it a day; I'm beat—no idea why. I did the same as yesterday. All this worrying is starting to get to me a little. I need a holiday :') Ah, but who'd pay for it…? Not my sugar daddy, that’s for sure.

Talk soon,

Kyle