Bit of Boring Seven: Job

NOTE: I'd read the first Isadora and skim over the last few chapters of generation nine☺

   “Are you okay?” Leo asked, standing at Isadora’s door.

   “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” She stood, looking rather bored with the conversation, glancing at her chipped nail polish. “I need a manicure.”

   “You were arrested!” He exclaimed, shocked that she would be concerned with something as menial as fingernails.

   “I was not arrested, I was simply taken into custody. Besides, they released me within the hour. I’m utterly unscathed, Leo, see? Now, could you please go, it’s not a good time.”

   “You’re one to speak! My boss was furious that police came to the establishment, it’s tarnished our image as a safe, welcoming, family owned restaurant.”

   “You work at a bar that serves a few measly entrees, you’re not a restaurant. And that boss who claims to hire family only hired well endowed woman... And you, for some unearthly reason.”

   “My family owns a pizzeria, you knew that. My brother got it when my parents retired, though, and he managed to pull a few strings to get me that job.”

   “I didn’t know and frankly, I don’t care, now if you could scooch along like a little bunny, that would be wonderful.”

   “Why were you taken into custody?”

   “That question? Again. It isn’t even that intriguing.”

   “Are you coming back to bed?” A voice called out, from inside Isadora’s home.

   “Who is that?” Leo asked.

   “After the incident, I was craving thematic strippers. Sadly, I couldn’t find anywhere with decent rates, so I settled on the landlord’s son. I’m late on rent anyway, so this kills two birds with one stone.”

   “You’re-?! Why did you answer the door?”

   “You were knocking rather persistently. You’re lucky I found my robe, I was contemplating answering naked.”

   “What if it wasn’t me? What if it was the police again or some creep? You could have been-”

   “Please, you act as if we’re in some ghetto. I knew it was probably you, I just wanted to see you freak out.”

   “I’ve already seen without, you know, clothing.”

   “You’re ruining my fun.”

   “Sorry.” He murmured, staring down at his feet, flushed.

   “How about I meet you at the bar in, say... hmm... twenty minutes?”

   “Don’t rush.” He sarcastically replied.

   “Please, if you saw him, you’d understand. I’d invite you along, but it seems a tad awkward to, don’t you think?”

   “I’m going to go...”

_____________________

   “Nineteen minutes, thirty-four seconds.” She smiled, plopping down upon the same bar stool she’d sat upon earlier on that particular day.

   “Pardon?” Leo asked, as he wiped down the bar, glancing at her. Her hair was now in an up do and she’d changed into an outfit that differed from the one she’d worn when she’d been brought into police custody.

   “I said I’d meet you in twenty minutes, but I did it in less.”

   “Hardly.” He snorted. “So, the incident?”

   “That’s rather direct, is it not? I’d hardly call what I did with the landlord’s son an incident, though I do applaud you on not being so prudish.”

   “I meant the police incident, I don’t give a damn about y our sex life.”

   “Ah well, just so you know it’s in rather good shape. I’m telling you, all it takes is this horrid American accent of mine and a push up bra and I’m on top of the sheets with some brute who’ll get me out of having to pay the last four months’ rent.”

   “You were four months behind on rent?!”

   “Italian life is expensive, doll, especially without this thing I believe people have dubbed an income.”

   “Weren’t you working for... someone?” Isadora tended to skim over the details of her personal life; she’d gladly share with you the details of intercourse, or whatever childish scheme she’d whipped up to get back at the one of the elderly, local produce stand owners at the farmer’s market for commenting how she was a spitfire, sure to be an interesting wife one day. Perhaps it was due to her father being a man who blurred the line between being rather traditional and sexist when telling a young Isadora woman shouldn’t be aloud in the military, woman who, out of choice, were single parents were foolish, and CEO or doctor were titles for men, that caused her to rebel and take offense rather easily to comments about her gender.

   “I was. I haven’t been, for awhile.”

   “Define ‘awhile’.”

   “I believe it means something along the line of a short period of time.”

   “You knew what I meant.”

   “Now did I?”

   “How long have you been unemployed?”

   “Six months. When I sauntered into this very bar for the first time, I’d just been fired.”

   “Why?” He carefully asked, knowing that, because it was Isadora, it could very well be something he was better off not knowing.

   “Well, the day prior I was a bit late to work and I showed up in a navy pencil skirt and wrinkled, white blouse. There was some large affair occurring, some deal was about to be closed, and I’d apparently not dress appropriately. The boss said I should dress for the job I want, not the job I have, so I showed up with the leather, fishnets, and heels looking like the prostitute my brother knocked up when I was twelve the next day.  She made twice what I make, but apparently that’s offensive and I’m not supposed to give anyone lap dances, even if they shove a twenty euro note down my G-string.”

   “I... You know, it’s, surprisingly enough, the fact that your brother knocked a prostitute up, not the lap dances that surprise me.”

   “Number one, if you implied I’m a slut, I’m not, number two incest is horrifying, so if you were thinking I implied anything but that, don’t.”

   “I wasn’t ... Why did the police show up?”

   “I went to Italy on a work visa. I,” she paused, contemplating whether she should tell him why she took off to a foreign country, leaving every trace of her old life behind, “I, see, after my father and the incidents, I had to get away, so I lied to my mum, said I wanted to visit my Grammy in Rome, then managed to get a job here and a work visa.

   After I was fired for inappropriate sexualized conduct with some multimillion euro company's CEO, who didn’t close the deal with the company I worked for, because his wife got wind of everything, I managed to get a hold of a six month residence visa; if I could get a job within six months, I could regain my work visa and stay in Italy, but if I didn’t, I’d technically be living in Italy illegally, since I’m a US citizen, not an Italian one. The six months were up a week ago and I didn’t report to immigration offices at City Hall, so the police were notified.”

   “Wait, are you going to be deported?!’ He looked at her panicked. He knew she said that she didn’t trust him, yet he did. They’d done something together that left lingering feelings for some sort of formal, defined relationship, whether it be a simple, platonic friendship or something far less platonic. Her being deported would ruin any chances of him ever mustering up the courage to tell the capricious girl the truth.

   “Deported makes me sound like I sneaked past the border in the middle of the night while hiding in the back of a delivery van in a cardboard refrigerator box, I prefer the phrase going back to the States, just, ehem, involuntarily.”

   “Could you quickly find a job? I could beg my boss.”

   “I’d have to contact immigration, but it’s worth a shot.” She smiled, her eyes showing how grateful she was.

   “A shot is better than nothing.”

   “Speaking of shots, could you prepare me one? We could toast to my hopefully future good fortune.”

   “Sure...” He reluctantly sighed. “But it’s going on your tab.”

   “Fair enough.” With that, Leo prepared them shots, so they could encourage fate to give Isadora bit of good luck.