Into the Lion's Den by Tionne Rogers Read Free Book Online Page B

Only shit.”
    “Could have been worse.”
    “Sure!”
    At eight, Guntram was almost dead on his feet after working nonstop the whole day, with only one brief break to eat a sandwich standing in the kitchen. His left wrist was throbbing as he had had to fill in for Verónica because she had left at 2:00 with Martin to an unknown destination. He felt like dying when he saw a well known dark and tall Russian man, sitting at a table in his side. Constantin looked very upset.
    “Good evening sir. What can I bring you?” he asked very mortified.
    “I believe I've said at seven, Guntram. I don't like to be kept waiting.”
    “I'm very sorry I couldn't cancel the appointment because I don't have your phone number or e-mail. I didn't know how to warn you.”
    “In that case, you can still make it up to me. Leave your apron and we go,” Constantin replied partly appeased.
    “I can't leave right now. I still have to work. I'm sorry.”
    “What a lousy service we have in here!” A well known voice yelled from a nearby table, making Guntram flinch, sigh and close his eyes. To have Federico Martiarena Alvear and his group of friends was 'the cherry on top of the ice cream' he thought. “I'm sorry Mr. Repin, I have to work,” he said hurriedly and dashed to the table filled with three boys and two girls.
    “Good evening ladies. Fefo don't do that when I'm with a customer. He could complain to Martin,” he scolded his friend mildly.
    “Guntram, I didn't know you were interested in trying some new experiences,” Fefo quipped sarcastically.
    “Did you break your hand with your clumsy ministrations and need someone to replace it?”
    Guntram was speechless and gaping at him. They had thrown rude words at each other on several occasions, but never something of this calibre: a personal insult. “When you're ready to order, I'll be back,” he fired back, throwing at him a glance of pure hatred, making Federico freeze for a minute.
    “The ladies want a cappuccino and we, coffee.”
    “Great, I'll bring it in a minute,” Guntram mumbled before going back to the counter to ask for the beverages.
    The brief exchange didn't go unnoticed for Constantin even if he couldn't understand a word in Spanish. The punk who had refused so many times to introduce him to his angel was there and meddling in his affairs once more. It was time to get the boy out of this environment. He stood up from his chair and directed decidedly his steps toward the counter where Luis was offering himself to carry the tray. “You can't do anything more with your left hand. Leave the posh assholes to me. I hate their kind.”
    “Guntram, it's enough for today. Your shift finished four hours ago and you have work to do at home,”
    Constantin interrupted the hushed conversation.
    “Constantin, I need this job. I can't leave right now. If I do, I'll be fired instantly.”
    “How much do you make in this joint?” the Russian asked with his most derogative voice.
    “I beg you pardon? That's private information,” Guntram replied astonished at the other's lack of etiquette for asking such a question.
    “Around $975 plus tips?” Guntram gaped at the man like an idiot. “My information is correct, then. A scholarship in my foundation is around £ 2,000 per month plus lodging. So far, Oblomov has paid more than $5,000
    for your drawings, but you haven't seen a single cent of that money. I would say that you're losing money with this job. You're carrying weights with your left hand when the doctor forbade you to do so, risking your only capital; your hands.
    “Excuse me sir, £ 2,000 is like $3,000?” Luis intervened and Constantin nodded briefly, partly irritated at the older boy's intrusion. “You should get your head examined, Guntram. I know this is your first job and that's why you put up with all the shit from that fascist dwarf called Martin, the friendly slut called Verónica and what many others put you through. Kick their asses too and send them