by Sara Alexi
With a smile Theo rechecks the bathroom, tests the bed, and trots up the steps back into the large main room. It is the balcony he likes best. He feels like a king, looking down through the tangle of branches of the monkey puzzle tree. He hopes the people in this area of Athens leave things out for the bin men to take, a chair so he can sit on the balcony, a table for his coffee. He will need to buy a briki and a cup.
Theo sighs his contentment. He will go for the job early this evening. But for now, he turns the small sofa around so he can look out the window rather than at the fireplace.
Time passes in the most delightful way. The birds sing in the trees, the sun shines into the room, a cockerel crows intermittently, betraying a pocket of rural activity nearby. Theo likes how everywhere he has been in suburban Athens, there are places that have not kept up with the times. Houses with gardens in between six-storey apartment blocks. A dozen olive trees on a corner where two main roads meet. And here, next door, or behind somewhere, someone is keeping chickens. Greek people, even in the city, do not forget their roots. He closes his eyes.
The sun dips behind the tree. Theo opens his eyes, scrabbles to his feet. Time has slipped by too fast and he must get the job. The door is still open as Margarita left it. He slams it behind him and locks it, taking the key. Curling his fingers around it, he hopes this key will become more familiar than the last one. He will go to see Tasia at weekends. She can visit.
The road with the bars lined up one next to the other is not far, but it is far enough now that he worries that he will be too late to start work today. He needs the money now that he has given another week’s rent.
Theo runs and walks. The sun is hidden behind buildings, but it is still warm and it would not be good to arrive sweating. He slows and catches his breath when the end of the road comes in sight. The Diamond Rock Cafe only looks slightly more inviting than it did earlier. The bar has its wooden shutters lifted and an orangey glow comes from within.
The place is empty. A damp, tacked-on extension with a disused bar leads to the original front door up two steps. Acrid air gives testimony to a recently smoke-filled atmosphere. A dim, solitary light glows behind a small bar to the left. Directly ahead is a DJ console surrounded by lifeless coloured bulbs. The main lighting, although here it is also dim, is down the right-hand wall above the long main bar, bottles lining shelves behind the counter, dirty glasses stacked on the bar, empty bowls unevenly distributed between full ashtrays. Theo’s heels peel off the floor as he walks. A man with straight, shoulder-length hair and his back turned is arranging bottles on the shelves. Even with his back to Theo, it’s clear the man is younger than him.
‘Hi.’ Theo slows his pace and cruises to the bar with a little swagger he has seen the young do these days.
‘Hi, what’s happening,’ the man replies, but it is not a question. ‘What can I get you?’ He turns fully. He is not so much younger, maybe five years.
Theo thinks to reply ‘a job,’ but he is not sure if this man is the boss.
‘You the boss?’ Theo asks.
‘Nah, the boss comes and goes, always around by ten to see who is serving, who he has to pay, always around when we close, at two, three, sometimes four in the morning, to take the cash. He owe you money?’
There is a stale smell coming from somewhere, and the longer Theo stands there, the more grubby everything looks. His hand, which was reaching out to lean on the bar, goes back in his pocket instead.
‘No. I want a job.’ The top of the bar is smeared as if someone has run a quick cloth over it without any intention of actually making it clean.
‘You’re hired,’ the man replies. ‘I’m Jimmy.’ He holds out his hand for Theo to shake, and he grins as Theo hesitates. ‘People come and go so quickly, we hire every night. Dimitiri has told me to hire who I need. I am the manager.’
‘Hired, really? That’s great, er, Jimmy.’ Theo’s hair bounces as he nods to confirm the deal, and his tongue struggles over the foreign name.
‘Yeah, some chick who worked here a week called me Jimmy, and it stuck.’ He pours two shots of ouzo and pushes one at Theo before slamming his back. Theo takes a sip to celebrate his new job and grins. A warm glow from the drink precedes relief and excitement at having managed to get a job. After searching fruitlessly for five days and coming desperately close to running out of money, Theo considers how lucky he has been. The weekend seems a long way away to wait to tell Tasia of his luck. He laughs at this thought. Since they both work every day, why wait till the weekend? But somehow it seems like the appropriate time for a social call.
‘So, you can be a runner. Always starts that way I’m afraid,’ Jimmy says, pushing Theo’s shot glass towards him.
Theo eyes the glass shelves. There is a line where a cloth has been wiped along them and around each of the bottles, the dirt remaining between them towards the back. He looks again at Jimmy and wonders why, as the manager, he has no pride in his work.
‘What’s a runner?’ he asks.
‘Oh brother, your accent’s a bit of a giveaway, but I didn’t really think people from the villages were so behind the times.’ He leans on the bar as if to confide. Theo stays erect. Just because he does not know something does not make him dumb, and he’d like to see this Jimmy guy help deliver a goat, or distinguish edible horta from weeds. When Jimmy beckons him closer, Theo takes a small step.
‘They say too many bosses got stung by the waiters. Customers come, order a drink, the waiter goes to the bar, gets the drink, and the customer has gone. What happens to the drinks? They have not been paid for. Usually, they are drunk by the bar staff or given away to friends, and loyal customers. But no one pays for them.’ He pours himself another ouzo and clinks Theo’s shot glass. ‘Well, it doesn’t happen very often of course, but if the waiter’s friends are at the bar and he wants to treat them for nothing… Well, you understand what I am saying. So the friends drink for free. Waiters make lots of friends and the boss loses money.’
Theo shuts his mouth. He can understand the logic, of course, but why would the waiters do that to their boss, the very hand that feeds them?
He is still no clearer what a runner is.
‘And a runner?’ Theo clears his throat after another sip of ouzo.
‘Oh, yeah, so they stopped all that by making the waiters use their own money. When the waiter gets an order, he comes to the bar, buys the drinks with his own money, and then sells the drinks to the customers. So if the customer leaves, the waiter loses his own money. That’s why they are called runners, they get the drinks to the customers as fast as they can to avoid losing their money. They run.’ Jimmy looks at Theo’s unfinished shot glass and, judging Theo is not going to drink it, he slams it back and dumps the two glasses in the sink.
Theo takes out his bundle of notes. He not sure how many drinks it represents.
‘How much is a beer and a whiskey?’ he asks.
Jimmy taps a card listing prices at the end of the bar. Theo gasps, one whiskey here would buy ouzos for five in his kafeneio.
‘Do runners get drinks at a discount?’ Theo asks. He has only enough for a modest round.
‘Nope!’ Jimmy laughs.
‘Can you pay me tonight’s wage in advance?’ he tries.
‘Nope!’ Jimmy laughs again. ‘Nice try.’ His smile melts when he sees Theo’s serious face. ‘Oh, you’re serious. Hey man, there have been times when I’ve hit bottom, too.’ He sighs. ‘I can’t give you it officially, as Dimitri pays you, but if you let me have it back.’ He stabs at the till, and the drawer opens with a ching. He pulls out a note. ‘That’s a runner’s starting wage. You get half again if you work behind the bar.’ He hands the note to Theo. It’s not much, and as he takes it he wonders how he will ever save enough to pay back his baba’s money.
‘One more thing, what’s flair?’ Theo asks.
‘Flair? Oh you mean like bartending flair, that’s all about throwing bottles around before you pour the drinks, not much call
for that here, maybe down by the sea, some of those posh bars do that sort of thing, but you are safe here, man.’ Jimmy dismisses the conversation.
Theo waits, perched on a bar stool for the next hour or so. Periodically, he wanders to the front door to look up and down the street. Two girls come in, one to work the bar on the inside left, one to work behind the long bar with Jimmy. Theo is told to give his orders to her. She is strikingly tall and good looking in a rather hard way, but has the sweetest of smiles. He doesn’t find out her name. Later, another girl comes to work behind the long bar, but she does not seem to speak any Greek and spends most of her time washing glasses. No one puts any more lights on and as evening falls, it becomes darker and darker in the bar. The grime becomes less visible, the unplaned wooden floor and bar give an ambience of rough and ready, and the place gives the impression of a rebellion against the modern world of shiny plastic in its dark and dingy way.
Dribbles of people come and get served at the bar. The time drags. A few minutes before ten, a young muscle-bound guy struts in and looks around as if he owns the place. He swaggers up to the DJ’s booth and puts in a tape. The system blares out the rock in every corner; the place comes alive. The muscular guy plants himself by the main door. Just after ten, a tall, podgy-faced man in a long coat that is too warm for the weather greets him. They shout head to head over the loud music before the tall man enters. Catching Theo’s eye, Jimmy juts his chin and the glass he is wiping at the tall man. The tall man looks back at Jimmy, who repeats the movement with his chin and glass towards Theo.
‘Our new runner?’ the tall man shouts above the music as he walks up to Theo.
‘Yes, Theo’s the name. You Dimitri the boss?’ The podgy face wobbles slightly as the tall man nods, once, to stake his claim on the name and his position as boss. No hand is offered to shake, but at least there’s a name.
‘If you are still here when we shut, I will pay you,’ is all Dimitri says, then walks to the other end of the bar to down a shot that Jimmy has poured him. He has all the idiosyncrasies that Theo dislikes in a person. He is out of shape, comes across as arrogant and dismissive, and there doesn’t seem to be much ticking behind his cold, dark, eyes. There are all the makings of a bully in the man—an Athenian Manolis. Well, he will not wear a pirate’s uniform for this man.
Jimmy waves to get Theo’s attention and points outside, where a group of four have gathered around one of the tables. Theo goes to serve them. Their order is modest and Theo breathes a sigh of relief, grateful he can afford this round. He keeps his eye on the group as he takes the order to the bar and feels more relief when he is reimbursed.
The place is rapidly filling now and the stocky man on the door is acting as a bouncer, but a smiling one who kindly lets everyone in, more a show of authority than a discerning process of selection.
As the crowd builds, Theo is bombarded with more orders but now he can no longer keep an eye on the customers when he goes to the bar, as the place is so packed. The music rolls like thunder, and everyone shouts to be heard. Soon, the place is so full, people stand shoulder to shoulder, and Theo has to push to make his way through the crowd. People are sweating, some are singing, a few move on the spot to the rhythm. Theo’s body pumps adrenaline as he waits to get served over and over by the girl behind the bar. Time and time again, running back, exhaling with relief when he finds his customers still there, and stopping to catch his breath. But at one point, he snaps at her because she is serving someone else.
‘Leave him. Get these,’ Theo hears himself bark. He pushes his written order at her. The girl responds quickly, but the man who was being served looks very displeased. ‘Sorry,’ Theo says to him. ‘It’s just that the system …’
‘I know the system, my friend, but it’s not my problem,’ the man snaps back.
Theo stares at him, his mouth slightly open, replaying what he just said in his head, realising he sounded just like his baba when he spoke to the girl.
The truth is, if he loses just one customer, he loses everything he has left. He will not be able to work tomorrow, and he will owe Jimmy. But is that a good enough reason to be so rude, so unkind, so like his baba?
‘Here,’ the girl behind the bar says and slides his order at him on a tray. ‘Go!’ she shouts above the music and Theo looks away from the man and at the tray and comes back to the moment. He thrusts through the crowd, but cannot see the man in the stripy shirt who placed the order. He was with a girl in a pink jumper and a guy in a grey jacket. Where are they? The adrenaline surges through his limbs; he can taste bile in his throat. Stripy shirt, pink jumper. He turns around, the music has turned to a ringing in his ears. He goes all the way out and onto the street.
‘Oi,’ the bouncer shouts.
‘Stripy shirt, pink jumper, grey jacket?’ Theo shouts above the music, his voice high-pitched.
‘Yeah, I know. They’ve gone.’ He points down the road. ‘Changed their minds.’ He smirks.
Chapter 9
Age 40 Years, 5 Months, 16 Days
Theo looks down at the glasses on his tray: two Drambuies, a beer, and no money.
He hasn’t enough money to take another order. He could keep a low profile until closing time, pretend somehow, collect up empty glasses. Dimitri made it pretty clear that he only pays those still working when the place closes. But even that does not solve the problem. He needs paying to cover his loan from Jimmy now, and he needs money to do it all again tomorrow night if he is to get ahead.
It’s getting late, and the crowd is now thinning. Maybe no one will approach with an order before closing time. He is tired and feels sick with adrenaline, or fear, or just the whole situation.
Two men sway up to him.
‘Two whiskies,’ one of them slurs.
‘Make that a whiskey and a brandy,’ the other says.
The farmers in the village drink but never seem to get drunk. Loud, yes, but slurring and swaying like the pair in front of him, very rarely. Here in Athens, all the rules seem different. He needs to adjust, start playing by the new rules. Men in white dressing gowns and thieving landladies are not what is going to see him succeed here. New place, new rules.
Like the boy who had enough of crying into his bed for wearing a pirate costume, the grown Theo feels something inside snap. He blinks, and his eyes open. ‘Got a great offer on Drambuie,’ he shouts with a big smile above the music.
‘Go on, then. Two Drambuies,’ the first says, leaning on his friend for balance, the two of them still swaying slightly.
Theo takes the nearer of the men by his elbow and guides the pair of them to one of the outside tables, depositing the drinks in front of them. The men struggle in their pockets.
‘That doesn’t seem like much of an offer to me. In fact, that seems more expensive than usual,’ says the first, pulling out some notes.
‘Not for doubles served by that beauty,’ Theo replies, pointing to the girl behind the bar. She is just visible above the heads of the remaining customers.
Both of them stop the hunt for cash to look at her, their faces breaking into broad grins. They pay Theo and pick up their glasses. Just as Theo turns to leave, one shouts after him, ‘You sure this is a double?’
‘Ask her yourself if want.’ Theo points again at the girl and the men both turn and stare at her, sipping their drinks.
‘Very slick,’ the bouncer says as Theo passes him going back into the bar.
He still has a beer on his tray, but the men have paid enough to cover the cost of all the drinks. The customer Theo was rude to earlier is still sitting at the bar, and he fixes Theo with a cold, hard, stare.
‘You come to butt in again?’ The words accompany the look and he thrusts his chest out, curling his fist. He could be trouble.
‘No,’ Theo replies and puts the beer down in front of him.
The man stares drunkenly at the glass, then his thick fingers grasp around it.
‘Cheers,’ he says and downs half of it, his free hand
slapping Theo on the back.
The crowd is lessening as the minutes pass. The boss character reappears and the bouncer pulls him to one side as he comes through the door. Jimmy appears from a back room, where he has been for some time. The girl who cannot speak Greek is running out of glasses to wash, and one of the drunks Theo served earlier is trying to chat up the tall, hard-looking girl serving on the long bar. She is doing her best not to appear bored. The girl at the small bar is examining her nails, sitting on a high stool, visible again now that the crowds have left.
Dimitri pays the girls, and they leave. Theo has not learnt any of their names. The last of the customers follow the girls out. The bouncer leaves, but he does not appear to get paid.
‘Here you go.’ Dimitri peels a note off a large roll and hands it to Theo. ‘Makis,’ his thumb jerks at the place left by the bouncer, ‘says you are smart. I take it you will work again tomorrow?’
‘Behind the bar?’ Theo asks, emboldened by the place, the dark, his survival, the internal shift, perhaps? Something makes him feel reckless and tough enough to challenge Dimitri.
‘Not unless someone comes to take your place.’
‘And if they don’t and I don’t come either?’
Dimitri has emotionless eyes, and all around them, his skin is dark. He suffers from open pores on his podgy nose.
‘They always do,’ he replies.
‘And if they don’t and nor do I, will you lose more sales than the difference in pay between a runner and a bar worker?’ Theo can hear his heart pound but his voice sounds calm. ‘Best hang on to what you’ve got. In this case, me.’ He adds a smile he does not feel and sticks his hands in his pockets to hide their tremor.
‘Alright, I’ll pay you the same as for bar work, but that is between me and you. I don’t want anyone else knowing. Don’t get too smart.’ He does not expect a reply.