Chapter 2

Monday, Aug. 13th, 3:35pm

Sarah entered the doors to the Syracuse Suds Factory and tried to keep her pulse down to some expectable, healthy level. She needed this job, and with the way the economy was nose-diving in Central New York, she was rapidly running out of choices. The one that would be most obvious to many others was simply unacceptable to her. Her parents were quite wealthy, and could pay her way through school without putting a dent in their many checking accounts.

She had, in fact, argued with her mother over this vehemently just a week ago, as she was loading up her beloved Mustang (only a year's worth of payments left on it -she had worked through the last two years of high school to pay it off). Her mother seemed almost ashamed that not only would her daughter not allow them to pay for her education at the two Ivy-leagued colleges (that the mother had secretly applied for Sarah at - another past fight), but that Sarah would even consider going to a Community College for God's sake. Sarah had refused to reiterate her reasoning - that the education she got at OCC would prepare her for the next school, that it was in her price range since she would not be taking her family's money, and would allow her to win scholarships beyond what was already available, and what she had already received while still in High School.

The fight had gotten loud, and she bit down on the shame she felt when her father remained hidden in the house. Finally, Sarah had gotten in the car, started it and backed up quick. Her mother actually moved to the front of the car, blocking her.

Sarah stared at her long and hard, resisting the urge to simply shift into drive and gun it. Instead she backed up again, into her mother's prized garden, shifted and blazed down the driveway. She refused to look at the rearview mirror, to see if her mother would be chasing down the driveway. Wouldn't help anyway, with how packed her backseat was.

The Syracuse Suds Factory sat on a corner in a revitalized area of Downtown Syracuse. A bank of large windows ran along her left as she entered; the bar ran along her right. A couple of video games were stashed here and there, and small round tables were scattered across the open area between windows and bar. Sarah smoothed down her blouse as she swallowed again. She had at first dressed resplendently this morning, then realized that she was over-dressed.

Her next choice was too comfortable, but she had finally gone with a nice skirt, silky white blouse and light jacket. Her heels weren't too high, yet accented her ass in a way that brought a smile to her face ... and to every male who chanced upon her.

She strode to the bar, where a few patrons were already gathered. The bartender finished with a customer and approached her, his smile friendly but not overly so. Sarah returned the smile.

"Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Partridge?"

He nodded, his gaze now going down her body. Briefly Sarah wondered what caused the change in his attitude before she concentrated on his answer.

"He's in his office." With a shrug of a shoulder, he indicated to his left. Looking, Sarah spotted the door with a sign that read Office on it.

Smiling her thanks to the bartender, she turned and headed for the door, feeling the bartender's eyes on her backside.

Knocking, she entered when a man's voice said, "Come in."

The office was smallish: a desk facing the door with a pair of filing cabinets to either side of the door; a couch stretched along the wall to her right; and a coat rack sat to the left of the desk. Behind the desk was a large balding man. His face was huge, as was the body draped in a wrinkled suit beneath.

The man stood as she entered, his smile warm ... very warm.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

Sarah returned his smile, holding out her slim hand.

"I'm Sarah Prescott, I'm here for an interview for the bartender position."

Now his eyes slid over her body as he took her hand in his large meaty one. He stood near 6' 5" by her guess, and probably weighed over 300 lbs.

He held her hand a moment longer than needed then indicated the straight back chair in front of his desk. She sat, smoothing her skirt, and the interview began.

Almost an hour later Sarah exited the office a new employee. She was sure her looks had gotten the job for her (the man's eyes had rarely touched on her face throughout the interview), that her year of experience bartending near home in Skaneateles had almost nothing to do with it, but she didn't care.

She could afford the apartment, utilities, car payments and food with the wages alone, and the tips she would make would go to her savings account. Her savings, something she was very proud of, still had a decent amount left after paying her tuition. Of course, she hadn't gotten her books yet...