The Lucky Doberman

Chapter 3: de Luca

I walked inside and just listened to my heels tapping
against the tile.

It looked like an abandoned office building.
But there were people around and a woman at the front desk so I knew I wasn't at the wrong building.
It just seemed left behind. The cars out front were nicer. This building looked like it had been here a while but hadn't been renovated since the 40s.

"Hi." I greeted.
"Hello." said the front desk lady.
"I have an interview for an assistant job."
"With who?"
"...I...don't know..." I remembered. "Their name wasn't there. It just said to be here by 8."

She picked up the phone with her eyes on me and I just grinned kindly.
I watched her dial but only three numbers before she began speaking.

"Did one of you call for an assistant?" she asked. Still staring at me.
"Okay." She hung up. "They're ready for you on the fourth floor."
"Okay, thank you."

I walked over to the elevator and waited patiently for it to open as I whistled a tune to myself.

The doors opened and I stepped in then hit the button for the fourth floor.

Once the doors closed, I took out my phone and went to my voice memo app so I could record the entire interview.
I hit the red button then slid my phone into my back pocket.

I clicked my tongue as I waited for the elevator to come to its floor. I wondered what my boss was like. This was a terrible building to keep an old man. But maybe it's his first building. I mean it looks pretty old. He could just not want to give it up.

The elevator doors opened and the room was large and dimly lit.

I stepped out and saw a few men at a large table.
Playing poker?
They each had cards in their hands, ashtrays on the table, chips next to them, and sat under an orange light. Talking so low that I could only hear murmuring.

I didn't know what to do.

Was this the wrong floor?

Maybe I misheard her.

What other number sounds like the number four?

"You gonna stand there all night?" I heard a voice ask.
I looked over at them.
None of them were looking at me.
"Sorry, I think I got out on the wrong floor." I stated.
"You the assistant?" he asked.
I realized the voice was coming from the man whose back was facing me.
"Yes, sir."
"Come here." he commanded.

I walked over to their table.

Although I stood closer, the lighting still wasn't bright enough that I could make proper view of their features. Only their silhouettes and the clothes they wore on their backs.
Their hands were in the light. I guess to see their cards better.
They all wore suits. No tie. All in dark colors. Six out of the eight had tattoos on their hands. Four out of the eight wore rings on their fingers. Five out of the eight were smoking cigarettes and I took a step back.

The man from earlier turned his head which I figured was him looking at me.

He sat manspreading in his seat as he removed his cigarette then tapped its ashes into the ashtray next to him before hugging the filter with his lips again. He had three tattoos on that left hand.
Two tiny sentences on his middle finger. One at the top and one at the bottom. And a singular angel wing diagonal on the back of his palm.

He had dark eyes and even darker hair but the room was poorly lit so maybe I'm wrong.

I saw the man at the other end of the table slide up a dial. The light turned a bit brighter but not as much as I hoped it would. I could see the men's faces a little better, like when their eyes would move. But if I was told to describe them for a sketch artist, I'd fail.
Except that I saw that two out of the eight had front facing neck tattoos.
And three out of the eight had neck tattoos on the side.