Since that day, every evening Neil would drive Zoe to the bar for work. The job became familiar over time, and soon Zoe had made friends with several beautiful waitresses who also worked there part-time; they were students working at the bar.
Tonight, the weather was quite cool, with a gentle nightfall and a light breeze, making it very comfortable to ride a bike in such weather. Neil was busy with work and couldn’t take Zoe to work, so he used his bike. The route to Night Bar wasn’t very far, and the wheels of his bike rolled comfortably along the road.
The buildings with cream-colored walls, cafes, and restaurants passed by with the spin of the wheels. The signs advertising restaurants and gas stations cast colorful square shadows on the walls of the high-rise buildings illuminated by streetlights.
After about thirty minutes, Zoe arrived. Although it felt like a long time, he was so engrossed in the scenery that he lost track of time and arrived close to eight o’clock. Zoe hurriedly stopped his bike at the back entrance of the bar and ran inside.
“Why are you so late?” The voice of a waitress, who was washing glasses behind the bar, turned around and saw Zoe rushing in.
“Change quickly; it’s really busy out there.”
Zoe, though hurried, couldn’t help but ask in surprise, “It’s the beginning of the week. Why are there so many customers?”
“I don’t know either.” The girl shook her head, carrying a tray of glasses and preparing to go outside. She turned back and added, “Some friends of the boss are here. You’d better help Myra; she’s been so busy her face is all dark.”
Usually, at the beginning of the week, the bar didn’t have many customers, just a few scattered people. But today, customers came in groups of two or three, making the bar very crowded. There was no time for the staff to even glance at each other, let alone chat. Of course, bar owners never complain about having too many customers; they actually hope for it.
Therefore, Roger, with a big smile on his face, stood in front of the bar chatting with regular customers and didn’t notice that Zoe was late today.
After a busy evening, it was time to close. By around one in the morning, the number of customers had dwindled to just a few who were also preparing to leave. When the last customer left, all the waitresses had already gone.
Roger, slightly tipsy, turned to Zoe, who was wiping down the bar with a towel.
“Good job tonight. Close up carefully.” He placed an empty glass on the table. “I’m heading out now. Have a good night.”
“Good night, boss.” Zoe bowed to Roger, but Roger shook his head and waved.
“Just call me ‘brother.’ Be careful going home in the dark.”
“Okay.”
Everything in the bar was cleaned up neatly. Zoe removed his apron, turned off the lights, and carefully locked the door. He walked around to the back to get his bike and locked the back door. After locking up, he walked his bike a short distance.
The back door of the bar led to a small alley. This alley was short and narrow, and the waitresses usually used it to enter the bar conveniently and avoid being seen. The job of a waitress is not very glamorous; just the term “bar waitress” is enough to earn disdainful looks from others.
Emerging from the alley, Zoe found himself on a busy street illuminated by bright lights. The traffic had decreased significantly, but the area behind the alley was a residential neighborhood for the working class. The houses were not very well-maintained and somewhat shabby, mostly inhabited by manual laborers.
As Zoe was walking down the street, he suddenly felt as though someone was watching him from behind. He turned around abruptly, and at that moment, a dark figure charged at him from a distance. Zoe was caught off guard; his bike was knocked over, and his head was violently slammed against the pavement, causing sharp pain.
He barely had time to comprehend what was happening but still struggled to open his eyes and see the dark figure that had attacked him. The man was holding a bottle of liquor and, after the attack, stood silently. His gaze towards Zoe was cold and menacing, giving off an aura that made anyone want to avoid him.
“Kid, give me your money.” His voice was slurred from drunkenness but carried a threatening edge.
The man approached Zoe, who was trying to crawl backward with one hand shielding his head from the blood flowing from his forehead.
“I don’t have any money,” Zoe said, trying to push himself away from the man.
The man threw the bottle of liquor forcefully towards Zoe, shouting, “Liar! I see you working at that bar; with all the customers, you must have plenty of tips. Hand it over quickly.”
At this time, the alley was very dark with no one around. The only light came from the tall buildings outside, barely illuminating Zoe enough to see the man approaching him unsteadily.
Zoe spoke with a strained voice, “I told you, I don’t have any money.”
The man squinted at him, “Then let me check your pockets and I’ll find out.”