InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ August and Everything After ❯ Methuselah and Co. ( Chapter 4 )

Sango set the tray of dirty dishes down on the counter by the kitchen. "Order's up!" a voice from the back called. Grumbling about long hours and short paychecks, she picked up the tray and went to serve her next customer.

Sango worked as a waitress at the Market Diner on 11th and 43rd, and liked it okay. The diner wasn't the best paying of all New York establishments and creepy customers sometimes tried to hit on the pretty brunette. She had come to New York to try and make it on her own. Now she rented a crappy flat in a crappy neighborhood. Terrific. She had really bettered herself, just like she had told her parents she would. (Insert sarcasm here.) What she really wanted to be was a doctor, but med-school was expensive and waitresses aren't the most well-paid of all civil servants, so she had to work doubly hard to pay tuition.

A few hours later, Sango pushed open the door of her flat and threw her keys down on the small table standing nearby. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook. She raced into the little bathroom to take a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat on her bed, combing her long, dark-brown locks. She winced as she hit a nasty snarl and noticed her answering machine was flashing, informing her she had two new messages. With one hand she tried to get the knot out of her hair, and with the other, she hit the button on the machine. Her mother's voice filled the room and Sango jumped. She had to tell herself that her mother was not here, this was New York, and Momma was home in New Jersey.

"Sango, darling, your father and I hope you are over this strange obsession with living on your own. Come home right now and Daddy is willing to forgive you." Sango rolled her eyes and snorted. "That's all I wanted to say. We love you sweetie, please think about it." The machine beeped, signaling the end of the message. "Fat chance." Sango muttered as the next message started.

"Hey, Sango! It's Laurie!" A bubbly voice erupted from the answering machine. Sango smiled. Laurie was the first of her New York friends. She had met her while interviewing for the same temp job and had got to talking in the waiting room. Neither had gotten the position, but they had gone out to lunch afterward and had become fast friends.

"Hey, do you remember the little psychic reading you did for me the other night? The palm thingy? Remember you told me something big was going to happen soon? That I would get a big break? Guess what?! I got the temp job I wanted! At St. Joseph's Hospital? Remember that place? You also said some really strange stuff. You said... umm…4536874, `member? Well, you'll never guess what happened! I met this really hot doctor and he gave me his number, 453-6974! Can you believe it?! How creepy is that?! Oh yeah," Laurie's voice got more serious. "You said, `A-line, angels on the A-line.' Well on my way to work at 6:00, I almost got on the A train, but then I got this creepy feeling, like maybe I shouldn't. So I took the F. I turned on the news an hour ago and there was an accident. The A train experienced electrical wiring malfunctions at 6:03 am and blew up! I was almost on that train!" Now Laurie sounded scared. "I kinda just wanna say, thanks, I guess. Bye." The machine `bleeped' again and Sango sat, stunned on her bed.

Now that was creepy. Creepy, but not completely unprecedented. She could remember being five years old and watching TV.

"Don't you have to do homework or something?" her mother had questioned.

"Nope. I'm not gonna have school tomorrow." Little Sango had replied.

Hands on her hips, her mother had looked at her strangely. "Why's that?"

Annoyed that she had to miss her show to explain something to her silly mother, Sango had turned and said, "Because Ms. Carlyle has turned red and is in a cage. She can't teach if she's red."

Her mother had gaped at her and told her to be silent and do her homework. The next morning a call came round to all the parents of Ms. Carlyle's class. Susan Carlyle had been killed in a car crash coming home from a dinner party in Essex. She had been so horribly mangled that they had had to identify her through dental records.

They showed a photo of the wreck on the news and Sango caught a glimpse of it before her mother swiftly changed the channel. The moon beat down on the twisted steel mess that only a few hours ago had been a motor vehicle. A dark, thick puddle had seeped from out under it and through the shattered window you could just see a bloody red form hunched over the steering wheel, trapped in a metal prison. A steel cage.

Shaking herself from her reverie, Sango leapt off the bed and walked stiffly to the small kitchenette. She flipped on the light switch and growled when the naked bulb that usually illuminated the tiny room flickered once and died. She mumbled something about crap circuit breakers and rummaged around in the closet, searching for the red and white box of extra bulbs. She bent over to pick through a plastic crate and squeaked when a roach ran over the toe of her pink and white striped socks. Jerking herself upright, she hit a low shelf with the top of her head, dislodging a rickety pile of old newspapers she had yet to get around to dealing with.

The papers poured down on her, showering her with three months worth of dust and cobwebs. A manicured hand groped desperately for the string that turned on the closet light. Coughing, Sango brushed herself off, sending the dust flying which caused her allergies to go off like a security system, unexpected and violent. The brunette berated herself harshly as she went to work, restacking the papers into a pile that would probably be forgotten tomorrow. Ah well, no one said she was organized. She lifted last week's Times and something bright red caught her attention. It was red marker. For some reason she had circled an advert in the classifieds. What on earth had possessed her? She couldn't even remember doing such a thing, in fact, she wasn't even sure she owned a red sharpie.

(Somewhere, a figure slapped its forehead in frustration. "Should have stuck with blue." it mumbled.)

Curiosity caught, Sango looked closer at the ad.

Seeking waiter

$20.00 an hour

Only four hours a day, five days a week

If interested, call 456-2342

Position to be filled by May 24th

Holy God, those were the best hours Sango had ever seen! And 20 bucks an hour! "That's like," she counted on her fingers, "a lot! Plus tips!" She glanced at her wall calendar and cursed. It was May 23rd and if she was going to get this cherry of a job, she was going to have to move her ass.

"Too good to be true, too good to be true, too good to be true…" she muttered to herself as she skated across the linoleum floor towards the phone.

Snatching up the handset and cradling it in between her chin and shoulder, she held the ad in one hand and dialed with the other.

It rang a few times before a cool voice picked up. "Methuselah Company, how may I help you?" The woman's voice (or was it a woman's?) had a strange accent that Sango could not place. Slightly eastern-European maybe? English? South American? The voice seemed to change minutely every few seconds, it had a mesmerizing quality had Sango disoriented for a moment before she cleared her head and answered calmly, "Hello, my name is Sango Haramoto and I'm calling in response to the advert you placed in the Times last week."

There was a pause on the other end. "Advert?"

Sango frowned slightly. "Yes, the one for waiting staff. Is the position still open?"

"Ah, yes, the waiting staff. We are considering our options, but if you are interested in the job you are welcome to come down and interview. We are located at 443 4th Street, Suite 3. You can drop by tomorrow at seven o'clock"

Brooklyn… an office building? Okay, whatever. "That sounds fantastic. Thanks for your time."

Sango hung up the phone and wrinkled her brows for a moment. A restaurant that paid twenty dollars an hour in Brooklyn? And what was with holding the interview in an office building? She supposed she should consider herself lucky to have gotten a chance at such late notice, but still…

She shook her head and dialed the phone again. One short ring later it was picked up, the steady buzz of the pizzeria filled the earpiece. "Bellavista. Can I take your order?"

"Uh yeah, I'll have a small pie with pepperoni and uh... that's it. The address is 462 East 134th Street, Apartment 13B."

"That'll be 45 minutes."

"'Kay, thanks."

Sango sighed as she placed the phone back on the wall and stumbled over to her table, slumping into one of the straight-backed chairs. She rubbed her hands over eyes, trying to wipe away her exhaustion.

Despite the hard chair, Sango dozed off and was woken fifty minutes later by the buzzer for her apartment. She paid the pizza delivery boy, sat in the kitchen, demolished the pie, slunk off to her bedroom and slept like the dead.

___________________________________>%<____________________ _____________

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up and know, just know that something wonderful is going to happen? Something earth shattering and life changing in the hugest of ways? That was what the morning of May 24th 2004 was like for Sango Haramoto.

She woke up with a quirk of the lip and dressed with a slight smile. By breakfast she was smiling completely and when she arrived at work, the smile had evolved into a full-fledged grin. Sango had one of those smiles that caused passerby to smile back and secretly wonder if she was mentally stable. On this particular day she was grinning like she had just won the Pick Six, or at the very least, the jackpot on one of those scratch off games.

When her co-worker, Lorenza, caught sight of her, she did a double take. Whistling low, she sidled over to Sango, tray of dirty dishes in hand, and muttered, "Someone got laid."

Sango's grin immediately dropped off her face and she turned bright red.

"I knew it!" hooted Lorenza. "Who's the poor sap?"

"There's not! I mean- There's no-"

"No, no, no, you can't fool the Lorenzinator, she sees all, knows all! Sango got herself a fella!"

"No! But- You don't understand-"

But it was too late, Lorenza had skipped away, chuckling under her breath about how she always knew Sango-baby had it in her.

Sango shook her head and went to get her uniform.

The day flew by the way good days do, and soon it was six o'clock and time to punch out.

She caught the B line back to her apartment and flew through the door. She brushed her hair and changed into a pair of nice dress pants and linen top. Stumbling across the living room floor, she pulled on a single oxford pump and spent five minutes searching for its mate.

By the time she leapt off the subway at the 4th Street station, she was bordering on being ten minutes late.

Cursing softly to herself, she entered the lightly air-conditioned lobby of a high-scale office building with a high, glass roof. The floors were polished marble and plush velvet armchairs neatly bordered a red carpeted waiting area. Granite coffee tables were littered with pamphlets and magazines. Sango caught sight of one titled, "Ruth's Tracking Company: We'll Follow You Anywhere!" and "Joseph & Sons: Makers of Fine Suits Since 0 AD" The only sounds in the large entry hall was the constant wump wump of giant fans hanging from the ceiling and the occasional snap of gum from the receptionist.

Sango timidly approached the front desk, dwarfed by the colossal clock face mounted on the wall behind it. "Ahem, excuse me?"

The pretty blonde behind the counter looked up and smiled broadly. "Hello doll! Name's Delilah, what can I do for you?"

Sango returned the smile and said, "I'm Sango Haramoto looking for the um..." she checked the scrap of paper she'd written the company's name on, "The Methuselah Company."

Delilah's eyebrows shot up so far they seemed to disappear into her perfect honey-blonde coif. "That so? Well, toots, you must be the one they've been waiting for. 25th Floor, Suite 3. Just turn left off the elevator and it's the second door on the right. Big three on it, can't miss it."

Sango thanked her and turned to leave.

"Hold up!" Delilah called. "If you see a big guy named Samson up there tell him I need his help with the filing system. I'm no good with those things."

Sango was about to say sure, when a tall, muscular man with a crew cut turned the corner with a frown on his face.

"Jeez, Dee, quit your squealing, it's not like you own me."

"Actually," Delilah winked at Sango, "That's the general idea."

Sango left Samson, face red, yelling at Delilah while the blonde ignored him with practiced ease.

She found the elevator easily, rode it to the 25th floor, turned left and gently opened the frosted glass door with a large "3" painted in gold on the front.

The office inside was painted a welcoming sky blue and two large mahogany desks taking up half the wall opposite the door. A haggard looking elderly man sat before the first desk talking to a dark haired young man. Sango overheard a snippet of his complaints. "And then he killed my children, my wives and my livestock! Not to mention giving me sores all over my body! If anyone's eligible for an insurance claim, it's me!"

The young man nodded amiably. "I completely understand, Job, I'll see if I can get authorization."

A motherly looking woman with long curly gray hair sat at the other desk and smiled kindly at Sango. The name plaque on the counter simply stated, "Sarah".

"Welcome to the Methuselah Company, deary. What can I do for you?"

"I have a seven o'clock interview. My name's Sango Haramoto, I'm here for the waiting position."

Sarah's smile, if possible, got wider. "Of course, you're the one. First door on the left."

Sango expressed her thanks and proceeded down the hall towards what seemed like the only door on the left. She knocked hesitantly and entered when it opened.

A small, round man sat behind yet another desk. He wore huge thick spectacles that made his eyes look ten times larger than normal. Long, thick eyebrows drooped above his giant eyes, a matched set to the bushy mustache that covered half his face. His hair must have been thoroughly committed to his face, because the top of his head was as smooth as an egg.

"Come in, come in!" he greeted, mustache twitching like mad. "Take a seat, take a seat!" The little man tossed a magazine he had been reading into the wastebasket. Sango caught the headline, "Old Age Is Battled With Science: A New Generation Of Genetic Methuselahs"

The little man shook his head sadly. "What's the world coming to, I ask? Everybody a Methuselah? Sounds great now, but," he considered her closely; one eye squeezed shut the other large and round, staring straight at her. "Where would we park, hmmm?"

Sango sat uneasily in one of the high-backed wooden chairs placed before the desk. "Uh, sure. I'm Sango Haramoto, by the way."

"Sango Haramoto, Sango Haramoto!" the man squeaked excitedly. Sango couldn't help but notice his strange habit of repeating everything he said.

He stuck out a chubby hand across the desk and she shook it.

"Mr. Methuselah, at your service, my dear lady!"

He folded his hands across his round little stomach and nodded. "Better get on with it then, yes sir!" He rummaged around in a small drawer and pulled out a set of stiff cards that looked quite a bit like ink blots that psychiatrists used. "Now tell me, what do you see?"

He held out the first card and Sango considered it with a puzzled expression. "Um… a bridge?"

Methuselah nodded fervently and flipped to the next card. "Remember, dear, there are no wrong answers. Now, how about this one?"

"Hmm…flames?"

"Sure, sure. And this one?"

"Uh, a feather?"

"Excellent, excellent! Management will be ecstatic!"

"But," Sango considered this for a moment, "aren't you the management?"

Methuselah shook his head so hard Sango thought perhaps his eyeglasses might fly off and smash on the richly carpeted floor.

"No, no, child. The upper management. The CEO, you might say." He chuckled as if he had made a great joke.

"Now, come with me and we'll get you started."

Sango gaped at him. "That's it? I'm hired?"

Mr. Methuselah chortled and hopped down off the large armchair he had been seated at. "Indeed, indeed. Now follow me, there is much waiting to do."

Sango stood to follow and noticed that Mr. Methuselah only came up to her elbow. Things were getting weirder and weirder.

Methuselah exited the office, then turned around and opened the same door again. "Ah, here we are."

Sango was starting to doubt either this strange bald little man's sanity. Although maybe she was the crazy one. Hadn't they just left this room?

Her protest died in her throat, however, when she saw the room. It was completely different now, entirely white, so perfectly so that she could hardly tell where the floor ended and the walls started. In the exact center of the room was a white couch that blended into the décor like it was camouflaged.

"Mr. Methuselah?" she asked. "I thought this was a waiting job."

"It is, it is. So get in there and wait.

This was way too bizarre, so Sango just walked into the room like a sleepwalker. She sat on the couch and stared back at the furry little man.

"Capital! I'll be back in four hours, as per the job description." He shut the door behind him and it seemed to meld seamlessly into the wall. Sango was left alone, confused and bewildered. Who knew a waiting job would literally mean waiting.

A/N: Wow! A pretty bizarre chapter, yes? I know this sounds completely crazy and off the storyline, but I swear, the next chapter will tie it all together.

By the by, for those of you who don't know, Methuselah was the biblical character who lived to be 1,000 years old. There is also a story about Samson, an incredibly strong man whose power lay in his long beautiful hair. Delilah, being the tricksy woman she is, cut it off to put him at her mercy. There are some other biblical references and if you don't understand them, just include your question in a review and I'll answer it to the best of my ability.

The Market Diner where Sango works on 11th Avenue and 43rd Street is a real place and pretty cool at that. Check it out, a genuine vintage 1960's diner.