Queen of Love

Chapter 32

Ayawaswillingto do anything for Genevieve. Anything within my power to achieve. Perhaps that wasn’t much. She couldn’t turn back time, after all. Nor could she eviscerate the hackers who had done this to them.

But she could be there for Genevieve. She could set aside awkward family dinners (in which her mother would certainly say the most passive-aggressive phrases known to man,) early morning business meetings, and even reorient her whole workday to take care of whatever Genevieve needed. She didn’t know what else to do.

When Genevieve asked her to go to the first round of bartender interviews, though, Aya thought her girlfriend was joking. After all, what did Aya know about mixology? She knew a good drink when she quaffed one, but she wasn’t the one in the hospitality industry.

Nor did she speak Mandarin, like the woman heading the interview.

“I’m in charge, you know,” Nyla said in slightly better English than before. She stood against one of the newly remodeled walls of Mango’s, one that had yet to be lighted and decorated. As far as safety was concerned, though, the remodel was mostly finished. Gone were the old barstools and tables. Even the floors were freshly updated with a cushioned laminate that would make standing around drinking and chatting more physically tolerable. The window could not be swapped out, but changing the glass and adding some illumination to the sill had made the place brighter than Aya ever remembered – and she had been here selling the place in the middle of the day. “You tell me what they say. Genevieve said none of them speak Chinese. Actually, Genevieve said a lot. Like how she can’t come today. Maybe not tomorrow, too.”

“Yes, she is having a small struggle.” Aya didn’t know how else to say it in English in a way Nyla would understand. This is going to be a long day. She spoke English and Japanese fluently. Nyla spoke Mandarin and only light, conversational English. The women coming in to interview only spoke Japanese for the most part. Originally, Genevieve was supposed to conduct the interview with Nyla, but she wasn’t comfortable showing up so soon after the hack. While Aya understood the conundrum, she was also of the opinion that any candidate who couldn’t stay professional through an interview wasn’t worth hiring.

Yet, there had to be some kind of interpreter. Nyla couldn’t be left to do the interview by herself because she didn’t know a word of Japanese (besides sayonara, which she used every chance she had.) And Aya didn’t know enough about bartending skills to know who was good and who was blowing smoke up her ass.

What an unlikely pair they made.

One by one, women came in to sit down for the talk portion of the interview. That was mostly held at one of the new tables with Aya, who had access to the CVs and had been primed to ask the right kind of questions. Then came the practical interview, where the prospective bartender demonstrated her skills to Nyla. The ones who spoke no English required Aya to interpret for them.

It was exhausting. Especially after the seventh candidate left with a bow of the head and thanks for the consideration.

“That one didn’t know the difference between straight and neat.” Nyla sat down with a huff, crossing the woman’s Romanized name off the list of prospective candidates. “Can you imagine? Having someone like that. Can’t make a good drink. Nobody will come here.”

Aya nodded. Her agreement was muted, though, since she barely knew what the problem was half the time. The few texts she shared with Genevieve implied that Aya’s girlfriend was busy elsewhere. There’s a lot to do to prepare for a new bar opening. While Aya and Nyla sorted out the personnel, Genevieve was digging deep into marketing. It wasn’t enough to have the new sign lighting up in the window. There were press releases. Bloggers to contact.

So much more than Aya ever thought went into it. Then again, she was never in the market of advertising to foreigners.

“Not many of them spoke English,” she said, looking over the remaining candidates after Nyla was done marking the list in red. “If Genevieve wants foreigners in here, she needs English-speaking personnel. Wait a minute…” She looked at Nyla. “You’ve only recently started learning English. How did you get your job in Paradise? That place was crawling with foreigners, and the borders aren’t technically open yet.”

Nyla looked blankly back at her. She had probably only understood about a quarter of what Aya said.

“Never mind.”

“Paradise is Mandarin,” Nyla said. “I also speak Hokkien. It’s a big language in Taiwan.”

“I believe you.”

“English is important, though.” Nyla held up the list. “Only two speak English here.”

“One of them should be hired for sure. Someone to work on the weekends.”

“This one is not so good at bartending.” Nyla jammed her finger at the top name. “This one is not so nice to talk to. What does Genevieve think about?” When Nyla became frustrated with her English, she switched to Mandarin. Aya assumed it wasn’t anything she had to understand.

“If you could pick anyone on this list to work here, who would it be?”

“Oh, she is the best bartender.” Nyla circled a name halfway down the list. “Understood everything. I also recognized her school here in Tokyo. Maybe too expensive, though.”

“The school?”

“Her price.”

Before Aya could understand Nyla’s meaning, there was a knock at the door.

“Ano, sumimasen.” It was a man near Aya’s age, his jeans tight and his T-shirt baggy. The backward cap was for the Yomiuri Giants, who happened to be Aya’s father’s favorite baseball team. If this man thought that would endear her to him, though, he was sorely mistaken. “Are either of you Ms. Liu?”

Nyla deferred to Aya and cleaned up some of the papers on the new bar counter. Aya approached the man. “No, but I represent her today. Who are you?”

“Toumo Asada,” he said with a polite bow of the head. “You are…?”