Rutwell College Chronicles: Ch. 03

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

Thanks as always to my Editor Henry and to Vlad for his translations.

Rutwell College Chronicles: A little off the top

Introduction:

Welcome to Rutwell College.

A place of learning. A steppingstone for all who enter its halls in the great journey of life.

For over two centuries, students at Rutwell have found themselves growing, stretching their limits, encouraged to try new experiences, to embark on paths they never considered before.

In these lecture halls and libraries, this haven of scholarship, the faculty find fresh minds to mold, empty vessels looking to be filled. Youth and experience coming together in creative and unexpected ways with astonishing results.

As the motto of the college says, 'Mens Aperta, Corpus Saturatum'... 'Open Mind, Sated Body'.

Chapter 1:

Alina Tcaci was tired and cold. She felt like she'd been walking for hours, her feet throbbing in her shoes, but the tiredness was as much from disappointment after disappointment than it was the miles she'd covered on foot that day.

She had moved to the US a year before, leaving her small town in Moldova to take an opportunity for an education in an American college. Rutwell college had offered her a partial scholarship and she had leapt at the chance to leave.

Her parents had backed her decision and had given her some money they had saved over the years to help her on her way.

The Scholarship covered her education, a dorm room and a small per diem for food etc. The meagre funds that her parents had provided her with had run out over the course of her first year, the US not being as cheap to live in as her own home country and although she'd been as careful as possible, she had still needed to buy clothes, have some sort of a social life even if it often consisted of going to the cinema alone.

It wasn't that she shunned others in her year but on first arriving she had struggled with her poor English skills to bond with her fellow students. This left her slightly isolated, which in turn slowed her progress at developing her grasp of English and integrating into both college life and the unfamiliar culture she found herself in.

Her depleted finances were the reason that she was traipsing around town. She'd decided that looking for a part time job was her best option, but in a college town there wasn't much available in that line. Alina wasn't the only student in need of extra cash.

Alina had worked weekends in her mother and father's business since she'd been twelve years old. Both her parents had been hairdressers, and while never formally trained, she had spent enough time with both of her parents to be equally comfortable cutting women's hair as men's.

The multitude of hair salons she had applied to during the day hadn't been enthused about her undocumented experience however, none of them willing to give her a chance.

She tugged her woolen cap further down over her ears, tucking a strand of chestnut brown hair back beneath it. Things hadn't been helped by the fact that it was a particularly cold winter's day, a wind blowing through the streets that seemed to pierce through her coat, gloves and hat as if they were paper thin.

Alina spotted a coffee shop and despite being low on money, stepped inside to warm up. Nursing her coffee between both hands as the hot ceramic mug brought feeling back into her chilled fingers, Alina looked out of the shop window and spotted the familiar red and white pole denoting a barber's shop.

Since she couldn't get a part time job cutting women's hair, perhaps she'd have better luck with men.

The sign above the door read 'Mal's Barbers', she pushed the door open to the tinkling of a door chime.

Inside a group of men turned as one to stare at the interloper entering their sanctum. At the sight of four old black men staring at her with flat expressions, Alina nearly backed out of the door with a muttered apology. But retreating wasn't going to get her work and she needed it.

It was a standard looking shop, on one side was a long-padded bench for customers, a coatrack sat one end. Directly opposite it, the far wall was covered in a mirror, three barber chairs spaced along its length, three wooden flat-topped lockers near them.

The lockers had the tools of the trade on their surface and she assumed within them as well. She could see scissors, razors, different blades and a variety of other hairdressing implements.

She stepped further in and one of the men, tall with perfectly neat hair and a goatee beard shot through with white, stepped away from the others to approach her.

Alina could see that she'd interrupted a game of dominoes, a small table set between the men, the white tiles spread out before them.

She pulled off her cap and smiled as the man came to a stop in front of her.

"Sorry sweetie, I don't cut ladies hair. There's a place a block down that will be able to help you."

"No, I not, I am not," Alina still found herself speaking in slightly broken, accented English at times. She was working on it but a year on, while her vocabulary was improving as was her ability to understand, it was her spoken English that was still poor.

"I do not want my hair cut; I am looking to cutting hair for work."

"You want a job? Here?" The man seemed incredulous and looked behind him at his friends as if for confirmation that he'd heard her correctly.

"Yes please. May I speak to the owner?"

"I'm Mal and this is my place, but I don't think you'd be a fit for here. Sorry." He began to turn away but Alina touched his arm so that he'd stop.

"Please, I want only chance. I need work, I am good. I work many years in my father shop."

"Many years? What you workin' when you were a baby? Listen, where you from?"

"I am from Rutwell college, I study there," Alina answered.

"No, no, where you from originally, that aint no local accent you got going on," he said with a gentle laugh.

"Sorry," Alina answered with a slight blush at her mistake, "I come from Moldova."

"Moldova? Never heard of it. You got many brothers in Moldova? Many Black men?"

"No, not in my home country. Not many black."

"Well, that's the problem right there, see my customers are almost all black and if you don't know what you are doing... well I don't have so many customers that I can afford to lose them to you messin' up."

He seemed genuinely apologetic, and Alina sensed he might actually help if she could just convince him to take a chance on her.

She shrugged out of her coat, the warmth of the barber shop a balm on her cold skin. She turned to point at the three empty chairs and then swept her hand to encompass the men crouched over the dominoes.

"Please, I can show you. I cut hair now of one of your friends, yes? I show you I am good."

"Goddamn," one of the men at the small table breathed, nudging his compatriots who turned back to look at Alina once more.

Coming from a small town and having been relatively shy since coming to the US due to her financial difficulties and language struggles, Alina wasn't fully aware of how attractive she was, especially her body. Shorn of her bulky winter coat, the men could now see that the young woman was a sea of curves.

Standing a shade over five feet tall, she had a sweet 34DD-25-38 figure that complimented her pretty face, chestnut hair and dark brown eyes. Her fair skin glowed pink now as the warmth of the shop brought the blood to the surface.

"Hey Mal, give her a chance. She can cut my hair," the same man spoke again.

"Fuck that, she can cut mine," another man exclaimed, his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up quickly.

"You motherfuckers best sit yo asses down," Mal barked towards them, the men subsiding with baleful mutters. "This is my mother fucking shop and I decide who cuts whose mother fucking hair."

Mal turned back to Alina and grimaced. "Yeah sorry 'bout my language there. Look, I couldn't ask one of my loyal customers to take a chance on your abilities it just wouldn't be fair. That's not what Mal's barbershop stands for."

"Stands for cockblocking if'n you ask me," came a muted complaint from the dominoes players.

Mal didn't respond or look toward them; he just waited a moment till he was sure there wasn't going to be another interruption.

"But look here," he said as Alina's face became distraught, thinking she'd had yet another rejection. "Now don't go getting' upset, you seem like a nice girl, be a shame to mess that face up with tears an' all. Let's start over. What's your name?"

"I am Alina. Alina Tcaci," she replied.

"Tc... Tcaki...Tacaki...urrm yeah, okay well nice to meet you, Alina. I'm Mal. Those reprobates cheatin' me at dominoes are Luke, Grant and Abe."

Alina didn't know what 'reprobates' meant but she raised her hand in a nervous wave at the three men still staring at her and gifted them a small smile.

Mal half shooed her along, edging her further away from the three men and dropping his voice so that they couldn't hear his words.

"Alina, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think this will work but here's what I'll do. Come back this evening at 6pm, I'm shutting up then. I'll give you a trial run and let's take it from there."

"Trial run?" she queried, unfamiliar with the term.

"A test, like in your college. You come back, show me you want the job, pass the test and then I hire you."

"Oh yes, yes, I understand now. Thank you, oh thank you. I not disappoint you, thank you!" Alina blurted out happily. She grabbed his hand, shaking it vigorously. "I see you at six then, okay."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, hushing at her with his hands, flapping them so that Alina dropped her voice to a whisper as well.

She wasn't sure why he was whispering, maybe it was to maintain his image in front of his friends, so they wouldn't know how kind he was giving her a chance. She smiled happily, pulled her coat and hat back on and exited the barbershop excitedly.

Chapter 2:

The three hours wait till the appointment time were a drag for Alina. She considered walking back to the college but it was the guts of an hour's stroll, so it didn't seem worth it. Instead, she found a mall and wasted time browsing through a myriad of stores.

Not having money but being surrounded by retail outlets was a torture in and of itself but at least this way she managed to stay warm.

Finally, as the watch on her wrist showed fifteen minutes to go, Alina headed back out for the short walk back to Mal's.

It had grown colder since she had ducked into the shopping mall and Alina found herself hurrying along in an effort to stay warm. It was also pretty much dark now, the street lamps throwing their glow of yellow illumination onto the half-frozen pavements.

As Alina trotted along, she wondered if she could ask Mal for an advance on her first pay, just so she could get a cab back to the college, the dark streets were unnerving enough without the discomfort of the freezing cold.

She shoved that thought aside, first things first... get the job.

<<<>>>

The metal grille for the shop window was down when she arrived, the door grille half lowered. Alina

ducked beneath it, pushing on the door itself. It was locked, the 'closed' sign turned to face out onto

the street. She tapped on the glass of the door.

A rat-a-tat-tat, a pause, then another as she hopped from one foot to the other in her anxiousness to escape the cold outdoors. Aline raised her hand to knock for a third time when she saw movement inside. Mal wrenched the door open, the chime tinkling as he did.

"Get in, get in, goddamn freeze your tits off in that weather," Mal said, urging her through the door.

He pulled the grille down so that it clanged against the concrete pavement beneath it, then shut the door itself, throwing the lock back on.

Aline didn't care, she was too busy hugging herself, her hands a blur as they ran up and down her arms in an attempt to warm herself back up.

Mal passed her, jerking a thumb at the closed door behind him.

"That's so we don't get no fools looking to get a haircut when they should be home stayin' warm."

He saw Alina's posture, her skin bleached pale white by the cold, and he tutted. "Same for you, you should be home warm and safe as well. But you aint, you are here, lookin' for a job. Well, first things first, lemme fix you somethin' warm to drink. You want a hot chocolate?"

"Yu-yes pu-please," Alina stuttered, the chill fading a tad but still very present.

There was a small backroom to the barbershop, nothing more than a counter with a kettle and microwave on it. There was also a small restroom to the side of that for customer use only as per the scrawled sign on the door.

While Mal fixed her a hot drink, Alina shrugged her gloves, hat and coat off. She paced up and down the floor of the shop, nervous of the test and trying to get her blood pumping now she was indoors and warming up. Presently, Mal pressed a small mug of hot chocolate into her hands, she grasped it thankfully, sipping the sweet beverage with caution so she didn't burn her tongue.

He picked up a broom and swept the floor while Alina sank onto the padded bench to finish her drink. Watching Mal tidy up brought her back to her home, sitting as her father closed up at the end of the day. The memory of that time warmed her as much as the drink in her hand.

Alina set the mug aside and slipped her shoes off, kneading her tired feet, taking a moment to enjoy being off them after so long.

"Don't be getting' too comfortable there. We got a test to do, then I got a home to get to," Mal said, finished sweeping and watching the young white college girl as she massaged her aching feet.

"Yes sorry, I am ready. Thank you so much for opportunity," she picked up the empty mug, "and for drink."

"De nada," Mal replied earning a blank look for Alina which prompted another gentle laugh from himself. He took the mug off her and then stepped back to appraise her.

"Well to start with, I hope you wouldn't plan on comin' to work lookin' like that? You allergic to make up, girl? You got to show the customer how good they can look by lookin' good yerself." As he spoke Mal stroked his beard and then patted his hair.

"Of course, you are right. You want I should put on make-up now?"

"Yeah, use the restroom, nothing drastic, jes let me see how you pretty yourself up."

Alina grabbed a small clutch she had stowed in her coat pocket and padded barefoot to the small restroom, just a hand basin, toilet and a small mirror on the wall. She heard the soft clink from the other side of the door as Mal put the mug she'd used away, the sound of his footsteps receding straight afterwards.

She quickly applied some dark eyeshadow and liner and a dusty red colored lipstick that she carried in her little bag. The light in the restroom wasn't great but even hurried as she was, she made sure that it looked good before unlatching the door to rejoin Mal.

Back in the main shop, Alina saw that Mal had been busy preparing. He was already seated in the chair nearest the window, a barber's cape already settled around him. He turned his head at the sound of Alina's approach and regarded her with a flat stare.

"Okay Alina, no more joking around. This is the test; I am the customer. Make sure I am happy and you get the job. If not, then head home in the cold. You get me?"

She nodded, her own mood turning serious at his words. She really needed to get this job. Time to impress...

Alina walked behind the chair, noticing that it was set at its highest mark, the already tall Mal was seated in such a way that she couldn't even see the top of his head, much less cut it. She glanced at the pedal controls at the back. It was much the same as the model her father used so she pressed on the pedal to lower the chair.

Nothing happened. Nonplussed, she tried the other pedal. Still nothing. Alina looked to see if there was some sort of locking mechanism that was holding it in place, but she couldn't see anything like that.

"What's the hold up?"

"I am sorry Mal, I think this chair, it is spart... I mean it is broken," Alina replied, flustered enough that she slipped into her native tongue.

"All part of the test, you didn't think it was gonna be easy, did you?"

Alina exhaled slowly, calming herself. She would work around it. She stood beside Mal, looking at their joint reflections in the mirror, her own head of brown hair chest height to the older black man sitting down.

"What can I do for you today?" she asked in a cheerful tone.

"Just tidy things up, quick trim, little bit off the top," Mal replied evenly.

"Sure, this I can do," Alina replied, checking the scissors and razors arrayed on the locker beside the chair.

First things first, his beard was within reach, so she examined his face, gently turning his head from one side to the other as she looked at his beard. It had obviously been cut recently but she could see a few stray hairs and the line was slightly ragged on one side.

Alina picked up the smallest scissors and deftly snipped off the errant hairs. Satisfied she then picked up the straight razor.

Alina balanced on her toes, stretching up to reach him.

"Excuse me for a minute, am sorry but I need to touch you," she said to Mal.

"Touch away, touch away," he replied.

She rested a hand on his chest for balance, then skillfully she drew the razor across his skin, as it passed across the line of his beard straightening.

"Not bad," he commented as Alina stepped aside, offering him a view of her work in the mirror.

Alina smiled in response to the compliment, already focused on her next task.

Again, on her tip toes the young Moldovan stretched up, her hand smoothing at the tight weave of his hair, brushing across his temples and the sides of his head.

She circled around to the back as well. She was a stranger to the type of hair he had, but hair was hair so far as she was concerned.

Like his beard, it had recently been cut so Alina didn't look to change his current style or shape,

Instead, she focused on tidying. She circled around him, tip toeing as she did, small scissors snipping at times, her free hand resting on one of his shoulders, then the other as she moved around him.

Alina couldn't help but notice that despite his advancing years, he was more than thirty years older than her at just nineteen, that Mal obviously took care of his physique as well as his grooming. His shoulders were broad and strong beneath her hand, his chest similarly firm when she had leaned against it earlier. If it wasn't for the white streaks in his facial hair and the pattern of wrinkles on his skin, he could have passed for a man of thirty-five instead of the fifty-five plus that she guessed him to be.

As Alina trimmed, she started talking as well. Just light conversation, a little about him, a little about her, the weather. Her accent and her grammatical errors seemed to be a never-ending source of amusement to the black man, his quiet chuckle pealing out repeatedly in response to things she said.

Instead of taking offence, Alina found his laugh infectious, and she quietly hoped that she was successful in the test. Aside from the money, she felt she might enjoy working here with Mal.

"And done," she proclaimed, holding up a mirror for Mal to inspect the back of his head.

"Not bad, not bad at all," came the compliment. "You sure we are done?"

"I think yes," Alina said, taking one last trip around the seated figure to check.