The flashing lights went off as the machines chimed in the wins and others the losses of some of the poor guests. Money, slots, drinks and laughter? It should be clear that this is Los Vegas.  It's considered to be one of the hot spots in the Western world; however if you live there like me, well then it isn’t that flashy. The lights can cause spots to appear on your vision, just smelling the alcohol may make you intoxicated and there is so much noise that it's recommended to keep migraine tablets in the dozens. But that is the life of a staff member at the Plaza Hotel and Casino on Downstreet Vegas, anything quieter and you would think that something is amiss.

My night began for me to arrive at the dining hall so I could start my shift for the night. Normally I start at six but we’re short handed so I began an hour earlier. “Ok Slots,” my supervisor began, “I’m going to send you to the Francisco table alright?” Most African American women tended to have a funny attitude in their way of talking or at least my supervisor did. She reminded us of the musician Alicia Keys which is how the nickname Keyonce came about since she also idolised the former Destinys' Child member too.

I nodded while scanning the vast brown interior trying to find it. Francisco is the surname of my boss, the owner of the hotel. He runs the place as well as the head accountant, the human resources manager and my father who manages the events such as weddings or birthday celebrations. I saw them near the end of the room. There were three other people I've never met. Due to my father teaching me the principle of not poking my nose where it wasn't wanted I took my pen and paper and with care went over to them. I regretted at that moment being born so tall, most of the waitresses were at least ten centimetres shorter than I was but I wasn't model material.

I came to the table and saw my father. He smiled at me with his dark brown eyes that disappeared under his thick upper lids. Like him I too had dark brown eyes but my hair was more medium brown than black. My mother had been a typical American, she was from Colorado while he had lived in Beijing.
“Ah Slots,” Mr Francisco was used to my nickname. I turned to him.“So you are going to have the pleasure of waiting on us?”

“Yes sir,” I nodded, lowering my head in respect as I got ready to take down their orders. I could imagine Mr Francisco looking at me with mistrust for he wasn't too fond of me. He cleared his throat to begin speaking again. “Oh yes have you met our guests?” He asked making me give him eye contact. He turned to the left and pointed out the three men on that side of the table. They were Asian for two of them had double eyelids and appeared to be middle aged except for the one seated in the middle.

“This is Mr Kim Suk-Doo, he is an agent of our client.” The man sitting nearest him with a navy striped tie and a brown jacket bowed his head to me. I bowed back to him. “Then there’s Park Jun-Lee, he translates,” the man sitting on the edge with a thin moustache and wiry glasses pushed his glasses up his nose while greeting me the same way plus a muffled 'hello.'

“And this,” Mr Francisco gestured to the man in the dark blue navy suit, “is their client. He's famous in their home country Korea. He's a musical artist under the name Bi Rain.” I was greeted with a smile. His eyes were so small they seemed to shrink through that gesture. His nose that was narrow bridged and his lips rather well shaped. I found it hard to believe with his baby face he was over twenty years of age.
“Hello,” he said with accented English.

“Hi,” I said, “nice to meet you,” I heard Mr Francisco clear his throat and I remembered where I was.

“So, what will you all be having?”

“Just the usual for all of us except our three guests. See if there’s any rice wine would you?” I had to give him a look of disbelief.

“But sir I don’t think we have any...”

“That is all,” I was interuppted by Mr Francisco and I scribbled this down on the paper, emphasizing the question mark I wrote next to it.

“I’ll be back soon,” now it was my cue to try and do the impossible.

“Hey Slots, whose the cutie in the navy outfit?” I came stride to stride with another waiter who had blonde hair. We called her Bunny though Monique is her real name.

“Um, a celebrity from Asia, I think.” If they'd heard me I would be accused of being dim-witted.

“Ah really? Usually they all look the same but he’s hot,” She assured me. I rolled my eyes but laughed at my friend’s comment though it was racist to a degree. Bunny usually was able to pick out the hot guys at work, but that also meant she was the first one to flirt with them.
“Yeah well if you can cope with his broken English then go ahead.” I told her while we parted ways. I went to the bar to grab their complimentary water. After gathering enough glasses for everyone as well I came back to their table.

“Your water, gentleman." As I was pouring the water for the one they called Rain someone walked very close behind nudgeing my elbow. I turned the jug,  throwing it forward, shooting water at his face. I stared in horror as I lifted the jug away.

“Oh I am so sorry,” Rain closed his eyes while he sat there dripping.

“You really ought to be more careful,” Mr Francisco scowled while the Mr Kim and Mr Park gave Rain their serviettes. My father’s face which was a frown, I didn't know what was more embarrassing.

“I am sorry sir someone came behind and...”

“--don’t make excuses Ms Yu,” Mr Francisco told me, “you’ve done quite enough, now see to our drinks and bring us the menu.” I nodded and picked up the tray, walking away in shame.

***

Even though I felt terrible I was not compelled to apologise again so I went about my work, giving them their drinks and the menus. After this was done Mr Francisco dismissed me.
Being assigned to the cash register for the last two hours of my shift was a relief. For now I didn't want to face my father, Mr Francisco or any of their guests.I had ruined my first impression to Rain and hoped that would be the last time I saw him.

“Excuse me," I nearly jumped when I heard his voice. My face turned to him. He was taller than I realised, maybe six feet at least.

“Umm, can I help you?”

“I saw the man bump you.” I didn’t understand what he meant until I remembered that was what caused the accident.

“Oh right um, yes I guess you did,” I replied with an awkward manner.

“It was not really your fault. I know you did not mean to.” He had that smile like the one he greeted me with.
“Y-you…It’s fine,” I managed to say grabbing a cloth and wiping the top of the counter. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Ah there you are,” a familiar voice said. Rain turned around as Mr Park appeared. They started to converse in a foreign language. It didn’t sound like Japanese or Madarin since me and my father understood it. Mr Park left and the guest gave me his full attention again.

“Sorry, he said the food was ready.” Now it made sense.

“You should probably go eat then um… Sorry what was your name again?”

“Call me Bi, and what about you?”

“Slots.”

“Is that your real name?” I froze, guests don’t usually ask that. They assume that my name is actually Slots. The name tag I wear would confirm it to them since Samantha was too long. I shook my head.

“No, my real name is Samantha. But Sam's ok if you want.” I heard him chuckle.

“Then I am Ji-Hoon,” he began to make his way back. “Will I see you around?” He most likely would so I just nodded.

“Probably, have a good night.” He nodded (or did he bow) and then left me. I watched him walk off, his long legs giving him good stride while his shoulders were broad and wide. Hmm he has a nice body, I thought and then went back to cleaning.