The year was 1949, the world was still reeling from a massive war while somehow on the cusp of greatness. Buildings were being rebuilt and people were climbing back onto their feet, shaking the dirt and grime off as they went on with what they could scavenge of their lives.
Amongst their mists was Kyle Broflovski, a young man of Jewish descent. His family had been one of the lucky ones to escape Europe early on, making a new home in the mountain range state of Colorado, specifically in a sleepy town with hardly any roads that led nowhere of importance.
As soon as Kyle turned twenty, he travelled across the country until he settled in Illinois. Here he's buried deep in debt from law school, currently he's trying to have enough money to eat and pay his overdue bills. But to do that you need a job, so that is what he's gotten.
Thunder roared above the city of Chicago with stormy clouds that angrily churned, twisting the night sky into knots large enough to make any Boy Scout proud.
While rain poured from the heavens with the ferocity to kill, a lean figure hurriedly dashed from the waves of cars driving past, and to a brick building connected to an old theatre. It wasn't announced by a simple name, but rather a neon sign of a bitten apple. There was no need, everyone knew this was the infamous night club, Garden of Eden.
Only those with enough cash in their wallets or notoriety were gained entrance to the club, which was a slim amount of people.
That is precisely where hunger pained Kyle Broflovski is going, for it is his first day on the job.
Slipping through the crowd of people that lingered along the club's front doors, impatiently waiting for it to open for the night, Kyle quickly made his way to the alleyway that separated this building from the others.
Squelching was heard throughout the filthy passage, the sound of sodden leather shoes hitting cobblestone as he raced to the back of the club. Standing outside by the heavy metal door was a burly man, uncaring of the weather as he lavishly smoked from a cigarette. As soon as Kyle was close enough, a deep rumbling of rocks clanking together met his ears. It took him a second to realize it was the man's voice, grumbling out the question, "You that new kid?"
Panting from the excursion of running straight from his apartment, Kyle struggled to get his voice back under control. Thankfully the nameless man waited, far more content letting tendrils of smoke escape his lips and curl into the air.
"K-Kyle Broflovski, I'm here about the waitering job?"
Nodding his assent, the large man offered a hand towards Kyle, big enough to easily cover his head. Heart just starting to slow its anxious pace, Kyle shook the man's hand until he was led inside.
Thankful to escape the cold, Kyle found himself to be standing inside a small room. Every corner was stacked high with unmarked boxes, each feeling as if it were to come crashing down anytime on unsuspecting victims. There was three other people in the room, each hunched around a fireplace as they rubbed their hands together.
Noticing his arrival, a young woman dressed as a maid turned to greet him.
"I'm guessing you're Mr. Broflovski? I'm Jacqueline, but feel free to call me Jack."
Jacqueline was rather plain, a person that could easily get lost in a crowd for not being remarkable in anyway. If it were for not one thing, her eyes. They were the same dull shade of brown as her hair, but what had Kyle fixated was how expressive they were. Immediately he felt at ease around Jack, unconsciously relaxing his shoulders as he smiled.
"Thank you, Jack. If it's alright with you, I prefer Kyle." Curious, he eyed the rest of room's inhabitants.
One was a short man with blonde hair neatly brushed back, appearing rather sullen as he stared into the flames licking at the fireplace grate. He made no move to greet Kyle, so the latter was content with ignoring him.
Finally there was one other man, similarly dressed like the sulking man in the same light blue suit. He was quick to straighten himself and head over, eager to shake Kyle's hand with an excited grin.
"Nice to meet you, Kyle. My name is Robert. Ignore James over there, he's forgotten his manners over some call girl."
"Take it back, Robbie! She isn't some call girl!" James bellowed, quick to cross the room.
"Fine, she's a floozy!"
Just as Kyle thought a brawl would break out, Jack pushed herself in between them, trying to calm James down with comforting words. Which didn't seem to be working all that well, so the still nameless man intervened, pushing James further and further across the room with a hand to the chest.
Screamed curses directed towards him, Robert turned from the furious James and gently ushered Kyle out of the room. The pair ended up walking beside each other as they headed down a long and winding corridor, where the carpet underfoot transformed into a deep burgundy shade with golden trim along the sides.
After an awkward bout of silence, Robert cleared his throat, "Sorry about that, not much of an introduction."
Kyle shrugged, "Not the worse I've gotten. Is it always like this?"
Robert snorted, lazy grin slow to creep onto his face, "Nah, you caught us on a good day." He loudly chuckled as he watched Kyle miss a step from the declaration, bewildered expression causing the other to shake with laughter.
Suddenly they were walking up a staircase until they came to a landing with a curtain blocking a door frame, pushing past it, Kyle was led into another hallway that was considerably warmer than before. The walls were painted grey, and movie posters hung in a straight line down the length of the hallway.
"Since we haven't opened yet, I'll give you a little summary of the club's layout. These hallways are separate from the rest of Garden of Eden's more docile guests, notice all the doors?"
Kyle nodded, much like a hotel the walls were lined with closed doors, and it didn't take a genius to realize what they were for.
"Well as the club's saying goes: Nothing is forbidden as long as you got the cash."
Past this hallway they came upon another closed door which led to a spacious room, a place where the light sound of instruments being strung floated. There was several long tables devoted to gambling, and a small bar that was tucked into the back.
"The band is warming up." Robert explained, nodding to the far corner of the room where a thick crimson curtain hung.
"It gets kind of tricky here, and you'll soon find yourself switching from a door host, busser, cocktail server, valet, and everything else under the sun. You're new, so you'll be expected to do little chores for the senior staff members. You getting all of this?"
Nodding, Kyle eyed the room once more before the pair became startled by the curtain being brushed aside so a head could peer in.
"Can I borrow him?"
Robert rose a brow at the face of a pretty maid, "Already? We aren't even done the tour yet."
"Callie needs something, and you know how she gets."
Eyes darting between the two, Kyle watched as Robert heavily sighed before he nodded. Turning back to the Kyle, he gave him an apologetic smile, "We'll have to continue this later, for now you'll be staying close by Sally. Speaking of which, make sure to give him a suit, he can't be seen like that."
Bristling with the comment, Kyle bit his tongue to keep from hurdling an insult at the other man. Thankfully the bustle of the club had him quickly distracted, as Sally was frantic to walk him to the staff bathrooms and shove a suit into his arms. They would have one tailored to his measurements, so until then Sally had borrowed a valet named Fred's uniform.
It was a size too big and smelled of gasoline, something that had Kyle nauseous as he donned the suit. Clutching his soaked clothing in his arms, Kyle eyed the mirror that hung above the bathroom's sink.
He looked like complete shit, bags under his eyes from stress and the lack of sleep he'd been getting. His wet hair was slowly air drying, meaning his russet curls were becoming an unmanageable jungle mess. And his usually healthy tan skin had turned a sickly shade of white from the cold weather, which made his body break out into shivering bouts every other second.
"What have you gotten yourself into." he mumbled to his reflection.
