The neighbourhood wasn't that different from most in the city. The streets filled early each morning with men and women trying to sell their goods or services. Women walked in groups, chattering about the latest church gossip as they made their way to the sanctuary to pray. Children ran, weaving their way through the numerous adults, joyous laughter following wherever they went. Men stood on the kerbs, calling out to the people walking by in an attempt to garner some business and, in turn, money for the day.
This was the place Rhys Metzger called home. His family had emigrated to the States from Italy, after his Italian mother had disgraced her family by getting pregnant and marrying a German man, when Rhys was still in his mother's womb. The tenement they lived in wasn't in the best shape, but his parents had figured their stay there would be temporary. It would serve its purpose of keeping them dry when it rained, warm in the winter and relatively cool in the summer months. Within three years of moving into the small, two-bedroom apartment, the family of three had grown to five with the births of a brother and a sister. Rhys hadn't minded living in close quarters until he had turned sixteen, when it had become his goal to find a home of his own and a place in the grand scheme of the things called life. That was five years ago. He was now twenty-one and still living in the same cramped apartment with his family.
While his neighbourhood was extremely segregated, with most households refusing to speak to anyone not of Italian heritage, Rhys had become good friends with a man who had come to court his sister. The man, a Greek by the name of Theo Kostas, worked in his family's fish market and had put in a good word for Rhys when he had asked about a job. It wasn't the most glamorous of occupations, but it allowed Rhys to pay for the things he wanted, put a little away for his own place and help his parents out when food became somewhat scarce in their home.
Rhys always enjoyed the walk to work, the sounds and smells of pastries and bread being made were always more of a comfort than a distraction. On this particular morning, Mother Nature had seen fit to put a chill into the air, even though it was the middle of April. Rhys pulled the old grey wool coat he wore tighter around him to protect against the breeze as he strode down the street, careful to avoid the children running in the opposite direction, laughs leaving their mouths. His eyes moved from the kids to the buildings looming ahead of him as he wove his way through the throng of people, mumbling 'Excuse me' and 'Pardon' as he slipped between them, gleaning a little of the neighbourhood gossip as he continued forward until the fish market came into sight.
Mornings at the market were always the same. Rhys and Theo would spend a couple of hours in the ice house breaking large blocks of ice into small enough pieces for the fish to be placed on to keep it fresh and chilled. The two had it down to a fine art. Theo would break the ice up and toss it into wooden buckets for Rhys to take to the three large wooden carts in front of the store. The process hadn't changed at all in the year in which Rhys had been working there.
Rhys walked into the small store, smiling as he greeted Theo's sister, making his way to the back room and removing his coat. He reached for his apron, which was hanging on one of the many brass hooks attached to the wall. He wrapped the starched and slightly blood-stained garment around his waist, tying the strings securely. The sound of footsteps drew his attention from what he was doing to the old man walking into the room. He smiled at Theo's father when the man looked up and acknowledged him.
"Good morning, Mr Kostas," Rhys said, greeting the older man.
Mr Kostas smiled and nodded. "Rhys. Dominic's going to be helping you with the ice this morning."
Rhys groaned inwardly at the news. "Yes, sir." He nodded, trying to hide his distaste for the man Mr Kostas had spoken of. Hanging his coat on the hook where his apron had been, Rhys exhaled deeply and walked out of the room and into the store. His green eyes focused on the tall, dark-haired Greek man he would be working with that day.
It was no secret that Dominic and Rhys didn't get along, but so long as the two didn't have to work together, everything usually went smoothly during the day. Rhys watched as Dominic grabbed a large hook, gave him a roll of the eyes and made his way out the back of the store. Sighing softly, Rhys followed him out to the ice house.
"How did I get stuck working with you?" Dominic asked as he slammed the hook into the first block of ice he saw, no doubt pretending it was Rhys' head.
Rhys went to the corner to retrieve the buckets used to carry the ice from the room. "I was just thinking the same thing," he replied with a smirk. "Look, let's just get this done so we can go back to avoiding each other, all right?"
Without another word spoken, Dominic continued to hack at a block of ice, grabbing the smaller pieces and tossing them into one of two buckets resting on one of the frost-covered tables in the room, while Rhys stood by and watched.
"And why is it you don't grab a hook and start in on the ice?" Dominic asked suddenly, between blows.
Rhys shrugged as he stepped to the table, checking to see how much ice was in each bucket. "Because every time Theo has me do it, he says the chunks are too big for the wagon and takes the hook from me. He says I should just wait for him to do it and then take the buckets to the carts."
"Figures," Dominic mumbled as he continued with his work.
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