Mafia Nurse

-Amelia-

I walked down the streets of New York, grateful it was summer and the weather was warm. It’s early. Stupidly early. 3 am and I’m on my way to work. Why you may ask? Cause my new boss is a bitch. She’s been a bitch since the moment I met her. She knows that if I wasn’t still in school, I’d have been given the kitchen manager position and not her.

Let me backup a second. My name is Amelia Woods. I’m 28 years old and about to enter my 4th year of nursing school at NYU. I know I’m old to still be in college but life happened after high school. My parent’s restaurant burned down and, with my blessing, we used the money they had saved for my education to rebuild.

Then I met a man. A sweet, loving, kind man, who just wanted to care for me. We got engaged and I thought we’d ride off into the sunset together. His care turned to pain not long after that. If not for a determined best friend, I probably wouldn’t be alive today.

After that I threw myself back into work at my parents restaurant, only stopping to go to therapy which didn’t seem to help. If I wasn’t working, all I could think about was him. What he did. I couldn’t figure out why he was still haunting me. Not until once again my best friend saved me. Dragged me away for her destination wedding. How could I miss it? I was her maid of honor.

While we were away for that week, I could breathe. I didn’t feel the need to watch my back constantly. The weight that I was carrying was gone. I was free. When I returned home, however, that burden came back. I explained it all to my therapist and finally something she said helped. I didn’t feel safe there. I was constantly reminded about all the bad things that happened to me because I was still living in the space where it happened.

I explained everything to my parents. They hugged me and told me they just wanted me to be better. They helped me apply to colleges and pick a place to move. It was my decision to move to New York in the end. I figured a whole country away from my home would be enough distance. My dad drove with me across the country. Helped me move into my room at my new apartment. Then kissed me goodbye with a promise to visit someday.

I started classes and got a job in the kitchen at the hospital a few blocks from my apartment. I wanted to establish myself at that hospital so when it came time for clinicals, I’d have an in. It totally worked and I’ve enjoyed my time here. Right until Bill, the old kitchen manager, had a heart attack and decided it was time to retire leaving Janet in charge.

That’s how I end up here. Dragging my ass through the back alleys of New York at 3 in the morning because according to Janet I got “preferential treatment” from Bill having to never work the morning shift and “you have 3 years of morning shifts to make up for so get used to them”. I haven’t even had coffee yet. One of my roommates started dating this scummy guy and when they broke up he decided to steal the Keurig. It was my Keurig!

I resigned myself to drinking the god awful coffee at work until I noticed a store front lit up a couple blocks off my usual path. During the day, I’d never noticed it before but now it shines like a beacon in the night. Val’s Bakery. The lights are on and the sign says open. I open the door and a bell chimes announcing my arrival. The bakery is clearly Italian from the pastries in the cases. An older man with a soft face and a round belly, comes from the back, a gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning!” He greets, “What can I get you?”

“Do you have coffee?” I asked, still eyeing the pastries.

“Do I have coffee?” He looked slightly offended by the question, “Of course I have coffee. Wouldn’t be a proper bakery without it.”

“Then I’ll take a coffee and whatever pastry you recommend,” I said, indicating to the case, “They all look too good to choose.”

“Well normally I would recommend my famous cannoli,” He explained as he poured my coffee, “But this early I think a fresh donut would be best.”

“A fresh donut?” I asked, taking the coffee, adding cream and sugar.

“That’s if you have a minute to wait,” He said, gesturing to the back, “It’s what I was working on when you came in.”

“Well I guess I can make the time,” I said with a smile, “After all who could deny an offer from such a handsome man.” I gave him a wink.

“Oh-ho!” He laughed, “Flattery will get you everywhere my friend, especially in my bakery. Just give me a moment.”

He returned to the back and I took the time to explore more of the bakery. The walls were decorated in pictures. Signed photos of celebrities. Beautiful buildings that were most likely in Italy. One of the bakery owner and a woman, who was clearly his wife, standing in front of the bakery. They looked young. Many other family photos filled the walls.

“Do you always open this early?” I called out towards the gentleman.

“If I’m here, I’m open.” The man calls back, “Since I’m usually here as early as 2:30am, yes I’m usually open.”

That’s good to know, I thought to myself. The man reappeared carrying a tray of donuts, still steaming from the fryer. He produced a box from under the counter and started filling it with donuts.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come in before,” He said, “Especially not at this hour.”

“Yeah my work schedule changed so now I’m due to work extra early,” I explain as he places the box with a dozen donuts on the counter while handing me a loose one.

“Does that mean you’ll be visiting me again?” He asked, “Not everyday do I get a young lady in at this hour.”

“With donuts this good,” I responded, mouth full of fresh donut, “You can guarantee it.”

“I look forward to it.” He said with a smile pushing the box closer to me, “That’ll be two dollars.”

“For 13 donuts and a coffee?” I exclaimed, “Nothing this good is that cheap.”

“True,” He agreed, “But I figured I’d give my favorite customer a deal.”

“I can’t be your favorite customer,” I argued with a small smile, “We just met.”

“And I know I’ll look forward to seeing your beautiful smile every morning you stop by,” He gave me a wide smile and a wink, “Share those with your coworkers. Maybe then your boss will like you.”

“How did you know my boss doesn’t like me?” I asked, a little shocked.

“No boss has ever changed someone’s schedule to this early in the morning unless they hate the person.” He explained, a knowing look in his eyes.

“You seem to know a thing or two about that.” I accused.

“Maybe I do.” He responded, laughing.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside caught my attention. I turned and saw a large blacked out SUV sitting in front of the bakery. I turned back around to pay and noticed a serious look on the kind man’s face. I handed him my two dollars and collected my food. Such a stern look on this man’s face seemed wrong and felt like trouble. Seemed I was right when, in my hurry, I ran smack into a large wall of a man.

He was a tall, muscular bald man covered in what seemed to be head to toe in tattoos. The all black suit made him all the more intimidating. Behind him were two equally huge and rough looking guys. Any attempt to apologize died in my throat at the sneer that overtook his face. His hand moved as if to grab me. Flashes of him took over my vision.

“Smettila!” The old man behind me yelled in what must’ve been Italian, “Togliti quello sguardo dalla faccia. Chiedi scusa alla ragazza e togliti di mezzo.”

The man immediately changed his mood at whatever the older gentleman said. His face went more neutral as he and the others slightly bowed, moving out of the way of the door.

“My apologies.” He said.

“My fault.” I replied, finally finding my voice, “Have a good day.”

I made my way back into the streets of New York, thinking about what I just witnessed. What was that? Those men, who were they? I guess they could be some rich guy’s employees who work security and went for a midnight coffee run. But they listened to the old man. Whatever it was he told them. Maybe he knows their boss? That bakery can’t be in the middle of something dangerous. Right?