Every day I come here I see him. I know what he hides, maybe not all the story, but I can guess most of it. I was him a few years ago, I can see the pain in his eyes. I hope I'm wrong, I hope I'm just being full of myself, thinking I know everything and in the end I'm wrong.
But I don't think so.
He looks strong, well built, to any other person he's just a boy, maybe even a troublemaker. He has muscles but not much, maybe defined abs underneath his shirt, I bet he can pick me up against a wall.
Not the time!
I've been coming here for two months now, mostly because of him, I feel drawn to him and I really want to know his story, what makes him look so sad but angry at the same time.
I also really like their cinnamon rolls.
I recognize that look, I had the same when I was abused. I was beaten by people that were supposed to take care of me, they were just my foster parents but I was supposed to be safe in their house. But I was just there so they could get a couple of more bucks.
It was hard.
I started working at the age of 13, in a small vintage restaurant just like this one, washing dishes. Every day I got home, I would always get beaten, because of this, because of that, or because of nothing at all. I was 16 when I finally had the courage to run away. I lived in the streets, until I met him.
At first, he was a little rough, he thought me everything I know, how to fight, shoot, throw knives and then he passed his job to me, honestly I don't know why. He had his second in command, but he chose me instead.
I didn't tell you?
Well, I'm Athena, I'm nineteen and the boss of the American mafia. You can call me boss, like everyone else. When Alistair gave me his place, a lot of his men didn't like it, some of them even tried to kill me, obviously, they failed. Blaise was his second in command, he took the news worse than anybody else, he wanted this.
If it was me I would be angry too, I tried to tell Alistair but that stupid man once he decides something, there's nothing we can do. He died two months after he gave me the mafia, I found out he had cancer. In those two months, he taught me everything I had to know, and Blaise was there by his side. He treated me as the daughter he never had.
But once his body was cold, Blaise tried to kill me. I woke up in the middle of the night with a knife on my throat. He actually cut it and left me to die, but he didn't do his job right, I wasn't alone in the house. I had Fred, to my luck he knew something about medical care. After Alistair got out of the house he was able to take me to a hospital.
I have a huge scar on my neck, but I'm still breathing. One week after, I invaded the compound, Fred had reunited everyone who was on my side during my time in the hospital, so when we attacked we got everything back. The only thing wrong was that Blaise got away. I told the rest if they didn't want a woman as their boss they should leave at that moment. Or else die if they thought of doing something against me.
Just two left.
The others were skeptical at first but they came around. This was one and a half years ago, I'm still looking for Blaise, for now, all I know is that he went to Mexico and maybe he's with a cartel, but nothing solid.
There are no more women running mafias, unfortunately. I had to convince our allies that I was fit for the job, to be honest it was hard at first. I thought of giving up, but I didn't and know I'm on the top. As the most dangerous, powerful mafia in the world. I have the cops around my finger, even judges and politicians.
And I have a lot of business too, hotels, clubs, restaurants and this little one I'm at the moment watching, this boy work. Dean Allen, twenty years old, lives with his father, mother died in a hit and run, has a second job as a mechanic. Yeah, I did my research.
I'm a creep I know.
I noticed how sometimes he got bruises and cuts on his face, sometimes he's limping or with his hand around his ribs. But not once did he miss work. I don't know if it is because I know how he feels or just me being a good person and want to help but I feel drawn to him.
"Hi, what can I get you tonight?" He asked once he was beside my table.
I think I want you.
"Coffee. Black. Please." I said looking into his eyes. He nodded and went to get my order. Three minutes later he was back with a steaming cup.
"There you go." He said. Before he could take a step I grabbed his wrist but he hissed with pain making me let go immediately.
"I can help you."
"With what?" He asked confused.
"Getting away." I said and pointed to his wrist.
"You don't know what you're talking about. I don't need any help." He said and went back to work.
I guess this will be harder than I thought. I stayed there until it was time for him to leave. I paid for my coffee and walked to my car but instead of getting in I leaned into it, took a cigarette, and waited for him to get out.
"Need a ride?" I asked, when he came from the door. He looked at me sideways.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"What do you want?"
"To help you."
"I told you I don't need your help." He said getting closer and also angrier.
"Why don't you leave?"
"It's at home? Why don't you leave?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." He said and walked away.
This will take some time, man and their ego, it's hard for a woman to ask for help I can only imagine what must be like being a man. It's hard for them to say sorry but it's harder to ask for help. Macho man kind of shit!
I want him, I will have him.