Chapter Five
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. I hate New York City traffic. Sighing, I lean back in my seat. Who's stupid idea was it to meet in the city?
Oh yeah, Mac's. He said it was for 'privacy'. Oh well, maybe he'll open up a bit about the dreams and if what happened in that dream was real.
Traffic begins to move again and I step on the gas. Three more blocks left.
Fifteen minutes later and only a block left, I pull off the Main Street and find a place to park, I'm not that prissy, I can walk a block, by myself. I am big girl after all.
Walking onto the sidewalk that was swimming with people, I push through people, trying to find the little coffee shop he told us to meet at. After a few more minutes of walking, I spot the coffee shop. I hurry through it's 'nothing special' doors, hardly anyone was in there.
An older woman, looking in her mid-fifties was busy tinkering with a coffee machine. Looking around, hardly anyone was in the coffee shop, a few college student close to the window at the front of the shop on their laptops, and some intimidating older men at the back of the shop, they kept me in their scrutinizing gaze. I gulp, where was he?
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I ask the older woman that was working on the coffee maker.
She turns around and seems to be sizing me up, making me feel even more uncomfortable than I already am.
"Vhat do you vant," she says in harsh Polish accent.
"U-u-um," I stammer, "has a man, er, well, guy come in here, his name is Mac?" My entire body shaking.
She sizes me up again, "Oh, your the girl. Through ze back doors." She forcefully points toward the doors.
"Thanks," I mumble before running to the back doors. I push open the doors and quietly close them behind me.
Turning around, I come face to face with Mac.
"You made it," he sounds almost surprised.
I'm only able to nod my head, my whole experience here was starting to shake my usual confident exterior.
Seeing my apprehension, he puts his hand on the small of my back, "This way," he mutters. Again, I'm only able to nod my head. His touch helps calm my nerves, but I'm still shaking.
Rugged men shoot me looks, practically eye-raping me, Mac pulls me closer to him and wraps his arm around me, as if to say 'touch her and you die'. I swear, Mac has got to be the most bipolar boy I know, one minute he's sweet and the next he's guarded and curt.
We stop in front of a black wooden door towards the end of the hallway. Mac opens the door and I peer in.
There was an old red leather couch with a dark wooden and glass coffee table and a black leather chair placed next to the couch. It looked something out of a mob movie. "After you," Mac nods.
I shoot him a worried glance, but his facial expression told me I had nothing to worry about. Cautiously, I step in to the room and walk towards the couch and perch myself on the arm of it. Mac closes the door and stand across from me, on the other side of the coffee table.
After three tense moments of silence, I finally break the ice. "So, why here? Why not some place closer, or not as..." I hesitate, looking for the right word, as not to offend him, "as...scary, as here."
He cracks a half smile, "Because, what I'm about to tell you, no one else can know, and the people that are looking for us, they would never expect a girl of your kind, to be seen at a place like this. A place where most gangs do their trading or killing and a place where most people do their drug trades," he spits out the last part like it was poison in his mouth.
YOU ARE READING
Saving Peyton
Romance"My head jerks up at the sound of the voice, I had heard it before. I gasp, and he turns to look at me, we lock eyes. It was him." She had it all, the money, the house, the car, the designer clothes, parents that any teenager would w...
