Mafia Love - DISCONTINUED

Chapter 3

Grace
Reporter, nope. Teacher, they make too little for my apartment fee. Plumber, heck no! I sigh and drop the newspaper on my table. It's no use. I've looked at every newspaper I could possibly read; I've read so many papers I have paper cuts and band-aids on five of my ten fingers. "Ouch." Make that six. I just need some coffee. Yeah, coffee will help me think. I get out my of onesie and slip on some comfy clothes. I grab some shoes, throw my hair into a bun, grab my purse and walk out my door.

I make it to the café and there's a sign on the door. "Dear fellow customers,
We are closed do to some renovations to the café. Please understand. Thank you."  Well, that's just great. That means I'm going to have to go all the way to uptown Manhattan and get some coffee. I guess I'll have to hail a cab.
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Honk! Honk!

The cab is at a dead stand still. No one is moving and everyone is honking their horns and shouting weird and inappropriate things. "This is ridiculous," I state. "Here," I give the cab driver his money. "I'm getting out here, and I'm going to walk the rest of the block. Have a nice day." I get out of the cab and get onto the sidewalk and start walking. One block. Two blocks. Three. Not a single café in sight. I keep walking until I finally see a little café on the corner. I put my hands together, raise them up near my chest and look up at the sky. "Thank you, Jesus," I say in a low whisper. The little bell connected to the door jingles as I walk on in. The coffee shop was simply lit but was brightened by the natural light from outside. There are about five baristas behind the island's counter all which were dressed as if they worked for the President. There were veg expensive looking coffee machines, glass cups, and very shiny mahogany tables and chairs. What kind of coffee shop did I just walk into, "The Rich Café"?

I take a quick glance at the people sitting; I notice that they were all sharply dressed with a computer, phone or papers in front of them. Hmm. I take a quick look at myself in the window of the shop. Let's see, white Converse, well more like dirt brown now, Nike leggings and a F.R.I.E.N.D.S t-shirt I received from Erica as a gift. Not to mention my hair looked I didn't even brush it, which I did not since it's in a bun. I look like I didn't get an inch of sleep, shower, or even take a look in the mirror this morning. Perfect! I look like I always do.

I walk up to the counter; I could practically feel all the people staring at me. I turn to the worker behind the island. "Hi," I say smiling, "Can I get a tall vanilla latte with no whip?" She stares at me with a blank expression like I'm from another planet of some sort.

"Miss," she starts to say, "this is Uptown Coffee House."

"Yes," I respond to her, "I know. Why do you think I'm here?"

"We only serve gourmet coffee here," she tells me. Now it's my turn to stare. What did she mean by 'Gourmet coffee'? Isn't all coffee just coffee?

"I'm sorry," I begin to say, but I am interrupted when a little man comes running into the shop with a little blue notebook tucked beneath his left arm. This man is probably no taller than 5' 10'', which is pretty short for your average male. He's only four inches taller than me. He pushes his way past people to get to the counter. He finally makes it to the counter and is breathing hard. You can also see his pit stains forming under his light blue dress shirt. Poor guy, he must really need his caffeine this morning.

"Tom," the barista speaks up, "already on a run for coffee this morning." She glances at the clock on the wall. "It's not even nine o'clock yet and he has you down here already. I'd say that's a new record." The skinny, little man, who was still trying to catch his breath, quickly scribbles something on his note pad and hold it up to where the barista can read it. Oh, so that's what the notebook is for.

She takes a quick look then says, "Wow, an extra shot. He must really be stressed. What did you screw up this time, Tom?" He just stands there trying to get his breath back. How far did this guy run? "Don't worry honey," she tells him. "I'll get it right out for you so hopefully you can get back in less than five minutes." I am utterly confused. Who the hell were they talking about?

"Excuse me," I turn to the man who's name is Tom apparently. "I couldn't help but over here your conversation with the barista," Actually I could help it; I'm just a nosy person. "But who are you referring to? The man, I mean." He looks at me like I spoke in another language.

"No one important, Miss," he finally says. Why do I feel like this guy is hiding something?

"Here you are darling." The barista hands Tom the drink. "If you run now you have three minutes to spare." He just nods and is out the door faster than when I run when Erica asks me to do something I don't want to. I turn to the barista and tell her to forget about the coffee and that I'd just get it somewhere else.

I leave the café and start walking when my phone rings. "Hello?"

"Bitch, it's me!"

"Erica? Who's phone are you calling from?"

"It doesn't matter. Listen, I found you a job." She squeals into the phone.

"Hold on I think I just went deaf from your squeal."

"Shut up. Listen, it's an all expense paid job and you get to live there. Can you believe that?!"

"Slow down. What do you mean live there? Like, work from that person's house?"

"Yes! And get this, you get paid 5,000 dollars a week!"

"Holy shit! Are you sure that's not a mistake in the paper? Are you sure it's not 500?"

"No! It says it right here: Five, zero, zero, zero dollars."

"What's the job, Erica?"

"It's for a trained nurse. That's you!"

"How did you find this out?"

"Dale told me about it." Of course it would be her boyfriend, whom I happen to hate. "Come on, Grace. This is a once and a lifetime choice."

"I really don't know, Erica. It all seems strange for some reason."

"Oh, please. I'm sending you the link now. I have to go but please give it a shot. Bye, girl."

"Bye." I hang up and my phone chimes. She sent the link just like she said. I open it up and it reads: "Help wanted. In need of a well trained nurse to assist in cooking, cleaning, and medical situations. The pay is 5,000 a week and a built in living status. Contact this number to register an interview." So I'm basically a maid/nurse. It's too early to decide this and I haven't even had my coffee. I tuck my phone back into my purse and start walking to try and catch a cab.
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Hey my lovelies. So that is the end of chapter three. You know what that means.....things will finally start to work their way into place😁. As always don't forget to vote and comment. Much love ❤️
-Lily