"Hey, girl. Good run?" she asks.
I nod, wiping some sweat from my brow. "Very good. Now I'm ready for some caffeine and carbs."
"A treat after the torture," she says with a grin.
"Yep. Makes it all worth it,” I tell her with a chuckle. I once tried to convince Sophie to go on a run with me, but she compared running to cruel and unusual punishment.
"I'll get us the usual," she tells me with a wink before grabbing a large, round mug. "Find a seat, and I’ll join you.”
I give her a nod and go to a table by the large bay window that looks out onto the busy streets of downtown Manhattan.
I first met Sophie a few days after moving into my apartment six months ago. I was going stir-crazy with nothing to do, and so I decided to find a nearby bookstore. Books have always been my passion, and I consider reading so much more than just something to simply pass the time.
They are my escape from reality.
The moment I walked into this particular bookstore, I instantly fell in love with the eclectic décor and poetry written on the back wall by patrons. The store is old and owned by Sophie's grandmother, Helen, who hasn't been doing so well as of late due to a series of illnesses. Sophie runs the store since her grandmother can't, and we instantly bonded over our favorite books, authors, fancy cappuccinos and Helen’s famous, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.
Even though I haven’t known Sophie that long, I consider her my best friend. I tell her everything, no matter how trivial; and she's always there to listen.
Several minutes later, Sophie joins me at the table with our usual — hers a cup of coffee, black; mine, a fancy cappuccino with a leaf design in the thick foam — and two chocolate chip cookies.
The aromas coming from all three make me hungry…and happy. I enjoy the time I spend with Sophie immensely. In fact, it's the highlight of my day.
I wrap my hands around the mug and relish in the radiating warmth. Summer is over; fall is well on its way, and it's already turning cold in the city.
Suzanne Vega's song "Tom's Diner" plays softly over the speakers throughout the bookstore as Sophie takes a sip of her coffee. "It's been a slow morning," she comments before brushing her blonde bangs from her electric blue eyes.
I frown at that. It seems like most mornings when I come in Sophie tells me about how slow business is. I fear that someday this bookstore might go under, but Sophie is always quick to assure me that her grandmother would never let that happen.
“You know…I could loan you money,” I propose. This isn’t the first time I’ve offered to help her out, and it probably won’t be the last.
Sophie knows my father is well to do, but she has no idea how much so. I don’t think anybody truly does. To the public, my father is portrayed as a wealthy businessman who owns half of New York City. But to the people who know him,reallyknow him, he’s the boss of the Italian Mob.
He’s very good at hiding his true self…until you cross him.
Sophie definitely doesn’t know I’m known throughout his organization as a mafia princess. And I hope she never finds out.
Although my father sent me away at an early age and I haven't had much exposure in the mob life, I've still heard about the things he's capable of. Things that keep me up at night.
I don't want to bring Sophie into that dark world. In fact, I want to keep her as far away from it as I can. She's untainted right now, and I plan on keeping it that way, no matter what.
“We’re managing right now, but thanks for the offer,” Sophie says, turning me down once again. Sighing, she says, "Must be nice to have a rich dad who doesn't make you work.”
She's speaking nonchalantly, but I feel my spine stiffening at her words.
“I wish I was that lucky,” she tells me before taking a sip of her coffee.
"Lucky," I whisper with an internalized groan. "Sure." I take a long sip of my drink so that I don't have to elaborate on the thoughts in my head.
I don’t feel so lucky. In fact, I never have. I’ve felt cursed, if anything.
Being a mafia princess does have its perks, of course; but it’s a very lonely life. I guess the only thing that’s lucky in my life is that I'm not under lock and key like I was growing up. At least I have some freedom here; and my apartment, although I don't pay for it personally, is mine and mine alone.
My only fear is that I won’t ever be happy again, not like I once was. That I’ll be stuck in this city and never be able to get out from under my father’s thumb.
The bell above the door rings, effectively breaking me out of my reverie. “Duty calls,” Sophie mumbles under her breath as she stands and goes to the cash register up front.
As the front door closes, a gust of cool airdrifts towards me, and the aroma of masculine cologne hits my senses. I've always been super sensitive when it comes to different scents, and this particular cologne is something I could definitely inhale on a daily basis — clean and woodsy like musk and sandalwood.
