Caramel Mocha

He looked like the type of man who came to the bar to forget his troubles. Same as me and half the people there. His eyes were red from crying, his hair was messy, and his tie draped around his neck like a dead fox on a rich woman’s shoulders. Defeat was written all over the man’s face, and I stared at him for a moment too long when he sat on the stool next to me. He glanced in my direction but didn’t speak a word, pretending I wasn’t there at all. I must look intimidating, I thought. Maybe he’s scared of me. Most smart people were.

Instead of getting up and walking to another seat, he ordered a drink and haphazardly threw his overcoat across his lap. It took me a second to realize he was getting comfortable. I couldn’t remember the last time a stranger settled in while sitting next to me. I forced myself to look up towards the small television that played above our heads. I caught him eyeing me in my peripheral when he thought I wasn’t looking. The mix of dim lights and intoxication must have given me a pinch of courage that night because I struck up a conversation with the stranger. Small talk is not my specialty, but I wanted to know more about this man that defied all my expectations within a minute after he walked through the bar doors.

I kept my voice low when I spoke, directing it to him and him alone, “You know, this game would be a lot more entertaining if they had a goalie.” I kept my eyes on the football game, but my attention remained on him.

He laughed. A harsh, exaggerated scoff that made me turn my head, “That defeats the purpose of the game.” He was still looking at me with those sad, tired, emerald eyes. “Have you ever watched football?” He didn’t strike me as the type of person to look a dangerous man in the eyes and laugh, but he seemed amused by me. He wore the smallest smile on his face, and I gave him one back.

“I just think that if someone stood at the endzone, the other team wouldn’t stand a chance.” I ordered another drink with the wave of my hand, but I’m sure he read past my cool demeaner and saw how nervous I was.

He shifted in his seat, facing me and clasping his hands as if I had just said the most ridiculous thing. I knew how the game worked, but I let his tangent continue uninterrupted. In one sentence, I had broken the ice between us and discovered his warm personality underneath. We spoke for two hours or so, dancing between subjects and sipping alcohol like old friends. His name was Alexander, and although he wasn’t a fan of sports, he kept a tight hold of the fond memories with his father who taught him everything he knew. I even got him to mention the name of his hometown. When he asked about the scar on my cheek, I told him I got attacked when I was a kid. He didn’t bring it up again, which I was grateful for. Everything between us was simple, lighthearted banter until I asked him what he did for work.

He turned away from me and tasted his drink, “I was an accountant, but I’m currently unemployed.” His stark tone said everything I needed to know. This unemployment must have been the reason he stumbled into the bar looking like a hot mess. The logic in my head had been drowned in alcohol, and I decided to pry.

“Did you lecture them about sports and get fired?” Still, he did not look at me.

“They told me I was no longer a good fit for the company…” He spoke to me in a serious tone, “And now, I am in a bar. Drinking more alcohol than I have in years and talking to a stranger…” he gave me a half-hearted smile, “I guess this is my last hurrah in New York before I go to my apartment and pack… That’s going to be painful with a hangover.” I could see how much the topic pained him, but I selfishly wanted to know more.

“Was your home life that bad…?”

“I… don’t fit in, where I come from. I thought moving here would be an opportunity to try again. I could have a good reputation and a good job. I could help people…” His smile dimmed and his eyes lingered on the empty glass in front of him, “Naïve thing to think, isn’t it?”

I ordered another round, but I didn’t take my eyes off him. We took a shot together before I spun in my chair to face him. Alex eyed me suspiciously before doing the same.

“Come work for me, then.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could think them through.

His eyes widened. The green took my breath away, “Work for you?”

With a shrug I continued, “It just so happens I’m in need of an accountant. You should work for me. You can stay in New York, and I don’t have to slave over my financial records anymore.” I held out my hand for him to shake, “What do you think?”

He considered it for a moment, then shook his head again, “No. I don’t have a place to stay anymore. I already broke my lease on my apartment.”

“So? I’ll get you a room at an inn. I already know Ann will let you stay if she knows you work for me.” I didn’t move my hand, and Alex didn’t look away from it.

“You’ll just fire me, too.” Now the alcohol in Alex’s head was talking. He sounded like a child fumbling for excuses, but I knew I could fix his problem if I pushed a little harder.

“I promise. You’d have to do something fucked up to be fired by someone in the mafia.”

The lack of a reaction was more shocking to me than my slip of a confession. Just like that, he made up his mind. I walked with him back to his apartment before I headed to my place. When the morning came, I laid in bed processing the horrible thing I had willingly done for this stranger. At the time I knew it was the right thing to do, but the questionable morality of the situation hit me as hard as the nausea. I was in charge a quarter of the Queens, New York territory, a duty that put me above the majority of the boss’s other caporegimes. My duties range from controlling my fifteen soldiers and monitoring the drug trade all the way down to calculating payments to and from local businesses. I knew how much weight it would take off my shoulders to have someone else handle the finances, but the problem was him. He was an outsider, someone who had only recently moved to my side of the city. He wasn’t supposed to know who I was professionally. My boss would kill me if he found out I had drunkenly offered the job to a man I had known for only a couple of hours. I would be demoted and the laughingstock of the family. I think I could have dealt with it if I knew that would be the only repercussion. He was easier on me than many of the other capos, but I knew what happened to the “friends” that the boss disapproved of. I had to let Alex go, for his own safety and for mine.

I kept my distance and took my time to figure out a way to fix my mistake. Ann got me his phone number after he moved in and delivered his first job on my behalf. I needed to keep him occupied so he didn’t think I had disappeared on him, but I was in no rush to confront the situation face to face. Even though every day that passed while he worked with me put him in more danger, I needed to think.

After a week of zero contact, I asked him to meet me here, at my favorite coffee shop.

I walk into the diner, dressed in a business suit that earns me more than a few strange looks. I keep my head low and walk to my usual seat away from the window. Despite my attempt at staying out of sight, a familiar waitress saunters towards the table. I dust the snow from my overcoat and over the back of the chair as she brings out her notepad.

A knowing smile crosses her face, “Ah, Mr. Lorenzo! Just the usual for you today?”

I look towards the door before replying, “Not today. Black coffee.”

She chuckles and scribbles on the paper as if she’ll forget my order by the time she makes it back to the counter, “Another one of those meetings today, Renzo?”

“I told you not to call me that.” I instantly regret snapping at her, but she is unphased. Nothing can deter that teasing grin.

Instead of replying, she walks back to her coworkers to make the coffee. I’m not sure if this young woman knew I had a soft spot for her, or if she just had a habit of getting on people’s nerves. Either way she always spoke to me unrestrained, and I appreciated it more than I cared for her to know. I had met her shortly after I was put in charge of this part of the town. This was her first job, and for the past year every time I came into the shop she was here. At first she avoided me, thanks to a hot tip from one of her managers. After a few weeks of awkward glances and her uncomfortably shuffling around my table, she insisted she would make my coffee. She saw the real me I was trying to hide, and once she got close, she learned I was all bark. I tipped her well, she made my coffee how I liked it, and she was the only waiter who treated me like a guest instead of an intruder. I saw her as a friend, or an annoying younger sister on the days she didn’t give me peace.

I could tell the snow outside was bringing out the curls in my hair, even after straightening it this morning. Something about darker hair makes it impossible to control. I try to fix it, but it falls back in my face relentlessly. It clings to the fuzz of my chin that I neglected shaving this morning. I probably look like a mess, but there is nothing I can do now. I check the time on my watch. Alex is already late, and I find myself sipping the hot, bitter coffee and bouncing my leg and impatiently.

The bell over the door chimes. As if he was summoned from my growing agitation, Alex walks into the café. I wait for him to spot me before I raise my eyebrow at him, but he comes towards my table too quickly to see my annoyed face. He is bundled up in a thick brown coat that is covered in a light dusting of snow. He sits down in front of me before I can say a word.

He is out of breath as he speaks through his shivering. “I am so sorry I’m late. I thought the diner was closer to the inn, so I gave myself some extra time to get ready. When I tried to leave I couldn’t find my room keys and by the time I did I realized it was already four o’clock and—”

I can’t understand half of what he is saying. His ginger hair is almost as messy as mine. He struggles to take off his coat that is awkwardly wrapped around his torso and moves it to the side. His nose and cheeks are a florid pink, and he is somehow shivering and sweating simultaneously. I could tell that he wasn’t lying when he said he was running late. The snow had gotten worse in the time I had arrived, and I felt a little guilty for the angry look I had given him a moment before.

Despite it all, Alexander seems abnormally cheerful as he rubs his hands together for warmth. The last time we had spoken, he was at rock bottom putting on a brave face for a stranger in a bar. He wasn’t a gloomy person per se, but I haven’t seen him this happy until now. The waitress approaches the table again to take his order. Good thing, too, because I wasn’t listening to a word Alex was saying.

She asks what he would like to drink, and to both of our surprises he orders a caramel mocha coffee. She gives me a knowing look, and I silently beg her not to say another word. Somehow this man is ordering my usual while I’m hiding under the taste of a bitter black coffee.

She gives me a mischievous smile, “Alright! Anything else for the happy couple?”

I inhale sharply through my nose, but Alex interjects in a rushed voice before I can speak, “Oh! We uh, we aren’t a couple! We’re just—”

“No need to worry about it! I’m happy to see Slate is getting coffee with someone other than a business partner!” Of course, this is when she decides to use my preferred name. Before Alex and I can reply, she turns heel and struts back to the counter with a shit-eating grin on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing.

I turn back towards him and sigh, exasperated by the whole interaction, “Sorry about that. She’s being bold today.”

Alex shakes his head, though his cheeks seem a little warmer than before, “That’s alright. She seems like a sweet kid.” My stomach lurches, and I find myself subconsciously upset with the woman. He changes the subject when he sees the serious look on my face “What did you want to talk about?” He leans forward, giving me his full attention now that he has stopped rambling.

I try to find the words before I speak, “It’s about your job.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” He pulls out a thick envelope from his coat pocket before I can continue my thought, “I got that paperwork done for you.”

I stare at the impressively heavy parcel and take it from him delicately, “Thanks…”

He smiles at me with a proud glint in his eye. He must see my hesitation, because he continues to talk and fill the silence, “I want to thank you for what you’ve done for me. It’s been difficult trying to settle into a town like this, but knowing I have a friend I can rely on has made it easier.” He set his hands in his lap, speaking so sincerely I drop my guard, “Thank you for the opportunity to try again. I don’t think I can ever repay you, but I’ll start by paying for coffee.”

Sometime during his heart to heart, the waitress had slipped Alex his coffee. He takes a sip and waits for my response.

My eyes fall back on the paperwork in my hand. Even though I had been stressing over this meeting all week, I didn’t think twice about the money. He had done the work in half the time I would, and it makes my shoulders feel light when I realize I don’t have to worry about it now. I take a sip of my coffee before I reply, “You understand that this job could put you in danger, right?”

“Working under the table for someone like you? Yeah, I can see how it might be dangerous.” Again, he smiles at me.

“Alexander, this is serious. This might be the last job you take. If people find out you know me, you’ll be a target. You could be kidnapped, killed, tortured…” I keep my voice quiet, but I can’t find the words. I want him to back out. I want him to choose his own life over helping me. I want him to hate me. Anything to make this easier. I look up to see his soft eyes staring at me. Not with pity and not with fear, but with empathy.

“If I was afraid to die, I wouldn’t have sat next to you.”


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