Captivated by Gangster

TWO

New York City was absolute hell compared to my small-town Waterloo. I had bumped into at least ten people since I stepped out of the taxi with my bags in hand. I realized too late that I should've planned better.

So many things had already gone terribly wrong within my first few hours in the Big Apple.

My bus in Waterloo was two hours late due to 'mechanical difficulties'. Then when we arrived four hours later, the bus drove off with my bags in it. The wait for them to be returned lasted an additional six hours. I ended up sleeping on a bus at Greyhound station.

Luckily, everything was all fine and well now and I had enough cash on me to pay for a hotel for two nights. I had underestimated the prices of a New York City hotel and the money that was supposed to last a month would be gone within two days of shelter.

I had made the rash decision to leave Waterloo for good, whether I got the job or not, there was no returning back to Waterloo.

So here I was with three large duffel bags, trying to find the hotel my phone had directed me to. It looked pretty nice on the website I had saw it on. It was a bit far from where I would be interviewing, but walking was the only option I had.

When I finally caught sight of the building, I walked in. It was pretty warm in New York today, ninety degrees to be exact and my tank and shorts were not giving me any mercy from the heat outside.

Walking indoors, I expected a temperature drop but nothing changed, and the place didn't look like it did on the website at all.

The floors were a dingy pink and the walls were a bright orange that nearly gave me a headache on sight.

There was a tiny Asian woman sitting behind the desk watching television on the smallest TV I had ever seen in a sleeping gown.

"Um, hi. I'm Camilla Aurelia. I made a reservation for two days." I mumbled.

The lady kept her eyes on the TV, "Money." She demands.

I fluster and pull two hundred and fifty dollars out of my back pocket.

The lady snatches the money, laughing at whatever she was watching.

She counted the money twice and handed me a room key.

"Room four thirty. Second floor." She said in a very dismissive tone.

I didn't bother offering a thank you, it's not like she would care anyways. I walked past the desk and lead myself down a hallway that was so narrow I had to walk sideways to fit my bags and me.

I smelt cigarette smoke coming from the poorly lit rooms.

I got to the elevator at the end of the hall and pressed the faded-up arrow. Waiting patiently, I counted.

The doors opened, and I stepped into the small elevator. In the elevator was a couple making out with vigor. I couldn't tell if they were truly in love or just in lust but either way their kiss was appalling. I blushed and adverted my eyes.

After noticing my presence, the couple pulled away and walked out of the elevator, thankfully leaving alone. I couldn't suffer through the sounds of people making out right next to my ear.

Once I saw my room I unlocked the door and hastily shoved my bad and then my body through. To my own shock the room was terrible.

The room was so small with the same similar color scheme to the lobby. One queen-sized bed sat in the center of the far wall decorated in a floral duvet that didn't look in the slightest bit comfortable. There was a large brown damaged dresser with a TV on it and a small bathroom behind the door.

I sighed deeply and closed the door behind me. I threw my bags onto the floor glance at the digital clock on the dresser.

5:57pm

Crap! I had one hour to be at my interview, and I smelt like a bus. The walk would probably take me that long in the first place.

I quickly dig through my bag, pulling out a black dress and ankle high boots. I threw my clothes off and slipped on the dress. It fell just above my knee and it was very plain and it was the fanciest dress I owned.

I even wore it to my graduation. Since I've had it, it had only faded slightly.

The knee high black boots were my favorite to wear with this dress because it was the only shoe I had that didn't say All Star.

I didn't have time to control my hair, so I just put in dry shampoo and messed with it slightly. Hopefully it would look like I wanted to go with the 'grunge' look.

After observing my hair for a few moments, I decided it would be more professional to go with the ponytail look.

I put on red lipstick and added a black long cardigan to add professionalism to my outfit. I hope that worked out well.

Grabbing my phone, and room key, I rushed out of the room and made my way towards Red Hot.

An hour later, I was standing outside of the extremely busy bar/dance club, working up courage to walk in.

I had never done an interview before. When getting my job with Penelope I had walked in the store and asked if she was hiring. She had demanded that I grab soil from the storage room and I had the job then.

Was I supposed to have questions prepared?

I shook my nerves and walked in with false bravado. Instantly my ears were attacked with loud old school rap. It was unbearably loud, and I could hardly see anything. It was like walking into a damned Hollister.

There were no real lights, just red hues in random places. It gave it an erotica aura. There was a large hanging glass sculpture hanging from the ceiling. Looking around, I saw dancing girls in red cages in nothing but thongs and go-go boots.

"You supposed to be in here?" A deep voice asked.

Looking up I saw large white letters that read, 'STAFF.'

"I'm here for an interview." I had to yell.

"Follow me." He yelled back.

And I did.

He led me to the right side of the wall. There was a glass staircase that looked like it ran indefinitely upwards.

"Just up there. Knock before you enter."

I nod him a thank you and began climbing the stairs. I counted twenty-seven thought it was a bit outlandish to have to many stairs, mostly because my calves were burning by the time I reached the top of the stairs.

I saw a room that was made of all glass and very see through. I don't know at what moment I decided to completely ignore the guys' rule to knock before I enter, but as I opened the door four pairs of eyes turned to look at me.

I blush at my rude behavior, mentally kicking myself.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" the aged man behind the desk commented. He had a receding hairline that stopped at his shoulder. Most of his hair was grey.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, looking down.

It's not like the walls are see through or anything.

"Are you Camilla Aurelia?" the man questioned.

"Yes." I said, looking up once again. "But people call me Cami."

Unless you're my mother, which is highly unlikely.

"Camilla, you are twenty minutes late." He said.

I notice a tall man in the corner of the room staring my down like a hawk. He was exceptionally tall with peppered grey hair and odd colored eyes that I couldn't quite catch in the dim lighting.

I ignore his stare and continued to talk to man behind the desk.

"I walked here..." I didn't really have an excuse that seemed logical. This man seemed very no nonsense and I was worried that I had already lost my chance.

He only sighed and looked up at the man next to him, "I want it done tonight." He growled to him, "I don't pay you for delays." Yikes, and here I was. Delayed.

"You pay me for efficiency and if you want things done efficiently then you'd have the patience I asked for."

The man said, "Good night, Leo."

Briskly, he exited the room and the third man left with him.

"f*****g asshole." Leo murmured to himself.

"Luckily for you someone else has pissed me off more than your punctuality so we can both pretend it didn't happen."

I gave him a very unsure smile.

"Sit down." Leo said.

I did as I was told, sitting in the leather chair in front of Leo's desk.

"You're applying for the cleaner job?" Leo questioned, but it was less of a question and more of a statement.

"I thought it was a waitressing job." I murmured.

"Do you see any tables down there?" Leo asked.

I didn't answer, that was definitely rhetorical.

"Yes, I am applying for the cleaning job." I tried my hardest not to sneer the word cleaning. I don't clean, that was Willa's job, but I had no choice now, that's kind of how things work when you decide to uproot your entire life and leave everything you know.

"What hours are you available?" Leo asks while leaning against his desk in complete disinterest.

"Anytime."

He sighs, "Have you ever worked in a line of business like this?" he asked.

"Like cleaning?" I question.

"Maintenance."

"Well," I shrug, "I worked in a flower shop in Waterloo for two years."

"Waterloo?" Leo asked.

"Upstate."

This wasn't abnormal for me; most city people don't know any cities upstate besides Syracuse. The difference between the city here and the country life is astonishing, it might as well be two different states.

He rolls his eyes, "How old are you? You look seventeen."

I smile sheepishly, "I am nineteen. I turn twenty in October."

He scoffs, "You need to be twenty-one to work at a place like this. I could get shut down if someone finds out that I let a teenager work in this place."

"I'm cleaning toilets, not serving drinks." I said back, a little too desperately.

Shit.

"I cannot hire you. You may leave now, Ms. Aurelia." He says.

"I need this job. I don't have a dime to my name. This is the only place I could hire quickly. Without this I would have no other source of income." I plead.

"You have your body. Two blocks away is a popular spot." He said dismissively."

It takes me a moment to realize what he was implying that I'd do but when I do realize, I am shocked. Did he just refer me to become a prostitute?

Sighing, I stood up.

Grabbing a pen off of his desk and a napkin, I scribble down my name and number.

"Please reconsider."

With that, I exit the room and descend down the twenty-seven stairs, counting them yet again.

I could feel the tightness in my throat and the tears welling in my eyes. I knew I couldn't make it out here in the real world. It's only been a few hours and it was eating me up.

Exiting the bar, I began making my walk home. The sidewalk is filled with less people and the sun is nearly set. The lights from the nearby stores soon fade to darkness as I turned my way down the sidewalk.

Looking up, I see girls standing against the brick walls wearing little to no clothing. I bit my lip, crap. I didn't want to walk through here.

But I was unaware of another way to get to my hotel any other way. Sighing, I walked on. Suddenly, I felt very self-conscious as the girls watched me.

"She Pop's new girl or somethin'?" a girl asks to someone else.

I am not a prostitute. I kept walking, speeding up the pace.

Ay ma! You ain't 'pose to be here." A girl calls out.

"What are you, seven? Go home daddy's girl."

"Don't let Pop see you."

"Fresh meat!"

I fought back tears as I quickly tried to walk past the girls.

Suddenly a dark colored care pulled up beside me and the window rolled down. Oh God, you have got to be kidding me. What else could the God's throw my way?

"What are you doing out here, girl?" a voice questioned.

"I'm not a prostitute!" I squeal nervously.

A deep chuckle, "Get in the car, you'll get murdered out here." the voice was oddly familiar, but I didn't have the time to process it

God, no! He could be a police officer and if I got inside, I could get arrested for prostitution and in these boots, I doubt they'd believe me when I said I wasn't one.

"I'm fine." I murmur.

"You're Camilla, right?" he asked.

I stop, how did he know my name?

"I was in the office with Leo, get in the car before you get killed, or worse."

What's worse than being killed?

I suddenly recognized his accent, a thick New Yorker's accent mixed in with a bit of something else.

Where was he from?

Sighing hesitantly, I walked to his door and bent down. Looking him in his eyes I recognized him. At least he was who he said he was.

I looked around for any cops, when I see the coast was clear, I climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door behind me.

He rolled up the window and pulled off slowly.

"Where do you live?" he questions.

"Few blocks away. The White Gong hotel." I mumble. I see him make a face from out the corner of my eye, but I don't comment on it. I only want to count my blessings right now.

He nods slowly, eying me.

"You're not from here." It wasn't a question.

I nod slowly, "What gave it away?"

"Many things actually." He starts, "You don't have a Yorker's accent. You obviously were unaware that you were walking in the ho strole zone, and you're staying at the White Gong."

"What's wrong with the hotel?" I ask. Everything.

"That's a w***e house, doll."

I sat back in my seat, blushing. Just my f*****g luck.

"And yeah, your dress is pretty short, but I doubt you're a whore." He smiles. I am momentarily stunned by how white his teeth are, but I am so embarrassed I didn't reply.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Waterloo." I mutter.

"Way upstate." He comments, "Might as well be from Canada."

I smile, "My mom said that all the time."

Thinking of my mom, I realized I needed to call her.

"Where are you from? I asked. You talk weird."

Foot. In. Mouth. Why did I feel the need to add that last part? He only chuckles, a deep rich chuckle.

"I'm from Brooklyn, but my parents were Irish. I guess my brain got jumbled up in between the two." He muttered, "My parents had the thickest accents but when they passed I was in the system and I picked up on the Brooklyn slang."

I didn't know how to respond so I simply said, "Most New Yorker's are Irish because during the migration era, many came to live here."

He glances at me with a smirk, "You don't say."

Was the only thing he had to say to that weird outburst of facts?

"You're starting to look hungry, I doubt you got any food at the White Gong." He sneered the name White Gong.

"I'll be fine." I said.

As in, 'I'll probably starve and be homeless within the next two days.' But it was all the same in my mind right about now.

"I can't let you go home hungry, come on, we can get some pizza." He said turning the car away from the direction I needed to go in.

Fear lurched in my chest. This was how everything went wrong in every movie I had seen. The kidnapper diverts from the correct plan and murders poor Suzie with no remorse.

"I'd like to go home." I said loudly. A little too loudly.

"To Waterloo?" he asks.

I only shoot him a pleading look.

He sighs, "I ain't going to hurt you, I just want to make sure you're okay before I drop you off. Is that okay?" I search his face for any deceit. When I couldn't find any, I sigh.

"Okay."

He smirks and picks up speed. Two minutes later we pull up outside of a pizza place that looks a little fancier than what I was expecting.

It had a long line of people and it seemed already full.

I didn't say anything though because the stranger was right, I was hungry. Damn near starved. I hadn't eaten since I had left Waterloo this morning and I didn't have a dime left to my name to eat for tomorrow.

He parks the car on the side of the street and we climb out. I notice that he is wearing a black suit with a black undershirt with no tie. He looked like a million bucks, or maybe a billion...

We walked past all the people in the line and I asked, "Aren't we supposed to wait in line?"

He looked down at me, "I got this."

Walking up to the door, he was stopped by a guard, "Back of the line."

The stranger's face tightens, "Tell the chef that Vidal needs a table."

The guard and the guy stare into each other's eyes having some sort of private conversation. The guard rolls his eyes and grabs a waitress, telling her what he had.

Nearly moments afterwards she was leading us in quickly with a nervous look on her face. She led us to a two-person table in a more reserved part of the restaurant.

The man helped me into my seat, and then climbed into his.

"Drinks?" the waitress asked.

"A bottle of your finest champagne. Chilled." He requested. I didn't bother to tell him that I was not old enough to drink yet. Perhaps they'd bring water too.

The waitress scurried off quickly, not even looking at me. I furrow my eyebrows, "How did you do that?" I asked.

"Do what?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You got a table so fast; this place looks pretty fancy." I commented, "You must be rich."

He smirks, "I am friend with the man in charge."

"Is your name Vidal?" I question, realizing I didn't know his name.

"No," his face hardens, "Call me Enzo, Vidal is too harsh for a pretty little mouth like yours."

I blush and ignore his last comment., "Is Enzo your name? Or is that what I am supposed to call you?"

"My name is Enzo." He clarifies.

I had never heard a name like that before, but I loved the way he said it. It was like a spell. We sat in silence a few moments until the waitress came back.

She popped the cork to a chilled bottle of champagne and began to pour it but Enzo stopped her.

"I'll do it." He said.

"Are you ready to order?" she questioned.

Enzo looked at me, "I believe I promised this lady pizza." He said.

While they discussed toppings, I took my time to fully admire him in the full lighting.

He had dark hair that hung in his face. He had crystal blue eyes that nearly look hollow due to how well they shined.

He had light stubble on his face that only made him seem slightly more aged. He was beautiful. There was no other way to put it and for a moment I let myself believe that he was indeed turning my day around for the better.

I was pulled from my reverie when I saw him pouring champagne into my glass.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Pouring you celebratory champagne." He said.

"Celebrating what?"

"Your new job, of course."

I blush, "I'm only nineteen and I didn't get the job."

He stopped pouring, "Then you really need the drink, doll."

I liked when he called me doll... a lot.

"Won't I get in trouble?" I asked.

"Not nearly, go ahead." He said.

Attentively, I picked up the flute. The champagne was golden, and it smelt delicious. Taking a sip, I moaned.

It tastes amazing.

"You like it?" he questioned.

"It's good." I commented.

He smiles and takes a sip of his own wine.

"Thank you." I sigh.

"For?"

"For picking me, for bringing me here. I really needed it. I was going to go to the hotel and cry all night and end up walking back to Waterloo." I tease softly. I was only half kidding.

"Why would you have to return to Waterloo?" he asked.

"Everything I had was riding on me getting this job and I didn't get it. I spent all of my money already and I would be homeless come Sunday morning at check out." I explain, suddenly wanting to share everything with this handsome stranger, "I planned on moving out here with my friend, but she bailed last minute so I booked it out of Waterloo to follow my dreams, but ended up broke and homeless within the first twelve hours." I chuckle humorously.

"Even if you would've gotten the job, you wouldn't have enough money to stay, correct?" he asked.

I straighten up, he's right.

"I didn't think this through." I mumbled.

He chuckles, "What dream are you chasing so bad?"

I slouch in my seat, "I don't even know. I just know I wanted to be here, but by the looks of it, the big apple doesn't want me here."

He looks thoughtful as our food comes. While our waitress sets up out pizza, Enzo pours me more champagne in my flute.

When she leaves, he speaks again, "So what is your new plan?" Enzo asked.

"I don't know." I said honestly.

He didn't reply as I ate a slice of pizza and drunk some champagne. He didn't pick up one slice, but he did keep refilling my glass.

By the time I was finished everything felt fuzzy and my stomach was full. Enzo smiled at me, "Are you finished?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "Again, thank you. I don't know how I would repay you for this."

He pretended to ponder for a moment; "You could let me take you on a proper date."

I blush, "What?"

"As much as I loved this, it doesn't feel proper, let me take you on a date, say tomorrow?" he asked.

I was sure I was blushing scarlet, "Okay."

"Deal."

The waitress comes by and drops our tab and clearing the table.

I while finishing off the last of the champagne I caught a glance of the bill.

$1,247.65. For pizza?

I gap, "Oh my god!"

"What?" he questions worriedly.

"That bill, oh my gosh!"

He smiles, "It's fine. Most of it was the wine." I'm sure I looked like a fish trying to force words out of my mouth.

"I'm glad I said yes to the date." I mumbled.

"Worth every penny." He winks.

He pulls out an envelope and counts thirteen one hundred-dollar bills, and by the looks of it there was still tons of cash left in the envelope.

I refrained from comment, but I wondered why he carried that much on him in cash.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

The drive back to the White Gong was silent but as we pulled up to the front of the building, I couldn't help but inquire.

"What do you do as a living?" I question.

He falters a moment, parking the car "I am a fixer."

"A fixer?"

"Yes, if someone has a problem, I get rid of it."

"A contractor?" I ask.

With that much cash?

"Sure," he mutters, "It's getting late Camilla. I suppose you should go in before all the crack heads come out."

I bite my lip.

"I'll walk you in," he says, climbing out the car.

He does just as he says he would and walks me to my door. I couldn't ignore the look of disgust on his face. As I stood in front of my door, I turned around.

"This is it." I said.

He looks behind me at the door, "Make sure the door is locked, and the chain." He says absently.

"Do you have a phone?" he asked.

"Um, yeah" I pull my phone from my bra and hand it to Enzo. He types his number in and calls his own cell.

"Call me if you get scared." He says.

Awe, that's so sweet.

"Okay." I mumble, repressing the need to say what I had thought.

"See you tomorrow, Camilla." Enzo says.

Once I close the door (and lock it) I leaned against it.

Swoon!