Chapter Seven
Camilla
I quickly made my way to Cafe Cubano, a small coffee shop that had sandwiches and pastries as well. I had my book, and a small notebook tucked under my arm. I walked to a table in the back, where I always sat. I could see the door from here, but it was tucked away and quiet. I had the urge to always have my eyes on the entrance or exit of places I went to. It was something my father had told Michael and I growing up, always know who's coming and going, don't let people sneak up on you. I always thought he was being ridiculous, until recently.
I opened my book and flipped to the page I had marked from the last time I had opened it. Carlos, the owner, walked up to me as he always did when I came in. "You're usual?" he asked in his thick Cuban accent.
"Please," I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and went behind the counter to make my Cafe con leche and warm a guava pastry for me. Natalia had me addicted to this place. The guava pastries were insanely delicious, made fresh every morning by Carlos's wife Penelope, Or Pen as we called her.
A few minutes later, Carlos dropped my coffee and pastry on the table with a napkin and walked away. He knew I studied here and liked to be left alone. I always tipped well and cleaned up after myself, so he didn't mind that I sometimes sat there for hours. I'd be getting lunch here soon too, so he wasn't missing out on revenue really. Most people took their sandwiches to go, preferring to walk to a bench in Prospect Park and eat. Except in the winter and on rainy days, then this place was packed on weekends.
I was concentrating on what I was reading, taking notes on the important content of real estate law. It was so boring but a necessity. I must have been so focused that I didn't hear the door chime when they walked in. By they, I mean four well-dressed men in dark suits and perfect hair. I heard them ordering from Carlos at the counter and chanced a glance up. It was that man from the club. What had Natalia said his name was? Something Carmine? What was he doing on this side of town, in a small Cuban coffee shop?
I sat staring, realizing it a moment too late as the man who was supposedly a big Mafia boss, turned to look my way. I quickly glanced back down to my book, pretending not to notice his eyes on me. A moment later he's standing next to my table. I have no choice but to look up. "Yes?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.
"Do we know each other?" he asks in a sexy voice with a hint of an Italian accent.
I shake my head no and then remind myself to use my words. I'm an educated, intelligent woman who is not afraid of anyone. "No, I don't believe so." I give him a quick once over and then turn back to my book as if to dismiss him, hoping he gets the message I am sending.
The next thing I know, he's pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. I look up to see him wave off the other three men, who go and sit at a table near the door. "Do you mind?" he asks, gesturing to the table.
I just shrug. "It's a free country. You may sit where you like sir."
Just then Carlos walks over and sets a coffee down in front of the man. "Mr. Carmine, will there be anything else?"
"No thank you," he replies without taking his eyes off me. Carlos walks away and the man who I know for sure now is Mr. Carmine, reaches across the table and pulls my tablet towards him and turns it so he can read it. "Real estate law? Must be boring."
I hold my hand out, "My notes please." He smirks and passes it back to me. "Mr. Carmine, is it?" He nods. "I am trying to study as you can see. I do not know you; we have never met. If that is the reason you came to sit here, thinking we know one another, we do not." The men sitting by the door suddenly become quiet, even Carlos who is behind the counter cleaning stops what he's doing. I glanced over at him and he gives me look as if to say "what are you doing?"
"I can see that you do not know me miss. What is your name? You know mine, tell me yours." He says this with a hint of sarcasm, as if to say how dare I not know exactly who he is.
I suddenly realize that maybe I should speak a little kinder to this man, who is clearly powerful and scary based on Carlos's response. "Oh, um it's Camilla."
"Camilla," it rolls off his tongue, the perfect inflection of a person who speaks Italian. He is quiet a moment, sipping his coffee and watching me. "We have met actually. Perhaps you forgot. You were in my club a few weeks ago with some friends. Were you not?"
I try to play coy, of course I remember but I won't say that. "I'm afraid I don't know. Did we meet?"
"In a manner of speaking. I believe it was your birthday, and I bought you a drink." He is now smiling. He knows that I remember and he's enjoying making me squirm.
"Oh yes, I remember now. Thank you. That was very kind of you." I gave him a smile and decided to start packing up my things. "Excuse me for one second," I say as I stand and walk to the counter. I ask Carlos to make my sandwich to go and then move back to the table to gather up my things.
I reach across the table to pick up my pen and Mr. Carmine places his hand on top of mine. "Please Camilla, don't leave on my account. I was just being friendly." His hand is warm on top of mine and I feel a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. He holds my hand in a manner that doesn't allow me to pull away. He leans forward and I take a deep breath. I inhaled his scent. He smells oddly amazing, like a deep earthy smell mixed with something warm that I cannot place. Whatever it is, it is divine, and I almost forget who this is and where I am. "We are not strangers anymore Camilla," He winks and lets my hand go.
I swallow hard. Mr. Carmine reaches into his inside jacket pocket, and I take a step back. He must have noticed the sudden worry on my face because he smiles before saying, "Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you." I furrow my brow at him, bothered by the fact that he would say that out loud in a public place. He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to me. "My card."
I look at the card and then back up to his face. "For what?" I ask.
He sighs, clearly getting exasperated with my coyness. "If you need a job, you know when you finish law school." He sweeps his hands toward my book and notes. "I'm always in need of a new lawyer." He winks as I take the card from his hand.
"You won't know who I am in two years Mr. Carmine." I say this as I tuck the card into my book.
"Oh, I am sure that I will." He tilts his head. "What did you say your last name is?"
"I didn't say, but it's Patron." I see him stiffen just a little and I think it is my imagination. That is so odd. I am a nobody here, just as I was a nobody in Iowa, where my Nonna lived. It was only in Chicago that my family name was well known, and I had always thought it was because of my father's shipping business.
"Camilla Patron. I will be seeing you again." He turns and walks out the door, the other men following behind. I'm so stunned that I stand there for a few minutes in silence. I glanced again at his card. Nicholas Carmine. It is the mafia boss. I basically just brushed off a mafia boss. I shake my head at myself and gather up my belongings to walk home. What just happened?