In a city of sheep ruled by wolves, she became the python that pulled them apart.
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Sage Black is a girl of little opportunities, forced to see the seamy side of life growing up in New York. Witnessing what lengths billionaires will go through t...
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The air is stale with sweat from condensed bodies and the tuna sandwich a man is holding across me. The seat under me is uncomfortably hard against my lower spine, the unsteady jostling of an underground subway swaying me from side to side. Yet, these things do not bother me. I was raised with the unaccommodating seats of a subway, a rough crowd, and a quick-paced life.
The two women I'm sandwiched between chat loudly into their phone speakers, making no account for the close quarters I and the other dozen people are trapped in. But then again, no one in New York ever makes account for much of anything. People do their own thing, only taking into account their ambitions, their next footsteps, the now and nothing else. My mother had always told me that if you don't keep looking forward to your next step, you and your dreams will fall behind in this city. It is not a soft city, it's all sharp edges, only suited for sharp people. I think that's why Mom fell behind. She is soft, a mellow peach amidst hard apples.
The groan of the breaks pulls me out of my thoughts to the obnoxious women on either side of me. One of them raises her voice over the whooshing sound of doors being pulled open, her eyes bulging as she shrieks "divorce". Probably for the best, I think to myself, watching her dive into the fourth argument since she sat down.
This is my stop, thankfully. I grab the arm of my worn bag, slinging it over my shoulder before stepping out of the train. The platform is full of rushing people stepping in and out of subways. Immediately, I'm pulled with the tide of a crowd as they head towards the stairways leading into the open air.
I welcome the familiar relief of breathing fresh air after the suffocating dampness of an underground railway. Well, it's as fresh as it can get in the congested, polluted atmosphere of Manhattan. The sight of a busy street of pedestrians, businessmen, and yellow taxis is enough to make many stop for a second to admire the city in action. But I don't have the time for that.
The narrow low-rise apartments of Harlem rush past me as I hurry to the café a block away. My legs find their own pace between long strides and a slow jog, dodging bicycle riders and tourists until I reach the entrance of the small coffee shop. Rin's Coffee, the label reads.
A blast of conditioned air and coffee aroma washes over me as I step inside, the animated chatter an indication of a long, busy day. The café has a chic, wood-steel industrial interior, along with its location in the middle of the city, we attract a lot of customers.
Rin catches my eyes with a relieved look before tossing an apron in my direction. Rin is my trainer's brother—ex-trainer now—and my current boss. Her pixie cut and septum piercing are a stark contrast to her modest personality. She may be kinder and more merciful than her brother but she's still my boss.
I don't waste time getting a notepad and following her rapid orders. Soon enough, I get into the mechanical pace of a waiter on a busy day, hands darting out for empty mugs, fingers jotting down orders, lips pulling into a fake smile as the hours drag on.
It's only Rin, Andy, and I in the café today, making the workload double of that on a normal day with 4 workers. On days like this, I'm promised higher wages so I don't complain. Any money was good money, no matter the work.
At one pm exactly, I glance at the time on my watch through dirty, cracked glass held together by worn leather. As expected, the bell rings, indicating the arrival of a customer, and a special one at that—David Roman. The businessman comes into the café at the same time everyday, sits at his usual table by the window, and orders the same drink everyday: an espresso with one sugar cube. He also requests to be served by the same waiter every day—me. His being a very generous tipper and a customer of little words, I don't mind.
Andy takes the table I was currently waiting for without question, and I quickly make the cup of coffee before approaching the table by the window.
The businessman lifts his gaze from his phone to spare me a glance above his Cartier sunglasses. Today, he wears a tie-less charcoal grey suit.
