Café Rouge

Chapter 5: Gratitude

Chapter 5

The proceeding day, once again, before Lola is even up Carlos is gone. As the warm water sprays generously onto her, she finds herself feeling slightly lighter than yesterday. Maybe it’s the promise of his that he would take into consideration her request to be set free a little or maybe it’s because she knows he won’t harm her, but today for some reason things don’t seem so bad. She’s thought about it, over and over again and finally concluded that although Carlos is a bad person-he hasn’t done anything bad to her. And perhaps, if she complies with him a little more, he won’t.
With that thought in mind, she decides on tonight’s dinner menu. After all, if there’s anything she’s learnt in life, it’s that food can solve (almost) everything.

Meanwhile Carlos is in his office, unable to concentrate on the spreadsheets before him. All he sees are those pleading Bambi eyes, begging for him to stop the torture. If Bambi herself had any idea as to what they do to him, she’d be out of the door before his scrambled brain could even process it. It’s a good thing, the façade he’s perfected after so many years is so strong. Too bad the same cannot be said for his morals, conscience, and heart. With his heavy head dropping into his wide palms, he lets out a small frustrated groan, wondering what on earth he can do to help her without seeming like he is.

                                    *****

That evening he’s fully prepared for another battle, but as soon as he steps inside his apartment he’s assaulted with the scent of pizza. But not just pizza, garlic bread too. His stomach appreciatively gurgles gently at that and he gazes around the room wildly to find the one responsible.

As the silver fridge door shuts, she’s revealed to him and like a deer caught in headlights she just blinks at him. Equally surprised by the lack of hostility in her eyes, he blinks back at her.
“Er…Hi,” she mumbles, “I-I…made dinner.”
Her cheeks tinge a delicate shade of pink and Carlos has to reframe himself from striding over there and kissing her adorably cute face.
“I can smell that…it smells good,” he replies.

Lola smiles back at him-a rare sight that has him loosening his tie, setting down his suitcase and making his way over there.

He takes a seat, watching silently as she starts preparing a salad, the movement causing the faded blue men’s shirt to slip slightly to the side and reveal a plain black bra strap. Even that tiny, innocent reveal of flesh, has Carlos wanting her again.
“So…how was your day?” she casually asks.

Carlos almost does a double take. What on earth is going on? What the hell happened to the little devil he was dealing with yesterday?
“What are you up to Miss Beaumont? Why comply now? Your situation has not changed, so what has?”
She gives him her wide eyed gaze, which is just a fraction too wide for him to believe the innocence in the action.
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrow, “and yet I fail to believe that.”

She sighs, placing down the knife and making her way to his side. He swivels around to face her, as her shoulders roll back and she tilts her head ever so slightly up.
“I can be compliant Carlos. I can follow your rules and I’ll do it, even with a smile but I want some more freedom.”
“You’re trying to negotiate with me?” he asks incredulously.
She simple nods stubbornly.
“Lola you keep failing to comprehend this: You have already willingly surrendered yourself to me, piccola,” he states with amusement. If he doesn’t find it funny, he’d have to find it angering and that’s something he’s trying to avoid.
She says nothing but the flame is back in her and sensing this he quenches the urge to carry on enraging her and give her some good news.
“But you’ll be pleased I kept my word, I have considered your ‘request’.”

Her eyes light up, body relaxing slightly as hope clearly flutters throughout her.
“Really?”
“Yes. You have an interview the day after tomorrow. I assume you’ll need some time to prepare so I have someone that will escort you in those matters. You can meet Taylor tomorrow morning.”

Lola’s eyes are wide in shock, her lips pulling back into a wide grin-unable to help herself.
“A job?...Wait, as what?”
“A prostitute,” he replies sarcastically.
Lola bites on her lower lip to stop any giggles escaping; she hadn’t expected the humorous retort.