The Restoration Project

4.13 - Lovely

Olaf's compound jutted out of the sky ahead of her, or at least the radio station aerial did, clearing the treetops that surrounded the building. Branches and limbs obscured the bulk of his estate until she got closer. The compound looked more sinister than it did in her previous visits. The perimeter fence rose into jagged spikes, guaranteeing injury to anyone attempting to scale it. The motel looked like a barracks for his loyalists. The brick was a drab gray, blending in with the cloudy sky. She couldn't believe she had trusted him this long or, worse, how she failed to see his true intentions. It pissed her off. She stepped on the gas.

The truck rocketed toward Olaf's and she swerved between parked cars with precision and ease, although the occasional Baldie presented a challenge. They were streaming toward her, heading to Frankie's like a pissed off mob. She was worried they would turn on her if she accidentally hit one, let alone how they would react to what she was about to do next.

As she neared the front gate she stepped on the gas again, the engine revving to the redline. Then she swung the wheel to the left, aiming it at the gate. The bottom part of the bumper tore off when she collided with the gate and she was thrust forward in her seat, her forehead saved from the windshield by her seatbelt locking in place. Then she was through the gate and on the gravel of the lot surrounding Olaf's. She pressed on the gas again to pull around to the rear of the compound. The Baldies didn't notice—or care—about her entrance, although it attracted attention from someone up on the roof. A head peered over the edge at her. When she exited the truck and looked up, just as  a second one joined the first. She grabbed her bag from the back seat, threw Holy Holly over her shoulder, and approached the door leading to the kitchen of the main building.

She yanked away boxes piled in front of the door and then proceeded to kick at the doorknob. On the fourth kick, the door-frame splintered and swung open. She walked inside, but stopped in the threshold. Diego and Jose leaned against a table, facing her.

"He figured you'd show up," Jose said, stepping toward her.

Lovely took a commensurate step back, out of the doorway and onto the stoop where a clean getaway was possible. Not that she had any intention of running now.

"Whoah," Diego said, raising his hands in an attempt to calm her. "We're not here to hurt you."

Lovely didn't believe that for a second. She stood her ground.

"As Jose said, Olaf expected you to come, thought it would be best if you had some familiar faces to greet you," Diego said.

"I've had my fill of familiar assholes already. I need to talk to him."

"'Fraid you're gonna have to wait for that, he's a bit preoccupied at the moment," Jose said. "But come sit, he'll be down shortly."

Lovely studied the two men standing by the table. She could take them out if she wanted to—they were big but they were slow. And she had Holy Holly. But then she would be no better than them. "Fine."

She didn't have to wait long. As she stepped inside, the door closed behind her—someone stood behind it.

"Ludwig," she said.

"Lovely! Olaf sent me down to greet you," Ludwig said. "But I thought it would be better if you saw these two first instead," he added, motioning to the Rodriquez brothers. "Sorry for the theatrics." He wasn't.

"Would have expected nothing less from you," she replied dryly.

He hesitated slightly with his next step. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Are you here to talk for him?" Lovely asked.

"In a manner of speaking. He's worried about you, you know."