Café Rouge

Chapter 13: First Stand

Chapter 13

It's the dead of the night. Carlos's large, thick frame is coiled around Lola's softer, curved one. Their breaths are deep, minds lost in unconsciousness as they share the heat between their bodies. It's a peaceful night...interrupted suddenly by the rumbling buzzing of a phone.

Lola's the first to stir, her elbow nudging Carlos in the stomach as she realises it's not her phone-because, she doesn't have one anymore.
"Carlos," she hisses as the buzzing continues.
"Mmm, yeah," he grumbles back unwinding himself from the warmth of her body and the comforter.

He reaches out blinding for his phone sat vibrating like an electrocuted cat on the wooden desk. Eyes squint as his eyes are only adjusting to the bright light of the screen.
"Shit!" he curses realising who it is calling him.

The words exchanged are sparse and direct, the need for directions only necessary. With a quick goodbye, Carlos cuts the call, nudging Lola and telling her of his departing.

She shifts to her side about to ask him where he could possibly going so late at night when she realises that that is not a question he would answer her. Just as what he's going to do is not something he'll share either.
"When will you be back?" she calls out into the darkness, his silhouette pausing by the door frame.
"Soon, go back to sleep, picolla," he whispers back, willing himself not to turn around.

If he sees that temptation of Lola lying in bed, calling for him like a silent siren, he won't be able to resist. That's why he has to go quickly before he gives into his hesitation.
"Carlos wait-"
"Lola-"
"Just...make good choices, okay?"

He pauses, sighing before telling her finally, "go back to sleep."

It's not long before he arrives at the location. It's a sad location as usual, dark and dimly lit with a few boys out guarding the place.

Straightening his tie, he steps out, gun locked and loaded he heads up to source of the emitting artificial light.

Inside the warehouse is set up in it's usual manner; a large tarp laid out, boys facing outwards with his father sat in a wooden chair on the outskirts of the action. A man is swaying in the seat he's strung onto; his face bloodied almost beyond recognition, one of his legs sticking out at an odd angle and circling him is Carlos's brother.
"Padre," greets Carlos kissing his father lightly on both cheeks before straightening.

"I am a persistent man, Lucas but not a patient one. Once again, I will ask you, are you loyal to the Moretti's?!" demands Alberto, his voice even but tone callous.
"No! No!" cries the beaten man, his words gurgling by the blood filling his mouth. Spitting it out onto the floor in front of him, he squints at Alberto with the one eye that's not swollen.
"Marco," snips his father.

A slight smirk appears on Marco's face as he cracks his knuckles and twists it up into a fist.

Carlos's jaw clenches out of it's own accord as Marco gleefully sends his punch straight into wounded man. Bone meets bone, echoing an awful scrunching sound around the hallow room, followed by the cry of a defeated man in pain.

"Don Castellano, please! I am not lying to you! I swear loyalty only to you! I have no alliance with-"

Without warning, Marco is quick to deliver another defeating blow to his human punching bag. This time, he does not bother to beg to Alberto, instead moaning and groaning in burning agony.
"I know you're lying to me Lucas. The boys have already confirmed it's you that told those bastards our shipment dates," growls Alberto rising steadily to his feet.