deal - cl16

part six

It's cold in the narrow streets of Monaco.

Your jacket is thick, but the high walls and the wind sweeping through the streets it doesn't keep you warm enough to keep your fingers from freezing. Unlike the rays of sunshine this morning that warmed Charles and you, you are now surrounded by shadows and the clouds hang low over Monte-Carlo.

The weather could not have been more fitting.

Shortly after you got out of the car and left the backyard, the sun disappeared and the temperature felt like it had dropped 10 degrees. And your spirits went down with it.

You don't want to argue with Charles, and definitely you didn't want to ditch him, but the situation was just too much for you. You've never been good at arguing - bitching will do - and you've always run away as soon as the opportunity has presented itself.

It's been no different with your parents.

You turn down the next alley. The streets are so narrow that no car can drive there. And Charles can't drive alongside you, shouting things at you through the window like in a bad comedy. But the wind whistling around your ears creeps under your jacket and makes you shiver all over.

For sure, Charles is already sitting on the couch at home, thinking of the best way to kick you out of the apartment. While he's clearly crossed lines - first, meddling in your affairs, and second, pressuring you to speak up straight - it's still his apartment, and he decides who can and can't live in it.

Inside, you're scolding yourself. Why the hell are you acting like this to your roommate who let you stay with him for free? You just left him there. What if he's worried about you? And comes looking for you? On purpose, you walk through those alleys so he won't catch up with you. But what if something actually happens? And you couldn't apologize for your behavior?

But how the heck are you supposed to apologize? If you had enough time - and were sitting at your desk - you would come up with a speech and write it down so you could recite it to him. It would be emotional, knock his socks off, and for sure you would cry, which would definitely be embarrassing.

Only you're not at home at your desk, which is why you have to come up with something else.

Last night Charles complained about your sweet wine, which is why you can assume he prefers dry wine. Or maybe he doesn't like wine in general. But then he wouldn't have asked for it.

As you enter one of the main streets, the clouds in the sky seem to loosen a bit and you leave behind the stone that you have been kicking for several meters in front of you. It's not far to the apartment, and thank goodness your favorite supermarket is on the way.

As you walk through the sliding doors, you see Vicky sitting at the register. She's a few years older than you and always tells you the latest gossip from the employees when there's a line behind you to cash out. Plus, she always makes sure there's at least one bottle of your favorite wine in stock in case you're having a bad day.

Like today.

But instead of giving you a smile, she puckers her red lips into a thin line. "I'm sorry, Y/N." She pulls her shoulders up. "I had a bottle hidden for you, but a new colleague found it and gave it to someone who was looking for it and she thought he was incredibly cute."

You slump your shoulders. But that's not why you're here (although you would have loved some of your wine). "It's all cool, Vicky. I think I'll try something different today," you reply to her and disappear into the liquor section.

You can't miss the crime scene. Where your wine should be, there is only yawning emptiness. But one shelf over, there's lovely wine, and thank goodness for cell phone service, so you can Google which of the bottles in front of you is the right one.