shameless

5. lavenders

Carter sat at his bed, staring at the stack of bills and rejection letters. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him.

Ever since his encounter with Vincent at the fancy restaurant, his life had been a whirlwind of extravagant gifts and private dinners but beneath the surface of luxury, there was a lingering sense of dread.

He felt as if all these luxury is tentative and he will be left with nothing but debt to a man with questionable reputation and it was.

The money he earned personally from Vincent was now gone from the bills and expenses. It WAS temporary and now he has to start finding another source of income once again.

The bouquet of lavender that Vincent had sent still adorned his living room, a constant reminder of the man's presence in his life.

Carter knew he couldn't rely on Vincent forever, yet every attempt to find a job seemed to end in disappointment.

He had applied everywhere, from bookstores to coffee shops, but nothing came through. Countless of rejection has him give up his knees and fall to the bed every night he comes home.

Determined to not rely on Vincent's side rackets, if only for a while, Carter once again put on his coat and ventured out into the city.

He wandered the streets, visiting every establishment with a "Help Wanted" sign in the window. Hours passed with no success. Each rejection chipped away at his resolve.

What the fuck is going on?

Carter's patience was spreading thin. Life is fucking him up. He's over it.

As dusk fell and blanketed the sky, Carter found himself back at his apartment, no closer to finding a solution.

He slumped onto his couch, feeling the weight of his situation bearing down on him when the doorbell rang, startling him.

He opened his apartment door to find another delivery - this time, a box of fine chocolates and a note: "A little something for the day. - V."

Carter's heart sank. He knew he should be grateful, but the gifts felt like chains, binding him tighter to Vincent. He really needs to stop receiving them. He doesn't want any of these to be counted as debt.

His phone buzzed with a message from Alex, asking how he was doing. Carter hesitated but decided he needed to talk to someone.

"Alex, can we meet? I need to talk," Carter texted. He went outside to the nearest park.

A few minutes later, Alex was sitting across from Carter in a park bench, concern etched on his face.

"You look like you've been through the wringer, man. What's going on?"

Carter sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"It's been so hard to find a stable career. Every time I try to find a job, something goes wrong. It's like life doesn't want me to be independent." Carter poured it all, shoulders going up before falling down on the exhale.

Carter then continued. "Do you think it's a good idea if I try to apply for a permanent position for Vincent?"

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Vincent Sinclair? The jazz lounge owner? Carter, Are you sure? I try to be as silent as possible but he has a lot of dirty work done behind the eyes of everyone in the city."

Carter looked away, uncomfortable. "I believe you but he's been so kind to me. I owe him a lot too. Maybe I'm just overthinking things but I need the money you know?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't think you are. Everyone knows who he is. He's not someone you want to be indebted to. You need to find a way out before it's too late."

"I don't know what to do, Alex. I've tried everything." Carter sighed, feeling the weight of Alex's words.

The conversation left Carter more conflicted than ever. As Alex left, promising to check in regularly, Carter received an invitation to another exclusive event hosted by Vincent. The lavish, gold-embossed card felt heavy in his hands.

-

As the night of the event approached, Carter found himself standing in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie.

The memory of Alex's warning echoed in his mind, but he knew he couldn't avoid Vincent forever. He had to face him, to understand his true intentions.

Entering the opulent venue, Carter felt eyes on him. He scanned the room but didn't see Vincent. Instead, a waiter handed him a glass of champagne.

"Mr. Sinclair will see you shortly." A whisper that fades silently into the crowd.

Carter's heart raced as he was led to a private room. The door opened to reveal Vincent, seated with a glass of wine, his gaze piercing and unreadable. The dangerous aura around him was palpable.

"Carter, welcome. I'm glad you came." Vincent said, his voice smooth but with an edge of something darker.

Carter forced a smile, feeling the tension in the room. "Thank you for the invitation, Sir. I wanted to talk to you about... everything."

Vincent's smile reach his eyes. "Of course. We have much to discuss. And I'd love for you to call me Vincent."

As the door closed behind them, Carter felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this conversation could change everything, for better or worse.

The shadows of doubt loomed larger than ever, and Carter realized he was stepping into a game where the stakes were higher than he had ever imagined.