Lola: Chapter Seven
There’s a crash outside. Something fell to the ground. It sounds like metal. It’s enough to wake Lola. The house in darkness. At night. No lights are on. Lola holds her breath, listening. Listening. She knows her life is in danger.
The crash could have been anything really. It could have been a cat slinking between the garbage. It could have been the wind blowing an empty beer can through pavement. Lola is paranoid. After seeing someone get their throat slashed, even if it was in a memory, it’s enough to make anyone scared for their life.
Lola walks over to the fireplace and grabs the poker. It’s solid iron. Enough to stop any slinking cat. Now there’s rustling outside. Metal crashing and then rustling, that’s some strong wind. Lola, in darkness, moonlight the only glow, slips back into the bedroom, she knows her way around this house now, it’s not complicated, her memories snapped back with total recall. She stalks through the bedroom, it leads to the garage in the back. She stalks through the garage, iron poker firmly in her right hand. She emerges into the backyard. The rustling is in front of her now. Maybe it’s a city raccoon.
There’s a large dark object struggling to unlock the sliding glass door. That’s a damn big city raccoon. The size of a man. He opens the sliding door as quietly as he can. It would be silent to anyone who wasn’t watching him do it. Lola is watching him do it. The stalking grows faster. Three swift strides from her high school sprinter’s background. And strikes the large dark moving object him knocking it to the ground. She flicks on the light. A man is lying on the floor. Walters is looking up at her. Lola stands above him, poker raised, ready to strike again.
Walters is surprisingly calm considering he just got hit by a hard piece of iron.
“Hey, you’re good.”
Lola doesn’t like his tone. She takes a half step toward him to strike again.
“I wouldn’t.”
Walters’ eyes move down to his right hand. Lola’s eyes follow his line of sight, she sees the gun Walters is pointing at her. She takes a step back, poker still raised in the air.
“Who are you?”
“That’s funny, that’s the same question I was going to ask you.”
She stares down at him, not knowing what to do. Seconds go by. Walters is comfortable in the silence. He can see that Lola is getting nervous. She might try to strike him again if he doesn’t say anything.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll put the gun away, if you put that thing away.”
Lola thinks about the offer.
“Trust me, it’s a good deal.”
It is a good deal. Lola is annoyed it’s a good deal. She doesn’t want to give in to the man with the gun.
She doesn’t have much choice. She throws the poker on the ground. Walters puts his gun away and gets up from the floor. He notices the jug of milk on the floor.
“Looks like you spilled.”
He picks up the jug and takes it into the kitchen, putting it back in the refrigerator.
“Mind if I have a beer?”
Lola waves her hand, as if to say go ahead. Walters takes a can of beer from the fridge.
“Who are you?” Lola asks again.
“I’ve been hired to watch you.” Walters opens the can of beer and takes a much-needed drink.
“Why?”
“My boss thinks you have something of his.” He walks over to Lola, sizing her up. “But I don’t.”
Walters takes another drink. “Now. Who are you?”
Lola walks away from Walters, wandering around her living room once again. Her eyes scan the pictures on the wall. The picture from her former life. “I don’t know.”
Lola picks up a picture of her and her former husband. “I remember some things, some memories are coming back, just not everything.”
“So you don’t know how you ended up in that motel room with a dead man.”
Lola’s eyes turn cold. “No. That I remember.”
She sets the picture down and turns to Walters. Walters sits on the arm of a sofa chair.
“Then tell me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I lied before. I wasn’t hired to watch you. I was hired to kill you.”
“Is that what you’re going to do after I tell you what happened?”
“No.”
“Why not?
“Because, like I said, I don’t think you’re the one we want.”
“You’re right.”
“How do you know?
“Because I was set up.”
“By who?”
“I thought it was me.”
“What?” Walters is confused.
Lola hands him the “Dorothy Drake” card.