“Yeah, I’ll swing by Kingdom later and drop some off.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
We hang up as the door slides open, and I step off into the parking garage. I fall into my car, not really sure where I’m going but knowing I can’t stay here any longer.
I’m not in love with Lucy and she’s aware of that. Regardless of what she feels for me, she knows where she stands. And you have to respect a bitch who doesn’t push something that she knows won’t ever happen.
I drive through town, my radio blaring “Mansion” by NF on max volume to drown out all my thoughts. I haven’t called my brother back, but he sent me a message an hour ago to call him. I didn’t respond.
He’s probably getting his morning wood sucked now. Since Titan is up for sharing his woman with him, he’s probably drowning himself in Emilee. They have some fucked-up threesome thing going on.
I come up to a stoplight and sit there while a car with two girls pulls up next to me. They barely look sixteen. The driver smiles at me, and then her eyes run over my neck tattoo and sleeve, and her smile grows. I look away from her, staring straight ahead, not having the time to deal with a girl who has daddy issues. Most women who want to fuck me do it to piss off their fathers. The only flaw in their plans is that I don’t ever stay around long enough to meet their dads.
The song changes to “MONSTERS” by Shinedown, and I rev my engine, waiting for the light to change as well. I look to my left and see a flower shop. It’s got a blood-red awning and glass storefront. A red rose is painted on one of the windows. It reminds me of my mother.
Seventeen years old
The service is about to come to an end. We’ve only been to one other funeral before, and they had a picture of Aunt Beth and the front of the church was full of flowers.
My brother sits to my right, back ramrod straight. Emilee’s hand in his on her lap. “Where are Mom’s flowers?” I ask him.
He leans into me but keeps his eyes facing ahead. “Dad said no flowers. He didn’t want them cluttering the house afterward.”
I fist my hands. Dad hates them. Always said it’s a waste of money to pay so much for something that is just going to die within a matter of days. “Mom loved flowers,” I tell him.
He sighs heavily. Even he knows it isn’t right, but he doesn’t challenge Dad. I don’t know why he cares so much about what Dad thinks of him. I guess if I were the chosen child, I would feel differently about the situation.
“Will you shut the fuck up, Kyle?” my father growls in my ear. “Show some fucking respect.”
The light turns green, and I pull into a front row parking spot at the flower shop and come to a stop. Sitting in my car, I don’t know what I’m doing. But without any more thought, I get out. I open the glass door that reads Roses and step inside. The smell of flowers hits me like a fucking punch to my face. It makes me nauseous. This is why my father never bought them for my mother. He hated the way they smelled and what they represented—life.
I don’t want to be anything like him.
“Hello?” I ask when I don’t see anyone behind the counter in front of me.
I look to my left and a row of glass doors holds all sorts of flowers inside. Each door is labeled with its contents.
“Hello?” I call out a little louder.
Still nothing. I look to the other side, and there are shelves of vases in various sizes. Some are just your simple glass, but others have been painted. I walk over and pick up one that has a beach scene on it. A big, bright yellow sun is setting in the background, giving the beach a soft yellow glow. The waves are rolling in, and the sand has seashells on it. It makes me want a vacation. I don’t even remember the last time I went on one.
I set it down and walk over to the counter. There’s a bell and a sign that reads—ring if not at counter. I ring it twice. “Hello?” I call out again.
My phone vibrates, and I dig it out of my pocket. It’s a message from my brother.
Bones: Where the hell are you? I’m at Kingdom.
I ignore him and put my phone away. “Anyone here?” I shout and ring the bell again.
Turning back to face the door, I double-check the open sign and see that they are. I push off the counter and walk past it farther into the shop. There’s a door behind the counter, and I push it open, thinking it’s an office. I storm in to go off on whoever has abandoned their duties but come to a stop when I enter.
It’s not an office. It’s a freezer of some type. A shiver runs over me as the cold hits me, instantly soaking into my skin and chilling my bones. I hate cold weather. But that’s not what has me pausing. It’s the girl in front of me. She faces me, but her head is down, and there is a glass vase in front of her on a white table. She is cutting the stems off a set of yellow lilies before placing them in the vase. Then she picks up the white ribbon next to her. She pulls it off the spool to where she wants it and cuts it.
I take a second to look over her. She wears a pair of faded blue jeans with the knees torn out. They sit low on her narrow hips. A white shirt that has a big red rose in the center. One petal has fallen off and lies below it by itself. And it reads until the last petal in black ink at the top. Her hair is a vibrant purple that she has pulled up into two messy buns.
Her hips sway back and forth, and her head bounces up and down gently. An iPhone sits next to the arrangement she is still working on and earbuds are in her ear.
She’s listening to music. That’s why she didn’t hear me calling for assistance.
I stand just watching her. My body shivering slightly from the coldness. It doesn’t seem to bother her.
She stands back and examines her work with a smile. Straight white teeth beam proudly at her work. Her plump lips are covered in the same shade as her hair.
Picking it up, she turns and places it on the fourth shelf. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach, and the back of her shirt rides up, showing off two little dimples and sun-kissed skin. My eyes travel up over her back, and it’s hard not to notice the straps of a black bra that you can see through her thin white shirt. If you’re paying attention like I am. I get to her hair and see she has two braids on either side running up to the two messy buns.
She gets it where she wants it and spins around. That’s when she screams, pulling me out of my trance. She shoves her back into the shelves, making them rattle, and rips the earbuds out of her ears. She places her hand on her chest, and her tits bounce up and down from her heavy breathing. Ice blue eyes meet mine, and she swallows nervously as they take in my face. Her gaze lingers on my eyebrow ring, before dropping to my lip ring and then moves to my neck tattoo that peeks out from underneath my shirt before they go to the sleeve I have on my right arm.
“Sorry,” I announce, raising my hands to let her know I’m not about to rob her. Or worse. I know what women think when they first see me. Most don’t like tattoos and piercings. They call us thugs. “I rang the bell …”
Her body instantly relaxes, and she takes a deep breath. Then her laughter fills the small room. It’s light and innocent. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, her voice shakes a little from the near heart attack I just gave her.
“I didn’t know we were open yet,” she adds when I just stand here.