Kissed by a Rose: A Dead Roses Novel

by Workman, RaShelle

  When I’m done, I head to the library. It’s deathly quiet. About twenty feet from the entrance is the main desk. It’s large and rests in the shape of a half circle. An elderly lady is working behind it, with curly white hair and cat’s-eye glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. There is an additional information desk in the Law section, and another upstairs in the Classics. That’s where I’m heading. Witchy Spears said make it great, and I have this idea to do a comparison between the themes portrayed in The Great Gatsby and the current state of America.

  I climb the steps, hanging on to the wood railing. At the top is a large landing. Oak desks are aligned with the bookshelves. No one else is around. I make my way over to the shelf containing the book I’m looking for. It’s on the very bottom. There were three copies the last time I looked. Now there’s only two. I pull one from the shelf and am about to stand when I hear whispering.

  I freeze. The voice sounds familiar, but I don’t know why.

  “I don’t care what you told her. You need to stay away from her.”

  There’s a response, but the voice is too low. I can’t tell what is said, or even if it’s a male or female. The sound could barely be considered muttering.

  “Revenge is a difficult pill to swallow. Don’t think I don’t know that, but you can’t let her figure out the truth.”

  More whispering.

  “I’ll discuss it with my uncle.”

  Then it’s quiet. I stand slowly. My heart is pounding rapidly. I want to run, but I’m trapped. I’m thinking the voice I recognize belongs to Evan, Cole’s cousin, but I can’t be sure.

  After several minutes, I peer out the side. Evan is standing there, his hands on his hips, a strange look in his eyes. “What are you doing up here, Lard Rose?”

  I hate that name that he still calls me that. I hold the book up in front of me, like a shield. “I came for this.”

  He sighs and walks forward.

  My body is trembling. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he places one foot in front of the other. His actions remind me of something. Of another time. But I can’t recall when.

  Evan tucks his hands in his back pockets. “You always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I suck in a breath. What is he saying?

  He turns and walks toward the stairs. Before he starts down, he adds. “That habit can get a girl in trouble.”

  I watch him disappear down the steps. My body is shaking uncontrollably. He threatened me. And it wasn’t even subtle. I pull out a chair and sit.

  What do I do? What can I do? And why did he behave that way? I’ve never done anything to him. I don’t really know him. Whatever his reason, I don’t have the answers. Not yet. And I have work to do.

  Grabbing my stuff, I head down to the computer rooms. I pick the first room that’s empty and close the door. It doesn’t lock though. There are two chairs inside. I take one and place it under the doorknob. It makes me feel a little better—a tiny bit safer.

  I pull out my cell. Stare at it. I want to talk to Cole, tell him what’s happened, but I’m not sure how to approach the topic, what to say. Evan is his cousin. They’re family. I know that means something to him. And who am I? What am I to him? A long lost friend. Someone he cares about, but I’m not his family.

  If it came to choosing me or choosing his family, there would be no reason to pick me. I stare at the phone. I stare at it for what seems like hours.

  Finally, I text Gina.

  I’m worried about you.

  I wait an eternity for a response that doesn’t come. I work on my paper. Type, edit, use parallels between the present and the time written about in The Great Gatsby. When I’m finally happy with it, I look at the clock on my phone. The library closes in five minutes.

  I still haven’t read the next letter, and I pull it from my pocket. It’s short. A total of seven words.

  Dear Rosie,

  I love you.

  Always,

  Cole

  I stare at it until I notice droplets of water falling onto the paper. I touch the wetness with my fingers. I’m crying.

  The elderly librarian knocks on the door. Scares me half to death. I scream and practically fall off my chair. She’s looking at me through the window, tapping on her watch.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”

  31

  No Good Mitts

  Rosie

  It’s late. Dark outside. The wind howls through the trees. A light smattering of snow sticks to the ground and flakes whip against my face, making my eyes water. I hunch against my books and the cold, walking quickly.

  No one is out. Lights from the streetlamps show me the way, and I’m grateful.

  I quickly make my way across campus and take a back street, a shortcut to Irvine Hall. There’s a small light on a door leading into the cafeteria. Other than that, it’s dark. And so cold. I walk faster, feeling my body tremble with the cold and the wet of the snow.

  A shadow steps in front of me, about ten feet away. I skid to a stop, then think better of it and start moving again. My dad always taught me never to show fear. I take inventory of what I have, what I can use as a weapon. My choices are limited: an iPod, a book, and some paper. But it’s just a shadow. Probably nothing. I repeat that over and over as I walk.

  Crap, I think, berating myself. If my dad knew I took a back street at night, by myself, he’d be furious. I’m only three feet away but can’t see the shadow’s face. He’s wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled over his head. I move to the far side of the street, but he follows me. It’s Evan.

  He grabs my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re the daughter of a cop?” he asks, his voice liquid smooth.

  I try to shrug him off, but he holds tight. “What do you want, Evan?”

  He gives me an oily smile. “It’s simple. Don’t mess with my boy. I know the two of you have that piano duet thing happening in a few months. Fine. Whatever. But keep your low-life mitts to yourself. Got it?”

  The tight fear in my chest changes to fury. “How dare you? Who do you think you are?” I shove him away with my fists. Unable to believe he’s talking like he knows anything about me.

  He grabs my elbow, making my stuff fall to the ground. My iPod bounces and shatters. I shove him again. He pulls me toward him, and I go for the groin, but he easily turns so that I make contact with his hip. Then he backhands me, sending me to the ground. I’m on my hands and knees, forcing the tears from my eyes.

  He kneels beside me. “I watched my cousin suffer for years after you left. All I could think was good riddance, but he mourned for you, with you, when your parents were killed, and you never responded to him. So, let me be clear.

  “Yes, he’s family, but because you’re back in his life he’s poking around in the past. Asking questions about your parents. Questions I can’t answer. But I’ll tell you what I told him. Your parents were no good snitches. Chose the wrong people to be loyal to. They betrayed Cole’s father. And that kind of treachery isn’t looked at with any kind of leniency.” One hand circles my neck and lifts me to eye level. I’m still seeing stars from him hitting me, but he’s still talking, which is good because that means he isn’t going to kill me. Or worse. At least not yet. “You want to know who I am? I’m the guy who will kill you at a moment’s notice without batting an eyelash.” He pushes me back and I hit my head on the concrete. Instant pain explodes behind my eyes. I blink back tears and watch as Evan picks up a piece of paper. I know instantly it’s Cole’s letter. “Keep your legs closed and your lips sealed, Lard Rose.” He squeezes his fingers against the thumb on his left hand. “Or I’ll do more than kill you, I’ll kill your aunt and uncle too, and…” He yanks on my hair. “I’ll be forced to kill my cousin.”

  “No. No. No. No. No.” I repeat the word over and over. Angry. Hurt. Anxious to know what he’s talking about. My dad was a good man.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” Evan mocks, interrupting my internal voice. “And I’ll give
you a front row seat to the performance.”

  “You wouldn’t kill him.” I take a deep breath. Choke on something wet. “What would be the point?”

  Evan yanks my hair so hard I think it’s going to come out. “Cole is my cousin, yes. But I have obligations that go beyond family. And if you screw up my plans—their plans—it’ll be all I have left to do. It’ll be your fault because I won’t have a choice. Got it.”

  He tosses the letter at me. An edge smacks me in the lip and I feel it split.

  “Are we clear?” he asks, his face next to mine.

  I nod.

  He presses his thumb into my lip, splitting it more. I let out a wounded cry. “I’m going to have to hear you say it. So, there are no misunderstandings.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He starts to walk back the way I came. “Catch ya later, Lard Rose.”

  I wait until he turns the corner, and then pick up the letter, the pieces to my broken iPod, and my other things. The book and my papers are wet. I’m going to have to redo them. Otherwise Ms. Spears won’t consider it my best effort. When I’ve got everything, I quickly make my way to the room. I’m shaking so hard those in the commons area and the elevator avoid me.

  * * *

  “What happened to you?” Gina asks when I open the door. She climbs off her bed, moving toward me. I drop my stuff on my bed and stand there, too afraid, too terrified to say anything. I can’t tell her about Evan. I can’t tell her any of it. She wraps a blanket around my shoulders. “You’re freezing,” she adds, tucking the blanket over my hands. “I’m going to take you to the emergency room.”

  “No. No doctors.” I shudder at the idea.

  “Rosie, you’re a mess. Your face is bleeding and so is your head. You need to get checked out.”

  I start to shake my head no, but it hurts too much. “I need to rest, that’s it. I’m fine.” The idea that Evan might hurt her if I say too much or the wrong thing terrifies me.

  “Are you sure?” She looks unconvinced by my choice.

  “Yes, positive,” I say and taste blood on my lips.

  She takes a deep breath. “Fine, then let me take care of you.” She pulls the blanket so that it’s totally covering me. “I’m going to get a wet washcloth.” I see her scrutinize my face, my hands.

  The worst is my head though. It’s pounding. I do as she says and sit. I’m too tired to do anything else. Seconds after she leaves, my cell phone chimes. It’s from Cole.

  Practice tomorrow?

  My hands are shaking so hard I can barely text. Yes.

  Evan did say we could continue to practice. I’ll keep the texting and the talking brief. But I need an excuse for the swollen lip, my bruised cheek, and my bleeding hands. I need one for Gina and for Cole.

  There’s a text from Cole: Sorry about earlier. Maybe we should leave the past in the past. Focus on the present?

  A smile tries to form on my mouth, but it hurts too much. I don’t know if that’s possible. I’ll see you tomorrow at 5pm for practice, I text back.

  Unless… you want to come over tonight.

  At his implications, my thighs burn. I can’t. I have loads of homework. Ms. Spears is a witch. I’m about to hit send. At the last minute I add: She’s fond of you. Seems to know a lot about you.

  She is a witch, and whatever she thinks she knows about me isn’t true.

  Because I can’t see his face, I feel brave. She told me she knows, knows you. After I hit send, I wonder if talking to him like this is wise. What if Evan is around? My lips start to tremble. I quickly type: Hey, never mind. Also, I don’t think I can meet the rest of this week. After vacation. K.

  I turn off my phone.

  Gina walks back in with the washcloth and checks the back of my head. There’s only a little blood, but I can feel the bruise growing with each passing second. She presses the cold washcloth gently to my lip. “Who did this to you, Rosie?” She asks the question quietly, her eyes trained on my bloodied face.

  “N-no one. I fell coming home from the library. I was running and I tripped over a rock. Fell to my knees, hit my hands on the pavement, and c-cracked my lip.” The lie sounds feasible.

  Gina looks at me like she’s waiting for my nose to grow. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me.

  “It wasn’t Cole, was it? Because if it was, I swear I’ll kick—”

  I shake my head ferociously. “No. Most definitely not.”

  “Who, then?” She’s looking at me like she’ll pounce if I try to lie again.

  I’m not sure what to do. I need to talk to someone. I want to talk to her, but I can’t put her in danger. Gina seems to sense my trepidation. “I know I’ve been out of it lately. Romney and…other stuff has been taking up a lot of time, but you can talk to me. I’m your friend.” She pats my hands, and I flinch. “Sorry, Rosie.” She studies my eyes intently. “Let me help you.”

  I force back the fresh tears that are threatening. “I promise Cole didn’t do this. He’s been amazing. It’s just…I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure I can look past what happened—with my mom and dad.”

  She scoots closer. “You mean what his father did to them?”

  “Yes,” I say, knowing that isn’t what she meant, but I’m determined to keep talk about what happened to a minimum. She can’t know about Evan, about his threats, about the picture, about any of it. I won’t put her in danger.

  “Well, I’ll support you no matter what.” She brushes some hair from my face and rubs my back. “You should shower. Get cleaned up. When you get back, we can talk about happier things, like me and Romney. Romney and me, and all the fun we’re having. ‘Kay?” She laughs, and I have to smile.

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  A shower helps. When I’m finished, I ease into sweats and a tank, but I’m freezing. Cole’s red sweatshirt is still on the floor with the rest of my clothes. I pick it up and pull it on.

  “I need to see if you have a concussion.” Gina says. She’s holding a small flashlight in one hand.

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Easy, I’m going to shine this light in your eyes. If they don’t shrink that means I’m taking you to the hospital, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

  “Go ahead,” I say, knowing she’s serious. I appreciate her care for me.

  The light hits my eyes and I feel my pupils shrink. “Ouch,” I say, holding up a hand.

  “All right you’re good. Take these.” She hands me two, small cream-colored pills.

  “What are they? They aren’t recreational drugs, are they?”

  “No, they’re prescribed. See?” She shows me the bottle they came from.

  I look and am satisfied. “What do they do?”

  “They’re pain medication. They’ll help you feel a million times better.”

  “Thanks.” I pop them both, swallow hard and then fluff up my pillow. Gina lies next to me. “Tell me about Romney,” I say. Anything to take my mind off the recurring scene playing in my head—the one of Evan hurting me, telling lies.

  I feel her face light up. “You’ve seen that he’s hot. I’ve already told you he’s amazing in bed. But it’s more than that. I like talking to him. He’s hilarious.” She rolls onto her side. “I actually like spending time with him when I’m sober. Even kissing him.”

  My eyes widen in mock surprise. “Wow! That’s awesome. He must be great.”

  “Exactly,” she begins, tucking her hands behind her head. “And the feeling seems to be mutual. I mean sure we get high together sometimes…” She picks at a thread. “We’re having fun together.”

  The idea of her doing drugs freaks me out, but I console myself that at least Romney is keeping her safe. I hope. “What about the break coming up? Are you going to spend time with his family?”

  She gives me a hateful glare. “No way. I met his mother once already, and she’s a total hag. Snooty. Pompous. You should’ve seen her shoes.”


  I let out a soft chuckle. If she only knew how much stock I put into a person’s shoes. “So, what are you going to do?”

  She swallows, clears her throat. “Probably hang around here. Romney still has to go home for a few days.”

  I turn to her. “Want to come to my aunt and uncle’s? It’ll probably be boring, but my aunt makes the most interesting food. We watch TV. Hopefully it’ll snow. If it does, we can go snowmobiling.”

  Gina sniffles. “I would love to,” she says, and wipes at the edges of her eyes.

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “But I can’t. I—”

  Pounding on the door interrupts her and she doesn’t finish. I’ve moved on anyway, because the sound of the loud noise makes me afraid. What if it’s Evan? I sit up and feel woozy. Whatever Gina gave me has made my head light, like it’s floating above my body. “Whoa,” I say, climbing off the bed.

  Gina laughs and pushes me, and I fall back into my cozy comforter. “Stay. I’ll get it.”

  I snuggle in the blankets, fluff my pillow, and close my eyes. Everything feels so wonderful. The pillow feels better than it’s ever felt. And the covers. And my body? If only I could feel like this every moment of every day.

  Evan and his stupid threats seem less scary. Less impressive. If he thinks he can hurt my family, he has another thing coming. And there’s no way he can keep me from Cole.

  I’m bulletproof, I think, rolling to the edge of the bed so I can get up. But it’s too hard. I don’t want to stand, don’t want to move, breathe… if I hold super still, maybe life will see how unimportant I am and go quietly on.

  “What happened to her? Did she get into a fight?” I feel him touch my face, my lips, and my hands.

  It’s Cole. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Cole. Hi.” I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. My lids are too heavy. There’s pressure. He scoots my body toward the middle of the bed and sits.