“Yeah, but it would make things easier for you.”
“Not really.” I sighed.
“Well, you should bring a date. Not those tramps you pick up at clubs. You know, Penny is still single.” I rolled my eyes. She had been trying to hook me up with her receptionist for almost two years now.
Natalie is a board-certified psychologist, and has published a bunch of research papers I kept promising her I am going to read. She’s successful. And she kept trying to play matchmaker.
“I’m good.”
“Come on, she’s cute! Or are you done with brunettes?”
“No. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.” I said sternly. Downside of having a psychologist for a sister, I was her first patient.
“I’m not. But you should come in for a session. Maybe you’ll open up a bit if it’s more formal.”
I didn’t say no right away. I had a lot holding in that I would rather not hold onto anymore, but I wasn’t sure I could tell my sister yet. Or anyone. I barely knew my own thoughts that flickered in my own head for most of the time.
“Maybe. Aren’t you at work right now?” I asked her. It was late afternoon on a Friday, she usually had patients booked up to close.
“Not for an hour. But we should have dinner. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“You saw me three days ago. And what about Kit Kat?” I could hear her frown and it made me chuckle.
“Kevin. His name is Kevin.” She hated when I called him that. I couldn’t help not liking him, anyone who dates my big sister has to jump through fiery hoops to win her over. “And he is away on business, remember?”
Oh. No wonder she was bothering me. She’s just lonely. Kevin was a medical sales rep, so his job kind of had him running around a lot. I think they’ve been dating…four months now. Five?
“Right. Sure, we can have dinner. I’m not leaving the penthouse though.”
She giggled.
“Okay. I’ll bring our favorite. See you!” She hung up, her chipper voice ringing in my ear.
I finished off the rest of the movie. The new one about fast cars with the guy from Breaking Bad. I suck at names. It was about seven, and then my mother called me. It must have been bother Tristan day. There are at least three every week.
“Hey, mom.” I answered.
“Honey, you sound so tired. I thought you didn’t even work anymore.” I rolled my eyes. Selling a company off doesn’t mean I don’t work anymore.
“I know. I’m not tired.” I lied.
“I wanted to check on you. Did you get you invitation to the gala? You still need it to get in. Natalie told me she spoke with you.”
“Yeah, we’re having dinner tonight. I didn’t get an invitation though.”
“Look in the mail.”
My mom’s voice was very soft and soothing, she hadn’t asked me anything or even given me any advice and I already felt better. I went to the mail opening at my door, sure enough I found a gold bordered, eggplant colored invitation to the charity gala. This one was for a scholarship fund to underprivileged kids.
“I found it.” I told her.
“Good. I’m glad you’re seeing your sister tonight, you know she gets lonely easily. With Kevin being gone and all.”
I nodded to myself.
“Yeah, she does.”
“And how about Vivian?” I still cringed at the sound of her name. Crazy.
Ten years ago, when we first met I was head over heels for her, thought she was the one for me. Then money changed her—she got implants, micro bladed brows, lip injections, injections everywhere pretty much. It was my money too, not that it mattered. I thought I was just helping her in her quest to feel beautiful. Little did I know I was making it easier for her to find someone else.
“What about her, mom?” I couldn’t hide the frustration in my voice. How many people would ask me about this woman today?
“Did she sign the papers? It has been weeks.”
“I know. No, she hasn’t. Levi is trying to get her to sign by Monday. I want to be done with it.”
“I know, honey. We do too. It’s really too bad what she told everyone, when your dad and I hear about it we try to set people straight.” She scoffed. Her otherwise soft and easy voice was strained. I hated when mom worries, especially when it was over me.
“Don’t worry about all that, mom. People will think what they want.”
“I know, but they shouldn’t. You’re such a good boy. And you’re the one that got hurt here.” She insisted.
“Yeah. But really, don’t worry mom.”
“I’ll try. Your dad is on the deck with a cigar, he’ll probably call you later.”
“Uh, please tell him not too. I’ve had enough phone calls for the day.”
She laughed aloud.
“Tristan, stop being so rude. Anyway, I’ll tell him you are with Natalie. I just wanted to check on you. And you are coming to the gala, right?”
“Yes, of course mom.”
“Good. If you need me to find you a date, I can…”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks though.” I silenced that idea quickly. With my luck, she already had three people lined up.
“Okay, if you insist. Be nice to your sister.” She said, her stern tone breaking through.
“I will. Talk to you later, mom.”
“Bye honey, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Maybe I should be grateful I even have family willing to bother me all day. I was being overdramatic, but when everyone kept asking about my ex, what am I supposed to do? Part of me wanted to call her and dish out all of the choice words I have for her, but that would be stooping to her level and I won’t give her that satisfaction. After all of this nonsense, I don’t even think I’ll ever date again.
Chapter Two: Emilia
I was going to need a stronger allergy medicine in this line of work. I couldn’t really complain though, I was lucky to finally have this shop, even if it was slightly small. Everything was finally up and running.
I clipped the roses and put them in their vases, lining the back wall, and then I worked my way up. The gardenias were next, and then the tulips. The flowers were blooming so well, spending my last bit of investment on that green ceiling was worth it. I didn’t have to come in and flower them as often, and they got just the right amount of sunlight.
Now all I needed were people to buy them. The hardest part was over, I guessed. Building the place up, getting a lease, commissioning flowers and growing my own consistently enough. But now, people would have to buy them so I could pay the bills. I seemed to be in a constant tug of war with paying bills, since I was twelve and my mother…
I couldn’t think of her now. I would be holed up for the rest of the day. A decade and a half later and it still hurt.
“Emilia! Emilia!” I smiled at the voice.
Dan was a sweet neighborhood kid who liked to help around the shop. But I recently found out it was his grandparents that were my most loyal customers. I started selling fresh flowers from my backyard back in college, and a kind lady started buying them from me. Every fresh bloom, then every week, then every day for the past seven years.
“I’m here.”
Dan appeared behind the azaleas. He was growing really fast, he is almost taller than me now, and his boyish looks are fading to a more handsome one. He looked just like his grandmother, Sasha. Brown hair, brown eyes, soft features.
“Nanna needs a big order.” He slipped me a piece of paper.
“How big?” I asked, before looking at the paper. When I did, I almost fell from the ladder.
“Oh my, a gala?”
He nodded.
“Another charity ball. She needs an entryway and…well, it’s all there.” He was right. She gave him a layout of the whole place, and marked where every flower should go.
“Um, when is this happening?” I asked him.
“Saturday.” He said casually, as if that wasn’t just two days away. I was wonderi
ng how the hell I would pull this off, but I couldn’t let him see that.
“Okay, great.”
“You need any help?” he offered. He was already in his school uniform, so I was sure he had places to be.
“No, thanks. Maybe for the gala. One day I can actually pay you.” I smiled. He waved me off and slung his backpack back over his shoulder.
“Now worries, Emilia. I’m glad to help!” He was out the door before I could protest.
I kept working. There was actually a lot to do, and I just kept postponing it. But by the end of the work day I had organized all the flowers, trimmed down their stems, and prepared the usual orders for Sasha.
She usually came by in the morning. Maybe she would explain more about this charity ball happening on Saturday. I put my oversized sweater on, and locked up before I started the short walk to my studio apartment. Really, it was right around the corner and only took me one song to get there. Once inside, I popped in a frozen dinner and took a quick, hot shower. And it actually had to be quick because the hot water only lasted a few minutes.
It was a dingy place, but it was mine. The one small window I had was lined with an array of plants, daisies mostly because they were my favorite. Right next to it was my bed, well it was just a mattress and box spring with a quilt I made from old tee shirts, but it was comfortable. I had a small bedside table that mostly held a bunch of clutter, and a small couch that only held laundry I refused to fold. My television was my laptop, and the kitchen might as well be the bathroom. Yeah, not much. But it was all mine.
Once I settled in with Netflix and my lasagna, I called Ivy. She and I had been friends since high school. These days, that was a really long time. We went to the same college, the state school here. Iowa had good schools regardless.
“Hey, I was just about to call you!” Ivy had such a chipper voice, I wondered how she could always have so much energy.
Her job was way more stressful than mine. She was an up and coming designer and assistant, which meant she had to be at her boss’s beck and call, planned all the shows for him, handle orders, then find time for her own designs.
“How odd, how was today?” I put her on speaker and settled into the couch.
“Ugh, horrible. I just now got back. I was about to find something to eat. What about you? How is the shop coming?”
I just got into the official shop space last week, I had been working out of the makeshift greenery I made of the roof, behind the landlord’s back.
“Pretty well. Sasha actually just gave me this huge order. To handle the floral and gardening for a charity ball on Saturday.”
“Oh shit, that’s good, isn’t it? You don’t sound happy.” She accused correctly.
“Yeah. It’s just a lot. I want to do a good job.” I explained.
“Oh, for sure. Don’t even worry about it, your work is amazing. How will you finish the order though?” I hadn’t even thought of that. Every flower in my shop won’t be enough, and it wasn’t even the theme I already had mustering up in my head.
“I hope to ask her about that tomorrow. I’m sure she has a budget and everything.”
“What kind of charity?” she asked. I could barely hear her though, with the background noise and the sound of the microwave.
“A boys and girls club. It was one of the first ones her and her husband opened up.”
“What’s her name again? Wait, this is the same one that’s been buying from you all this time.”
“Yeah. Sasha Hallows. Her husband’s name is Bryan.”
“Oh yeah, they basically built the youth of this city. Whoa, she is like your fairy godmother or something. Except with flowers.”
“Sure, Ivy.” I laughed. “But still, I want to do well. This could open up a lot of doors, you know?”
“Yeah, I feel you. You will do great, don’t worry.” She stifled a yawn. Man, I was tired too. I hadn’t seen her in a few days either. Usually we don’t go that long without at least meeting for lunch or dinner.
“Thanks. You’re tired.” I stated.
“No, I want to talk. Can you bring a plus one to this gala?” I heard the smile in her voice.
“I don’t know. I will definitely ask, I don’t think I could go by myself anyway. Would you be able to go?”
She scoffed, “uh, duh! Why else would I have asked? I would love to be there for you, it’s your first big gig!”
“Aw, thanks.” I smiled to myself, eating the last of my lasagna. I have got to stop eating these things, the sodium is starting to pack where it shouldn’t be.
“No problem. What are you doing anyway?” She asked me.
“Watching that house wives show on Netflix. You?”
“Well I just heated up this pot pie, but I think it’s going to be nasty.” I let out a laugh.
“What time do you have work tomorrow?”
“I don’t. I have to send out a bunch of orders, which I usually do from here.”
“Well you can come over and I can cook. Long as you bring the ingredients.”
“Really? I will literally be right there.” She hung up before I could even laugh.
Yeah, Ivy can’t cook at all. It’s a wonder she has even made it this far. But she had me. We were roommates back in college. The only reason we didn’t live together now was because the design firm she worked for was on the other side of town, there was no good real estate there and I simply couldn’t afford to follow her. Ivy had the support of her parents, but she never saw them because they were career travelers. I didn’t know that was a thing until I met her. I figured I should clean up a little since she was coming, even though she has seen this place messier. But I finally folded the clothes crowding my couch, and it made the whole place look a little bit more organized. All five hundred square feet of it.
Her knock was easily recognizable, I skipped to the door, my sweats dragging the floor as I did.
“Oh, my goodness, what did you bring?”
She was lugging two huge brown bags.
“One bag has drinks. The other has the food.” She explained.
She set the bags down and hugged me tight. Our hugs were always awkward because she was so dang tall. She could model the clothes that she designs too. But she was very pretty; her blonde hair surrounded her sharp and dramatic features; her brown eyes are the most noticeable thing about her. She has that girl next door vibe going on too.
“I missed you. You look great.” I told her. She was wearing a tight pair of dark jeans and a spaghetti strap bohemian top with a denim jacket. I supposed she always had to look ready for the runway.
“Thanks, you look comfy. Can I put something on?” she gestured to my makeshift closet.
“Go for it.” I went through the bag. I guessed she wanted me to make pasta.
I started a pot of water, then I chopped up some onions and sausages. I always added pepperoni for extra flavor. By the time, I got the sauce going, the water had boiled. Ivy put on my favorite leggings and cut off tee.
“Have any ideas for the gala yet?” Ivy asked over the noise of Netflix.
“Yeah. I was thinking since it’s centered around kids it should be colorful and inviting. Something not too adult, if that makes sense. Maybe some peonies, buttercups, and begonias.”
“That already sounds so pretty.”
“Thanks. It’s just a bit nerve wracking. I mean, come tomorrow I have two days.”
I wish I had a longer notice, but things aren’t always perfect. I poured us both a glass of wine, and met her on the couch while everything cooked.
“Thanks. You’ll be okay. And at least Sasha knows you, so she won’t treat you like any other person she hired.”
“That’s true. She has always been so nice. And to think it was a chance meeting.”
I thought back.
This was the hardest day. Even my flowers can’t make me smile. Because she was in them, all over them. My mother was everything to me. And she left so soon, too soon. She loved flowers, every time w
e were together, she was planting flowers. Our garden was bigger than any other, and the most beautiful. She used to travel a lot, exploring all types of flowers. My father was a botanist, that’s how she got into it.
“Excuse me miss, are these for sale?” Were they talking to me?
I set my clippers down, and turned to face the voice. I shielded my eyes from the sun with my gloved hand. A kind woman stood in front of me, her petty coat looked like it cost more than my monthly tuition.
“Not usually.” I answered simply.
She opened up the small gate I had, and stepped inside. I used the university green room a lot, and I had never seen her. I thought I had seen everyone that comes around here.
“Are you visiting?” I asked her. She continued to look upon the flowers, her cream-colored gloves covered her delicate hands.
She looked like a business woman of some sort. Her brown hair was in a nice pin up style, her petty coat a professional shade of blue, and her slacks opened up at the bottom to a pair of heels.
“Oh, no. I was here for a meeting. I’m Sasha Hallows.” My eyes widened in shock. Could it really be her?
She was the only reason I am at this school. Her scholarship fund was paying for everything. Room, board, books, tuition. My grades earned it, but she definitely made it possible.
“Whoa, I’m one of your scholarship recipients.” I gushed. She smiled as if she knew, but that would be a little too creepy.
“How wonderful…you planted all of these?” she smiled, gesturing to my small cube of flowers.
I had pretty much everything currently in season. Dogwoods, winterberries, heathers, paperback maples, and firethorns. I was still working on getting the camellias to grow right, but they were at least budding.
Scandal Page 21
