FLOWERS ARE RED

by Mary J. Williams

  Naturally the first thing through the door, Ashe tossed his concerns at Belle. Her surprised expression answered his question before a word left her mouth.

  "Won't Theo's parents find it odd if you don't accompany him?"

  Belle popped the cork on a bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. She took a sip, her expression thoughtful.

  "I don't have to tell you that it's an odd situation."

  "No, you do not." Ashe skirted the kitchen island. "Just a second. I forgot something."

  "What?"

  Setting down Belle's glass, he took her in his arms. "This."

  The kiss was long, hungry, and might have led directly to the bedroom if Ashe had the patience. Instead, he took Belle right there, her underwear in tatters, her back pressed against the refrigerator. It wasn't his smoothest performance. However, when Belle's cry of release filled his ears, Ashe decided a quickie in the kitchen wasn't a bad way to start an evening.

  "What was I saying?" Belle sighed happily, resting her head on Ashe's shoulder.

  Ashe had carried Belle to the sofa, leaving her just long enough to retrieve their wine.

  "Something about Theo's parents?" Ashe was pretty certain that was it.

  "Right. Now that Theo is out—at least to me—I can't help wondering if his parents know."

  "That he's gay? I thought he didn't know until—? What's his name?"

  "Blaine." Belle wrapped Ashe's arm around her waist. "Not the gay part. Only that Theo doesn't want to get married. His father is obsessed with Theo carrying on the family line."

  "Is that still a thing—outside of royalty?"

  "Apparently it is. Bloodlines, and all that crap. Mine seems to be acceptable."

  "Naturally." It felt as if Ashe had traveled back in time—to an episode of Dynasty.

  "You're too young to remember that show," Belle laughed when he shared his thoughts.

  "Dalton got hooked while we were recording our first album. He said watching it late at night helped him relax. The rest of us decided, what the hell, and joined him. I don't know if it helped, but the album went multi-platinum, and we won a Grammy."

  "Here's to Dynasty." They clinked glasses. Belle sighed. "Whatever the explanation, Theo's parents have treated the engagement with kid gloves from day one. They don't push us to be together. They haven't pushed period. Until the last postponement. Theo's father finally put his foot down. Marriage or else."

  "Or else what?"

  "Loss of Theo's cushy lifestyle. His job is a sham. He goes to work when he wants—which isn't often. Mostly, Theo plays. His father won't disinherit him, but the money will run dry fast unless the wedding happens. A grandchild in the first year wouldn't hurt."

  "You were picked as a brood mare? Nice," Ashe sneered. "Do you think the marriage would have lasted a year?"

  "That's the scary part. If I had been foolish enough to go through with it, I don't know if I would have divorced Theo. When I commit to something, I tend to dig in until the bitter end. I think that's why Theo wanted to go through with the wedding."

  Belle snuggled closer as if looking for comfort. Ashe was happy to oblige. He kissed her forehead. Then her words sank in.

  "Theo what?"

  "Didn't I mention that?"

  "No. I would have remembered that bit of lunacy."

  Sitting up, Belle rubbed a hand over her face, taking a healthy drink of wine. With a sigh, she looked at Ashe.

  "Theo wanted to get married to placate his father. He said I could divorce him in a year."

  Before, Ashe had simply disliked Theo. Hatred was sliding in—quickly.

  "Did you kick him in the nuts? Or send him for a mental evaluation? Hopefully both?"

  Belle laughed. Not full-fledged. Edgier. Somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "I gave him two weeks. Which he tried to turn into a month."

  "You held firm."

  "Damn straight, I did."

  Ashe would have kicked Theo's sorry ass out the door. That was him. Belle's approach was more subtle. However, there was a rod of steel at her core. Anybody thinking Belle was a pushover would be in for a big surprise.

  "Come to the party."

  "Your father's birthday party?" When Ashe nodded, Belle gave him a half smile. "You want me at the party? With Theo?"

  "I want you at the party. With me." Ashe slid his hand through Belle's hair, cupping the back of her neck. "It would be different if you and Theo were a real couple. Lots of people will be there. Nobody will think anything about you mingling without your faux fiancé. Or disappearing for a few minutes."

  This time, Belle's laugh had genuine humor in it.

  "Disappear?" She turned her head, kissing Ashe's wrist. "With you?"

  "Not with me. If we were to meet—by accident—in an empty room, who would know."

  "It's a tempting thought. But I don't know if I should go."

  Ashe took out his phone. He hadn't shown his father's text to his sister. If things didn't go well, the disappointment would be his and his alone. Showing Belle felt right. He brought up the message.

  "Read this."

  Watching Belle's expressions, Ashe waited for her reaction.

  "That's wonderful." Belle looked up with a smile. "Something changed in him. Don't you think that's encouraging—for all of us? People can evolve, no matter how old."

  "I know it's crazy. But…"

  "What?"

  Ashe shrugged. "If I go in there with sky-high hopes for a reconciliation, am I asking for him to pull the rug out from under me?"

  "You think your father is going to punk you?"

  When Belle put it like that, Ashe admitted it did sound ridiculous.

  "Not a joke. More of a misunderstanding." Closing his eyes, Ashe dropped his head onto the back of the sofa, pulling Belle into his arms. Having her close helped him think. "What if Dad's new attitude is predicated on the idea that I'm back for good?"

  "Your father isn't a fool, Ashe. He has to know what you've done with your life. The success. The money. Why would he think you'd give that up?"

  "I don't know. My last memory of my father isn't a good one. We were two stubborn idiots. We weren't interested in a compromise—not that there was one. I'm afraid that hasn't changed. Five minutes alone and we might find ourselves at each other's throats."

  "Don't let it happen."

  "That's it?" Ashe gave Belle a small shake, venting his frustration. "That's your advice? Don't let it happen? Christ. Embroider it on a pillow, why don't you?"

  "Mock if you want, but it is good advice. You aren't a kid anymore, Ashe. If you don't want to fight with your father, don't. If he says something you don't like, ignore it. Or walk away. You do have a choice."

  Belle was right. About everything. Ashe's father no longer held all the power. They would never be true equals. That wasn't possible in a parent/child dynamic. However, a lot had changed in ten years. No matter what his father thought, the life Ashe had forged was important. There was no going back—only forward. He simply had to keep that in mind.

  Ashe breathed in. Belle. Her natural fragrance brought him another level of calm. She never wore perfume. Or cologne. The lotion that she diligently applied after every shower was silky but unscented. It was a choice he heartily approved of.

  "Is that how you handle conflict with your father? Calm and cool."

  "At the office, I'm an employee, not a daughter. Dad's word is law. Privately, we do pretty well."

  "How often do you walk away?"

  Belle chuckled, one shoulder hitching upward. "It happens. Though not as often as it used to." Belle sobered. "I have no idea how he's going to react when I tell him about Theo."

  "Theo has a boyfriend. It will be hard for your father to blame you."

  "True," Belle nodded slowly. "I don't think Theo's parents will be as understanding. They will search for an excuse. Who turned my son gay? I'll be the perfect whipping girl."

  "D
o you care?"

  "Not at all. My mother might not agree. She and Theo's mother are friendly—if not friends. It will be awkward at first. However, Mom is tougher than she looks. She'll survive. We all will."

  Belle wouldn't simply survive. She would flourish. Ashe had no doubts. More than anything, he wanted to be around to see it happen. The logistics had him stumped. Belle was firmly entrenched in Boston. Her family. Her friends. Her work. It wouldn't be fair to ask her to move.

  As for Ashe, this hadn't been his home for a long time. If things worked out with his father, he would visit whenever possible. But his life—and the family of his heart—were in Los Angeles.

  There had to be a compromise—if they were committed to finding one. That was the problem. Ashe knew how he felt. Belle was another matter. Too soon, he reminded himself. Give her time to drop Theo the Leech, deal with the repercussions, and get used to the idea of having Ashe in her life. No matter how much he would like to rush things, slow would be better—for both of them.

  "I think I will come to your father's birthday party."

  "Really?" That perked up Ashe's lagging emotions. "I'm glad. But what changed your mind?"

  "You." Belle brushed her lips across his. "I've been to so many parties where I wished I could disappear. I never did. Of course, you weren't there to make the idea irresistible."

  "Me? Irresistible?" Ashe nuzzled Belle's neck, tasting her smooth, soft skin. "Tell me more. Better yet, show me."

  Ashe's hand had just begun to slide under the hem of Belle's dress when a loud buzz filled the room, signaling somebody wanted in the building.

  "Ignore it." Ashe grabbed at Belle's hand as she tried to stand up. He had to give her credit, she was fast, easily avoiding his grasp.

  Laughing, Belle swatted away Ashe's second attempt to draw her back. "It might be one of my older neighbors. Sometimes they need help with their groceries." She pushed the intercom. "Hello?"

  "I have a package for Belle Richards. You have to sign."

  "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

  "I'll go." Ashe already had his shoes on.

  "There's no need. It's a secure building. If the guy looks strange, I won't open the door."

  "What constitutes strange in your opinion?"

  "I don't know." Belle shrugged. "I'll know when I see it."

  "Tell you what." Ashe moved Belle from where she blocked the door. "You think about it. Next time, once you've decided what strange is, you can go."

  "There's no need to be condescending."

  Ashe pulled Belle close, kissing her breathless. "Not condescending. Protective. Is there anything wrong with caring about your safety?"

  Still recovering from his scorching kiss, Belle leaned against the wall, shaking her head. "When you put it like that? I guess not."

  "Good. Pour me another glass of wine. I'll be right back."

  It turned out that Ashe exaggerated how little time it would take. Exiting the elevator, instead of a delivery man, he found a medium box sitting unattended just outside the apartment building's front door. Preferring to err on the side of caution, Ashe left it where it sat, examining it from inside.

  Plain brown and unmarked, Ashe could see Belle's name, but that was it. No address of any kind—to or from. A zip of warning raced up his spine. Better safe than sorry. If ever there was a time to heed that old chestnut, this was it. Backing away from the door, Ashe took out his phone. He called his friend at the police department.

  "YOU DID THE right thing," Martin Blanton told him. Ashe wasn't sure if that was a relief or not. Part of him was hoping the Deputy Chief of Police would laugh off Ashe's worries as paranoia. Instead, he deployed a bomb squad.

  "A bomb? Seriously?" Ashe backed further away from the door.

  "It's a precaution. But, yes. We take these things very seriously. Hear that?"

  Even over the phone, Martin's ears were attuned to the sound of a siren. It took Ashe a little longer to pick up the distinctive wail A few seconds later, a police car pulled to a stop. Right behind was a black van.

  "Listen to what my men have to say and follow their instruction to the letter. Understand?"

  "Yes. And thank you, Martin. Anytime you need tickets to a concert, say the word."

  "You know I will. I'll check in with you later."

  There wasn't much for Ashe to do. The police officer told him to go back to Belle's apartment and prepare to evacuate at a moment's notice. Ashe was just getting off the elevator when his phone rang. The police? That was fast.

  "All clear, Mr. Mathison. It wasn't a bomb."

  "Thank God." Ashe let out a sigh of relief. "What was it?"

  "Is Ms. Richards at home?"

  "Yes."

  "Please let her know that we need to speak with her. We'll be there in a few minutes."

  Before Ashe could ask for clarification, the officer hung up.

  Belle took the news admirably calm.

  "What do you want me to do?" she asked "Tears and hysteria? Not my style. You called the police—which was absolutely the right thing to do. But until we know more, all we can do is wait."

  Watching Belle pace, Ashe realized she wasn't as unaffected as he first thought. For some reason, the more wound up she became, the calmer he felt. That would seem to bode well for their future. When one of them lost their cool, the other would stay on an even keel.

  "Want to sit down?" Ashe patted the sofa cushion next to him.

  "Nope. I'm better if I keep moving." Belle raised her wine glass, then stopped. "Food. We haven't had dinner. The last thing I need is more alcohol on an empty stomach."

  Ashe followed Belle to the kitchen. "Can I help?" he asked as she rooted around in the refrigerator. "I'm not a great cook, but I can chop the hell out of your vegetable of choice."

  "Eureka!" Triumphantly, Belle emerged, clutching something wrapped in brown butcher paper.

  "What do you have there, Archimedes?"

  Passing by, Belle batted her eyelashes. "There is nothing hotter than a man who can reference a dead Greek mathematician."

  Ashe laughed. The woman was crazy—in the best of all possible ways. "I'll be sure to tuck that information away for later use."

  "You do that. In the meantime, grab the salt from the cupboard to your right." Belle unwrapped two of the most beautiful steaks Ashe had ever seen. "The secret is getting the meat to room temperature. And letting it sit with a nice coat of seasoning on both sides. By the time the police leave, these lovelies will be ready to grill."

  "I thought we could order in a pizza."

  "I told you, working in the kitchen relaxes me. Something tells me I'll be cooking up a storm very soon."

  Right on cue, there was a knock at the door.

  "I'll get it." Ashe brushed his hand over Belle's as he passed her. Taking a quick check out the peephole, he opened the door. "Please come in, officer."

  "Good evening, Ms. Richards."

  "Hello, Officer Clarke?" Belle shook his outstretched hand. "I didn't expect to see you."

  "I was on duty when the call came in. This is Officer Michaels." He introduced a stocky man of average height, his short dark hair barely visible under his hat.

  "Ms. Richards." Officer Michaels nodded. "Mr. Mathison. We met downstairs."

  "Would you like to sit down? Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee?"

  "No, thank you, Ms. Richards." Clarke took a seat, flipping pages on his notebook. Michaels remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. "It was smart to call the police, Mr. Mathison. If it had been a bomb… Well, I don't think we need to go into that."

  Ashe agreed. Belle stiffened the second Clarke mentioned a bomb. He took her hand, frowning when he found it ice cold. However, when she spoke, her voice was sure and strong.

  "What was in the box, officer?"

  "A dead cat."

  "Mother fucker," Ashe hissed.

  "We couldn't tell for certain, b
ut our best guess is that the animal was killed by a car. It was probably found along the side of the road then put in the box."

  "Sick is sick." Ashe said a silent prayer of thanks that Belle hadn't opened that box.

  "I agree. There was a note."

  "Let me guess." Belle squeezed Ashe's hand. "Die, bitch, die?"

  Clarke nodded. "Obviously, the two incidents—your car and the dead cat—are linked by the message. I wish I could tell you more. We do have a few questions."

  "I'll tell you whatever I can."

  "Did you recognize the delivery man's voice?"

  "No," Belle shook her head. "I'm certain it wasn't anybody I know."

  The rest of the questions were routine. Belle was as baffled as the police. If somebody wanted to scare her, they had succeeded. Why? She had no idea. By the time the officers left, there were no answers, only questions.

  "I'm calling in a bodyguard," Ashe announced as he sliced a ripe tomato.

  "Okay." Belle turned the first steak, the loud sizzle filling the kitchen. "Remind me again why you need one?"

  Ashe stopped chopping. "Don't be cute, Belle. The bodyguard is for you."

  "No." Belle plated the steaks, adding a side of crispy fried potatoes and perfectly steamed asparagus. "If you're done, put those on the salad, and we are ready to eat."

  "Damn it, Belle." Unconcerned about aesthetics, Ashe dumped the tomatoes in a big heap. "Your car. Now the cat. There's no telling what might come next."

  "Bring the bowl. Everything is perfect. You don't want the food to get cold."

  With a low growl of frustration, Ashe joined Belle at the table. She looked so calm, her expression annoyingly placid.

  "You can't ignore what happened."

  "I'm not." Belle loaded Ashe's plate with greens. "I told you, cooking relaxes me. Eat."

  "The bodyguard makes sense." When she simply stared at his plate, Ashe speared the salad with undue force, shoving several pieces into his mouth.