by Sean Platt
“It sure as hell is!”
Lily stopped. She looked up, finally meeting Kerry’s eyes. She wanted to hook her fingers into them. She wanted to yank out hunks of Kerry’s long black hair.
“You stole it from me.”
“It’s not yours!”
“You came into my shop. Without my permission. You touched my stuff with your filthy, little bitch hands.” Lily’s voice was firm but still calm. Kerry was already nudging nearer to out of control. She wasn’t used to being challenged. She was used to sitting on her throne, never chipping her French tips by digging in the dirt when she could have others do her filthy work for her.
“You want to check your lease to see whose shop that is?” Kerry challenged. “Because it’s only yours if you play by the plaza’s rules.”
Lily ignored her and reached for the basket. But Kerry saw it at the same time and, displaying remarkable speed for someone more than twice Lily’s age, reached it at the same time. Lily found herself in a tug-of-war, sensing the courtyard’s eyes upon them.
“This is mine,” said Lily.
“The hell it is.”
Lily felt herself losing control. The cart was technically Palms property (though certainly not Kerry’s), but the basket was hers. She’d paid for it with her own money, of which she still needed to count every cent.
“I paid for this! It’s mine!”
“It’s mine now,” said Kerry.
Lily shook the basket hard. Kerry’s grip came free, and she overbalanced backward, landing with a splat on the concrete. Several shoppers gasped. The pull’s force and the sudden departure of Kerry’s weight made Lily stagger, but she held her ground as the basket flung loose, rolling toward the fountain.
“You bitch!” Kerry yelled.
Lily pointed at her. “Stay away from my store.”
“It’s not your store!”
“I pay the lease! I’m minding my business! I own the stock! And it’s none of your business what I do with it!”
Kerry scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Lily was reminded of a baby deer trying to stand upright on spindly legs. “You might want to think about what you’re doing here.”
“Taking back what was stolen from me? I’ve thought plenty.”
Lily stalked toward the discarded flower basket. It had skittered all the way through the concrete section and come to rest on the grass apron surrounding the fountain. She was twenty feet away when she heard Kerry racing up from behind. Lily accelerated, but again they reached the basket at once, both upright, their prize jumping back and forth as they each yanked in turn.
“I don’t care what you think about the rest,” said Lily. “But this is mine!” That suddenly seemed crucially important. Kerry had walked all over her while she stayed quiet, like a spider crawling across a sleeper’s face in the darkness. She’d entered Lily’s store; she’d taken Lily’s cart; she’d complained and belittled Lily; she’d had her cooler shut down as an intended death blow. But out of all of those egregious offenses, the basket they were fighting over now was somehow worst of all. Whether Kerry held undue sway at the Palms or not, there was always a gray area around what Lily may or may not have done and may or may not have been entitled to. But as red fury filled her vision, she felt consumed with the truth that this basket was hers. By her blood, she owned it, and she’d kill Kerry before letting the bitch have it.
Lily tugged again, and again the basket ripped from Kerry’s grasp. This time she didn’t overbalance. A shame because she would have spilled into the fountain. Moans from several spectators seemed to indicate a similar feeling throughout the crowd.
Lily glared at her enemy. Kerry’s hair was a rat’s nest, small bits of grass and debris glaring in the middle of what should have been perfect, salon-dyed black. Her makeup, which was usually understated and mostly invisible, had been smeared, her eyeliner sagging in mimicry of old age, one corner of her lipstick wiped down into a joker’s frown.
Lily handed the basket to Allison, who’d come to her side. She shot Allison a look that ordered no interference.
“Look at you,” Kerry sneered. “Making a scene in front of all these people.”
“People like to see it when bullies get what’s coming to them.”
“Bullies?” Kerry’s face became mocking. “Just listen to yourself. Where do you think you are? You’re a long way from the pro wrestling matches you watch out in West Virginia, little girl.”
“Kansas.”
“You’ll be out of here tomorrow. You would have been anyway. What, you think you can just run a truck behind the building all day long? You think the kind of people who shop here want to feel like they’re in a warehouse?”
“Warehouse, carnival, what does it matter?” Lily meant it as a shot for Evelyn’s husband’s benefit — and a cue to Kerry that those she’d pushed around were at least sharing stories — but Evelyn seemed to have left. Probably to the office, to report on two warring tenants who needed a reprimand. Or an eviction.
Kerry made a confused face, probably meant to layer the mockery. In the quiet moment, Lily heard only waves and gulls and breeze. She knew for a fact that the box truck behind La Fleur was running right now, but she couldn’t even hear it whisper.
“I know who you are. I know your type. I see you all the time. You never last.”
“What type is that?”
“You come from some asshole of the world, where you flash your perky little tits and boys drool all over you. You come here thinking you’re queen, and that you can just pop up a shingle and flash your tits and make your fortune out here, somewhere over the rainbow.”
Lily had never, ever flashed her tits, perky though they may have been. She actually dressed like a prude by Cielo del Mar standards. Which, now that she thought about it, was what Antonia had said was part of her allure. Less was more in the land of excess.
“I’m just trying to run my business.”
“We don’t need your kind of business here,” Kerry practically snarled.
“My kind of business, or my kind?” Lily was suddenly sure that this was about her, not her shop. She wished, in the moment, that she were a minority rather than a young white girl. She could have pulled some serious sympathy from the staring crowd with that bull’s eye comment if she had been.
“It’s all about selling ‘pretty,’ isn’t it?” said Kerry.
Lily tossed her chin toward nouveau house and its faux antiques. “It’s all about selling ‘old,’ isn’t it?”
Kerry stepped back. She was shaking her head, now taking in the watching shoppers. She held a lot of sway at the Palms, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d brawled with an audience, marring her dignified image and the Palms’ classy reputation in one fell swoop. She had to distance herself, make it clear that Lily had started this and that she’d been dragged in as an unwilling victim.
Poor Kerry Barrett Kirby, assaulted by the bullying new girl.
“You made a big mistake, attacking me like that,” said Kerry, now attempting to smooth her hair.
Lily saw the trap. They had an audience, and she would need to watch out if she didn’t want to be vilified. “I just took back my cart.” Her eyes ticked around. “The cart you came into my shop when I was away at night and stole.”
“It’s not your cart.” Calm now. “It’s the plaza’s property.”
“It was in my store. You broke in.”
“Came in per the terms of your agreed-upon lease.”
“And it makes sense for another tenant to come in with the landlord’s people?”
“I happened to know the details of the situation and could explain it fully.”
“And wanted to capitalize on it … say, by taking my cart for yourself.” Lily fought a sly smile. That remark had to be a hit. Nobody watching could deny that nouveau house had ended up with the disputed cart. It had to seem suspicious that the person who’d complained “for the good of the lease” had benefitted at the expense of the other in the
transaction.
“You made a mistake,” Kerry repeated.
“Maybe you should stop calling in complaints like a coward.” Lily couldn’t help herself and added, as a taunt, “And maybe in the future, you can come over and say those things to my face.”
The crowd made ooh noises.
“You’re out of here. Just wait until I tell the leasing office.”
A woman in the crowd yelled, “Why don’t you say it to her face?” Lily felt her smile widen.
“Go ahead,” said Lily. “Tell the leasing office.”
Kerry looked like she might reattempt her retort, but it was clear the crowd had taken Lily’s side. There was little way they couldn’t, given appearances. Kerry was clearly more established, wealthier, and more seasoned as a California woman. Lily must have looked like a delicate newbie by comparison, and Kerry had already done her the favor of informing the watchers that she was from the heartland, new to Cielo del Mar’s mean streets.
Kerry walked backward for another few steps, then turned and entered her store.
Then Lily, with Allison at her rear carrying the disputed basket, walked back into La Fleur de Blanc, the crowd tossing “You go, girl!” and the like behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE COURTESY OF A LIE
Lily strode confidently through the front door. She kicked the doorstop out of the way so she could have some privacy from her watchers, but Allison caught the door and put the stop back into place. Lily wanted to protest, but had to keep her feet moving because despite her solid facade, her heart was thumping hard enough to feel like it was about to blow the head from her shoulders. She kept striding, putting the customer chatter from outside farther behind her, not wanting to stop until she’d entered the bathroom, locked the door, and threw up.
She emerged five full minutes later, having washed her mouth repeatedly with an ancient bottle of Scope she found in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. She’d scrubbed her face clean, then waited for the red to depart and return her skin to its usual hue. Lily didn’t wear much makeup as a matter of course, so the change — removing what had smeared — was subtle. Her eyelashes were naturally dark, and her skin had a smooth, not-quite-tan complexion. So after the requisite minutes spent staring into the mirror, she blinked a few times, took a few deep breaths, and returned to the store.
The shop was flooded with customers.
Lily didn’t get a round of applause and wouldn’t have wanted one — that would have driven home what Kerry had implied, about how Lily tussled because her kind was used to cheering for wrestlers and brawling rednecks in bars. But she did get many looks ranging from sympathetic to understanding to supportive. She’d thought standing up to Kerry would merely deflate Kerry’s relentless attack, and then, in the long term, keep her store’s heart beating. But she hadn’t counted on standing tall gaining her new customers directly.
None of the dozen or so people in La Fleur said anything about what had just happened, possibly due either to Allison warning them not to or some variation of Lily’s accidentally standoffish facial expression. They merely looked at flowers and occasionally at Lily. All bought something, even if only a single stem. Several bought moderately priced arrangements. Allison showed her a business card she’d later need to call on about a catered interoffice dinner, and informed her that one woman who’d already left had placed a recurring order … just for herself, for her own home.
The small rush dwindled, and still they heard nothing from any form of authority. Lily had half expected the police to be waiting for her when she emerged, but a more reasonable part of her had definitely expected another visit from the leasing office. But an hour passed, and then another. A clerk emerged from nouveau house and retrieved the small items that once sat atop Lily’s reclaimed flower cart from their place on the couch lest they be sat on, but they didn’t see Kerry, or anything else untoward.
“Good for you.” Allison broke a silent moment.
They’d said absolutely nothing at all about the fight, Lily’s exit from the store in Evelyn’s presence, or anything else. Allison’s statement from the blue was disarming and out of place. At first Lily had no idea what she was talking about. She looked over.
“I definitely wouldn’t have advised any of that,” Allison continued, “but considering the source, I have to be pleased.”
“What do you mean, ‘considering the source’?”
Allison pointed at Lily.
“Because I’m so delicate and timid?” She felt a modicum of her earlier anger rise. She’d lowered her baseline capacity to take shit and was still on high alert. Lily told herself to calm down.
“Yeah, actually.”
Lily waited to be offended. Offense didn’t come.
“Good for you, Lil. You may have gotten us evicted, but that’s better than living under the rule of Queen Cunt. I’m proud of you.”
Lily wondered if she should find it odd that she’d made a younger employee proud.
“Thanks.”
“You almost knocked her into the fountain.”
“I actually didn’t touch her.”
“Well, you should have. I’ve been waiting to see that bitch get a beating for my entire life.”
Lily laughed. It was a nervous laugh because she still felt incredibly on edge. There was fight and there was flight, and she’d already fought. Now she was somewhere in between: anxious and ready to flee, ignorant to the threat’s reality.
“Do you really think we’ll get evicted?”
Allison shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe”
“I just took back my cart. And my basket, which nobody can debate was mine. She’s the one who decided to fight me for it. And again, I didn’t touch her.”
“True.” Allison nodded. “But you did have a shouting match in front of customers.”
“They won’t complain, though, will they? They all came in here and bought flowers. That’s the surest form of cheering I know.”
Again Allison shrugged. Lily wished her friend would throw a bone. She’d just done something incredibly bold. Didn’t she deserve the courtesy of a lie, being told that all would be fine?
“Sure, but there were a lot of people who heard and didn’t come in. And really, it’s the tenants and mostly the office you have to worry about. Evelyn saw it for sure, and you know others did. You really can’t hide it. Someone will consider what happened, and they’ll either decide you were both at fault, that only one of you was at fault, or that nobody was at fault and they can just let it go.”
“I like the last one.”
“Kind of doubt it’ll go that way, though. You know some old bag will bitch, and they won’t be able to ignore it. But the good news is, it’s hard to imagine them finding only one of you at fault.”
“That’s good news?” said Lily.
“You’re hoping they evict Kerry and leave you alone?”
Lily sighed. That’s exactly what she’d been hoping, but hearing Allison say it aloud made it obvious how ridiculous that was. Even if whoever-it-was thought Kerry had started it, she’d be given the benefit of the doubt merely due to her position. She was Queen Cunt, after all.
“Look, chin up,” said Allison. “It’s definitely no worse. You do nothing, and Evelyn bulldozes Kerry’s thing about the truck through, and we lose our cooler again. You fight, and the complaint becomes one about shouting in public and reclaiming your property. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”
Lily looked across the courtyard again, at the grass-strewn spot where Kerry had almost gone into the fountain. Her eyes strayed to the flower cart outside the window, just where she’d left it in its tossed-together disarray. Lily decided she rather liked the way it looked, and wondered if she should “lightning arrange” more often because she seemed to have an instinctual knack that wasn’t born in slow deliberation.
“What about the cart?”
“You won it. I can’t imagine that Kerry would single it out again. Enjoy it until our
eviction.”
“I mean, do you think I should bring it inside? Am I just asking for it by clearly violating the first thing I was called on?”
Allison looked at the cart, appearing to run through a complex calculation of odds and probabilities. Then she said, “Fuck it.”
“‘Fuck it’?”
“Yes, fuck it. Fuck it, fuck her, fuck everyone. That’s my advice.”
“Very wise.”
A tune issued from somewhere in Allison’s clothing. She pulled out her phone, silenced it, and looked at Lily.
“I set an alarm for two,” she explained.
“What’s two?”
“Marcello. Remember?” She pointed, and Lily saw Bella by the Sea’s daily order, prepped and ready. Specifically, it was ready to die and rot while they waited for Marcello to come over, knowing he never would.
“What’s the bill?”
“He budgeted $200.”
“You should have given him room. Make it look like we’re looking out for him and not trying to gouge.”
“He budgeted $200, but his order comes to $150.”
Lily patted Allison’s arm. Her instinct for the intricacies of business were a constant surprise.
“Plus candles,” Allison added. “He placed a weekly candle order. Candles are moving well otherwise, too, I’m sure you noticed. You should double the salary of whoever made that suggestion.”
“I’m not paying you anything right now.”
“Exactly. Double it.”
Lily looked at Allison for a moment. If La Fleur survived, it wasn’t an overstatement to say that Allison had saved it. She felt like an ungrateful moocher taking her time for free. She opened her mouth to say as much.
“Stop,” said Allison. “You know I have more money than I can spend.”
“Your father’s money.”
“Sure. And you letting me work here lets me keep using it. That’s the best salary any flower girl has ever had.”
“Thanks, Al.”
Lily gave her a tight-lipped smile.
“So how much did he buy in candles?”
“He wanted a bunch to start; he said to use our judgment. After that he wants to refill with another $100 a week. I figure we’ll charge him $300 for the month. That’s pretty low, actually. The only thing that matches flowers for ambiance is candles, and he won’t want to burn these for more than a few days at most.”
