Читать книгу Vows, Vendettas And A Little Black Dress - Kyra Davis - Страница 10

Men are like rose stems in that rose stems of considerable length are nice but, ultimately, their size is not their most important attribute. What’s important is that the stem stays stiff long enough for your flower to hit full bloom.

–Fatally Yours

That night I dreamed of monsters. Before we had left the hospital the doctor had come out and told us that it appeared Dena’s surgery had been successful. That she should be able to walk again and that perhaps she eventually wouldn’t need a walker or braces in order to do it. He gave us a lot more details, but I didn’t hear them. All I heard were the lack of assurances. Their absence became a tangible thing that twisted itself into a multitude of awful images. Those images curled up in my mind only to uncoil in my sleep and attack my dreams. I hadn’t been able to see Dena either. Only blood relatives had been allowed admittance into her room. The rest of us had to wait for daylight hours.

Anatoly had held me all night but for once his embrace didn’t lead to sex. Having sex while Dena was unable to felt wrong. Like starting a rock band on the eve of Elvis’s death.

And now morning was here. My kitty, Mr. Katz, was rolled up in a ball by my feet and Anatoly still slept, understandable since it was only a little after 8:00 a.m. Last night we hadn’t even gotten home until almost 3:00 a.m. It was too early to go to the hospital; I certainly didn’t want to risk waking Dena. So where should I go? I couldn’t go back to sleep. There would be more monsters there.

As if he sensed the question, Anatoly’s eyes flickered open and glided over to me. “What time is it?” he muttered.

“Too early,” I answered.

Anatoly turned to check the clock and then paused as he tried to figure out the significance of my being conscious at such an obscene hour.

“I’m getting up,” I said.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” Anatoly offered. He pushed the covers off himself, revealing his state of undress. Nothing but his fitted Calvin Klein boxers. Normally that would be enough to get my endorphins moving, but not this morning.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, particularly if I’m cooking.”

“Today’s different.”

We lay there in silence for a few moments as Mr. Katz stretched his legs and abandoned us in search of a more peaceful resting spot, neither of us wanting to be the first to name the tragedy that had taken away my appetite for sex and food.

He sighed and pulled me into the crook of his arm. “Let’s stay here. We didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

I smiled and kissed his chin. “Sleep then,” I whispered before freeing myself and getting to my feet.

“Sophie—”

“No, I mean it. Stay here. I need to…think. To drive and think.”

“You’re sure you can’t think here in bed?” The red veins of exhaustion drew ragged lines across his eyes, making him look stoned and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

I leaned down and gave him another kiss, this time on the mouth. I let my tongue dance across his lower lip as I savored the taste of him. “Sleep,” I said when I finally pulled away. “We’ll talk later.”

Anatoly didn’t say anything as I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and brushed a thin golden layer of Bare Escentuals mineral powder across my face. I could feel him watching me as I left the room.

Outside the rising sun cast an eerie pale pink light across the sky. The fog that usually owned the mornings of San Francisco wasn’t there today. Without its insulation, the air had a harsh quality that felt out of place for May.

Of course, driving without coffee is almost as irresponsible as driving drunk, so my first stop was Starbucks. The barista recognized me and prepared my usual light mint mocha chip Frappuccino with a floating shot and extra whipped cream before I had the chance to order it. When tormented, always turn to your comfort foods.

I drove for over an hour and eventually I found myself in the South of Market district, only blocks away from O’Keefe’s, the nursery and flower boutique where Amelia worked. Of course she wouldn’t be there today. She and Kim were probably sleeping off a marijuana-induced high in some small corner of Nicaragua, blissfully unaware that here, in the highly developed city of San Francisco, the sky was falling.

But Dena liked the bouquets they made here…what was her favorite…did they call it the Aphrodisiac? Or maybe it was O’Keefe’s Pleasure? Whoever was working would know what I was talking about. I found a parking spot right in front and checked to make sure I had some cash on me before stepping inside.

South of Market was incredibly industrial but when you walked into O’Keefe’s it was as if you were entering a manicured jungle. Ivy and ferns dangled from the ceiling, forcing anyone above the height of five foot six to zigzag their way through the shop in order to avoid being smacked in the face by a leaf. Then there were the buckets of roses, the small potted plants, the ficus trees and the musty smell of damp soil. It was such a tangle of sensory delights that it took me a moment to identify what was wrong with the picture.

What was wrong was the employee on duty. Amelia stood frozen, partially hidden by a towering areca palm with leaves almost as wild and unruly as the mass of light brown curls that fell over her naturally tanned shoulders. “Sophie,” she said quietly.

“Amelia, what are you doing here?” I quickly closed the distance between us.

“I—I—I’m working,” she stammered and then held up a small watering can as if to prove her point.

“But you’re supposed to be in Nicaragua!”

“Yes, well, I didn’t…um…make it.”

“You and Kim canceled the trip?”

“Oh, Kim’s there. We just thought…or he decided…I decided…sometimes we all need to find ourselves, you know?”

“Wait, I’m confused. Is someone lost?”

“Kim is…sort of,” Amelia hedged. “Traveling alone can open your mind to what’s important,” she added. “It can help you see things differently and…and appreciate what you have a little more.”

“Okay, I get that.” I glanced around the shop. There was a bucket full of lilies that were such a deep red they were almost black. I wanted to ask Amelia a little bit more about Kim’s sudden decision to fly solo, though not because I was really all that interested. I just wanted to avoid telling Amelia the news.

“Did you come here for flowers?” Amelia asked. She shifted the watering can from hand to hand. Her eyes were even more red than Anatoly’s had been that morning.

“Amelia,” I said slowly, “something awful has happened.”

Amelia looked up suddenly, frightened. “Awful?” she breathed. “Have things gotten worse?”

“Worse? Worse than what?”

A small crease formed itself across Amelia’s forehead. “I…I don’t think I understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us. I have no idea what you’re referring to but what I’m talking about is Dena.” I took a deep breath for courage. “Amelia, Dena was shot last night.”

Amelia looked at me blankly for a moment, apparently absorbing nothing.

“I know it’s hard to take in but she is going to be okay.” Even as I said the words I knew how unconvincing they sounded. What was the definition of “okay,” anyway? Did you just have to live to be okay?

“You don’t know…” Amelia hesitated midsentence and stared down at the watering can as if it could give her some kind of clue as to what she should say next.

“No,” I said gently. “I don’t really know anything. But you know Dena. She’s going to want a full recovery and she always gets what she wants in the long run, right?”

Amelia kept her eyes down but I thought I saw her flinch. “Dena’s never had to wait for the long run.”

“Well, there you go!” I offered her a shaky smile. “She’ll be up and dancing in the clubs before the next major holiday.”

A large truck drove by, making the ground beneath our feet vibrate ever so slightly. Amelia looked up and I could see the tears forming. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked. “I should be at the hospital! What’s wrong with me?”

“Amelia, you didn’t know. No one expects you to be psychic.”

She shook her head fiercely as if not knowing was no excuse at all. “I’ll be there. I’ll get someone to come in and cover for me. Please tell Dena I’m coming, okay?”

“Yeah, sure…um…I actually came in because I wanted to bring her a bouquet. I know she likes the one that has these lilies in it.”

Amelia wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry for being like this,” she whispered as she stared at the dark red lilies.

“Come on, Amelia, you just found out that a friend of yours has been shot. There’s no way to handle that well.”

“I guess you’re right.” She took a deep steadying breath. “The bouquet you’re thinking of is the one we call Sense and Sensuality. I just finished putting one together for delivery. You can take it to her.”

“You were making one for someone else?” I asked.

Amelia didn’t seem to hear me. She wiped her eyes again and gestured for me to follow her to the counter at the back of the store. Next to the register was the bouquet, already prepared. “So I guess it’s a popular arrangement?” I asked.

“Not as much as you would think. It’s been months since I’ve put together one of these for anyone other than Dena…I mean, I did today, but before today months and months.”

“Really?” I asked. The bouquet was beautiful and the sinewy curves of the chosen flowers and leaves justified the name. “Who ordered the flowers today?” I asked as I fished out my wallet.

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Amelia snapped.

I stepped back and did a quick mental inventory of every word I had said in the past few minutes in hopes of finding the one that could have offended.

Amelia pressed her hand against her stomach, perhaps in an attempt to push the demon who had just spoken back inside her. “I think I’m a little on edge,” she offered. “I just didn’t expect this. How could any of us have expected this?”

I swallowed and glanced down at my watch. “It’s already eight. I should get to the hospital…find out what’s going on.”

Amelia handed me the bouquet. “On me. You will tell Dena I’m coming, right?”

“Yeah, of course. You know she really is going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” I laid the flowers against my right arm, like the first runner-up in a beauty pageant after she’s accepted her lesser tiara. And like a runner-up, the smile I offered Amelia was forced.