by W. Ferraro
Seeing a deserted table over in the corner, CeCe hurried over and sat down on the ripped seat. She began pulling napkin after napkin out of the dented dispenser, attempting to tend her cuts and clean what she could.
“There you are, Charlene. What, that no good dick you been shacking up with finally let you have it?”
The scent coming from the obviously drunk man was enough to make CeCe’s stomach roll. Her eyes darted from the bar to the smoke filled back area farther back in the shadows. The stench from this man wafted to her nose; causing her knees to knock. “I’m not Charlene.”
“You don’t think I’d know you anywhere, you bitch?” he snarled.
“My name is CeCe, you have me mistaken for someone else.” Her voice cracked from the fear. His eyes were demonic; it was the only word to describe the loathing disgust aimed towards her.
With a last pull on his beer, he smashed the bottle on the edge of the table, shattering it and sending the remains spewing in every direction, including CeCe’s face. Holding the jagged edge just a few inches from her throat, he growled, “Should just kill you right here for stepping out on me and fucking that no good asshole!”
CeCe squeezed her eyes shut blocking out the vision of what was about to occur, when she heard and felt a body hitting the table.
“Yo, asshat. Why don’t you leave the girl alone? If you want to fight, then fight a man. Only a pussy would hit a girl with a broken bottle.”
“Mind your business, boy, this doesn’t concern you.”
“Well, fuckwad, that’s where you’re wrong. I got a problem with a dickhead wanting to hurt a girl. Come on, tough guy, I’ll even give you the first swing. But I’m warning you, you better knock me out with the one freebie.”
Stunned this guy was defending her, CeCe was also shocked he was baiting the fuckwad—to use his word—to actually fight him. CeCe wanted to jump up and run, but she was frozen in her seat. The old disheveled man struck out at the younger man, connecting with the beer bottle. Instantly, the younger man’s jaw was dripping blood, but he didn’t even react.
“I warned you, motherfucker.”
The sounds of fists connecting with flesh were only muted by the grunts of pain and pleas of surrender. When the older man lay on the ground, partly under the table, CeCe thought for sure she was going to be sick. This was too much for one person to handle.
“Come on out, girl, he won’t hurt you.” Her rescuer spoke softly to her, and when she was finally able to drag her eyes away from the motionless drunk, CeCe looked into kind brown eyes, but her body was still rooted to the seat.
“I won’t hurt you, either. Come on, I’ll get you out of here. You can trust me.” CeCe didn’t know if it was his words, his actions, or his light in this dark place, but she put her shaking hand in his, allowing him to lead her out; somehow knowing he would keep his word and take care of her.
Thirteen years later, Dylan was still taking care of her. She may bitch and moan that he was overbearing, but the truth was, CeCe knew if there was anyone that only wanted what was best for her, it was Dylan Cross.
She poured the glorious brew into her hot pink “That’s QUEEN Bitch to you” mug, savoring the first delicious taste with her usual cream and sweetener. After empting half the mug, CeCe ran her fingers through her hair, ready to hit the shower and start her day. She set the mug on the counter, next to Dylan’s note, and headed down the hallway to her bedroom. Well, Cees, no sense in reminiscing about the ugly past, you have a day to start, a store to get to, and a fucker to set straight about the proper way to send a girl flowers. MEN!
Ninety minutes later, CeCe parked her emerald-green convertible mustang in its usual spot under the pole light and boundary island next to CeCe’s. Travel mug in hand, she slid out of the car, lugging her designer handbag and laptop case behind her. With the distinctive double chirp of her alarm, she strode off to her new glass door.
When she got to the door, Kelleigh, her only full time employee, was already waiting.
“Morning, Kel.” CeCe greeted her, expertly juggling everything in her hands and the key, effortlessly unlocking the door.
“Hey. Holy shit, Cees, I’m just reading your text now. Someone broke in last night?”
CeCe held the door open for Kelleigh to enter then carried her things to the counter next to the register.
“Yeah, apparently some moron thought breaking in and leaving beautiful flowers was a fantastic idea.”
“Oh my God, did they take anything? Did you check all the shipments? The register? The safe?” Kelleigh asked, still completely stunned. CeCe was amused her friend’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head. CeCe thought back to when she first met Kelleigh Constantine, when she’d answered the ad for the open position. At first look, CeCe didn’t think the punk, spirited, and younger by ten years, redhead would be a fit, but something told CeCe to give her a chance. Boy was she glad she did. She quickly learned Kelleigh had an amazing ability to see contrasting patterns and pieces as the perfect combinations, as well as win over even the toughest, and most biased, of clients that passed through the doors. Over the years that Kelleigh has worked for CeCe, she learned Kelleigh’s had a tough life, but she never looks at the glass as half-empty, always such an optimist, unless it comes to herself. As comfortable as Kelleigh was in her own skin, she still struggled with societal acceptance and personal relationship success.
“I double and triple checked everything. Nothing but the beautiful flowers in the back was different from when I left.” CeCe said, as she stepped out from behind the counter and headed back toward her office.
With an enormous “O” shaped mouth, Kelleigh followed behind her boss, quickly finding the tainted bouquet. Still wrapped in their florist paper, the flowers were lying on CeCe’s desk. The bouquet was so large and extravagant; Kelleigh couldn’t miss them, even with CeCe’s bags down on the desk.
“You didn’t throw them away?” Kelleigh’s usually high-pitched voice was even higher.
CeCe looked at the gorgeous buds and felt a twinge of guilt, but Kelleigh was right, maybe she should have just thrown them in the garbage.
“You’re right, I should.” CeCe pushed the bundle over the edge into the trashcan. “Okay, time to get back to normal, the shipment of intimates that came in yesterday needs to be censored and arranged in the baskets.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on that.” Kelleigh said, and as she stepped toward the boxes in the delivery corner, she turned to her boss, “Cees, it’s going to be okay. Some guys are just really fucked up.”
CeCe walked out of the office, leaving Kelleigh to her job. Her eyes took in the store, her haven and all she has worked so hard for. It was devastating to know someone would try to taint it, but she was relieved the attempt failed. CeCe prided herself on her specific taste and the selection she offered. Heavy in modern, but classic designs, CeCe chose more luxurious pieces than were carried in the larger department stores, or all-in-one shopping centers. It was a gamble she took at the time, but it has paid off three fold. Whether it was business, casual, or formal, she carried it. Her clientele developed a high standard of what they wanted and expected, and CeCe was proud to deliver on every aspect. She took extra care to give her clients the impression they were perusing pieces in the comfort of their own walk-in closets rather than a stale retail store. CeCe went above and beyond to add personal touches throughout the store, even choosing to display her items in a unique way. Freestanding display cabinets housed sachet lined drawers and wicker baskets, which held foldable pieces, always by color and size and foregoing the common rack after rack display system. When racks were used for longer pieces or to display complete outfits it was more eye catching and client friendly. She prided herself on standards that were found on Fifth Avenue, but also found and expected right here in her little chunk of Vermont.
Repeating her private pep talk to herself again, CeCe blocked out the ugliness of last night and easily slid on her megawatt smile and
moved to greet the customer who just entered the store. Using her first name, CeCe did what she did best: she sold pieces to women, whether they needed them or not; not in a sleazy kind of way, but because CeCe found immense joy in making every woman feel like a million bucks. After all, a woman could only depend on herself to do so.
The day and evening had gone by in a whirl. CeCe was thrilled with the sales for the day. She was able to negotiate an amazing deal—and honestly, borderline highway robbery—for a shipment of silk blouses she wanted to carry from a-still-unknown designer in Milan. The day was remarkably normal, in the no-stalking-floral-deliveries kind of way, adding to CeCe’s delights in the workday. Before CeCe knew it, Kelleigh had left at her normal time around 6pm, and Kimmie, CeCe’s part time employee, had arrived and was currently closing up shop with CeCe.
“…So, anywho, and he wonders why I don’t want to date him. I mean, really, who thinks a tour of a brewery would be a cool first date idea?” Kimmie spoke, clearly wanting CeCe to agree with her opinion of absurdity.
“Well, you do like beer, maybe he was thinking outside of the box, but keeping your tastes in mind,” CeCe answered, thinking a brewery tour sounded kind of cool. Turning the lock and dropping the store’s keys in her bag, CeCe dug out her car keys. Enjoying the sunshine at this time of night was one of the best things of summertime. Even as late as eight pm, it still felt like you had time left in the day.
“Maybe. I guess it is kind of sweet for him to think like that. I don’t know. There is the whole height thing, too. I mean he is only like, 5’5”, I could never wear heels with him.”
CeCe listened, inwardly cheering that it was time to go separate ways with Kimmie. She was a good, trustworthy, punctual employee, but honestly, Kimmie drove CeCe nuts with her nonstop babbling. Saying goodbye, and grateful for the easy transition, CeCe watched Kimmie get into her small SUV and head toward the parking lot exit, her phone already in her hand. CeCe walked toward the side of the building where her car was, enjoying the warm sunshine, saying goodbye to other storeowners. When she turned her focus to her car, the air whooshed out of her lungs. Lying on her windshield, tucked under the wiper, was a single long-stemmed white rose.
She whipped around, furiously scanning the parking lot, and gripped her keys tighter in her hand, ready to attack. But there was no dark figure, no lurking menace waiting to pounce. Her breath heaved in her chest, sweat dripped down her back and between her breasts.
“Cecille? Everything okay?” the older man asked, concerned, as he slowly walked toward her.
“Malcolm, did you see anyone here earlier, leaving the flower?” she asked her neighbor in the plaza. Malcolm’s smoke shop had been in the Appleton Shopping Center for as long as CeCe could remember. When she was younger, her father would visit Malcolm’s shop whenever he was looking for a celebratory stogie. CeCe had always asked to go, she found the smell of his shop intriguing and she enjoyed perusing the other items his shop carried as well, particularly the various chessboards. When she opened CeCe’s, Malcolm greeted her opening day with the largest fruit basket she had ever seen. Making the gesture even more thoughtful was the four foil-wrapped cigars—the expensive ones she knew he saved for his special customers—among the delicious looking custom cut fruit. CeCe smoked one that very night, and one on the first anniversary of her opening. She still had the other two, holding them for special occasions. One such occasion fell through just the other day.
“No, not at all, dear. I take it, not an admirer of yours?” asked Malcolm, a tall African-American man with salt and pepper hair.
“Oh he’s an admirer alright. Just in the creepy kind of way.” CeCe explained, filling Malcolm in on the happenings of the previous night.
Having known CeCe since she was the age of his youngest granddaughter, Macolm felt protective of her and offered some fatherly advice, “You can’t be too careful, Cecille, especially in this day and age. I’ll wait with you while you call the police.”
“No, really, it’s okay, I’ll just…”
“Make the call, young lady.” He ordered, tilting his head and giving her the look she didn’t dare disobey.
Leaving the rose on her windshield, she set her bags on the hood of her car, dug out Idarraga’s card, and dialed her phone. Explaining what occurred, she was instructed to wait and he would be there shortly.
Fifteen minutes later Max pulled beside CeCe’s car instantly noticing how gorgeous she was, and men found her charismatic, regardless of their age. Putting the unmarked sedan in park, he quickly exited the car, rolling up his sleeves to combat the heat now that he was out of the comfortable air conditioning.
“Ms. Cervetti.”
“Lieutenant. Thanks for coming.” CeCe said, turning away from the older gentleman standing with her, dropping her softer, more open expression for a more professional one.
Max greeted the gentleman, “Malcolm, how you doing, sir?”
“Just fine, son. Please tell me you are going to do something about these unwanted advances towards my favorite neighbor.”
Unable to hide his smile, feeling it was more of an order than a plea, “I will certainly try my best.” After a few more minutes, CeCe assured Malcolm she was fine and insisted he go home as planned. With a kiss to her cheek, and a handshake to Max, Malcolm headed toward his Cadillac.
Once alone, Max turned to CeCe and asked her to go over what happened from the top. As she went through it again, he took in her appearance. The bright green blouse paired with plain black slacks was quite catching, low and seductive, but still tasteful. It made her eyes come alive, as only hazel ones could. Hazel eyes were always so mysterious, never truly this color or that color, until they were reflected off another, just as they were now. Her go-on-forever dark lashes cast gorgeous shadows on her bronzed cheeks. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of twist, except for a few pieces that escaped, showing the different hues of brown and gold. Her luscious lips, so plump and full, begging to be touched, were lined and painted a shade of light mocha. If her appearance weren’t enough to distract the most focused of men, her scent would be. It was spicy and dark, the kind of scent that made you imagine primal actions in darkened places. Knowing he needed to focus on the case, he tried thinking of her in a burlap sack in order to shut the door to his raging imagination.
When she was through giving the run down, including the uneventful occurrences of her day at the store, Max looked around. “Do you always park in this location?”
“Generally, either this spot or that one,” indicating the one next to hers now.
Asking her to stay put, he walked to the building managers office. He returned five minutes later, an iPad in hand.
“Ms. Cervetti, unfortunately you picked the one location that can’t be seen on the security tapes. Either this guy knows it and your habits religiously, or he’s just damn lucky. I moved through the feed, from the time you came out to grab the package out of your trunk earlier, until you closed shop for the day. There is no view of this location on any of the cameras, or any persons loitering in the area. There is too much of a blind spot to speculate how he approached.”
“Fucking fabulous!” CeCe huffed exasperatedly.
“I suggest you start changing your routines up a bit. Take a different route to and from the store; vary the time you leave your house, that sort of thing. I’m sorry, but I don’t have much to go on.”
“No, I understand. I mean it’s stupid; it’s just some flowers.”
“No, don’t go there. It was Breaking and Entering, which is a serious offense. And I’m afraid it may be quickly turning into a stalking case.” Not liking what his gut was feeling, but still limited by the law, Idarraga offered up something his superiors would not be too pleased with, “I’ll have an unmarked cruiser stake out the parking lot the next few days, and if our guy shows up again, we’ll get him.”
After a few more suggestions on how to change up her routine and strict instructions of where to park given the security f
eeds, they were interrupted by the ringing of CeCe’s cell phone. Knowing the ring she rolled her eyes, “Excuse me.”
Pressing accept, CeCe didn’t need to put on speaker, the caller could be heard, loud and clear, “You get your ass over here, now! I mean it, CeCe!” Dylan bellowed then quickly hung up.
“I take it that wasn’t up for debate?” Max asked with a knowing look.
“You think?” With another thanks, and promise to heed his suggestions for safety, CeCe slid into her mustang. At first, she considered just heading back to her apartment, but then admitted how foolish that really would be. Knowing he would literally come and physically retrieve her, CeCe bit the bullet and pulled out in the direction of Dylan’s house.
A short while later, CeCe arrived at the secluded log house on the hill. The view was incredible now, the lush greenery and perfection of Mother Nature everywhere her eyes could see. CeCe always felt a sense of peace when she was here, whether it was the rich beauty of the mountains or the love and companionship of the people inside the walls, she didn’t know, but she always valued the effect.
Walking up to the grand front entrance, CeCe paused under the enclosed porch. Even through the thick glass that protected the interior, she could hear the endless giggles and laughter, and silently hoped those wonderful sounds would be enough to keep Dylan’s temper from exploding. Better get this over with. CeCe pushed open the large wooden door, and walked into the lion’s den.
Walking into the open concept home was such a vast change from before. The large sunken room that used to be the epitome of a bachelor pad, with masculine starkness and functional-only décor, was no more. In its place, pinkness and femininity covered every surface. From the floral accented pillows and throws, to the immense piles of toys and everything any little girl could want. Gone were the baby necessities, but in their place was proof that little girls liked the finer things, and in this home, it was times two. The large black granite, floor to ceiling fireplace still remained, but instead of the stark granite, a beautiful family portrait now hung over the mantel. Twin angelic beauties, with large chocolate eyes and dark hair to match their handsome father, happily balance on the knees of Natalie, their beautiful blonde mother, with twin smiles identical to her own, as Dylan enfolds his three ladies in his obvious love and protection. The radiant smiles of the family of four tell of an unbreakable bond and proof of the immense love that actually exists in the world. To CeCe, that photograph was better than any fairytale or Disney adaptation. It was real.