Blood Rose

by Jacquelynn Gagne

  Paul rumbled a hard laugh at my expense. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, you’re no all-star,” his voice was not so much amused but irritated at my idiocy, as indicated by his mocking back tone.

  Paul stood roughly five seven with a face like a boxer. The dog more than the fighter. His jaw was heavy on the masculinity and square cut. Close to his face was his boxy nose, broken more than once. His brown eyes were tight and deep set as if he were always heavily burdened mentally. Although he’d never admit to it, his height gave him a complex. To make up for it he was a fanatic about going to the gym four times a week to hit the weights and run a few miles. It paid off.

  On the down side of this, he was also a bit too into himself not to mention deep in the belief of his own indestructibility. He kept his thick curly hair military short because he hated it. Though not a GQ dresser, he was compulsive about his clothes as well. He once dumped a girl for stepping on his shoe and scuffing it. His defense was she refused to apologize.

  Staggering further into the room, Paul drug me along stumbling with him. Once stabilized, he released me as his free hand pat against my head lightly (which hurt like hell) as he pushed a brown sack into my arms. Paul never seemed to have noticed the fact that I had punched him.

  Reaching behind him, Paul fumbled along the wall for the lights. When they flickered on, he saw the blood on his hand. His face churned in a sneer. Paul hated the sight of blood. “Why are you bleeding? What did you do this time? God, Lianna, turn that shit down!” His agitation grew more intense by the second.

  “I hit my head on the window.” With red cheeks and bloodshot eyes ready to brim over with tears, I walked over to the stereo and with shaky fingers hit the power button. Just to be on the safe side I also unplugged it. To myself I muttered quietly. “No one’s coming for me.” The one sentence motivational speech to reassure me actually did the opposite. Strangely my mood tanked quickly into depression. However, I am not one for self-pity. I hid the dip well.

  Lifting a hand to the back of my head, I felt my blood soaked hair again. Why do head injuries have to bleed so much anyway?

  “If you ever had a light on or turned down that music maybe you wouldn’t get hurt so much. Well, okay you’d still manage to get hurt a lot. And don’t you dare call me grandpa, it’s been a long night.” My brow rose as he rambled on. He did seem rather cranky. “You okay?” He asked finally, his tone softening once he realized how much of an ass he was being.

  “It’s nothing. Like you said, just a long night.” My face tightened with bitterness. Paul was used to my scowl. It didn’t faze him at all. I walked the sack into the kitchen and plopped it onto the counter.

  “Sounds like a long morning for you. Was it the dreams again?” Paul asked with a sigh. Shrugging my shoulders was my only response. Why did he bother asking? With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. The dreams were not what bothered me really, just my paranoia.

  Paul looked me over again with a raised brow, a slow evil grin spread over his lips. “I know you were excited to see me but did you miss your trip to the bathroom this morning too?”

  He may have been laughing but I sure wasn’t. Not only having not been able to get dressed before he barged in, my underwear was soaked in Red Bull. “Damn it. I fell you jerk!” I chucked a plastic spoon at him from the bag. “I dropped my Red Bull when I hit my head on the window and I slipped in it.” Indeed, I was humiliated- And pissed.

  Paul laughed again catching my bad throw midair. He sure was not helping matters. Walking over to me, he leaned to kiss my forehead before walking off for the bathroom. After washing the blood off his hands, a towel was chucked in my direction as he walked over to the window to mop up the sticky mess with another towel. “Thanks.” Mumbling as I caught the towel, I proceeded to dry my bare legs.

  Twisting around, I hopped up onto the countertop with a wince caused from the bruise forming on my tailbone and held the towel against my head. After a minute of holding pressure on my head, I dropped the bloody Red Bull soaked cloth in the sink. As carefully as possible, I maneuvered into a cross-legged position on the countertop.

  When Paul was done, he tossed the rag in the sink on top of mine though not before he saw the blood and grimaced at the sight. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can drive you to your fathers or to the hospital if you want.” The empty can was tossed into the trashcan like a basketball. Swoosh! Two points!

  Reflexively I shuddered at the thought. “Thanks but no thanks. I’m not starting the day with a trip to the hospital. I’ll be fine.” Paul was standing at the open fridge. He reached for two Red Bulls and tossed one to me.

  “Uh huh. Well anyways, I got us some breakfast.” He popped the can open downing half of his in one gulp while I just stared at mine.

  My brow wrinkled curiously. “How’d you get over here so quickly?” While looking over at the food on the counter, I opened the can.

  “Eh, I already had the food. ‘Sides, you gotta eat something other than bad Chinese and Riads once in a while.” Paul smiled, winking at me.

  Paul reached into the sack and handed me a Styrofoam box filled to the brim with fruit. He really knew me too well. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. Paul pulled out biscuits and gravy for himself. Thanks to me, he was already armed with a spoon.

  He grabbed up a stool and plopped down next to me. We ate in silence- a blessing, for my head was still pounding. When we were done, he cleaned up the trash for me. I gave a groan, holding my hands over my stomach and hanging my head down. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Um… Headache.” I grumbled tightening my arms around myself protectively.

  “Not what I meant but whatever. I swear I don’t know how you get into some of the situations you do. You’re hardly even human because of how accident prone you are.”

  That struck a chord. Remaining silent, still upset and nervous over what had happened before he showed up- I pondered explaining more thoroughly. Though if I had told him what all had happened and how paranoid I was he probably would have called his brother and got him out of bed and over here.

  Paul’s brother’s name was Richard. Richard Davis was a cop in Burlington. He was quite a bit older than Paul. Still single though which was too bad. He was a good guy. Richard was one of the many people that constantly tried to push Paul and me into dating again. Had since we were five I think.

  So as nice as he was I liked avoiding that topic - which so often came up, at all costs. His family was thrilled when we first decided to try it and acted as if they were in mourning for someone who had died when

  it ended. Sneering at the thought, my decision became final. Stay quiet.

  “Well I should get home and get some sleep. You work tonight?” I shook my head no with my gaze still on his feet. The day was not promising from the start. I felt drained and ready to climb back into bed. Yet he just kept talking. “Well I know tomorrow’s your birthday and I wanna do something with you. ‘Sides Shannon wants us all to go to Penny’s tomorrow night don’t forget.”

  While groaning my complaint, my eyes rolled at the thought. Penny’s is a café. The full name is Penny Cluse Café. Pretty much everyone in town could be found there at some point in the week. Some even go on a daily basis. Don’t get me wrong it was a great place I just never liked being forced into social situations where I was the one in focus.

  You see, I am the exact opposite of most nineteen year olds. I hate to party and I have never had a real drink. It’s just not worth the puking or the hangover. This is Vermont, very few of us even smoke cigarettes. I don’t do drugs. I’m screwed up enough without them. It’s not that I mind crowds- I just suck at the social scene. Thus my reasoning for going to an online college versus a campus in this mecha of college towns.

  Shannon Miller was his actual current girlfriend. She was a sweet girl. We had become friends when she had moved to Vermont about five years ago. I introduced them. Shannon looked like a trendy, new age hippy type but with hair like that chick from th
e film Pulp Fiction. Mia Wallace black hair- devil red lipstick with hemp purses, hippy skirts and toe rings. Strange girl but sweet as could be- Always so full of life.

  Then again, who am I to call anyone else strange?

  Strange fact: She’s adamant that she’s never seen the movie Pulp Fiction. A lie or not it was hard to tell with her. I was voting for the lie myself. Oh come on, I’m not that cynical. Everyone lies.

  “Don’t bother arguing. I also figured you could use a more relaxed night. So since you’re not working, you can put the books down and come over for dinner. We’ll rent some movies and get a pizza or something. Just the two of us, like we used to do.” He seemed thrilled over the idea to my absolute dismay.

  Nodding obediently I chose to remain silent. It would save not only time but personal duress to just agree with my friend’s plans. Paul grinned ear to ear. “Okay. I’ll see you about six. Night, Anna.” That said he gave me a quick peck on the cheek as he walked to the door. Double-checking the lock on his way out, he locked it behind him.

  Once Paul shut the door, I slid off the counter and walked to the window waiting for him to leave. Once he was gone, I turned on every light in the apartment and shoved the chair against the locked front door. It was quite a task moving the mammoth old chair across the room. Once that was done, I checked the window and contemplated locking it too. Why bother? I live on the third floor.

  With the lights on, I climbed back into bed with the bat pulled tight against me. Burying my head under the mound of pillows I prepared to let the nightmares take me away. Yeah, Red Bull doesn’t really give you wings if you drink it all the time.

  II

  “BIRTHDAY WISHES”

  Dinner at Paul’s was uneventful. Paul had all six of the “Star Wars” movies on top of his DVD player and the first disc was already in and waiting for him to push play. We ate pizza and made it through the first two movies and were half through the third when Paul fell asleep. I snuck out and went home.

  The day of my birthday was nicer to look back on than how I enjoyed it at the time. We had the back section of the cafe crammed with as much furniture as we could cluster together. There were quite a few people to my surprise. Most of whom I barely knew or barely wanted to know.

  Mia- I mean Shannon was bubbly with delight. All of her poetry-slam buddies showed up. Along with them, a few people that I had a study group with here locally showed too.

  Paul- of course he brought his brother Richard and Lily his stepsister. Lily is fourteen and the coolest kid I think I’ve ever met. That day I talked to her more than anyone else. Most the time she claims me more than Paul as a sibling. Simply because he’s still titled number one butthead in her eyes.

  Among the crowd were two people from work. They both received appropriate glares to keep their mouths shut. News of my birthday was not to be shared at work.

  There was lots of talking and laughing while I mostly smiled and nodded. I got some nice thoughtful gifts and some gag gifts too, including a squirt gun to replace the ball bat Paul claimed. Oh yes, he made sure to tell that story in well exaggerated detail. Lily got me a book. It was the new Dan Brown. I was thrilled with the book. Not so thrilled that it was Paul who had bought it. I felt like I owed him too much sometimes. He was always doing stuff for me.

  By the end of the night, I was more than grateful when that it was over and life could return to normal once more. I hated my birthday. Why? Not telling. Something was missing, huh? Yeah, a little bit.

  Finally, I was on my way to work the next day. Nobody really pushed birthday stuff on me there. In fact I was fairly certain no one knew it had been my birthday. Aside from three people anyway.

  My boss, Mike Ramono, kept it simple with a birthday card and a gift card to Amazon for twenty dollars. The same thing he did for everyone else. Not a word said aloud by him. Smart man.

  Then Neesa and Ryce- the party attendee’s. Neesa was the only person employed at Riads that I really talked to outside of work by choice. She and Ryce got me new art supplies. One of the more thoughtful presents as mine needed replacing pretty terribly.

  Neesa and I worked at a Mediterranean restaurant named Riads. It was a very popular restaurant that served amazing food in a nice laid-back atmosphere.

  Raw brick inside and out with exposed (and restored) oak rafters matched the wood floor. Simple square tables with stark white cloths covered the right side of the restaurant for romantic dinners and family gatherings.

  The left were taller tables for casual diners and bar goers. A single red candle sat on each and every table in a small clear round holder.

  The front of the restaurant was trimmed in tiny yellow lights around the awning and massive front windows. By each window was a platform. Once in a while we had acoustic musicians play. Usually it was filled with tables. They were the most popular tables in the house.

  One of my favorite things about Riads was the dress code. As long as your shirt was either black or white and clean, boss man didn’t care what we wore.

  Plus it was close to the loft. So unless a storm was brewing a hurricane or snow covered the ground to my knees, I walked almost everywhere. If it rained, I used an umbrella. If I had to go much farther than three miles anywhere, (a rarity) I took transit or got a ride. Riads is only about one mile from my loft apartments.

  The employee entrance was around the back in what we called the pit. It’s where we kept all the smokers, wood and old crates. It’s also where most employees took their breaks.

  As I came up the back I saw two of our cooks outside. Brayden Patrick, the grill guy and Ryce Dubri our house chef. “Hey guys.”

  “Hey’dere, Anna!” Ryce called as Brayden gave a nod and a short wave while he took the last drags off his cigarette. Brayden was a quiet guy. We got along well.

  “Neesa been lookin’ for ya, you know.” Ryce was from Barbados islands. His accent always had a way of making me smile. He was young for his position at age twenty-four but everyone who knew him also knew he was the best. Also worth noting, Ryce was one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever met.

  Neesa Saleen was his girlfriend. They’re one of the strangest and prettiest couples I’ve ever met. If you didn’t know them, you hated them but if you knew them, you had to love ‘em both.

  Clean-shaven head, Ryce is five foot ten. His skin was the color of rich hot coco and not to mention his twelve pack abs and arms bigger than my thighs. But Neesa always said it was his bronze colored eyes that sealed the deal for her. Funny how most people doubted that decree.

  Then of course there was Neesa. Both of her parents were from Brazil. Giving her skin like warm caramel with coffee color hair hung to her hips. And a tiny petite frame with perfect tiny petite features to match. All but her lips and eyes of course. Her lips were full and naturally mocha colored. Her doe like eyes looked like big Brazil nuts. They’re both stunning basically.

  I held up my cell phone to acknowledge she had been blowing it up for the last thirty minutes, just as it rang through with another text message. “Yeah I know.” Ryce chuckled.

  We had become pretty good friends seeing as she had worked there almost as long as I had. Quickly checking the message, it read much like the last five: UR torturing me, hurry up!

  A cloud of smoke waft through the air. It was a mixture of hickory from the two smoking metal boxes and Brayden’s cigarette smoke. I came through the door nearly plowing into Neesa who was on her way outside to greet me. The girl always seemed to know where to find me and when. Another reason I didn’t bother responding to the messages. Not to mention texting and walking with me, not a great idea. My gene pool did not gift me with coordination. I have the kind of luck where I could be walking down the street not paying attention and a piano would fall on my head.

  Neesa launched herself at me and jettisoned us both into the office. “Anna! You won’t believe what my aunt sent me from New Mexico.” She released me to swing around and grab her purse (which I swear was big enough to hide
a body in) and started to shuffle through it in search of whatever trinket she was referring to.

  However it was not a trinket or anything like what I had expected. “They are just perfect. And really I know they can help you. Ya know, with the dreams and all?” My jaw tightened as I watched her pull out a pack of tarot cards. The world got smaller. Not really but it sure felt crowded in the big office suddenly.

  Neesa had been telling me since the day we met that she was psychic. Of course, most people didn’t believe her. However, I was not one of those people. She’d proven it more than once. For example, I had not initially told her about my dreams. She just knew I had nightmares and bugged me until I told her everything.

  This is just one example. Of course, I knew Neesa meant nothing but the best but that didn’t make it less creepy. “Nees, is this really such a good idea right now?” My brow wrinkled with worry as my stomach twisted in knots. I slowly backed to the door as a strange feeling of desperation came over me. Desperation to get away. I didn’t want to know what she saw. I didn’t want her to look.

  “Oh Anna, don’t be so ridiculous! I wouldn’t give you a reading here! I’ll swing by your place after your shift and we’ll do it then.” My jaw dropped in protest but before I could speak, she landed a kiss on my cheek while hiding the cards in her apron and dashed out of the office. Shaking my head with a sigh, I finished getting ready for my shift.

  Checking my black boots for mud, I scanned all the way up my dark blue denim clad hips. I wore a snug white lace embroidered tank top. Both hugged my figure perfectly, which would boost the night’s tips by a good sum. Yeah, I’m shameless. Finally topping off the ensemble with the blackest apron I could find out of a stack of faded ones, I was ready to go.

  Mike knocked twice before opening the door. “Ah, Ryce said you were here. Good. Listen I have three big parties coming in but we’re supposed to be real busy tonight. Do you mind letting the new girls take them and you and Neesa watch the floor?” Mike leaned against the doorframe. His brow creased with stress, as usual.