His Wild Blue Rose

by A. J. Downey

  “Other than the botanical gardens, what’re some of your favorite things to do?” I asked, curious.

  She laughed a little and said, “I can’t believe we haven’t talked about this stuff before. Um…” she trailed off and I liked that she was really thinking about what I’d asked as we slow-walked it up to the building’s entryway.

  “I used to love gardening. When we first got married, we bought a house just outside the city and I used to garden.” She looked wistful for a moment and said, “Oh, you should have seen it. I managed to get some Himalayan blue poppies to grow along the front flowerbeds. They were beautiful against the white paint of the house.”

  “Why’d you move into the city?” I asked.

  “Well, Ray got the job at the firm that he did, and the commute was becoming unbearable for him. We were going to start a family, and the schools in the city were, surprisingly, better.” She chewed her lip. “We reasoned that if we had kids, I wouldn’t really have time to garden like I used to, and Ray agreed to let me start my flower shop to sort of mitigate that loss for me…” she trailed off and sighed.

  “When we found out about the fertility issues, we’d already sold the house and bought the condo, and the rest, I guess, as they say, is history.”

  I nodded gently, absorbing her words, her story, like a sponge. She took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out in a great sigh, her body relaxing marginally, making me realize she tensed any time she talked about him. I couldn’t blame her. His name was now synonymous with the single worst moment of her life thus far. Surrounded, it sounded like, by dozens of other smaller moments, no less damaging in their own way.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “Me?” I laughed a little.

  “Yeah, you.” She stopped and tugged a little on my arm, indicating I should stop, too. I did, and faced her. She looked into my eyes, her face openly curious and asked, “Why do you sound like it’s so hard to believe I would want to know things about you, too?” she asked.

  I blinked, bewildered, “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did,” she said unequivocally.

  She’s calling you on your bullshit, Martinez. Time to ‘fess up.

  I rolled my lips and said, “I guess it’s because I can’t be quite sure when the last time somebody asked me that was. I mean, asked me that, and really meant it, you know? Like, was seriously and legitimately wanting to hear an answer. Not just going through the motions.”

  She frowned and her expression darkened with that same sort of sadness, as if another cloud had passed over the sun that was her heart.

  “How incredibly sad for you,” she murmured and it sort of blew me away. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “I never really thought of it that way before, but yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, I don’t want or need you to be sad for me, Chica. Today is supposed to be a good day.”

  She smiled and it held a bit of whimsy to it. She said to me, “So far, it’s been one of the best days that I’ve had in a very long time.”

  I smiled, my chest nearly cracking in two with how much it swelled with fuckin’ pride. I nodded and said, “I’m glad for that,” as I dragged open the door to the distillery. Lys smiled at me and went through, and I followed her in.

  To borrow a phrase from Oz, I’d pretty much follow her straight into hell in gasoline boots, if it would make her smile like that more often.

  “Hello! Welcome in.” I looked up at the cheery greeting from the girl behind the counter and listened to Lys shyly return it.

  “Hi.”

  “Have you been here before?” the girl asked.

  “I have, she hasn’t.”

  “Okay, well –” I tuned her out, only half-listening, and watched the light and shadow play through Alyssa’s eyes as she listened, nodding along.

  I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure on how to do the whole relationship thing, having never done it with much practice or regularity. Hell. I was a grown-ass man in my thirties, who had never held a relationship beyond a few months here or there.

  Probably because you just hadn’t met the right girl.

  And was Lys the right girl?

  You already know the answer to that, asshole.

  I wondered for a minute if I did. I mean, if I did, really, and what’s more, what made Lys the right girl out of every girl that had come before.

  Let’s see, she’s successfully living with your ass, putting up with your shit, and doesn’t whine or complain about trivial things. Hell, she doesn’t tend to bitch or whine about the big things until they get so overwhelming she has a total meltdown.

  True.

  Also, she’s responsible, stable despite the hell she’s been through, and Manolo seems to like her and that kid’s just like you. He don’t like anybody.

  Also true.

  I nodded, smiled, and agreed with something the counter girl said, and paid the nominal fee for the tour for the both of us. Lys looked like she was having the time of her life and that made me smile.

  That, and you gotta love a chick who is smart ‒and‒ easily entertained.

  I had a hard time not laughing out loud at that last thought and let myself be swept along by the two women and the history of the place we were in. I couldn’t deny it was a pretty cool place. It all seemed brand fucking new watching it all through Lys’ eyes.

  That will probably also never get old, my inner voice said and I honestly couldn’t disagree. Still, I had a lot of self-doubt, and I only knew of one place to turn to get help with something like this.

  I was never going to hear the end of it, either.

  Sure enough, when we walked into the 10-13 later that evening, Pasquale was the first to have something to say. Then again, Pasquale always had something to say.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned!” He stood up straighter from behind one of the two tall tables by the dart boards that we tended to take over. Chrissy, Aly, and Lil looked over, and everyone just sort of froze while Pasquale went on saying, “I ain’t never seen you bring no broad ‒in‒ to this place before.”

  “Hey!” I gave him a stern look. “Be nice.” He reared back, surprise painted on his face thicker than his outlandish makeup. I ignored his melodramatics and said, “Lys, this is Pasquale, that’s Chrissy, Lil, and Aly.”

  “Hi,” she murmured shyly and gave this adorable little wave of her hand.

  I hefted the canvas pack full of booze bottles higher onto my shoulder and said, “Shouldn’t be more than an hour. Order something to eat, the food is good.” I gave Pasquale and the girls a sharp look and said, “Try not to give her the third degree.”

  The girls laughed and Pasquale crossed his arms and gave me a look that said he was so not impressed. I raised an eyebrow at him as I passed and reminded him sharply, “Be. Nice.” He rolled his eyes at me.

  I shook my head and finished heading for the fishbowl, past the pool table. A bunch of the guys were watching the whole thing through the glass, and my twin was among them, a faint smile on his face. I scowled at him, asking with my eyes what the fuck his deal was. He quirked an eyebrow, barely, almost imperceptibly, a direct answer of You know what I’m talking about. I rolled my eyes quickly at him and dragged open the fishbowl’s door.

  “Well that’s a first, you bringin’ a girl ‒in‒ here,” Skids remarked.

  I frowned at him.

  “You got ears out there I don’t know about?” I demanded, knowing full well the fishbowl was pretty well sound-proofed from the rest of the restaurant.

  “Now, you know I ain’t, why?”

  “Pasquale said the same damn thing, almost verbatim.” I gently swung the army green canvas pack off my shoulder and held it out to him by the top loop. “Here’s your booze for the bar.”

  He took it.

  “Thanks, how much I owe you?”

  I named off the figure and he nodded, “Write you a check when we get out of here.”

  I sat down, and Oz demanded, “So, who is sh
e?”

  “That’d be Lys,” Angel said and I scowled at him,our classic look for ‘Thanks for narcing me out, bro.’ He gave me a shameless shit-eating grin.

  “What, the roommate?” Poe asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered, and shifted a little uncomfortably. Youngblood and Backdraft exchanged a look.

  Youngblood asked, “You catching feels?”

  “Like the goddamned flu,” I confessed.

  The whole table went into stunned silence. If Angel’s face split into any more of a grin the top of his fuckin’ head was going to come off. I rushed forward. No going back now.

  “I’m out of my depth here, boys. I actually really don’t want to fuck this up, and I’d appreciate it if you’d all keep the jabs to a minimum this time.”

  More silence. Skids let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat, his blue eyes trained out the window at the knot of people around the tall table furthest from us. Lys had slid up onto one of the stools next to Aly and it looked like the girls were doing their thing, welcoming her as one of their own. Pasquale had even lost some of his hard diva edge. I thought maybe some of his nursing instinct had kicked in. Lys did still have some of that wounded vibe around her.

  “What’s her story?” Driller asked softly, and I realized she telegraphed it like a reader board. Even from here, you could see it. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, rounded forward, her mannerisms timid and uncertain. A tightness was around her eyes, that hadn’t been there earlier when it’d been just me and her.

  “Just a second, hang on.” I got up and went to the door, dragged it open and called out, “Lys!” She looked up, and I called out to her, “Situational awareness.” She nodded, smiled, and looked around. She asked Pasquale something and he kind of half-reared back, but obliged her, switching her seats so that she could see the door.

  I watched it all as I went back to my seat. Some of her tension had eased. Sometimes she just needed the reminder. She was still learning, still getting used to it. She did much better about it when she was on her own, and I took it as a mark that she trusted me to look out for her, that she forgot about it sometimes when I was around, unless we were actively working on it together.

  I sat back down and sighed, trying to buy myself time to figure out where to begin. “Just because y’all are my friends, doesn’t mean I feel free to speak her business, you know what I mean?”

  I heard grunts of affirmation around the table and I knocked a knuckle thoughtfully against the wood surface. I looked from one to the next to the next of my brothers and said, “You didn’t hear any of this from me. You don’t know a goddamned thing.”

  Nods and affirmations went around and I laid it out. There weren’t a lot of surprised looks around the table. That was the cost of doing business when you were full time heroes, though. We knew how bad it got, how deep the evil of this world ran. That was why, when you found beauty in it like Lys, you hung onto it.

  “So, what’s the problem, then?” Driller asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  “How the fuck do I even do this?” I asked laughing. “I’ve never really wanted to try before, so it’s not like I have any fuckin’ practice.”

  “Seems to me you’re doing just fine,” Angel said and there were some nods of agreement.

  “Why her, of all people, bro?” Oz asked.

  I raised an eyebrow and shrugged, “She’s lived in the same place as me for the last couple three months and hasn’t run screaming yet. That’s a start.” Chuckles swept around the table and some of the guys exchanged some amused looks.

  “Lemme ask you something,” Skids said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “What’re you more afraid of, hurting her or getting hurt?”

  I answered immediately, “Hurting her, she’s had enough.”

  “If everything’s different this time, prove it,” Backdraft said with a wink.

  I frowned.

  “The fuck I do that?”

  “Hearts and flowers, dude. Hearts and flowers,” Oz said, grinning at me.

  “Easier said than done; she’s a florist, owns her own flower shop.”

  Laughter went around the table and Angel said, “I got you covered. We’ll talk.”

  “Yeah, I figured you would,” I grumbled.

  “All seriousness, though. Glad you came to us,” Skids said. Serious expressions and serious nods went around.

  “You don’t ask for help as a general rule,” Reflash said finally. “The fact you’d ask about this, says just how serious you are.”

  I shifted uncomfortably and gave a grudging nod. He wasn’t wrong, and the fact the guys weren’t making fun of me and giving me a ration of shit about Lys meant a lot. I hadn’t given a fuck when they’d done it over my man-whoring ways, because I didn’t really give a fuck about who I was sticking my dick in. I hadn’t so much as touched Lys that way but this time I cared. I hoped that meant I wasn’t turning into some kind of a pussy.

  I turned around in my chair and cast a look through the glass. Everyone at her table was looking at me. As soon as I frowned, they all busted up laughing, which made me scowl harder.

  “What the fuck are they laughing at?” I growled and the guys around the table laughed.

  “You, they’re laughing at you. Who the fuck knows why,” Oz said, laughing at me too.

  “Pasquale,” like four voices said in unison.

  “That queen is more trouble than he’s worth sometimes,” I muttered, but didn’t mean it. Pasquale and the club’s favorite game was getting on each other’s nerves.

  I turned back to the table and huffed a sigh asking, “anyway, where were we?”

  The guys exchanged glances and Skids said, “Well, I do believe we were in the middle of working on your problem, which, it seems to me, ain’t really a problem at all.”

  I nodded, I got where he was coming from.Still, I told him and everyone else, “I’m open to suggestions, boys. In fact, I’m all ears...”

  18

  Alyssa…

  “Okay, so, inquiring minds really want to know. What in the hell is it like actually living with that gorgeous, yet infuriating, man?” Pasquale demanded. I think it was just his way, like his outlandish choice in clothing and makeup.

  He was wearing a corset and long, elegant pants that looked like they belonged with a high-end pantsuit. They didn’t touch the ground, but only by virtue of the patent leather, platform, spike-heeled boots. Over the corset and pants, he had a long black cardigan-wrap-thing that, like the pants, flowed and floated if he had the occasion to walk. He was bald, his eyebrows penciled on, high and dark in a perpetual look of surprise. His silver eyeshadow was done all the way up to them.

  I was jealous of his perfect cat’seye black liquid liner. I wished I was half as accomplished at it as he was. He tapped a perfectly-manicured black acrylic nail against his deep maroon-painted lips and waited, with his not-so-patient eyes trained in my direction.

  “Um, it’s okay now, but at first it was…” I groped for the correct word, and finally settled on one he used that was, sadly, pretty accurate. “Infuriating.”

  “I knew it! Oh, darling girl, you simply must tell us everything!”

  “I don’t know,” I said, hedging. I knew Golden was fairly private, and I didn’t want to share anything out of turn.

  Pasquale tutted and heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Okay fine, let’s start with you. Why on earth did you move in with the likes of him?”

  “Um, well, I’m going through a divorce and I needed someplace to stay and, um...” I gave a nervous laugh. The door across from us opened up; we heard the sound of it scraping across its metal lintel. None of us paid it any mind, but then, Golden called out my name. We all stopped then, and looked in his direction.

  When I looked up, he fixed eyes on me and said two words: “Situational awareness.”

  I nodded and he went back inside and Chrissy rounded on me and asked, “What does that mean?”

  “Um, it mean
s I need to move. Can I switch seats with one of you so my back isn’t to the door?”

  One of the things Golden and I had discussed when it came to safety and my feeling safe was special and situational awareness; there were things I could do to feel more in control of my surroundings, and be in more control over my person and my personal safety.

  Pasquale stood up, and with a knowing smile, said, “Absolutely. If it puts me facing all that delicious leather-dipped man-candy up there, I have no problem switching you spots, honey.”

  “Thank you, it just helps my anxiety, not having my back to the door.”

  “I understand,” Chrissy said kindly, and Aly and Lil exchanged a look.

  “Um, my husband got violent with me once. Only the once, but it was bad and I had to stay in a shelter for a bit. I was living on a college friend’s couch for a while and the ad for a room for rent came up, and I kind of figured it’d be safer living with a cop, you know? Well, Kenzie, my friend who I was living with; it was her idea, actually.”

  I chewed my bottom lip nervously as Chrissy looked on kindly and the other two women blinked owlishly at me. Pasquale looked empathetic and patted me on the hand where it rested on the table.

  I jumped slightly and he said, “Well, hold on, now, Sugar. Ain’t nobody here gonna harm you so, just relax.” He tsked again and sighed. “All that, and you land in his place. You poor, poor, thing.”

  I smiled, “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him.”

  “Rough start, I take it?” Aly asked innocently, but not at all surprised.

  “A little. I didn’t realize there’d be a different girl coming through every time. That was a little,...” I made an ‘eee’ motion with my mouth and cringed a bit, and knowing smiles and glances were exchanged.

  “So drunk, right?” Lil asked.