Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

  At 6 P.M., the place was sure to be closed, but I dialed the number on the card anyway. “In Bloom, can I help you?”

  “Mr. Capricio, this is Trevelle Doval.” I didn’t know what else to say after that, not expecting him to answer the phone in the first place.

  “You’re welcome.” His voice was steady.

  I cradled the phone as I moved to the couch and curled myself in a ball. I didn’t say a word, and neither did he. He stayed on the line, breathing quietly. When I was close enough to sleep, I said, “Good night.”

  “Sleep well,” he answered. “If you need me, you know where I am.”

  Marcella was standing over me. Her hand was floating above my head far too close to my mouth. I screamed. She screamed, too, then shouted, “Oh, missus!” She picked up the prescription bottle of sleeping pills that were sitting on the coffee table. “I was scared you no breathing.”

  I sat up, my heart still pumping hard from waking up thinking I was in the middle of a séance or something. I had fallen asleep on the couch. I had planned to take the sleeping pills, but for the first time in a long time I didn’t need them. I hadn’t even had a bad dream.

  She left and came back with a cup of hot tea. “Here you go.” She started her ritual of pulling back the curtains. I squinted from the sunlight. When my eyes adjusted, I saw all the beautiful bouquets of flowers and remembered . . . Vince Capricio. I picked up the phone again, still warm where I’d held it the entire time.

  Marcella did a double take. “Ay, bonita. Muchas flores.”

  “Make sure they have plenty of water,” I announced as I marched off to my bedroom. I had to get myself together. There was much to do. I had a wedding to stop.

  Bitter Fruit

  Gray leaned over the station and did something he’d never done before. He kissed Nikki square on the lips. “Good morning, sexy.”

  She put her hand to her mouth and looked in both directions. “What was that?”

  “Just feeling good. You know what? I’m feeling better than good. More like on top of the world.”

  Nikki followed him into his office. “Guess it’s the excitement of tomorrow, your wedding day.” She stood next to him while he situated himself at his desk.

  “Look, don’t try to bring me down with more of your pouty-mouth guilt trips. How many times do I have to say it? Nothing’s going to change. I’m still going to take care of you. You’re always going to have a special place right here.” He did a crotch grab. He couldn’t help but snicker at the disgust on her face. “I’m playin’ with you, girl.” He tapped at his chest. “Right here, you’re in my heart.” He pulled her down to meet his lips. “Damn, you taste even better than last night.”

  Gray checked the time—it was still early. No one would be coming through for at least another hour. He slid his hands up the sides of her thick thighs. The swell of her bottom sent a bolt to his groin. “You gone have to take care of this, girl.”

  “I thought you said never in your office. Plus I’ll mess up my hair and makeup.”

  “Not the full package, just a quick service, baby. Please. I was feeling so good when I came in. You brought me down. You owe me, baby.”

  “But what if Keisha stops in?”

  “Keisha’s not coming in. She’s miles from here, taking care of last-minute details for the happiest day of her life, marrying me.”

  “What a lucky girl,” Nikki said, folding her arms over her chest. “Too bad it’s all an illusion.”

  Gray slid his hands down her dress. He patted her on the derriere. “Get out. Take the day off.” He swatted his hand in the air. “Now, walk. Bringing down my day, ain’t even started yet, and you’re trying to ruin it,” he half whined.

  “What’re you talking to me like that for?” She stood firm, arms crossed under her voluptuous chest.

  “I’ve given you everything. You got the nerve to disrespect me.”

  “You want to talk about respect?” she huffed. “I’m the one you come to, me. I gave you everything, all of me there is to give, and you go off and marry someone else.”

  “Did you ever think it would be you?” His pitch rose with incredulity. “Leave, please. I’m not going to let you mess this day up for me.”

  “Tell me to leave one more time, and I will. And I’m not coming back.” Her accent turned thick.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You can have your car, the condominium—I don’t need it. I don’t need you.” She wiped the raging tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m worth more than this. I deserve better than to be treated like some prostitute.”

  “You know what? Then go find it, ’cause I’m sick of your trick ass.”

  She shoved his computer to the hard shiny floor, cracking it into pieces. “You’re the trick. You.” She left his office.

  Just as quickly, she swished back inside, her juicy thighs rubbing together. She had her bag over her shoulder and her keys in hand.

  Gray rose up from his busted computer and cowered, afraid of what she would do next. “I’m not coming back. Do you hear me? I mean it, Gray. You’ll not see me again. You marry your princess. I’m going to Nigeria with my Hambe and becoming a queen. Treated like I deserve to be treated.”

  “I hear they cut off women’s passion buttons in that crew. I’d be careful if I were you. And last I heard, weave shops weren’t very popular there. He may not be happy when he realizes that mop on your head isn’t a real product of the colonized side of Trinidad. Take your fake ass out of here.”

  “So this is what it’s about. You think you’re getting the real thing, Miss Mulatto who knows nothing of where she comes from. I know who I am. I know.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I know where you’re going, too.” Gray picked up the phone, pressed a button. “Security.”

  “I hate you. You will see, walking over people, treating them any way you want. You will see.”

  Gray was relieved when she finally left. He took a long deep breath. He kneeled on the ground to tend to his shattered computer. He had to call someone to save the hard drive. All the accounts where Byron had hidden money were safely there. Only problem was Gray’d never had the pass codes. Watching the money sit there, untouchable, broke his heart every single day. He kept hope that someday a miracle would set him free; until then he settled on what he already had—a good career, a wife with an inheritance, and his affable personality.

  He packed up the computer and decided the day was shot. He might as well pick up his tux early and stop by the barbershop to get his fade tightened up a bit. Even after the episode with Nikki, he was still walking on high. One down, one to go. If Ronny took care of his end, there would be harmony at last. No more complications in his otherwise perfect world.

  Terror Squad

  “I have the information you want.” Robert Stanton sounded like the mystery and espionage were the highlight of his day, or week. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “We don’t have to meet anywhere. You can tell me right now. You’re talking to me.” I held the phone to my ear while I poked baby roses into the last greenery ball for the head table arrangements.

  “Phones aren’t safe for this kind of information.”

  Vince moved behind me, slow enough to be listening. He’d been very attentive to my conversations in the last few days. I pressed the phone tighter to my mouth, “The answer is—yes, they’re legit or no, they’re not. You see how easy that is? Yes or no.”

  “It’s not a yes-or-no answer.” Robert Stanton’s dry humor wasn’t easy to detect. I couldn’t tell if he was serious, or just serious about seeing me.

  “Okay, but I have like three minutes . . . I’m telling you.”

  “Meet me at our spot,” he said, hanging up before I could say, We don’t have a spot.

  “Off on another rendezvous?”

  “Is Jake paying you to watch over me? I swear, you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

  “I wouldn’t take his money,” Vince said. “I’m no tatt
letale.”

  “Good. I’ll be back in a flash. You won’t even know I’m gone.” I tossed my purse over my shoulder and ran out of there before he could give me any more sage advice. Robert wasn’t at “our spot” yet. I ordered two coffees and sat impatiently. Tomorrow was Keisha’s wedding. I was always nervous before a ceremony, but things were worse with the tension of my household. Jake had tossed and turned all night—once he came to bed, that is. He nuzzled next to me and said, “It will all be over tomorrow.” It was two or three in the morning. I wanted to question him, but my lips wouldn’t move from pure exhaustion. I made a decision to hire one more person after this wedding. I was overworked from head to toe.

  “Hey there, beautiful.” Robert Stanton sat down.

  I pushed a wisp of dry fuzz out of my face then scooted my hands under my arms to hide my frayed cuticles. I was hardly the pampered princess. Manual labor was not my forte. I felt tired and run-down. The only thing kept me half-satisfied was knowing one thing: I had played the game of beauty, and it was an endless, thankless job that required way too much attention and upkeep. “Now, that’s just plain condescending.”

  He laughed. “You have a strange ability to twist everything. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He slid the file envelope he was carrying to me. “Don’t open it until you are alone, in your car.”

  “And burn after reading?” I said.

  “Please”—he nodded—“if you don’t mind.”

  “I appreciate it. I really do.”

  “No problem. They’re legit,” he said, easily.

  “And you couldn’t tell me this over the phone?”

  I stood up. “But remember I said I had three minutes. Well, we’re down to one. I really have to go.” I took the envelope and my coffee. “That one’s yours.”

  He popped off the lid. “Black, just like I like it.” The senator gave me a dance of his eyebrows.

  “You need to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I’ll give it a try,” he said. “See you later.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, not sure to what.

  In my car, I tore open the envelope. The folded pages were photocopies of the official badges of Tonya McDonald and Tyrone Peterson, both real live FBI agents with their good standing and list of merits and distinctions. I dialed Jake. He didn’t answer. I left a message. “Babe, those FBI agents are very real and very legitimate. I have their files right here. I don’t know why they would want to hurt Legend. Something’s not right.” He’d have to see for himself anyway. Nothing else I said seemed to convince him that Legend wasn’t on the up and up. Maybe now he would believe me.

  The white Jaguar parked in front of my store with a license plate that read FAVORED belonged to Trevelle. Geez, this was not the time. I pulled in behind the In Bloom van. The doors were wide open, filled nearly to the brim with the boxes labeled HAWKINS PARTY. Vince had taken care of the rest of the floral centerpieces for Keisha’s wedding, thank goodness. The Witch of the East had obviously failed at distracting him.

  I expected the sound of Trevelle’s haughty voice to ring with indignation. Instead I heard her laughter, then Vince chiming in like they were on their first date. “You’re kidding, right? You would’ve made a great cheerleader.”

  “Hi,” was all I could manage, looking between the two of them as if I’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar at the same damn time.

  “Venus, how does it look?” Trevelle was busy sticking baby’s breath in the halo that Mya would be wearing as the flower girl. She held it up. White ribbon trailed down the back. “Exquisite, isn’t it? I had no idea I was such a talented artiste. Work of art.” She continued patting herself on the back, otherwise not needing my input after all.

  I swallowed the ball of nerves in my throat and thought about pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  “Glad she stopped in. I really needed the extra pair of hands,” Vince said, almost daring me to say something rude.

  “I came by to thank Vince for the flowers he sent. He was inundated. I really don’t approve of my daughter’s wedding to this man, but Vince and I started talking, and he’s so wise.”

  I held up a finger and crooked it for Vince to follow me. I led him to the front entrance. “Huh?” I shrugged my shoulders. “What is going on?”

  “Just like she said—she saw I was up to my eyeballs, and she wanted to help.” He dusted his hands off. “You should be thanking her instead of being rude.”

  “Do not trust her. Do you hear me? She’s scheming, plotting, planning. Trust me—nothing is as it seems with her.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I think she’s pretty straightforward. She says what she means. She’s a good person. Got a beautiful spirit.”

  “Yeah, if you like voodoo priestesses. You’ve known her like five minutes. Please.” I put both hands up to my ears.

  “You should be appreciative of her help, I’m telling you.”

  “I can’t hear you,” I said. “All I’m thinking is I hope the flowers don’t wilt from whatever spell she cast.”

  “The woman’s a saint.”

  I covered my mouth, aghast. Then I opened my hands over his face and swirled them around. “Cast out this spell! Save my friend Vince from her evil clutches.”

  “Thank you for that. Now, can I get back to work? I have to deliver the order that me and wicked witch happened to fill while you were gone.”

  “And you sent her flowers . . . my flowers. I hope you paid for them.”

  “Yeah, we’ll just call it a hush fund, seeing’s how I got a lot to be quiet about. I wouldn’t have needed her help if you hadn’t run off to see Mr. Stanton, groupie of one.”

  “Mind your business.” I put my finger close to his nose. He snapped with a bite, making me draw back in a hurry, then left me standing there grateful I still had my finger. “I’m not done with you,” I said in a meek whisper.

  I’ll admit I was a bit more grateful when I reappeared. Vince was fitting the last of the boxes in the van. The sun was setting on the back room, so all the light shone through the right window onto Trevelle. She had on Mya’s halo and looked eerily angelic. “All finished.”

  “It’s really beautiful. Thank you.” I gently lifted it off her head. I pulled down a box and began to wrap tissue around it. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony.” I was hoping she took the cue to leave.

  “My daughter has banned me from the ceremony.”

  “What . . . from even showing up? Keisha . . . or Delma?”

  “Keisha. Came directly from her mouth to mine and God’s ears.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured, but what I was really thinking was she’d probably done something absolutely horrendous to deserve such a punishment. I didn’t even want to guess.

  I set the halo wreath in the box and suddenly had a pained thought of Mya telling me not to bother coming to a school play, a birthday party, let alone her wedding. I would be crushed. “Is there a way you can talk to her, maybe one last time before tomorrow?”

  “I’ve tried. She won’t take my calls.”

  I felt sorry for Trevelle. I twisted my mouth and wanted to say or do something, yet had no words for such a hopeless situation. And then I remembered. “They’re having the rehearsal tonight where Vince is going to deliver the flowers. Maybe you should tag along. Vince needs the helping hands. I have kind of a family emergency. I have to get home, so—” I faced Vince as he came through the back door. “—you wouldn’t mind if she went with you, right?”

  “I’d absolutely love it.”

  “Yeah, okay. Settled then.”

  Vince scooped up the keys. “My lady, your chariot awaits.”

  I touched Trevelle on the shoulder. “Please, just don’t do anything, um . . .”

  “Don’t worry. I’m representing In Bloom. I will behave myself,” she said firmly.

  I snapped my fingers. “Good idea
.” I ran back inside and grabbed a T-shirt. I thrust it toward her.

  “I have to draw the line, really.” She pushed it back toward me. “I’ll be fine.” She sashayed out in her white knit pants and matching jacket with bright gold buttons. Vince and his black T-shirt and jeans was her complete opposite in more ways than one.

  “Okay, you two kids have fun.” The van pulled off. I shook my head. Unbelievable. I hoped Vince could handle her. If he thought I was bad, wait till he got a load of Trevelle.

  I focused on the bigger problem looming: the FBI, Jake, and Legend. I had to find Jake. I dialed his number, prepared to leave a detailed message, but instead I heard his real live voice. “Baby, ohmigod, where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m at the Intercontinental in Buckhead. Legend and I are having drinks. Nothing to worry about.”

  “No, there is something to worry about. Listen to me—”

  “Babe, we have a meeting. I can’t talk right now. I swear I’ll call as soon as we’re done.”

  “No, listen. Those FBI agents . . .” I was talking to myself. He’d already hung up. Intercontinental, here I come. I turned around to grab my keys and realized they weren’t hanging on the plaque hook. Vince had taken the wrong keys for the van. My Range Rover sat outside. I rushed to see if the extra set was hidden somewhere, the way Jake always warned I should do. Well, I hadn’t bothered, but maybe he had. Husbands did that kind of thing when you weren’t looking. The car was open, thank goodness.

  No, this wasn’t happening. No key. I looked at the old Buick parked on the curb. Maybe Vince had left his keys. Back inside, I searched the desk drawer and anywhere there was a surface. I came across keys, but they didn’t belong to me or Vince. The large gold letters read HIGHLY FAVORED..