by Alexis Angel
“If it’s a question of other people knowing, and being with you, it’s still fucking you.”
Now I put a finger to his lips.
I pulled him closer.
And kissed him.
The rose fell to the floor as he wrapped his arms around me.
Before diving back into him, I gave him a mischievous smile.
“You so love me,” I teased.
“I do,” was all he said.
That was the last thing I remember.
Minette & Armand
One
Armand
I’m woken by a loud clanging that just keeps going. I almost hit the fucking roof as I leap out of my blankets, kicking at nothing.
“What the fuck?”
My own voice sounds alien to me. I don’t know where I am.
“Sorry, Andy!” Alyse calls out from the kitchen. “Dropped the fucking teapot. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay!”
I try to ignore the clanging and banging just outside as I rub my hand over my eyes. Ever since I quit law school, I’ve been enjoying sleeping in late—when I’m allowed to, anyway.
I let Alyse, Tommy, and Rogan crash here in my apartment in The Bradford. They’re all poor and struggling in some way, so I don’t mind—when they’re not breaking my shit, anyway.
I know Alyse has been struggling as a waitress here in NYC for a while now. I still haven’t figured out if Tommy and Rogan are brothers or gay. Not that it matters; I’m no longer concerned with shit like that.
All I want is my art. That’s it. Well, that and Minette.
My rich bastard parents actually own this building.
Law school was their idea. Then when I quit, they blocked my trust fund. I watched dear old Dad write me out of his will with his own fucking hand—until I go back, that is.
Fuck him, though. You don’t walk this earth as clever as me, as good looking as me, or with as big of a cock as I have without finding a way to make it on your own. I lie back down in my king size bed, trying to ignore the sounds of Alyse cursing in the kitchen.
I have a workshop downtown where I keep my sculptures and paintings. Big-ass beautiful art deco place with vaulted ceilings and more room than I need.
My art doesn’t sell well—not yet. I’m not weird enough, dead enough, or keen enough to blabber on about metaphors or existentialism for that.
The workshop rents out for wild parties just fucking fine, though. That’s where I met Alyse & Co.—down on their luck, living on the streets, and gate-crashing parties just to stay somewhere warm for the night.
If there’s one good thing that comes from the fact that my parents haven’t kicked my ass out of this cushy fucking apartment yet, it’s that I can at least utilize it to help people who actually fucking need it.
That was my problem with law school, really. Not the tests or the professors or the bullshit papers—it was that when I looked around at all my old money classmates, all I saw were people who wanted to help themselves.
So I bounced. I’ve always been my own man—quitting law school was just my chance to prove it to Mom and Dad.
Sometimes I think all they care about is the perfect vision of me that exists in their minds. They don’t give a fuck what’s good for me—or what I actually want to do with my life.
I finish my smoke and grind it out the little red glazed ashtray I made. I have to get up soon anyway—I’m not that mad Alyse woke me, even if it is five a.m.
If NYC’s finest waitress has to be up and at work before the sun, there’s no reason I can’t do the same. I should get to my studio and organize some art. I only have that storage space because Uncle Matt gave it to me.
Once my parents found out I left law school and enrolled in an art program, I had to act fast. They wanted my art to disappear.
They didn’t even come and see it. They called the school, pulled my money, and my art got put out on the street. But Uncle Matt’s a bit of a black sheep.
He gave me the workshop and six months to make it as an artist. No money, but he wouldn’t let all my art go to waste. He’s a painter, too, after all—even if he’s only really interested in the nude female form.
I get up to brush my teeth and get ready. I make sure to make my hair look elegantly dishevelled, and my five o’clock-shadow scruffy but not unkempt. Not because I care about that shit, either.
But because I have to walk past Minette’s flower shop on the way.
Minette will be there. She always opens early.
I haven’t met her—I don’t think a fucking scoundrel like me even deserves her. She’s slight and delicate. Pale brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes.
She’s so quiet and still, I feel peaceful just watching her.
But she’s from that same old money world that I was born into, so I’m not going to fucking flatter myself. Girls like that have expectations. They marry doctors, bankers, CEOs, and politicians.
Girls like that marry lawyers—and I’ve left that life behind.
Her parents died a few months ago, and she inherited all their properties and businesses. She used to go out and party a lot. I still remember seeing her pretty face in the social section of newspapers, posing with a bunch of models and other heiresses.
But since her parents died, she’s been withdrawn. I don’t think she even spends their money anymore. She just runs the flower shop and looks a little down.
But ever since I realized she lives here in my building, she’s enchanted me. I don’t know what it is. Her stillness, maybe?
She looks like a work of art herself. I don’t fucking know—but it’s something.
Something about her makes me weak in the chest.
Alyse slams out the door with a muffled goodbye. Out in the lounge room, Tommy and Rogan show no sign of stirring, and they most likely won’t—they work nights in a bar across Central Park.
My phone rings. It’s Evan.
Evan’s the reason I’m not on the street now.
I was ready to say, Fuck it, and then sleep under and be a starving fucking artist for a little while.
He convinced me not to. I still haven’t thanked him properly for that.
“Hey, buddy,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“Dude. I want to invite you to the big party tonight. Its upstairs.”
“Ah, I don’t know, man. I’m painting this still life right now, and—”
“C’mon, Andy. You have to. I’m having trouble with Emilia. I have to talk to someone.”
A sigh like the end of the world leaks out of me. “I told you—”
“I know what you fucking told me! Shut up and come to the party. Minette’s going to be there.”
My heart skips a beat. And it never fucking does that.
Excitement.
Shit. I want to see her.
Reality: I need to stay the fuck away from that girl if I know what’s good for me.
For her.
For both of us.
She’ll end up married to some fat cat billionaire with a private jet and a corporate empire by the end of the year anyway. Why would she want me?
“Come on, Andy, it’ll be fun.”
“You just want to bitch about your girl, dude. That doesn’t sound fun. Contradiction in terms my friend.”
“Yeah, well…I’ll say anything at this point.”
I know I need to have a heart here. I should be charitable.
And even if I can’t do more than stare at Minette across the room, it might be better than thinking about her while I’m alone in my apartment all night with my hand around my dick.
“Yeah…alright. I’ll be there. I’ll head up when I get home from work.”
“See ya then.”
I grab my jacket and head out the door. Thanks to Alyse, I have plenty of time to run down to my studio and get a solid day in if I don’t fuck around too much.
I still walk past the flower shop on the way, though.
Can’t hurt to have a peek.
Two
>
Minette
I love starting work early. The grey, quiet dawn pulls around me as I walk down the street.
The shop is always so beautifully still, I can almost hear the flowers speak to me.
I always dispose of the older flowers first. It’s a sad job, but I like to know they have been mulched and donated to local gardens for compost. Then I receive my orders of fresh flowers and spend my morning organizing bouquets and arrangements.
This used to just be a hobby until Mom and Dad died. Now I work each flower arrangement with a desperate calm.
Like if I bring order to these flowers, I can somehow bring order to my life. If I see beauty, beauty will know me.
Since my parents’ death, nothing seems to really affect me anymore.
I did my crying and screaming. I told the world it wasn’t fair. It didn’t care.
While in my shop, I have some sense of peace. At home, in the big empty apartment, there’s only silence and my own whispering thoughts.
It’s almost 8 a.m. so I open my doors. Just up the street, I see that guy Andy who lives in The Bradford.
I think he’s friends with Evan, who has been going out with my friend Emilia…well, kind of going out.
I linger by the door, fussing with some small, dried flower arrangements. Andy runs his hand through his hair, eyes focused on a newspaper. His black hair curls around his neck and the line of his collar.
He’s wearing grey slacks and a white business shirt that’s open at the neck.
His pale green eyes flick up from the paper and look right at me. I freeze. We’re only about ten feet apart, him on the street near the trash can, and me safe behind my window glass.
It’s like the world falls away, and the silence that usually rings in my ears takes over the noise of the busy street.
It’s as if Andy and I are the only two people on earth.
I feel a sweet tingle between my legs, and I start blushing furiously, looking back down at my flowers. I used to be a party girl, but not anymore.
I can’t disturb the silence inside my mind too much. I can’t connect with people. I just think they can’t possibly understand what I’ve been through.
I want the kind of love that makes me feel secure. Like I can trust the world. Like I can let myself be happy.
I can feel hot tears brimming in my eyes. I look away quickly, trying to distract myself. Andy isn’t at the edge of the street anymore.
He’s walking towards me.
I pause in the doorway, a smile springing on my lips. I wish I was wearing something a bit sexier—not just a floral t-shirt dress and comfy flats.
My heart is hammering as he approaches.
I don’t really know why I feel this way toward him, but…there’s something about Andy that’s familiar.
Even if he’s a hot, crackling flame, and I’m a still, quiet pond, I sense something of the same urgency in him.
For all his efforts, I feel that, like me, he just wants to be loved.
That he needs security and comfort he thinks the world can’t provide.
He stops at the door and gives me a grin.
“Morning, Minette. How’re the flowers?”
“Floral,” I say with a giggle. “What are you up to today?”
“Got places to go. I’ll see you around, though, yeah?”
“Hope so, yeah.”
I watch him walk away, striding down the street. His tight ass looks amazing in his snug pants. He walks with quick, snappy strides, daring anyone to get in his way.
Why would a gorgeous, intense, driven guy like him ever look at a girl like me? Plain brown hair, boring blue eyes. Works ten hours in her flower shop, then scuttles home again.
I don’t know anything about art. I’m not outgoing. I don’t engage in lively conversation.
At least, not anymore. Since the accident, I just find all that too difficult.
No doubt he has some intense and deep kind of girlfriend. Who has piercings and tattoos and makes art out of wire. Someone as interesting as him.
I’m still feeling down when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Emilia.
“Hey, Emmy.”
“Hey, Min. How are you?”
“Good.” A smile spreads across my lips. “What’s up?”
“There’s a party upstairs tonight. I want you to come.”
I suppress a long sigh. “I really don’t know. Will there be many people?”
“Andy will be there. Well, I think Evan is inviting him. I don’t know. I need to talk to you about it. It’s all going to fucking hell.”
“Can’t we just share some wine at my place and talk? It will be nice and quiet—”
“Fuck’s sake, Minnie! You need to fucking get out! I’m seriously starting to worry about you. Have you gone out at all in the last few months?”
“Well, we went shopping. There were those times we went to the movies…”
“Minnie, that doesn’t count. I mean out, out. Wearing something sexy. Feeling alive. You know?”
“Maybe.” I’m thinking about Andy. He could make me feel alive.
“Well, I’m going to be at your place this afternoon. We are going to fucking get ready and go to this party. You need it, and I really fucking need it.”
I sigh deeply. There’s no stopping Emmy when she’s on a run like this. I’m starting to think I don’t mind.
Andy could be there. I might get a chance to say more than a couple of words to him.
And Emilia’s right. I do need to get out.
“Are you sure Andy’s going?” I can’t believe I’m asking this.
Already, I’m thinking of what I want to wear and exactly how I’m going to pounce on him.
“I’ll find out for sure. Just be ready, okay, Minnie?”
“Yeah, Em. I’ll be ready.”
She hangs up, and I slip my phone back into my pocket. Already, I feel kind of fluttery and weird at the idea of being so close to Andy.
I haven’t been confident in my own shoes for a while. It’s time to fix that.
Would he even look at a simple little mouse like me? He needs someone with fire, the same flame in his own heart.
I start a new flower arrangement, focusing completely on the soft, vibrant petals. This, I can control. This, I can make beautiful.
I try not to think about tonight, but I can’t stop thinking about Andy.
Three
Armand
The party is more crowded than I expected. I’m crushed in a corner with Evan against me, looking out an open window. I haven’t even seen Minette yet.
Evan is banging on about Emilia. I’m so fucking sick of hearing it.
“Look, man,” I say, cutting into his monologue, “we all knew it was going to blow apart. There’s no way the two of you are going to make it.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Evan says with some heavy emphasis. He’s quite drunk. “I should never have gone for her in the first place. She can’t accept me as I am. I can’t change… I mean, I’ve tried. I’ve really fucking tried, but this thing is a no-go.”
He stares into the crowd, face almost comically sad. I slap his shoulder lightly.
“Don’t sweat it, dude. There will be others.”
He shakes his head, gripping his beer tightly. “Not like this one. There’s never going to be one like this one. And I’m fucked, I’m totally fucked up. What does she want?”
“I hear you.” My voice sinks down to a whisper as soon as I see her—Minette.
She’s on the floor with Emilia, dancing.
Holy fucking shit! Dancing!
I can’t believe my eyes. She’s wearing an amazing, dark green silky dress that swishes up when she moves, showing off her long creamy thighs. Delicate straps chase across her shoulders, the straight neckline decorated with shiny beads in a growing vine.
Evan laughs at me. “Why don’t you go get her, buddy?”
“I can’t fucking wait.” My voice is stuck in my th
roat, and it comes out like a growl.
There are beauties all over that dance floor that my dick should be chasing. Instead, all I see is Minnie.
I stand up, throw down my bourbon in one gulp, and run a hand through my hair.
“Well, if you don’t hurry the fuck up, I’ll have to go and talk to Emilia. And I don’t want to do that. Everyone’s having a nice time. I don’t think they want to observe another screaming match.”
I’m listening, but I’m not really hearing him. I walk across the room like I’m striding across the savannah towards a lioness. Cool but confident.
Emilia sees me from where she’s dancing in front of Minnie. She waves, winks, and dives into the crowd.
Minnie swings around and fixes me with those dark blue eyes. For a moment, she looks terrified. Like she might run.
Then she smiles.
“Hello, Andy…that is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…well, it’s Armand actually, but everyone calls me Andy.”
It was ridiculous of my parents to give me an artsy fucking name and then expect me to do law.
She sticks out her hand, and I take it. We shake.
“I’m Minette… Minnie.”
“Like Minnie Mouse?” I grin.
She laughs, a sweet giggle. “Yeah. Kind of. I had a few drinks. Emmy made me feel better, so I decided to come tonight. I really want to let go. Would you like to dance?”
“Right here?” I reach out and grab her waist. “Right now?”
She smiles. “Sure.”
She puts her arms on my shoulders, and I pull her towards me. It’s all happening so fast. I thought I was going to have to parade around nude to get her to notice me.
It’s strange, but I can’t even hear the music. We’re swaying, looking into each other’s eyes, but I have no idea if we’re following the beat.
There’s a silence around Minette. Like the horrors of the world stand still at her feet. I’m entranced.
She’s gorgeous, and I want to get to know every inch of her. She shifts under my hands, and my cock is practically leaping up out of my pants. As we move to the music, I start stroking her sides with my palms.