La Fleur de Blanc

by Sean Platt

  Antonia sat next to her. She was a large woman — tall in stature, wide in all the right places but miles from truly obese — and as she sat beside Lily on the bench, she felt like the fragile snowflake her trip across the courtyard had made it clear she was. She’d never survive. This little blonde farm girl was going to melt, and it was only a matter of time.

  “Let me guess,” said Antonia, pushing a bright-orange ponytail behind her shoulders. As with Kerry, Lily could tell that Antonia — pretty today, for sure — had once been stunning. “I just saw you come out of Cunty’s store, so … ”

  “Sorry?” said Lily.

  “I’m sorry,” said Antonia, fighting a smile. “Did I mispronounce her name again?” Then, when Lily said nothing, she continued. “Ahem. Kerry’s store. nouveau house. Because it’s nouveau, see. You can tell by the lowercase name just how fancy it is.”

  Lily blinked, then looked up. Antonia’s bakery was called Buns. It could have been as French as her own shop or nouveau house — La Petite Pâtisserie, perhaps — and had certainly earned any class she chose to give it by her array of spectacular desserts. But she’d called it Buns, inviting jokes about asses. Her shop was busy, Lily could see. Her customers could wait, and would. That casual confidence spoke of subtle authority to Lily. Something Antonia had worked long and hard for, and chose to wear like a blue ribbon on her blouse.

  “Lily, right?”

  Lily nodded. They’d met before, but only briefly.

  “You’re not the first new tenant Kerry has offered half-price furniture to.” Lily opened her mouth to gasp in surprise, but Antonia’s knowing look closed it. “It’s win-win for her. Ideally, you go onto her home turf only to realize you can’t afford a teacup and that where you’re struggling she doesn’t even have to try. But even if you pony up and buy something, she wins. I suppose she takes a loss, but then you’ve taken her charity.”

  “She insisted.”

  Antonia laughed. “If you’ve had a discussion with her, I’m sure you can see how easy it would be for her to turn that around later. ‘I’m so glad you took me up on my offer,’ she’d say. ‘I’m always happy to help people get their start when they’re struggling.’ Then she’d add something that sounded like a compliment but really was an insult. Like maybe, ‘That new couch really makes your shitty little store seem slightly less shitty!’”

  Antonia held Lily’s gaze for a long moment, but then Lily felt something bubble up from below and she laughed hard.

  “Look,” said Antonia. “Kerry thinks she’s in charge around here. She’s got the leasing office salivating and bending over backward for her because she’s an anchor lease and brings a lot of prestige. True, nouveau house is kind of famous as the place to go if you need an antique cartographer’s desk. You do have one, don’t you?”

  “Several,” said Lily.

  “She’s been here as long as anyone. But that just means she considers everyone here to be borrowing time on her turf. This is her house, Kerry Fucking Barrett Kirby’s house. That’s three names’ worth of meaning business.”

  Lily smiled. She’d never been much for swearing, but Antonia’s casual use was endearing. In a city made of plastic, it was good to see a few humans.

  “Don’t let her get under your skin, honey. I’ve been meaning to get over there and warn you in advance, but I’ve been too harried these past weeks.” She gestured toward the store, where Lily could see customers waiting, her concern over being rushed apparently not running too deep. “But it’s like she has a lady hard-on for that place. The office keeps plunking flower shops in there, and Kerry’s been standing ready with a bat, swatting each away as they come in. It’s like a game or something. You’d think they’d knock it off, giving her easy targets I mean, putting a bunch of the same kind of store in there. I’m not sure why, but … ”

  “It’s the cooler. The cooler makes it a flower shop to anyone who looks.” It was certainly what had convinced her, as she’d gazed through the dark windows after Petal Faster suddenly vanished.

  “Well, then maybe they should have taken that cooler out.” Antonia put a hand on Lily’s leg. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, honey. I’m glad you’re here. I like the idea of your shop — it’s as ballsy as running an overpriced bakery in a place where no one wants to eat carbs. But you came in here wearing a target from Day One.”

  “Why?”

  Antonia shrugged. “Power? I don’t know. To be clear, Kerry has almost everyone around here feeling like they shouldn’t cross her, like she’s a kingpin or something. A lot of shoppers come to the Palms because it’s the damned Palms Couture, and most of the rest come because its oldest and biggest draw is nouveau house. She holds it over the landlord like a piece of meat above a starving dog, and she’ll use that leverage to fix anything, with any other tenant, that she doesn’t like.”

  “So she does it to everyone?”

  “Well,” said Antonia, looking at her own bakery. “Not everyone.” Then she patted Lily’s leg. “Seriously, though. Cinnamon roll. On me. You gave me a flower, so I owe you.”

  Lily looked a third time through the front window of Buns and noticed a small glass vase on the countertop with a fully bloomed Bianca. For a reason she couldn’t have articulated, the sight made a lump rise in Lily’s throat. She hadn’t cried when the snooty clerk at nouveau house had laughed at her budget, but the rose, at its place of honor in Antonia’s friendly little bakery, made her want to do it now.

  Before she could accept Antonia’s offer, Lily’s attention was drawn by motion to her other side. Shifting, she could see its source more clearly: a trio of middle-aged women standing in front of the door of La Fleur, looking down at their small gold watches.

  Antonia followed her gaze. “Another time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t let her get you down, honey. Just because she’s dried up doesn’t mean you have to.”

  Lily smiled.

  “And even if she’s got it out for you,” Antonia added, “try to keep in mind that she’s not the only one around here who can swing a big bat if she wants to.”

  The line inside Buns had grown in the few minutes they’d been chatting, but no one looked angry. They looked hungry. And happy. And loyal. And like the kind of people who’d keep returning again and again.

  Lily waved goodbye to Antonia, then went to greet her customers. Maybe she wasn’t off to that bad of a start after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALLISON DEAK

  “You know what your problem is?”

  Lily turned. Allison, the crass blonde, was sitting in the middle of the Spanish tile floor where the cart used to be. Feeling defiant after speaking with Antonia, she’d decided that action was the only way to fight bitchiness, and that the only way to fight obscurity was to lure potential shoppers into the store with beauty, so she’d rolled the cart outside and created a small but lavish display. It had worked too well. Allison had entered an hour afterward and hadn’t left.

  “What?” Lily paused her arrangement.

  “You think of everyone else first. You care what they think of you. Do you think I care what people think of me?”

  Allison had met Lily just once, but “Len from Hit N’ Run is definitely packing some serious sausage,” was still the first thing she said when entering La Fleur. Allison clarified, despite Lily’s silence, describing Len’s tight pants and the seeming shape of his penis’s head, which she’d studied in detail.

  “No,” Lily answered. “I don’t think you care at all.”

  “Damn right. That’s the only way you can fuck your way through an entire shopping center. If you aren’t afraid of getting rejected.”

  Lily looked down. Allison looked like a typical Cielo del Mar pixie — smooth, tan skin, hair like spun straw, and a compact frame boasting contours she was unafraid to flaunt. Lily wasn’t sure whether she should respond to Allison’s goal or the unlikelihood that any straight, available man would ever reject her.

 
“You’ve f—”

  “Almost,” said Allison. “It’s like how some people make a goal to visit every country. I’m thinking more local. I haven’t gotten Bella yet, though.” She licked her lips. It should have been disgusting, but Lily thought it was funny instead. “Oh, or Len. I’m saving Len for you.”

  “You are?” Lily looked through the window, across the courtyard. She’d been so busy, dating was the last thing on her mind.

  “But again, you’re not going after him. Or Cameron. I told you Cameron wants to … ”

  “Yes. You made it clear what Cameron wants to do.”

  “But you’re too caught up in caring what people think. The stuff you said Antonia told you? I would have told you that.” Allison rolled her eyes in exasperation, as if she and Lily were old friends and Lily had failed to confide in her about something obvious. “I figured you knew. Or didn’t care. You think Cunty Barrett—”

  “Is that an established nickname for her or something?”

  “Do you think she doesn’t want me gone too? I’m just a clerk at Fancy That!, not even a tenant, and that bitch is all over me.”

  “Fancy That!” Lily said.

  Allison had complained loudly about her job the first time they’d met and had already done so through much of the half hour she’d been sitting on the floor. Allison’s asshole boss had so far been nameless, but now Lily had a hook to hang all of those grievances on. And given her own less-than-stellar experience at Fancy That! with a clerk who wasn’t Allison, Lily couldn’t help but agree. And she couldn’t help but wonder why Allison, who didn’t have the requisite Fancy That! stick up her butt, hadn’t been fired.

  “Yeah, Fancy That!. As bad as Abercrombie, where Cameron works. Oh, and that reminds me, he was fucking this girl a few nights ago, and she was neighing. Neighing. Like a horse. Even I was curious, and I’m his sister. You sure you don’t want me to hook you up? He keeps talking like he wants to—”

  “No,” said Lily. “But thanks.” She actually thought Cameron was cute to the point of abject hotness, but she wasn’t exactly ready for the kind of guy who made women neigh. Nor for the kind of guy who wouldn’t bother to try romancing her a bit before strapping on his spurs.

  “But I don’t care what Kerry thinks. She’s like a bee.”

  “A bee?”

  “You know, you can swat at a bee that’s bothering you, but that just riles it up and makes it want to sting you. Or you can ignore it, and it goes away.”

  “Interesting metaphor.”

  “Little tip: If you want guys to get up on you, stop talking about metaphors. It’s the opposite of hot.”

  Lily smiled. Allison was crude and brash, and she’d already driven off two customers with her antics. But Lily liked her all the same.

  “I don’t care what you think of me and my talk of metaphors.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Allison rolled her eyes again.” Just try that with Kerry. And with that bitch who owns the jewelry shop.”

  “She doesn’t like me either?”

  “Don’t take it personally. Sweet little country girl like you? That little accent of yours? It lodges in their dry cracks like burrs. They don’t like you because everyone who gives you a shot loves you, and they know it. You’re what they secretly wish they could be.”

  “But I shouldn’t care about that,” said Lily. “The liking, as much as the not liking.”

  “I’ll bet you give good head.”

  Lily’s vase fumbled, almost crashing to the floor. She recovered with effort.

  “What?”

  “But I’ll bet you’re shit at getting head. I’ll bet you’ve been with guys who lap you like a dog, totally missing the bud, just making a mess on your sheets. But you don’t say anything. Then you polish their knobs enough to make them blow a hole in the roof of your mouth.”

  Lily felt herself blushing. She mumbled something that wasn’t quite words.

  “Because you don’t want to think of yourself,” Allison explained. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s admirable, to a point. You’ve gotta do for others, sure. But you’ve gotta want for yourself, too.”

  “I want.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve never come from some guy eating you out. Tell the truth.”

  “Sure I have.” Lily looked away, her hands furiously busy arranging flowers.

  “Lies. Tell the truth.”

  “Allison!” This wasn’t exactly proper shop discussion. Nor was it proper anywhere discussion, in Lily Whistler’s world. And besides, Allison was wrong. She’d had several oral orgasms with Jason. She thought. Maybe not, but she was 50/50, at least.

  “Look at you!” Allison laughed. “You’re too nice to even talk about it!”

  “Not with customers coming in and out!”

  At that moment, a couple entered and began browsing the all-white displays. Allison bounced up like an accordion from her cross-legged position on the floor, walked to Lily’s ear, and whispered. “What? Like they don’t know? Like that girl won’t be playing skin tuba later?”

  Lily turned, looked, then giggled. “I thought it was the skin flute?”

  Allison shook her head. “You play a flute like this,” she said, miming masturbating a man from the side, blowing across the invisible shaft. “But a tuba, you play like this.” She held the imaginary penis in front of her mouth and began blowing raspberries.

  “I’m sorry?” The man turned toward the noise.

  “Nothing,” Lily said.

  “You guys like tubas?” Allison turned to Lily and resumed her whispers. “Or maybe he’ll be more like a sousaphone. That’s pretty much the same as a tuba, but it wraps around you.”

  “You sure know a lot about instruments.”

  “I had a goal involving my high school’s band, too.”

  Lily decided to derail Allison before she went further. “Antonia says that if Kerry doesn’t like me, she’ll turn the leasing office on La Fleur. Try and get them to kick me out.”

  “They can’t just kick you out, Lil. That’s why you have a lease. Even I know that.”

  “They can move me to a different location,” said Lily, recalling the lease.

  “But they can’t kick you out. Not without cause. She’ll try to make things hard for you. Don’t take it. Don’t accept her cuntery. Just be yourself. And besides,” Allison added, turning with her back to the counter and twirling her hair with one finger like a caricature, “she’s mainly worked up because people like you so much.”

  Lily turned, her hands ceasing their arranging. “What?”

  “Oh, sure, some loud assholes are out to get you, but everyone knows you’ve won over a few of the tougher cookies at the same time. Like the guys at Bella.” Allison’s eyes rolled, and she purred, a parody of seduction. “And a bunch of others you don’t even know, but who think the white flowers class up the place and make it seem more exclusive. And Antonia. She’s been here as long as Kerry, you know. Sundays, she’s got a line around the plaza. She’s stuffed most of the rest of the time. Take out nouveau house, you lose this big, fancy-ass thing that a lot of people know about. But you get rid of Buns? Well. Let’s just say a lot of tenants would have a problem with losing a place that some people have been coming to a few times a week for twenty or thirty years.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Fancy That! is the kind of place guys shop so they can use expensive clothes to compare the size of their dicks and women come to compare the size of their … okay, well, maybe a giant pussy isn’t something to brag about. But you get the idea.”

  “Right … ”

  “So they talk.” Allison twirled her hair, this time deliberately playing a comic vamp. “And I’m good at getting them to talk.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a bad job.”

  “Oh, it’s terrible. The guy who runs it, my boss? Andre? He’s gayer than Christmas. My powers are useless. Worse, I think he sees me as a threat. Every dick I get on is one less for him.”

 
; Lily thought it might mean she was already too comfortable around Allison: the girl was no longer shocking.

  “One regular who shops at nouveau house even told me something Kerry said about you. Wanna hear it?”

  No, she very much didn’t. Lily was still clinging to the illusion that even if Kerry didn’t like her, she wasn’t as catty as Allison implied. Lily hated the idea that people didn’t like her for no reason, and it was easier to ignore the barbs enough to live and let live. But Allison was being a tease, like she probably was with the plaza’s men.

  “No, but now that you’ve said that, what am I supposed to do?”

  “She said you ‘put the white’ in ‘white trash.’” Allison made her eyes wide and lightly nodded, as if to convey the statement’s significance. “As if Kerry doesn’t put the ‘giant gaping assface’ in ‘furniture store.’”

  Lily tried to laugh it off, but that hurt. Her family had done quite well on the farm, and had sold it for over a million dollars. She had fine tastes (grounded by sensibly limited impulses) and didn’t wear cut-off shirts, have a mullet, spit, or talk about having a “hankerin’” for various foods or activities. But the fact that she knew different than what Kerry had said didn’t help. She found herself wanting to summon epithets in retaliation, but was stilled by her mother’s voice deep inside, reminding Lily that it was always better to kill an enemy with kindness than sink to their level.

  “Yeah, I’ve been hearing her shit my whole life. My dad’s helped her out with stuff forever, and she gave him a bunch of furniture when we first moved out of our two bedroom into McMansion. That’s why our TV cabinet still smells like rotten pussy.”

  Lily laughed so hard that the browsing couple looked up, shocked.

  Allison gave her a look — a cute, innocent little smile that must make the men around her crazy — and turned away. The couple returned to browsing, and Allison stayed mute until they’d selected a small bouquet of Vendela roses, lisianthus, lysimachia, and Queen Anne’s lace. After they left she announced that the woman would be limping tomorrow.