La Fleur de Blanc

by Sean Platt

  “You’re so beautiful,” Len said, looking down at Lily. She was lying atop white petals, her hair blonde, her mostly discarded blouse a light cream, her bra stark white against her skin. She had to look like the perfect owner of La Fleur, ignorant to life’s vibrant hues.

  “Tell me I’m strong,” she said.

  “You’re definitely strong.”

  His shirt came the rest of the way off. Charming Len, it turned out, took rather good care of himself. She ran her hands across his chest, feeling his skin’s warmth. Then Lily did what someone strong and confident would do: hooked her fingers into his jeans, hands working his belt loose, unbuttoning, unzipping. She could feel him respond and stir below her fingers.

  Len reached behind her and unclasped her bra, leaving her back against the cool floor. She could feel the petals sticking to her skin.

  Len looked up at the closed cooler door.

  "Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

  “No.” Lily didn’t want to break the spell. She didn’t want to think. Her body wanted him. Her mind had been wanting him for a while, harboring desires in secret. She didn’t want them to think. This moment was right. It was enough.

  “I’m just thinking of the asphyxiation.”

  “Flowers need to breathe too. There’s a vent.”

  “But the motor’s off.”

  His face had moved to her neck, his breath warm on her skin. She could smell him as her lips brushed his shoulder, her sensible mind in flight. Lily was barely here anymore. Now there was only something deeper down. Something closer to need.

  “Then we’d better be quick.”

  His hand pressed flat on her stomach, and slid down beneath her jeans. Lily gasped, pressing up into his touch, realizing all at once just how badly she needed him. How tightly what was within her had been wound. How much his light touch was close to making everything better.

  Len lowered her jeans, doffing her shoes, leaving Lily nude save a pair of pink socks that must look ridiculous. But she couldn’t think about that; she was busy removing the rest of his clothes. Len stopped when he was as naked as she was, his legs straddling one of hers, his hands on the floor beside her. He seemed to consider her for a long moment, then kissed her breasts, one after the other.

  “Don’t wait, Len.”

  “I’m admiring you.”

  “Don’t admire me … ” She paused, her lips almost forming an f sound. She couldn’t quite say it, though a few weeks with Allison almost made her: Fuck me instead. “Come here,” she said, hands on his hips.

  Len leaned into Lily, kissing her neck, leaving a trail along her collarbone and up toward her ear. Lily’s eyes closed, her breath heavy. She felt her lips open to sigh. Everything had become a tight ball in her middle, pressed below her belly, into the fork of her legs. How long had it been? She’d toyed with herself here and there, but how long had it been since she’d been properly (fucked) made love to?

  With his lips on her neck, her eyes closed, his breath warm against her, Lily felt his pressure below, then almost gasped as their bodies fully meshed.

  It didn’t take long. How could she have held him at arm’s length for so many days and weeks? She felt all that stress and care and worry and sadness wrap into the edging of a cliff. Her toes curled; her legs tensed; her hips rose to meet him. Her hands found his back, pulling him closer.

  Soon he collapsed against her, chest to chest, before rolling away and lying at her side. They found themselves looking up at the cooler’s shelves, at all that remained of La Fleur’s doomed stock. If the fan was off, maybe Len was right. Perhaps she should prop the door open. They’d warm faster, but at least they’d be able to breathe.

  As her chest rose and fell, afterglow blooming into pleasant memory, Lily found that the flowers were all she could think about. They were doomed even when all was in working order. The minute they’d been cut from the bush, they were victims of a ticking clock. But in the end, wasn’t that true of everything that dared to live?

  “You’re amazing.” Len reached over to lay an arm across Lily’s chest. He took a few deep, receding breaths then rolled his hand across one of her breasts. “And you have really great boobs.”

  “Blokes,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE SOOTHING BEAT OF A MOTHER'S HEART

  Lily opened shop the next day as usual, but deep down it didn’t feel as usual at all. It felt as promised. Because she’d been hornswaggled into pretending all wasn’t lost by Allison and Antonia, even though it clearly was. There was no way to win today. Selling off what she still had and could still keep fresh might be noble, but Lily could only imagine Kerry, behind her store’s windows, looking over and laughing. How pathetic it is, she’d think, the way the sad little flower tries to sell what’s left for pennies.

  But before Allison’s arrival, as Lily pulled more of her stock from the propped-open dead cooler, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d stayed long enough for Len to get back to Hit N’ Run without him feeling he had to do something chivalrous like trying to fix the cooler, then she’d driven home. She hadn’t seen Dusty, but when she’d stripped for her bath she’d found several white rose petals still stuck to her skin, floating to the water’s surface like lily pads.

  Lily stocked what she could, finally stepping back with her hands on her hips to assess the store from the front door as a customer.

  Nothing seemed amiss.

  Nothing seemed pathetic or falling apart.

  True, she had nothing in the back. True, some of her regulars would leave with less than what they wanted unless they were willing to substitute and make do … something that, in a store that was supposed to sell luxury, seemed unacceptable. And true, the full buckets and displays would thin with the day, making La Fleur de Blanc look like a bargain mart nearing the end of a clearance sale. But she couldn’t worry about that now, and wouldn’t. Lily’s pleasant interlude with Len last night had left Lily with at least that much peace of mind.

  Forcing a smile, she opened the door. And found herself with a face full of Allison.

  “Hey,” she said, all business. “Head to the back and … ” She stopped, squinting at Lily.

  “What?” said Lily.

  “You got fucked.”

  Lily thought this was probably a metaphorical statement about someone pulling a fast one. “How exactly did I get fucked?”

  “In your vagina. I could draw you a diagram.”

  Lily felt herself blush furiously. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Don’t try to hide it from me, Lily. I can tell a girl who got fucked.” She adopted a detective’s expression, tapping her chin. “You came twice. At least.”

  That was true. Lily had felt itchy after that first orgasm, and somehow Len had intuited that she often liked a second after a raucous first. He’d taken care of it with his hand, and it had required no time at all. He’d tried for a third against her protests. But Len had known better.

  “Three times,” admitted Lily.

  Allison jumped up and down as if offered a pony. “Len?”

  “Yeah.”

  “His place?”

  Lily wondered if she should admit the truth. She decided Allison was a slutty detective who couldn’t be fooled.

  “Here.”

  “In a flower shop? Wow, that must have been perfect for you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. You just like flowers. It’s as good a place as any to get your roses stripped. Tell me all about it.”

  “No.”

  “Come on. I’ve wondered about Len. Give me some material for the spank bank.”

  “I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of you masturbating while thinking about me and Len.”

  “I’ll just think about Len. Promise. Now give.”

  “No.”

  “Lily!” Allison seemed more than offended. She seemed crushed. Denying her sexual tales was like denying a starving man bread. Or denying a normal person air
.

  “Later, okay?”

  “What,” said Allison, looking around the shop. “Because we have so much to do?”

  Lily felt her face fall.

  “Don’t be such a sad sack,” said Allison. “I’m fucking with you. Go out back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I just got my Mercedes detailed and want to show you my sparkling rims.”

  “I don’t really care about your car, Al. We should prep the—”

  Allison groaned, then grabbed Lily by the arm and pulled. When they were halfway across the shop, Allison moved behind and pushed her toward the store’s rear. For tall Lily, being pushed along by tiny Allison was like being shoved by a very stubborn tugboat.

  Lily almost smacked into the back door, but Allison reached around her and pulled the door open. She shoved again, and Lily found herself facing Allison’s fancy gray Mercedes beside her own sturdy little Camry, as promised.

  “You don’t need to keep reminding me how much richer you are than me.”

  Allison was making little head-shaking motions with her eyes wide: body language that said, Seriously? This isn’t obvious?

  “What?”

  “How about you open your fucking eyes.”

  “Very shiny,” said Lily, looking at the Mercedes.

  Allison reached up and forcibly raised Lily’s gaze until it was looking at a large box truck blocking both of their cars. The engine was running, as if the driver would only be gone for a moment.

  “Some asshole boxed us in?”

  “Holy shit, are you dense.” Allison pulled Lily closer to the truck, then tapped the side. “Have you seriously never seen a truck like this?”

  “Who cares?” But then Lily looked where Allison was tapping and saw that it read, Refrigerated cargo.

  “I … ” Lily was about to say that she didn’t get what Allison was so worked up about, but suspected she did. She just didn’t want to say it, or hope.

  Allison moved around to the rear, then climbed up and opened a door with a thick pull latch on its front. Even from where Lily was standing, she could feel the cool air waft out, and see all the white flowers inside.

  “I told you,” Allison said, grinning. She looked like a little kid who’d done something to make her parents proud. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

  “You bought a refrigerated truck?”

  “Borrowed. I have friends at a shipping company.”

  Lily wanted to stay stoic, but couldn’t manage to bar her smile. Allison pulled a retractable ramp from the truck’s rear and seated it in place, then they both climbed up and peered inside. It was the day’s full order, plus some.

  “I know you’ll insist on paying me back for the flower order, but the truck’s on me. The first day is free, but I needed to put a little down to get it for the rest of the week. Not a big deal.”

  Lily stepped inside. It was like being inside a walk-in cooler with an engine attached. She could feel the truck vibrating through the floor, but to Lily it felt like the soothing beat of a mother’s heart. She was walking down the narrow aisle between shelves through the middle, touching the flowers as if to assure herself they were real.

  “You ran to LA?”

  Behind her, Allison was beaming. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Lily felt a capsule close around her. She blinked at a beautiful clutch of white lilies in front of her, finding her vision clouded. It was just her and the flowers, nothing else in the world.

  “Oh, Allison … ”

  “I figure we can keep this out here with the engine running. It’s only blocking our cars and the back door to Belfast, but that guy’s afraid of his own shadow. He won’t care. It’ll be a lot of running in and out, I guess, but … ”

  Lily turned and, in one motion, wrapped Allison in a hug, squeezing her tightly enough that after a few appreciative seconds, Allison was rapping on her shoulder with two fingers like a pinned wrestler tapping out for mercy.

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “Of course,” said Allison.

  “It’s plenty big enough. It’s actually much better, because it means we won’t need to use our cars to run and then move stock to the cooler afterward.”

  Allison nodded. “After they straighten out the bullshit with our walk-in, and after we start making better money, I was thinking we should buy one. Just for transportation, but think how much better the orders would keep in transit. We wouldn’t have to worry about crushing them. And our trips can be much bigger.”

  Lily was nodding. She’d been shoehorning her flower market orders into her car’s every nook and cranny: the back seat, passenger seat, trunk, and footwells. Even compacting tightly, the orders were limited enough that anyone could see how short term the solution was. Once business began to boom — once they took on more weddings, more christenings and anniversaries and baptisms and bar mitzvahs (around here, people even seemed to want flowers for their cats’ birthdays) — they’d have to process more product per day. That meant larger orders, which Lily wouldn’t be able to make on her own. And if they did eventually buy a truck, they could deliver. They could take their bouquets and centerpieces to weddings in style, rather than looking like Cielo del hillbillies.

  “Oh, Al. That office party, too. The one Rachel wanted, but that I turned down because there was no way she was willing to haul it all there and set it up herself. One of us could run with this truck and do it for her. It’s next week. Maybe she’d still want to do it.”

  “And her boss is paying,” Allison reminded Lily, now nodding. “And Rachel hates her boss, and wants to spend as much of her money as possible.”

  Lily hugged Allison again. They left the refrigerated truck, giddy.

  Once back at street level, Lily turned Allison around, holding her by one long arm.

  “Thank you.”

  Allison smiled. “What are sisters for?”

  Lily felt touched. She had two sisters of her own, but she and Allison were already closer than Lily and any of her siblings. Allison didn’t have sisters. This was all new to her, and precious.

  “You’re a good sister,” Lily said.

  “I guess that makes it a little gross that our brother wants to fuck you.”

  Lily still felt giddy after her night with Len. It had been too long, and she felt like a girl who’d lost her virginity all over again. There was a sense of freedom in the air. A sense of satisfaction that only made her feel she deserved more. In every way, in everything that mattered. The idea of Cameron thinking dirty thoughts about her had a new aspect. She was with Len now, in whatever way that might end up meaning. But Lily could still let her mind stray wherever it wanted when the blinds were all drawn.

  “He’ll have to wait his turn,” Lily said.

  Allison made a face. “Skank.”

  Lily gave Allison a shrug. “Look who’s talking,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BON APPÉTIT

  With the truck idling at the building’s rear, there was no way for Kerry to see La Fleur de Blanc’s phantom cooler from her vantage point at nouveau house. Lily made it her mission — even at break even or a slight loss — to send her first few morning customers through the door with the biggest, loudest bouquets she possibly could. The kind that would make Kerry, if she was watching, scratch her head with befuddlement like a defeated comic villain.

  Knowing she had a deep well of stock at her disposal imbued Lily with a confidence she could never have had otherwise. To the customers, La Fleur would have looked exactly the same whether the box truck was out back or not, but Lily would’ve known how close to redline she was, and how much she’d be able to deliver. She’d have hesitated on large orders, mentally counting stems in a hurry to be sure she had enough to fulfill without embarrassment. She’d have flinched on every recurring order — something she normally considered a cornerstone to the shop’s longevity — because even though continuity was something La Fleur desperately needed, she�
��d be making promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. How could Lily promise anyone a weekly order if she thought she might be packing up and heading out before the next week?

  But with her makeshift cooler in place, Lily’s confidence soared. She felt stronger and braver than she had even the day before — something that, she had to admit (and Allison insisted), might have to do with Len. He’d believed in her — and, as much as she hated the way it sounded, he’d also validated her. It was one thing for Antonia and Allison to assure Lily that she had a leg up on even the plaza’s most beautiful women, but another thing entirely to be shown. And now that Len had proved his desire, Lily was seeing it from other sources as well. Cameron walked by, and before Allison had shooed him off, Lily had noticed his stare. Matt Vitale (who, she thought after speaking with Antonia, really might just be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen) had stopped by to ask a few questions, paving the way for an afternoon visit from his father. And Matt, Lily thought, might have been looking at her in new ways too.

  Lily pushed harder, in a way befitting a woman who believed her shop’s promise. She was in the emotion business. La Fleur de Blanc’s purpose was to make people feel, and Lily, who felt better than she had in years, was its perfect example and emissary. She suggested bigger arrangements. She noticed engagement rings on women’s fingers and initiated dialogue about their upcoming weddings, garnering several leads. Dean Moreno came in and gave Lily a strange look, as if she’d altered her appearance in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He bought a large bouquet without regaling Lily and Allison about the hot sex date who’d receive it, then paid while looking vaguely afraid. Lily wondered if she’d inadvertently put on her don’t mess with me face. She wondered, if she were to cross the courtyard now and sit placidly in one of Kerry Barrett Kirby’s buttoned lounge chairs, if Kerry would notice the same expression when she finally came outside. And if so, Lily wondered if she would back off … if Kerry would, at last, have doubts about the girl she’d decided to trifle with.