Flower Boy

The antiquated townhouses flew past me. My rhythmic steps increased in speed until I could go no further. Fire edged into my thighs, burning my tensing muscles. 

What had it been? 10 minutes? 12? I had lost count after the first five blocks of running on the neverending pavement. I prayed to whatever god would listen, silently begging that I didn’t blow my chances. I was never this late. Never. They can’t blame me that my clock didn’t adjust to the time change last night, can they? 

I was so wrapped up in my concern and anxiety that I almost sprinted right past the building. My toes rammed into the front of my tennis shoes as I decelerated to an abrupt halt. My eyes traveled up the building. Unit 272. 

I stormed through the front doors not bothering to even glance at the receptionist who tried to stop me. I burst open the doors of the chambers at the perfect moment.

“Going one. Going Twice-”

The auctioneer held his gavel in the air, prepared to sell the last item of the day.

“Two million!” I shouted with the last bit of air my lungs could muster. My body could barely hold itself up from the Olympic-level sprint I had just completed much less formulate a coherent sentence. 

The whole room shifted in a silent, but shocked, turn, and glanced to the back of the room where I was wiping the sweat off my forehead. Even the auctioneer had a glazed look over his eyes.

“Two million,” I said more definitively once I regained my barrings. 

“Two million,” the auctioneer repeated in a whisper. “Going once? Going twice?” He didn’t bother waiting, knowing no one would match my offer.

“Sold. Sold to the young lady in the back. Ms-”

“Pr-” I stopped myself just in time. “Erm- I mean Black.” I locked eyes with him. “Ms. Black.”

“Sold to Ms. Black for two million dollars.” 

Once the initial shock waved over the audience, they slowly began to shuffle out of the room to resume their normal activities of a Tuesday morning. Meanwhile, I swiftly completed the proper paperwork and in no time, the key was being dropped into my palm. I disregarded all of the confused, repulsive, and even jealous glares that were being shot my way during the entire transaction.

Instead, I took my new keys and sauntered down the street towards my favorite shop in the world. 

The aroma hit me before I saw it.

Newly grown flowers, freshly picked from the gardens of New Hampshire.

The Enchanted Garden Florist Company.

A neon open sign illuminated the window of the flower shop. Knowing exactly what I wanted, I marched right up to the counter.

Without looking up from punching information into a register, a teenage boy, no older than nineteen calls to me. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for some roses,” I announced as I plastered on the friendliest smile I could fake. 

“Sure,” the worker glanced up from the register. “No problem.” 

I didn’t drop my grin. “Thanks. I just bought a new apartment and was hoping to spruce it up, if you know what I mean.” I added an innocent chuckle at the end.

The boy’s demeanor didn’t change. “Yeah, for sure.” He squinted his eyes. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

“Nope,” I said quickly. “I don’t see how that would be possible. I just arrived in town yesterday.”

“Gotchya,” he said as he slowly nodded his head. “Red?”

“I’m sorry?”

“For the roses. I would assume you would like red?”

“Oh. No actually. White please.”

For a reason beyond my understanding, that request seemed to make him even more suspicious of me.

“They’re my roommate's favorite,” I tried to cover.

He nodded again and disappeared into the back room without a word. When he reappeared, he was holding a small brown pot with a stem sticking out of it. 

“These are the only white roses we have in stock right now. They are not fully sprouted yet, so you will have to nurse them to full growth.” He kept his eyes on the plant as if he were trying to avoid eye contact with me.

“That’s no problem!” I beamed.

With that, we completed the most awkward transaction I have ever experienced, and I was on my way with a tiny brown pot in my hands.

My mind continuously replayed the interaction over and over again that when I arrived at my new building, I almost walked right past it. In the lobby of the complex, a contractor was readily awaiting my arrival to escort me to my new home. 

“Ms. Black.” A tall, buff man in a black suit arose from a chair and greeted me. “This way please.”

We traversed up a few flights of stairs until we reached the fifth floor. He leads me down the hallway to unit 505C. 

“Here we are,” the man stopped in front of the door and glared down at me. “Heard you paid a pretty penny for this.”

I smiled innocently. “I do what I can to get a view like this. Can’t beat that New Hampshire skyline.”

The contractor didn’t react. “If you need me, my name is in the phone book.” Without another word, he turned and left me to my business.

I stuck the key in the lock and exhaled a long, anxiety-free breath. I had finally done it.

I closed my eyes, heard the lock click, and pushed open the door to my new life.

As I opened my eyes, a gasp escaped my lips and the rose pot fell from my hands, shattering on the floor.

“Impossible.”

I had opened the apartment door to hundreds of roses. I knew they were from him; he had found me. I darted to the hallway to see if the contractor was still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Without a second thought, I punched in the lobby number downstairs and was greeted with a preppy girl's voice.

“Hello, front desk-”

“This is Rebecca Black. Whoever just escorted me to room 505C, please have him return. He uh- he dropped his wallet.”

Before she could answer, I slammed the phone back down in its resting place. 

Slowly, I walk through the maze of red roses. The vase on the bedside table held a letter with the words MS. PRYNE written on the outside.

An earth-shattering chill traveled down my spine.

There was no possible way he found me. I covered everything. There was nothing more I could have done. 

I glanced at the broken flower pot by the front door. A small white rectangle caught my eye. In my experience, they don’t put paper in flower soil. I wandered towards it and dug it out of the dirt.

It was a business card to The Enchanted Garden Florist Company. But that isn’t what surprised me. The shock came from the note on the back.

I can help you.

Written in sloppy teenage boy handwriting so I knew it was from the worker I met. Every instinct I had warned me not to go investigate. But I was at a dead end. He had found me, and it was only a matter of time before he would come here again. I wasn’t safe yet. If this flower boy had any sort of resources, it was my best option. My saddest option, but my best option. 

“God kid,” I whispered at the card. “You better not be messing with me.”

I spun on my heels and ran out the door just in time to physically run into the contractor I had forgotten I requested.

“Ms. Black!” He said, startled. “Everything ok?”

Shit. 

“Uh- yup! Sorry! I must have made a mistake!” I shouted as I continued to speed walk to the stairs.

“Where are you going?” He called after me.

I waved the business card in the air.

“I uh- have to go buy a house plant!”