‘FLOWERS, TEA, COFFEE ... OR BOOKS?’ I was recording a sale in Gram’s accounting book while the words flowed automatically.

‘Sex.’

I froze. It was a male voice: deep, and to the point. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A confident statement. Right then and there, I decided to never again ask the flower question without looking at the customer first.

I looked up. ‘Ssssex? You have come here for ... sex?’ He looked familiar. I cleared my throat.

‘Yes. Flowers for sex. Flowers that will make my partner want to have sex.’ He was the colour of vermilion, an orange-red that spoke of desire, sexual passion, and a hunger for action.

I breathed a sigh of relief and frowned. Then I wanted to tell him that his partner would want to have sex because of him, not because of the flowers. But I didn’t. ‘Do you love her?’

‘Him—yes!’

I hesitated. His unexpected answer threw me for a moment. I gathered my thoughts. ‘If I was him, I would like the “I love you, flowers”. It will make the sex more passionate.’

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me. ‘I think I agree.’

‘Roses, tulips, sunflowers, carnations, azaleas ... orchids, perhaps. These are the flowers of love.’ I waited while he thought and tapped my work boot to see if I was physically here. My pretend florist knowledge was becoming too real and too easy to regurgitate.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. ‘Can I have a combination of all of those?’

‘Sure. Which colours?’

‘What’s the colour of love, according to a florist?’

‘Red for passion and coral for desire and love, and pink. You can choose one, two or all.’

‘Passion, desire, love ... I have to have a mixture.’

‘In a mixture of flower types?’

‘Please.’

‘Sure. Have a complimentary tea or coffee while I create your flowers for sex. Go and say hi to Darcy and tell him that Andi sent you over. What’s your name for when the flowers are ready?’

‘Josh ... and are you sure about the complimentary tea or coffee?’

‘Absolutely. Enjoy, Josh.’ He was the one who wrapped his arms around Xander at the garden party.

He gave me a sly smile: lips closed, left eyebrow raised, then wandered off to the café.

I frowned, then recorded the order in the sales book and headed to the workbench. I pulled out Gram’s Book of Fantastical Flower Designs.

Hmmm ... flowers for sex ... would it be under fondness, foreplay or fornication? Technically they weren’t married, so it’s fornication. But the word fornication doesn’t sound like love. Fondness is more like what I think he feels. But then again, the flowers are acting as foreplay ... Ahh! A combination of the three. I studied the illustrated designs by Gram and created a new bouquet—Armour, by Andi. Perfect. Red and orange roses, tulips and carnations, with a touch of eucalyptus baby blue. I wrapped the stems in Hessian and string before I placed the bouquet into a fancy white paper bag. I added a “Flowers for Fleur” sticker to the front and the order was complete.

I smiled to myself and walked over to Josh. I stopped before him as he sipped on a coffee. ‘“Amour, by Andi”. I hope you like my design,’ I said.

His eyes wandered over the flower arrangement and he smiled, widely. ‘I don’t like them ... I love them! Thanks, Andi.’

‘I’ll keep them at the sales counter until you’ve finished your coffee.’ I smiled at him, then returned to the sales desk where a queue of customers waited, and where I replayed the scene at the party where Josh put his arm around Xander. And where Xander refused to look at him.

My heart took a nose dive. I looked down at my steel-capped work boots and tapped them twice on the wooden floor. I now knew I would never have to use them with Xander. I was as safe as a girl could be with him, and Josh.

I looked up at my next customer. ‘Flowers?’ I asked.

‘Hello, beautiful!’ He was the colour of gold: success, achievement and triumph.

I shrunk inside of myself. I couldn’t be beautiful on the outside with my scars. And I couldn’t be beautiful on the inside because I let go of Mia’s hand. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I just bought a new car. So I need to buy some flowers for my wife. Win-win. You know ...’ He winked at me.

I hated winks. It meant that he was either lying, or telling me a secret that I must not tell. He had just implicated me in his untruth, in one ... simple ... act. Of course, winks could also be a friendly gesture, like when Darcy winked at me. But not this wink—it was different ...

‘Cool,’ I said, finding my inner calm to override the annoyance I felt. ‘What type of car did you buy?’

‘A Bugatti Chiron.’

Wow! ‘Colour?’

‘Red.’

‘Niiiiice! Do you want red flowers for your wife, then?’

He took an audible breath. ‘No ... I think a rainbow of coloured flowers, thanks darl!’

I looked down to stop myself giving him the evil eye. I hated endearing names from men. They made me feel yuck, and it felt manipulative. ‘Rainbow flowers coming up. Please have a complimentary coffee while I create a large bouquet of blooms for your lovely wife, Mr ...’

‘Peter—my first name.’

‘Wonderful. I will bring your “win-win” flowers over to you once I have prepared them, Peter.’

‘Thanks,’ he said and walked away.

I had a plan. And it involved a pricey sum for flowers. Plus, a bottle of wine ... no ... champagne was the celebration drink, wasn’t it? After all, his car status symbol wasn’t cheap. His wife will think he is a wonderful husband.

Charlotte burst through the doors of Flowers for Fleur with her colour of bumble bee yellow, innocently and infectiously happy. Timely. She was a life saver. Did Gramps call her in? She grabbed her apron and gave me a hug. I looked over at Darcy. Did he call her in?

‘Thanks for taking over the sales desk. I have blooming designs to create ... you have no idea how thankful I am that you’re here!’

Charlotte gave me a smile then turned her attention to the next customer.

I walked over to the flower art workbench and opened Gram’s Book of Fantastical Flower Designs. I ran my finger down the contents page. And there it was. Flaunt. He was flaunting his wealth. Perfect. Page 29.

alstroemeria (lily of the Incas)

available in a rainbow of colours

I raised my eyebrows. Your wish has been granted, Peter the Bugatti owner. I entered the cold storage room and gathered twenty stems of alstroemeria, totalling sixty colourful flowers. I placed them into a clear bulbous vase and tied five strands of natural raffia around the neck of the vase. I spritzed the blooms with a flower preserver and went to the storeroom to fetch a lovely bottle of pink champagne, which I gift wrapped in a white carry bag. I took out my phone and photographed my creation. Gram would be delighted. This aeronautical engineer was getting the hang of this florist gig. I carried the Lily of the Incas-vased bouquet and champagne bag to Peter, who was sitting by the window in the café, gazing out at his new, red car.

‘Presenting your rainbow of flowers, plus champagne to celebrate your “win-win”. Please pay Charlotte at the sales desk before you leave. Enjoy your new car. And, ah ... don’t go trying to break the 42 second world record in your Bugatti ...’

Peter looked at the flowers and then to me with a crooked smile. ‘Perfect, thank you. How do you know about the world record?’

‘I’m an aeronautical engineer pretending to be a florist to help out my Gram. Design and speed is my specialty.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed. I knew there was a reason I stopped at Flowers for Fleur!’

I smiled at him. ‘Nothing is too expensive, nothing is too beautiful. We always work with the customer, as Bugatti does.’

Peter laughed. I had just quoted the Bugatti motto for his benefit. He would be back to buy flowers for his wife in the future.

‘Enjoy,’ I said, then returned to the workbench of flower imagination. There were orders to fulfil and have delivered.

Darcy placed a cup of tea on the workbench for me.

‘Thanks.’

‘Do you know who that guy was that you gave the flowers to?’

‘Sure, he’s a Bugatti Chiron owner,’ I said.

‘And?’

‘And that’s all I know. Should I know more?’ I asked.

Darcy narrowed his eyes at me. ‘I guess that’s all you need to know. I think Gram will be very happy with your customer liaison skills—especially with Bugatti owners.’

‘Cool. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’ I raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Geez, Louise. You’re so bossy. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend!’

I looked at Darcy, then put my fingers over my eyes the moment I felt them burn with tears. After the day of scars, I would never be a wife or a mother. My heart was damaged. My body was damaged. A man won’t be able to see past the physical scars, and he sure as hell won’t want to deal with my psychological baggage.

‘Oh crap! I’m sorry, Yolande. I had a brain glitch. Forgive me.’

I took my hands away from my eyes. I couldn’t look at Darcy. I shook my head. ‘Just go,’ I whispered.

He tapped his hand on the workbench and left. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the overwhelming sudden gush of heartache that flooded my body. I widened my eyes to stop the tears from falling. Distraction. I found the next floral order and focused on the details: a simple bunch of daisies. No fancy, convoluted or encrypted addends. Just friggin’, bloody, daisies. White.

I let out my breath and ran to the cold room. The moment I opened the door I was accosted by the chilled air. It hit me like a slap in the face. I stilled for a moment, wondering if the chilled air would freeze my tears. I closed the door and put my hands on the top of my head and paced the small room. It was no good feeling sorry for myself. The pity party pit was a lonely, miserable place that reeked of rotten garbage, packed into my personal baggage. Whoever said life is beautiful hadn’t suffered. I was filled with jealousy. I was filled with a deep sadness over my stolen happiness.

Life is painful. Messy. Hard.

I pressed my palms to my eyes. I couldn’t let a tear expose me. Even a frozen one.

I sighed loudly. Distraction. It was the only way to climb out of the deep pit of despair. I looked about the room and found the frigging, bloody daisies. White. Then counted to ten before I left the room, without my self-pity.

My steps slowed when I saw Gramps at the workbench. I placed the white daisies next to the paper and ribbon.

‘Grampapa, hi.’

‘Hi back, Yolande.’ He looked around the store. ‘It looks busy this morning,’ he said.

‘It hasn’t stopped since I opened the doors. How’s Gram?’

Gramps closed his eyes for more than a moment. ‘Still nauseous ... scared.’

‘Scared?’

‘Of another vertigo attack.’ Gramps brushed his hand over his face. When he moved his hand away, he shook his head. His eyes were wet. He blinked numerous times.

‘Surely there’s a medication that’ll make it go away?’

Gramps shook his head. ‘The doctors can’t even give us a diagnosis at this stage. The only certainty is that it’s something to do with the inner ear ...’

‘Well, that sucks. Why do ears have to be so complicated!’ I started to wrap the daisies. White.

‘Yolande. Where is Gram’s bicycle?’

I sucked in a breath and tensed. I didn’t put her bicycle out the front of the store this morning!

‘Gram would be furious if she saw the bike was missing. You know what it mea—’

I put my hand on Grampapa’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Gramps. From the moment I arrived this morning I've been in a rush—’

‘Gram always did everything on her own and she always ha—’

‘Stop ... stop, please.’ My bottom lip trembled. ‘I’m not a florist. I’m not a store owner. I’m not even a flowerologist who can read people’s minds when they are requesting a particular type of flower for a specific occasion. I shouldn’t even be here. I should be—’

‘Forgive me, Landi.’ Gramps closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Gram’s illness is hard on all of us. Please hear me with sincerity when I say your grandmother and I are so very thankful you are here.’ Gramps pulled me into a hug. He had no idea how much I needed it.

‘I’ll get the bicycle and add some flowers.’ I pulled away from Gramps and put my hand on his shoulder.

‘I’ll do it!’ Gramps put his hands on his hips.

I burst out laughing. ‘Including the flower arrangement?’ He was being incredulous.

He nodded. ‘Certainly.’

‘Make sure you prepare the flowers correctly, so you don’t kill them!’

Gramps frowned at me. ‘Oh-me-oh-my, Landi. Don’t worry about that. I have a head full of knowledge about the flower science of keeping flowers looking handsome.’

‘Really?’

‘I certainly do. I don’t need your help,’ he said.

‘Clearly,’ I said, and gave him a sweet Yolande smile of the past, before that terrible day of the scars. ‘Thanks.’

*~*~*~*~*

I cleaned the sales desk and rearranged the ornaments and plants to encourage purchasing while Charlotte was on her lunch break. I took a step back and assessed my new arrangement, not convinced that it looked tempting enough, then fussed with it some more, listening to the light footsteps that graced the floor in neither a feminine or masculine way. The scent of citrus with a hint of liquorice, vanilla, lavender, amber and sandalwood could be smelt.

Xander.

I looked up. He was the colour of blue, deep, like the ocean depths, reminding me of slow motion, whale songs, dolphin clicks, and a halo of sunlight at the surface.

‘Hey!’ I said, and touched my chest scar to make sure it was covered. It was no use rolling off my usual flurry of words of flowers, tea, coffee or books. He never bought flowers—only stole them. He didn’t look like a book guy, and I’m sure he wasn’t here for the beverages.

‘Hey!’ he said.

‘Are you here for flowers?’ It was said in jest with a wry smile.

He smiled coyly, lowered his head then looked back up at me. ‘Conversation ...’

I looked at him and waited.

‘So ...’ I encouraged ...

‘Thank you for being the one to enable me to use your gram’s bicycle ... and for being the tag-along as my pretend girlfriend when you didn’t want to be there.’

I smiled at him. Gram said smiling always helped to hide a myriad of emotions. I hoped my smile hid the confusion I was feeling. ‘The cake was nice. I wish I could have had more though.’

‘Granted.’

‘Granted?’

‘Wishes ... hey ... I have to go.’

‘Sure ... no charge for the conversation!’ I hoped he could see my sense of humour.

He frowned at me. ‘Yeah ... so ... thanks again. I appreciate it.’ Was he wanting to ask me something else? He seemed kind of nervous.

‘See ya ...’

‘Yeah ... bye.’

I watched as Xander turned, almost like a pirouette, then walked “step and point” for two steps before he fell into a normal stride. I narrowed my eyes. How odd for a guy to walk like that, unless he was—

‘I’m back!’ Charlotte said when she stood beside me.

‘Good,’ I said, picturing Xander ice-skating.

‘Mmmm—he’s delicious,’ Charlotte said and let out a dreamy sigh.

‘With an unpleasant aftertaste ...’

She spread her fingers out on her chest. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Once—for a little more than two hours of my life!’ I looked at Charlotte and smiled at her.

‘Two hours? I would have wanted more time with him.’

‘Trust me, Charlotte. Two hours was two hours too many. He’s complicated and confusing.’

*~*~*~*~*

Darcy headed out the rear door and locked it while I dimmed the lights to the store. This work day was a tiresome one. I stepped out of the double front doors, dead locked them, and turned to catch my taxi; the same female driver each time.

I glanced at my watch. I was on time, but the taxi wasn’t. It was never late. I tapped my right steel-capped work boot on the footpath, twice. It was my reminder that I was safe. I looked to my left and right at the main street of Tarrin. There was no one about. A wave of anxiety shot through me, burning my veins.

A black sports car stopped at the curb. Number plate: IMGR8.

A man stepped out of the car and stood before me. I knew exactly who he was. He had been at the store.

‘Hi, Andi.’ He was the colour of dark red, and my alert to danger. He was a fisted hand slammed heavily onto piano keys. I needed to run from him. Fast.

‘Did you need more flowers?’ I tried to buy some time for the taxi to arrive.

He looked down and smiled. ‘No. I’ve come to give you a lift home.’

‘Really? What a nice idea ... but my cab will be here in the next minute.’ My skin was tingling.

He shook his head. ‘Your mother sent me to pick you up.’

Liar. My heart was beating double time. I checked my phone texts. None. I had a pact with my parents—if there were any changes to my taxi arrangements, they would text me.

Play the game. Play it better. I glanced over at his car. ‘My mother was probably impressed by your sports car and thought I would be too.’ I gave him a smile. A fake smile. ‘But I’m fine. The taxi will turn up, any second now.’

He took a step closer to me.

I stiffened and held my breath.

‘It was here ... but I sent it away, so I could give you a lift. I wanted to apologise for my poor manners when I met you.’ He reached up and touched my hair. ‘Come on, Andi. Let me make it up to you. I’m sorry.’

I tried to take a breath on top of my already held breath to still my shaking limbs. I let it out, then breathed deeply and felt my rage building. ‘Step away from me.’ My voice was low, and strong.

He reached for my hand, but I reefed it away from him. I took a step backwards. ‘Touch me, and I will kill you,’ I said through gritted teeth.

The man laughed. ‘Come now, sweet one. That’s no way to talk to a—’

‘Sorry I’m late!’ It was Darcy. He was walking toward us, almost in a run.

I looked at my watch. ‘Yep. Five minutes late!’ I walked to him and hugged him. Tightly. He was my hero. Officially.

‘Ow,’ he said into my ear. ‘You’re standing on my toes.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered. I stepped back from him and looked down at my steel-capped boots. ‘If you waited a bit longer you could’ve seen my boots in action ...’

Darcy smiled at me, put his arm around my shoulders and started walking with me away from the man. ‘Hmmm ... I should have waited ... next time.’

‘Next time?’

‘Yeah ... the next time I have to rescue you.’

I shuddered, and a memory came to the fore, unbidden ...

Jack laughed. ‘Look at what we have here ... two chicks!’

I clenched my fist. Chicks is such a demeaning word.

‘You know why women hate some men, don’t you—’ I started.

‘No more, Andi,’ Mia whispered.

‘Not that I would call either of you a man! Your violence shouts of your weakness,’ I continued.

‘Shut the fuck up, bitch!’ The sharp bite of Jack’s hand stung my already bruised cheek.

‘Coward,’ I spat.

‘Andi, not a word more, you’re making them angrier!” Mia said, her voice trembling.

Johnno looked down at the knife he held in his grubby hand and grinned.

‘Andi—’ Darcy’s voice pulled me back from my memory. ‘I said ... are you ready to go home?’

‘How did you know to come back?’ I asked, not answering his question as we walked. I looked back over my shoulder at the assailant and watched as he climbed into his black car and left.

‘I saw your taxi leave before you closed the doors to the store. I thought another one would come. But when I saw the black car—’

‘I forgive you.’

‘For what?’

‘Your comment today.’

He pulled me closer and kissed my head. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’

‘It depends on the day. Some days no one can love me. Not even me.’ I wanted to add, never me, but I didn’t.