RIPP. Sometimes we look at ourselves and ask how the hell did I get myself in this position? Generally, when I have asked myself this, the situation had been something other than favorable. I can’t really think of one time I looked at myself, my current situation, or my current life and thought anything but damn Ripp, you did it again. I had never been disappointed with life, nor had I been dissatisfied with trying to live it.

But I had always been on the move. Running. Running toward something else. Something new. Chasing whatever it was at the moment which provided or may provide me with satisfaction. A new piece of ass. A new dude to beat the shit out of. A different car to race. Another bottle of beer. Or one more notch in my almost undefeated belt.

Fucking Dekkar.

After meeting Vee, I was completely satisfied with standing still.

And it scared the fuck out of me.

“The premium ones are sixty dollars a dozen,” the limp wristed flower salesman said.

“Did I ask you how much the motherfucker’s cost?” I grunted.

“No sir, you did not,” he said with a lisp.

“Do I look like I’m fuckin’ broke?” I asked as I pressed my hands into my hips.

“No sir, you do not,” he turned to face the cooler full of roses.

I pointed to an arrangement of blood colored flowers on the left side of the cooler, “Those, over there on the left. You got any more of those?”

“We have various arrangements prepared, yes sir,” he said as he spun in a half circle to face me.

“I don’t want pre-arranged shit. I want you to make it special for my girl. I don’t want some shit you made in your spare time last night while you listened to Coldplay. I want you to put this together for her. She’s special like that, got it?” I snapped.

He nodded his head, “By all means.”

“Okay, I want a vase like that one,” I pointed to a vase on display and paused.

“And those flowers on the left. Give me a dozen of ‘em.”

“The red roses?” he asked as he pointed at the flowers.

Frustrated, I pointed to the arrangement on the left side of the cooler again, “The ones on the left.”

“Is that all you want?” he asked as he slowly raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

“What else is there?” I asked.

“Well, we can arrange them with baby’s breath, and we can…”

“Stop. Just stop. Yeah, arrange ‘em however you do it. Make ‘em look like you’d make ‘em look if you were giving ‘em to someone that was, well…” I paused and thought.

“She’s just different. You know…”

“I know exactly what you mean. Yes sir,” he said softly as he nodded, still maintaining his lisp.

He walked through the door toward the rear of the shop and came back with his hands full of fresh flowers, green leafy stuff, and small white flowery sticks. After a few minutes, he had the arrangement complete. He stood back, raised his hands in the air and smiled a she admired his work.

“Well?” he grinned.

“Looks small to me. Can you add a dozen more?” I asked.

“Wow. Well, we sure can,” he said, his face filled with disappointment as he stared at his perfectly prepared arrangement.

Slowly and carefully, he added another dozen roses, more filler and some of the little white flowery sticks. After shuffling the flowers back and forth in the vase, he stepped back, raised his hands in the air and smiled.

“And now?” he said cheerily.

I looked at the flowers and squinted.

“Still lookin’ kinda small, dude,” I shook my head, “can you get another dozen in there?”

He placed his hands on the side of his butt and cocked his hip to the side, “Maybe if I had a shoe horn.”

“Just looks small. Kinda basic,” I said.

“Basic? Excuse me,” he snapped, his hands still pressed into the sides of his butt.

“It looks real nice,” I apologized, “can you get maybe six more in there?”

He pressed his lips together, pulled six more roses from the counter and carefully inserted them into the vase with the others. He looked up from the vase and cocked one eyebrow.

“That thing is as full as…” he hesitated and looked down at the vase.

“Well, it’s just full,” he sighed.

“Looks great, dude. I love it. I’m gonna grab a card, ring it up,” I said as I turned to the card display.

After looking at a few dozen cards which all had things written in them I would never say to anyone, I picked out a card that looked pretty on the outside, but had nothing printed on the inside. As I walked back to the counter, I tried to think of what to write in the card.

“With the card, that will be $166.12,” he said as he looked up from the register.

I handed him $180.00 cash.

“You got any pens?” I asked.

He pulled a pen from the counter and wagged it in the air.

“You got any pens for sale?” I muttered.

“Uhhm, no,” he hissed.

“How about you give me that twenty cent pen, and I’ll let you keep the change?” I asked.

“That’s a deal. And uhhm, how’d you know I listen to Coldplay?” he asked as he handed me the pen.

“Good guess I suppose,” I said as I grabbed the vase.

I carefully placed the flowers into the seat of the Chevelle and opened the card. I’d never really written anything meaningful in a card and the thought of writing in it and having someone find any measure or means of value in what I wrote was almost laughable.

Vee,

Dekk tells me everything happens for a reason. I never really believed that.

I believe it now.

I looked at what I had written and smiled. I chewed on the end of the pen and thought of what to write next.

I ain’t gonna lie. I’ve been around, and I ain’t always been good. But the day in the bar we met, that day, that first one…

I knew.

I knew I wanted to know you. I didn’t know why, but the why don’t matter so much. Now, now that I’ve spent some time with you, I know this…

I looked down at the card and reread everything I had written. Hell, I was doing pretty well for a novice. I pressed the pen to the card and continued.

The empty space. The silent time. The time when I’m alone.

I used to love it.

Now I hate it.

Because all I can think about is one thing.

Filling that time up…

With you.

I read what I wrote from beginning to end a few times. There wasn’t any changing it now. I looked over at the flowers and smiled. The inside of my car smelled like my mom’s bathroom. I gazed down at the card again, smiled and signed my name.

Ripp.

I slid the card into the envelope and sealed it shut. There’s a first time for everything, and I tend to remember my first times. Buying flowers for a girl is something I had never done. I’d no more forget this day than I’d forget Dekkar’s swagger when he walked into the gym on day one or the fact he kicked my arrogant ass.

And, truth be told, I didn’t want to forget it. I didn’t ever want to forget it. I wanted to hold onto to it. Cherish it. Remember it.

Because at that moment, I felt better than I ever had.

I’m Rippin’ it.

And life is grand.

Fuck yes.