Practicing The Craft

Practicing The Craft: Breaking Balm

Floral soup rot splashed onto my apron while rose thorns bit into my chest. Just another morning in paradise. Once every violet of the vapid little flower shop had a fresh vase of water, I swept up stray leaves and mopped up any slop I'd spilled before taking out the trash.

As the second cousin to the owner who was only working here because my aunt was owed a favor I was responsible for the grunt work.
The only job I found any enjoyment in was wrapping the morning deliveries. Normally this role belonged to a more important member of the floral family but since none of them wanted to wake up at four in the morning to do it, I was so lucky.

Unsupervised I folded the wrappings into ornate designs as intricate as the blooms they coddled.

Once my designs were tucked into the delivery box and outback for the driver, I flipped on the lights, dusted the shelves and unlocked the door. I had exactly fifteen minutes before my family would arrive to take over the shop and I'd be exiled to the back of the store with the rest of the floral rejects.

I was completing my morning ritual of plucking daisy petals to decide which of my elderly relatives would croak first when the front door bell wrung. I hurried to the front, colliding with something stout, that I hadn't seen because he was nearly a head shorter than me.

"Sorry, sir." I gasped, stumbling back while clutching my mutilated flower to my chest.

"It's fine." He glared at my chest.

I hid the flower behind my back with a sheepish giggle. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here for the monthly fees." He answered, straightening his tie with beefy hands.

I looked up at the light fixture hanging above us. "Did we not pay the electric bill?"

His frown deepened, making the scar on his cheek stretch like a string about to snap. The knot in his brow so deep I thought I could probably fit my whole finger in it.

"Protection fees."

I blinked at him and then ran. I'd never been robbed before but I knew Anthony kept a bat under the counter.

I heard vases shatter behind me and a low curse just as I snatched the bat. I turned around swinging and met air.

My arms were seized in vices, from behind and the bat smacked the floor.

"Let me go, my cousin Anthony will be here soon. You'll regret messing with the Flores' family." I flailed as much as I could in his iron hold.

"I'm not messing around. I'm here for what's due to Mr. Caslose."

I froze at the mob boss's name. A distinguished family like the Flores' didn't mess with the mob. I went dead weight and he lost his grip long enough for me to wiggle free and grab the bat. I came up swinging and he caught it with his mit, yanking it out of my grip with ease and flinging it to the side where it bounced off the floor and took out three rows of expensive vases. He winced at the shattering.

I heard my cousins animated morning debate as they came in the back door. "The roses are the big seller, they should always be in the front of the store."

"No one cares about roses anymore, Anthony. It's orchids people want these days." Marigold insisted.

My red lips quirked into a smirk. "You're in trouble now."

His lip twitched, that scar bouncing like a yo-yo string and he lunged toward me.

"Anthony! There's a robber!" I ran for the back room.

"Sorry about my cousin, Mr. Rialzo. She's usually in the back by the time you come." My cousin shot me a dirty look where I sat at my stool by the daisies.