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Let's make this happen, girl
We're gonna show the world that something good can work
And it can work for you
And you know that it will
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Harlow Dean
Four hours of sleep last night, a new record for me. It's 10 AM on a Saturday, I'm lying consumed by my white sheets, letting the sunlight beam through the gap in the curtains and I feel genuinely at peace. Willow is lying here with me but she's still asleep, she's quite lazy. The only thing that would make this moment better would the sound of my Fleetwood Mac record spinning.
I can't believe the events of last night with Harry, I can't believe I slapped him. I've now got no daylight coming into my office with is great so Harry better hurry up and get my new window because it looks so tacky with the cardboard replacement. Thank god it's summer is all I'll say.
I do still have a bone to pick with him though. As I was leaving I saw Niall dealing to someone round the back of my club and I'm not having that going on here. The club isn't becoming a breeding ground for drug dealers because it never has been. I think I'm being fair by letting them do drugs in the bathroom because I could've easily just said no, but I didn't, so they better be grateful for that and if they want to deal, they can go somewhere else.
It's such a beautiful day outside so the thought of having to start the day by picking a fight with someone really does dampen the mood.
You know what, fuck it, I'll wait until tonight. I don't want to ruin such a beautiful day.
Thankfully my little workaholic self has done most of this week's actual work that isn't just being present at the club. All I have is the odd few emails to reply to as they come through which means today I can maybe make use of the last of nice weather outside.
"Morning beautiful," I say to Willow who's decided to come up and lie on my chest. "What are we doing today? Should I go and see mum or should I just stay home, water the plants, maybe read something and play you some songs?"
Willow nudges her nose against my chin as she begins to purr, almost as if that was her giving me an answer. Sweet little creature.
"I thought so. I'll have to get some new flowers for the vase in the kitchen, what are we thinking for this week? I think some sunflowers, celebrate the last of the sunshine before it turns to winter. Just don't eat them this time"
I always talk to her like she can speak back but the fact that she can't is maybe why we get on so well. She can only listen, she can't express her doubts even though I'm sure she has them. The amount of secrets she knows is crazy, if she was human I'd probably have to kill her with the amount she knows about me.
I didn't lie in bed for too long, I never do but today felt like a good day and I don't know why. Maybe it's the sun, maybe it's the fact I slept for more than two hours but being in a decent headspace in the morning is so rare, so I'm taking advantage of it.
I threw on a little floral skirt with a chunky cardigan and I tied my hair back with one of those little silk scarf/bandana things. I really am clinging on to the summer, it's the end of August and the sunny weather will soon be replaced by the falling leaves so I'm taking full advantage of the sun and dressing like it's still June.
After a cup of coffee and sitting staring out my living room window while listening to my Sticky Fingers record, I decide maybe it's time to actually do something productive. I'll take a trip to the florist and maybe I'll even grab a coffee to take on a walk somewhere. Or maybe I'll just go to the florist, come home and do the usual routine of going between the piano, my emails and a book until it's time to go to the club.
The second option is definitely the plan, but it's still nice to think I'll do something exciting.
Before leaving I felt the sudden urge to write in my journal. I made a promise that I'd do it everyday and normally I just do it before I go to bed but today I knew exactly what to write without even having to think about it for too long.
Reason 341: For sunny morning skies and tranquility.
On my feet are my converse, the ones Harry also seems to have which has me cringing at the thought of us having matching shoes, but at least we weren't going to be seen together today. I'm in a good headspace right now, I don't want that ruined by anyone or anything so I'm just not gonna give them the chance. I'll deal with that shit tonight but for now, I'm going to play my feel good playlist extra loud and drive to the florist like I'm in a music video.
I have no problem with getting flowers from the supermarket but the local florist is the sweetest lady ever and I'd much rather give her little business my money than a supermarket. I come in here every week for a new bunch of flowers for my kitchen table as a present to myself for making it to each new week.
Self love at its best, right?
Each time I come into the shop I'm greeted with the same smell of fresh flowers and it's a smell I don't think I'll ever get sick of. Although, the smell isn't the best thing about the shop, it's definitely the florist herself.
"Harlow! Nice to see you dear, you look lovely!" Exclaims June from behind the counter.
I'm convinced she was always meant to be a florist, especially with a name like that. She's the cutest lady I know and reminds me a lot of my Grandma. My grandma would love June, maybe that's the reason I find myself coming here so much.
"Hi June," I smile, walking over to the counter.
"What's it today, flowers for your mum or for you?" She asks politely.
"Just my weekly ones, I think some sunflowers or something summery," I reply, gaining an even bigger smile from her.
"I suppose it's your lucky day, got some sunflower bouquets made up in the back, I'll be a second." June says excitedly.
Bless her, she's too sweet. If I'm not as carefree and lovely as June when I'm older, I don't want it. Seeing her waltz around her little Floristry in her yellow apron brings me so much peace. If I make it to 73, I hope I'll be like that except with 12 cats in my house instead of running a flower shop.
If I make it to 73 that is.
"These okay?" She shouts from the door leading to the back, standing with a bunch of sunflowers mixed in with some other smaller ones. This really is an art form, how she manages to get these arrangements looking so beautiful I'll never know.
"They're great June, perfect." I smile back.
The pride she has in her flowers honestly melts my heart. She does such a good job so the pride she has in herself is genuinely earned rather than just straight narcissism like someone I know.
"Do you want me to prepare a nice bunch for your mum for next week love?" She asks, bagging up the bunch of sunflowers.
June already knows what the answer should be, I should say yes but of course, I'm going to say no. I'd love to but I really struggle with going to see my mum when I haven't been for a while, I never know what to say or do.
June's been doing the flowers for my mum for almost a year now so she's watched my visits to see her become less and less. Each time I come in she asks about preparing something for me to take, I just can't seem to do it though.
"No thanks, not this week." I respond through a smile, hoping she'll just take that answer and settle with it.
"Alright, you let me know when you need some though." She says, "who's going to come in here every week when you've got a man buying flowers for you?" Chuckles June, handing them over to me.
Don't stress, I'll be coming in here to buy my own flowers until the day I die by the looks of things.
"That won't be for a while, trust me." I laugh back, "what am I due you?"
"Don't you settle for someone who doesn't buy you flowers every week." June says, pointing her finger at me like it was a warning. "It's on me this week sweetheart, looks like you need the cheering up."
My heart, my fucking heart has melted.
"June I'm not-"
"Harlow just take the flowers. A little thank you gift from me for being so good to me." She interrupts with a smile on her face.
Tell me why I could literally cry right now.
I didn't even argue back because I know better than to stand and argue about her giving me these for free, I'll always lose. Instead I just give her a hug, trying to not get all emotional because I can't tell whether I'm about to start my period or if it's just all been building up.
I hate affection, I hate hugs, I hate holding hands, I hate it all. However older people are an exception to that, they're actually cute.
I could've stayed for another half hour and we'd have just talked about her husband and the stories from their childhood that I never get sick of hearing. I never once thought my relationship with the local florist was going to be one I cherish so deeply but for some reason, that's the way it's turned out and I'm happy it has.
June and her husband have been together since they were 17, got married at 23 and travelled the world together. He was a mechanic and June was a florist, she did her own wedding flowers and designed their whole wedding herself. 53 years later and they're still together with three children, two grandchildren and three dogs. They're absolutely adorable.
Although however cute June and Frank might be, it's not a life I can see me going down. I see myself with heaps of cats, in a house myself in the middle of nowhere. Someone will have taken over the club, I'll be completely isolated and life will be great. I don't need company when I have my own.
When I arrive home willows waiting at the door, she always does that when I leave for some reason and I'm pretty sure it's just because she has separation anxiety. She doesn't even let me pee or take a bath in peace, always starts scratching at the door the minute it's closed. That's why I feel bad about working so much but I always play the radio for her to make sure she doesn't get lonely.
"Pretty flowers huh? I got them for free, how cool is that? Don't eat them this-"
My phones ringing, great. I hate talking to people on the phone.
It's one of my security guards which is strange, normally they email me because they know I hate phone conversations.
"Hello James you alright?" I answer, holding the phone against my head with my shoulder so I can arrange my flowers.
"Yeah there were some guys here last night on motorbikes after you closed. They didn't do anything, just sat waiting until another two guys showed up in a car. I don't want to intrude on your personal life but-"
"Was it Harry?" I interrupt knowing James is uncomfortable making assumptions based on rumours about Harry.
"Yeah, he came out a car and then punched one of the motorbike guys which scared them off by the looks of things. He disappeared himself after that, him and his friend."
And he was going to mention this when?
"Alright James, thanks for letting me know." I say, hanging up the phone before frustratedly tossing it across my kitchen counter.
I know he said he was going to keep The Vultures away and help keep things in order when it comes to gangs at my club, but a heads up would've been nice. He can't just turn up and start a fight at my club without warning me first. Even if he just left a message or something so I didn't have to find out through one of the security guards would've been better.
Am I about to do something I'll regret? Most definitely.
I can't wait until tonight, I also don't want to argue with him at the club anymore in case someone else decides to throw a rock my way, again.
He also did not warn me about that, he didn't once tell me I'd become someone that The Vultures are after. It's either that or it's Owen but surely someone who just joined the gang doesn't have that much of a say in who becomes a target, right?
Maybe they're just pissed that they don't have any relations to the club like Harry's gang now do. Me and Harry are 'together', his gang pretty much have a free place to hang out and I'm someone who men seem to love, for no other reason than the fact I'm a business woman who owns a club.
It's pretty sad actually, but that's men for you.
At least I know it's not my body, because I have the figure of an ironing board. No boobs, no bum, just flat as pancakes in both compartments.
My patience was running thin now, it's not even been a full week of our act and I'm already losing the plot. I couldn't help it anymore, I needed to say something and before I know it I'm driving my car up Harry's road.
Apparently my anxiety has disappeared because all I'm feeling right now is frustration.
I knock at his door, psyching myself up and telling myself that I'm a bad bitch. I'm Harlow Dean, not a toy. I'm not having him fighting at my club without telling me, I'm not having his friends dealing drugs at my club, I'm not having him hide things from me when it comes to what I'm involved with and I'm not having him constantly pissing me off.
He was the one who last night decided we need to start getting on better, and if that's the case, we have things to sort out first.
Am I being dramatic or am I just sick of being lied to and taken advantage of?
For fucks sakes Harry what's taking so long?
Oh...that's what.
My poor, poor eyes.
He opens the door in his boxers with a shocked look on his face, rosey cheeks and damp hair. Behind him is a couch, a couch with a bare foot hanging off the end and a red bra hanging over the top of it.
Lovely.
"Harlow, I erm... I wasn't expecting you," He says awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.
"Clearly." I answer, turning myself around to face away from his half naked body.
Well at least now I know what the tattoo on his stomach is. It's a butterfly and it's actually pretty cool but Jesus Christ, did he really have to open the door half naked? He couldn't have thrown on a hoodie or like...told me to come back later?
I mean I probably wouldn't have listened but still, there's a lot he could've done to prevent damaging my poor eyes.
"I erm... we need to talk but you're obviously a little busy right now so-"
"We finished, Molly was just leaving." He says, presumably with that smirk of his as I can hear the faint laughter in his voice.
'We finished'... the real question is did they? Or did Harry? Because that's the way things are these days.
Why am I putting these pictures into my head? Stop, Stop, Stop.
'We finished'. Why does he make sex sound like game of cluedo? Poor Molly, I'm sure she feels absolutely wonderful after Harry saying that.
Well, I'm never going to be able to play cluedo ever again, I don't know why I just did that to myself.
"You wanna come in? You can wait in the kitchen?" Offers Harry.
Just when I thought this couldn't be any worse.
For the sake of 'Molly', I'm gonna have to politely decline. I doubt she'd like the company of another girl right now.
Jesus, what's going on?
"I'm gonna wait in my car. Just erm... yeah we can try this again in a few minutes." I didn't even hang around after talking, just hurried straight back to the car to breathe.
What the fuck just happened?
I think I'm traumatised, genuinely.
I'm not angry anymore, so what the fuck am I supposed to do now. This was a 'heat of the moment' kind of thing and now the moment has been spoiled so that's just great.
I should've thought this a little more, shouldn't have let my own anger drive me all the way to his house because now the anger has been replaced with disgust and I'm regretting coming here. Unfortunately I'm too stubborn to back down so I guess I'll just have to play this out, however I definitely won't be looking him in the eye.
Less than an hour ago I was standing in a flower shop, surrounded by the beautiful smell of nature. I was calm, I was in a good headspace and I was thinking today was gonna be a good day. Now I'm considering pouring bleach into my eyes.
It wouldn't have been half as bad if he just didn't make it so obvious what he was doing. I really did not need those images in my head.
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Thank you all for the support once again:)
You guys are funny as hell in the comments
Lots of love xoxo