she was never one to follow up on the news, or rather, dedicate her precious time to rummage around on today's crimes: arson, vandalism, robbery — the list could go on and on.
but what else was there to expect in the world's heinous city?
the city of valerian was a melting-pot of veneers and pandemonia, shrouded in the illusion of superficial riches and prosperity. drenched in the odor of heavy perfume and decadent opulence were enough to outcast the filth that lurked from the city's borders; but, so much gold could never outweigh the true bleakness of valerian that rosé had to laugh at the comparison.
perhaps it was why she held a love-and-hate relationship with the place.
she would even call herself a hypocrite, almost. a wealthy woman like her thrived; invitations and gifts made residence on her doorstep. digits in her bank account ascended like a skyrocket, expanding and sustaining. perhaps many people would think she really was no better than the other rich folks who flaunted their assets and 100k diamond earrings.
she was no saint, neither was she a sinner.
just as impartial was to jury, positive to negative, and acid to base, rosé found herself at the center of the spectrum. she wasn't oblivious to the poverty inhabited in the dark alleyways and whatever dirty deeds transpired. at the same time, she never succumbed to the 'rich-folk' disease. she never pretended. simply, she was there. she existed. in the center between black and white, walking and never leaning more on one side than the other.
so artificial. so perilous — yet, so dark and chaotic, she couldn't help but enjoy the treacherous adrenaline that pumped throughout this city's veins.
rosé slipped out a $100 tip and took her coffee on the way out. her hand reached for her sunglasses in routine. a surprised gasp behind her, shocked by the generous gift before a grateful shout.
the vibrant noises of valerian's traffic jam greeted her on its midday appearance. honks, yells, and the zooms of overspeeding vehicles followed by flashing police cars told a usual day. however, rosé paid no mind; eyes straight ahead and stubborn. she sipped her coffee, black and bitter, unfazed by the raucous disarrays but worried over whether her saint laurent blazer was gonna crinkle.
"stop right there!"
she hadn't searched around to discover where the voice came from or what caused the sudden commotion (probably because she was too occupied trying to find any piece of hair on her sleeve). she was forced to look up, though, when someone bumped into her shoulder; knocking drips of brew onto her blazer did rosé's mood flip to a 180. offended, seen by the unsatisfied wrinkle on her lip that became ready to snap a snarl, rosé extended out her leg.
the man (who reeked cigarettes that she clamped her mouth from coughing) tripped over to the cement ground with a loud plop. he flipped to prop himself on his elbows to see his opponent until he met the most spine-chilling eyes.
a grey worn-out beanie, black hoodie, and washed-out sweatpants. rosé studied him from head to toe; it took no genius to connect the dots after realizing the hot pink purse clutched in his right hand.
she hummed in thought, clicking her glossed stilettos towards the burglar. rosé crouched beside him and paid no notice to the potential threat of what could transpire at any given moment, except she hadn't cared — there was only one thing on her mind instead.
the burglar, who still had yet to budge from his vulnerable position, stiffened under the close approximation.
why — why was there a woman leaning over him as if he was a doll on display? her manicured nails sought for his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. she smelled good. jasmine with a hint of lavender grappled his smoky odor.
she was no simple commoner he could infer that. not by the way her clothes smelled expensive, or how soft skin showed no trace of hard labor because here in valerian, there held no such thing as a middle ground; you were either born in money or in the slums.
it was, though, the way she looked at him. a face so clean and ideal, all symmetrical with no speck of debris. her eyes — oh, he was familiar with those eyes — spoke sovereignty. those eyes virgin to scarcity and discrimination that suddenly sparked an ignition of resentment inside him. his hold tightened on the purse.
those damn rich-fucks. damn them. damn them all.
her mouth opened, and he expected her to throw degradation upon him: names, threats, any insults of how a scum like him dared to step foot on her red-carpet way. he braced for it, his dirty eyes narrowing at her. he would've pounced her. toss a jab at her pretty little face, so maybe it could show her how ugly the world really is until the words slipped past her lips and caught his ears.
"may you find someone who saves you."
what?! what the fuck is this woman talkin' about?
for a moment, he saw a flicker on her expression that he refused to acknowledge, something a rich-folk could not possibly be aware of. was it sincerity? he blinked, unsure of what he heard and saw were correct. he became occupied that he barely processed what she uttered next:
"also, you spilled coffee on my blazer," she said so casually and calmly that what she did after shocked him.
her wrist flashed at him, and a splash of hot liquid drenched his face. His eyes stung, and he let out a loud yell, while drips spewed further down to the tips of his bangs. his sleeves rubbed his face as the hot temperature continued to sear his skin.
it mattered not if he discerned the wailing sirens behind his yelling and closed eyes because when he opened them, it was too late to do anything. hauled up to his feet by a cop before cuffing his hands, he tried to bring back his sense of clarity.
rosé rose from her crouch, then checked her wristwatch.
she tsked; she had to leave now. when the blonde turned to the second cop who seemed to be on his trail to speak with her for a debrief, she paused with a motion of her index finger.
"patch him up with ice, will you?" she plucked the pen and notepad from his hands to scribble down her phone number.
he began, "ma'am — "
"and," rebutted the woman, "make sure to have him call me; i'll be sending him a receipt for my dry-cleaning."
"ma'am, i don't believe you know how this works — "
"any questions, cares, or concerns? right answers only," she smiled innocently.
the cop stared blankly, intimidated by her demanding behavior that he made no attempt to argue. so as she placed his pen and notepad rightfully back in his hands, she dug in her purse to apply hand sanitizer.
"well, if there's nothing you have to say, then i guess my work here is done." rosé brushed off any lingering dirt off her blazer and rebalanced the straps of her purse on her shoulder. "have a nice day."
she walked past him without bother and threw her empty cup away. her tesla beeped as she hopped in and shut the car door, quickly bolting off onto metropolitan boulevard.
∝
"rosé, please, heed to my request. i only want what's the best for you."
the vibrations from her phone seemed to drag along the desperation of the declaration. an announced request that rather emanated an underlying demand by the prominent clinginess throughout her message.
the victim scoffed, "want what's best for me? be original for once; that's what they all say." her inclining annoyance caused her a sharp turn. "how do you know what's best for me? as someone who is successful, i find it quite hysterical for you to be making calls. very unbecoming of you, mother."
she contended with a rousing fact. "you are my daughter."
"nothing more, nothing less."
"rosé — "
"listen," she honked at the vehicle in front of her, "if i am able to grow and make it on my own without a father figure, what makes you think my life will be better if i am ever to require a man, hm? i don't know about you, mother, but the thought of courtship itself tempts me to fall off a skyscraper."
an exhausted murmur lingered through. "you're still too young to understand."
"no, you don't understand. why tie myself to a degenerate and accommodate to patriarchy? why should i submit to alleviate their fragile masculinity? why should i surrender my autonomy to show stability and status under pretense?"
there was a pause before her mother said anything else, and rosé seized the opportunity to calm down, now noticing her shallow breaths and the unyielded squeeze she had on her steering wheel. she sniffled. her finger turned on the ac to cool her boiling temperament.
some shuffling noises on the other side reminded her once again that she was still on line. rosé glanced at her phone to see the call time still continuing and held every breath to release a dramatic sigh.
her mother spoke, but a tone softer and less upfront than before, "not all men are the same." she must've fought hard to come down to this conclusion to say such a bizarre thing.
"then you are too naive. still blinded by the man who helped you conceive me. tell me, where is he now?"
she heard silence, and it was all she needed.
"all men are the same."
an assertion so resolute came out as easily as sliced butter; automatic and unbending. it was a phrase so adhered in her guileful brain, it became law. it didn't matter what anyone thought because it couldn't alter nor resist rosé's strong belief that men, will and ultimately, become corrupt somewhere along in their existence.
she wondered sometimes if valerian took part in what she preached — that she was just unlucky to have been raised in a nefarious city, which forced her to think of the worst. habitually dark, disconsolate, and rife with bribery. one stained with temptation is prone to travel to valerian because a metropolis so known for its said conviction could suffice another sleazy act in the back alleyways.
want to steal, but you're a sheriff? want to escape to your infidelity, but you're a woman? want to commit fraud but you're a mayor? come to the marvelous city of valerian; home to all lawbreaking.
in defiance of everything, valerian opened her eyes to the truth. she may have been in the worst possible places to begin with, yet she knew that there was no other place worst itself; if she can adapt, learn, and see here, then there was no other place that could stand a chance in breaking her.
her mother, unfortunately, did not possess the strength she had. upon the peak of rosé's modeling career, she left to aster city. not that she could particularly blame her; she was miserable, and rosé could never find the heart to fault her. too many bad and painful memories.
but to be conscious of her own daughter's accomplishments and continue to persist her in marriage? blasphemy. all of it. they were beyond past the 20th century, so why must she feel the need to encourage these ridiculous expectations?
rosé, too deep in her deliberations, snapped back when her mother finally found the words to respond.
"i know what i say won't change your mind — "
"asshole," rosé mumbled to the person who cut into her lane.
"but if you were to do only one thing for me, only one, i would like you to have an open mind. ignore everything i said about marriage...just please." it wasn't the same desperation that clung onto her message like earlier. rather, a hushed resignation. rosé imagined her mother, in aster city in the comforts of her cozy home, sitting in front of the phone; a hand embraced to her chest like a prayer.
the daughter thrummed her fingers on the wheel when she stopped at a red light. she glimpsed at the phone again, the call time going into 9 minutes and 11 seconds, but it felt more like an hour with every quietness and consideration thrown amidst.
the sigh she withheld was contained no more. a slight headache initiated its process in twisting her mood, and she recognized the sharp stings her nerves started to transmit.
it wasn't a promise that she'll thoroughly follow through on her mom's wish, but the least she could do was endeavor. "i'll do as i see fit."
what in the name is with this traffic?
the uproar sounds prompted her to peer further ahead of her dashboard. she heaved off her sunglasses to colorize her view, and what it revealed was something she had not expected in this late afternoon.
"mother, i have to go."
too focused by the ruckus to even hear a reply back, she hung up the phone call and drove to the curbside. the slam of her car door simultaneously fired her sensory neurons; all five senses struck at her altogether as she struggled to process the screeching alarms, humid air, and the odor of burning wood. her feet, faster than she realized, strode toward the awaiting crowd blocking the road.
traffic cones lined the pavement, barricading the pedestrians and curious persons from the buildings before them. a flash of colored lights flickered across their expressions - red, white, blue - to reflect a brief shadow against their features, which instantly brought rosé's attention to the sun's beginning slumber. her chin raised for a second to catch the confirmation; no more of the bright luster she'd basked under earlier in the day; at present, a chilling gust wormed its way through her blazer. a silent reminder of the season's progression. the hot radiation from the apartment complex, though, begged to differ.
the absence of the sun highlighted the straggly, thick clouds of fumes emitted from the windows. yellow, orange, and red shifted in unison. whether they were the cause or the saviors, rosé overlooked the scene, instead, gazing afar to the assembled and inhabited stretchers.
the wounded rolled out in a single file as the remainings of the chaos behind them continued to be fought. fire hoses spurted fountains of water. medics and police advanced to flood the scene.
"i need everyone to back up. please, we do not want you to get hurt!"
"be careful of your surroundings!"
"you're going to be alright, do you hear me? breathe in and breathe out."
"he sprained his ankle, but we're gonna have to check the rest of him. a bookshelf fell on him just as the smoke detectors went off."
"my brother is still in there! let me go!!"
no wind, clamor, or scent managed to budge rosé's frozen condition. she lingered. eyes observed here and there, but at the same time not anywhere because of the cluster of goo sludging her mind in a disheveled and sour mixture.
she budged, nonetheless, when a faint touch brushed against her shoulder, hauling her back to clean thought.
ah — her phone beeped.
5:55 pm.
she wasted enough time already. she must leave.
it was an unconscious action, truthfully. the second her heels swiveled to turn, her upper body contradicted its lower half to switch back — those mahogany orbs of hers stuck to the burnt complex: the entire roof charred and shriveled, broken glass formed ugly shards around the window borders. a second, not too early nor late, in the nick of time to witness a flying shadow in the distance. she squinted. movements so unseen yet seen concurrently, dashing inside the building. through the barred windows, wisps of some kind of fabric(?) cutting through the air caught her vision. it must be her head playing tricks with her.
her upper finally joined with her lower body to scramble towards the tesla. she u-turned soon after her vehicle veered back to life.
a second, this instance, however, late to hear the cries of joy upon the appearance of a black figure materializing from the fire.
∝
right outside her condo compound, the blonde woman searched around the passage aisle. only garbage bins and barbed fences met her the farther she ventured.
it was late and dark. nightfall hurried and settled in by the time she arrived. the wind, less restricting and kind than prior, nipped at her from head to toe. long hair slightly fluttered with it, while she wrapped the blazer tighter around her, clinging onto the plastic bag that threatened to tear off from her dainty fingers.
she checked her wristwatch for who knows how many times.
as if the divines recognized her wish, the familiar soft patters echoed on the cement ground.
tap. tap. tap.
rosé's head snapped forward. anticipation and relief softening the hardened lines of her face. she eased at last.
her face broke out into a wide smile to see the meandering hound sniffing its route for any likely dangers. it was so concentrated. ears twitched at each given sound and snout snuffled up towards the sky.
she cooed, "brownie, come here, boy!"
like he was offered an abundance of squeaky toys, brownie barked and dashed to rosé, excitement written over him from his wagging tail and tongue slipped out as an invitation for welcomed pets.
a laugh bubbled within her when she stroked his short fur. hand glided over his smooth and black coat to his pointy ears.
he was a beautiful dog.
she stumbled across him a few months ago. after a tiring day of preparation for the runway show, rosé wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and crash in her fine satin sheets. until the black doberman greeted her in front of the condo complex, wandering about for whatever reason.
she didn't think he was a stray, nor a homeless dog by the toned muscles displayed whenever he acted. no sucked in bones nor some kind of injury came into view whenever she tried to locate one. he seemed to be a healthy lad. fed and well-nourished.
it begged the question of who he belonged to, or if he belonged to someone.
no collar or indication of some kind gave hint to rosé. then, she realized it didn't matter as long as he was safe.
brownie nudged her other hand, aware of the yummy dog treats in the zip-locked bag. she chuckled, ever so impatient of him.
"i got you these peanut-butter ones this time," she eagerly announced, in a crouched position to feed him, though it wasn't needed at all considering the dog's gigantic height.
cute biscuits shaped in snowflakes, trees, and stars — a pleasant sign that christmas was gradually coming up.
brownie ate the cookie without hesitance. she remembered the first couple of times she tried to hand him a treat, it would take a bit for him to sniff out any dangerous chemicals or toxins. he was a cautious one, and he still is; these days, more trusting towards rosé that she couldn't stop the swell of pride inside her.
"do you like it?"
giggles erupted when the dog responded by licking her fingers clean and tugging the bag's corner for more.
she petted him. fingers traced the sleek ears of his, while she pondered in deep thought.
her mother sent her a text message during her drive here:
call me again when you can.
a useless hope to dwell that whatever her mother's intentions are for their next conversation did not involve the particular subject they last talked about. inevitable as it was, the blonde held onto her reins. her mother was stubborn. she gave her mother credit for that. then again, her mother was the primary source where rosé received her own will of persistence and strict attitude. like mother, like daughter; guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
brownie whimpered and cuddled to her side.
she lightly smirked, drowning out of her somber mood.
smart dog.
she let the worries and burdens today coast off. brownie was right, the day became long gone to muse on trivial issues. so, there she stayed. in an empty alleyway, there held nothing better than peace and the comfort of brownie's touch.