I wanted to speak with the woman at the flower shop, but I didn't know how to approach her. What kind of information could I, a stranger, get out of her without overstepping my boundaries?
There were more than enough thoughts plaguing my mind. Was Damon was ever found, dead or alive? Was he still missing? Even though it's been an entire year since his disappearance. That wasn't something I could just casually bring up.
With a sigh, I forced myself into the sports shop, my feet dragging behind me.
I didn't want to be here. I wouldn't have come here either if it weren't for the fact that I needed to pick up my paycheck. It was the first one I earned since I'd started working here. I needed to treat myself. That'd help take my mind off this for now.
There were three other employees' working the floor and another one near the register, whom I didn't recognize. One of which, wasn't Oliver, but an average-sized man with brown buzz-cut hair. He stood on the other side of the counter, counting money and storing change into the cash registers. Could he have been a new employee too? I had never even seen this guy working here before. Oliver and I were always working the counter.
"Oh, hello. Where's Oliver?" I walked up to the counter, eyeing him closely. When I'd searched for his name tag, I noticed the name Jace was written across it. That name didn't ring a bell at first but I knew I recognized it.
"Today's his day off"—the guy paused as his eyes flicked up studying me—"huh I've never seen you before."
"I just started working here. Um . . . I'm just here to pick up my paycheck."
"Oh!" He snapped his fingers, a smile easing onto his face. "You must be that new employee Thomas told me about then. The one who started working here while I was on vacation."
My eyebrows drew in close together. "Huh?"
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" Now, there was a smirk.
Was I supposed to know who he was? He didn't seem like the most professional nor likable person here. Something about his smirk gave me the feeling he was going to irk me during my time here.
"Chastity, don't waste your time with this one. You'll be here all day if you entertain him. This is Jace. He's the manager." Thomas' voice startled me. "She said she's here to get her paycheck."
"Thomas! Didn't know you'd show up today. It's been a long time." Jace clapped his hands.
Thomas sent him a look. "Now, Jace." Geez, who pissed him off this morning?
"Okay, okay, I'm going. I'll be back." Jace retreated from the counter with his hands in the air. Thomas and I stood there patiently, waiting for Jace to return. One glance at him and I didn't miss the red claw-like marks running across the edge of his chin. Ouch. Those looked painful.
"Long night?" I questioned.
"What?" Thomas whirled around. "Oh, I guess you could say that."
"You've got a little something there," I said, gesturing to my chin, to show him the spot where the marks were. "What happened to your face?"
"Huh, what are you talking about—oh! This. Oh yeah, no, I know. Julia and I got into a little disagreement yesterday."
My eyes widened. "She hit you?"
"I may have said something that pissed her off." He chuckled. "Eh, it doesn't hurt that much anymore. It's okay though. I'll give her a few days to cool down." This must have been what Delilah meant by toxic. I wasn't sure toxic wasn't a strong enough word to describe Julia and Thomas' relationship.
I wasn't sure what possessed me to utter these next few words. Maybe it was how distraught he looked as he stood there with his arms crossed. Maybe it was because I finally had him alone. Maybe it was because Delilah wanted to talk to him and missed him so badly, I could feel it, though she was no longer here. Whatever it was, I was crazy enough to say it.
"Tell me about Delilah." The expression on Thomas' face as soon as I said those words could only be described as petrified. His bottom lip shut as fast as he'd let it and his eyes were wide, his pupils expanding to an unusual degree.
"Shit. I'm sorry, I know. That was very bold and abrupt," I seethed at myself for not better thinking that through, "okay, the truth is . . . Thomas, I lied about the bracelet."
It seemed like he wanted to say something but I didn't give him a chance to counter-in when I spoke again, "I found it in my room when I moved into Skylar's house. But, well, I didn't know how you'd react if I told you the truth. I wasn't sure who it belonged to, or why you were asking about it . . . until I saw the reports about what happened and well, yeah. . ."
I was sugar coating the truth. I knew that. But there was so much to learn, and I didn't know what I was getting myself into. For all I knew, him and Thomas weren't on good terms when she was alive. Or maybe they were friends. Those were all unanswered questions in my head.
His eyes did the talking for him as he stared at me. But he soon let out a hard laugh. "I knew I wasn't crazy. I gave Delilah that bracelet as a gift."
"Funny enough, it ended up in my hands," I said.
He ignored my comment and continued rambling, "You want to know about Delilah, huh? How much did the articles tell you? That she was a sociopath with a mental disorder? Or that she was bullied so much she snapped and took her family with her? Oh, and there's my favorite! She was being abused by her parents."
"Something like that. . ." I answered with caution.
His jaw clenched. "Well, it's all bullshit. The media conjures up whatever they can to cover a good story, including changing the narrative if they're that desperate."
"Well, what is the narrative then?"
"Delilah." He stopped and sighed. By now, it felt like he was having a conversation with himself. "The Delilah I knew wouldn't lay a hand on anyone. S-she was kind-hearted and funny. She loved her family. And her family loved her so much. Sure, they were strict. But they weren't abusive.
"She helped others even if it got her in trouble and people in this God damn town took advantage of that. She was a girl who was being harassed and she didn't tell anyone. Not even me. She was—"
"Everything but a murderer," I finished his sentence.
He sucked in a heap of air and laughed under his breath. "Yeah. That."
"So, what else could have happened?"
He bit his bottom lip and uncrossed his arms. "I. . . I guess I didn't know Delilah. . . Listen I don't care what you do with that thing, but take care of it, okay?" He pointed to the bracelet then quickly turned around. "It's expensive and it holds a lot of value. Please."
"What the hell happened to him?" Jace commented as Thomas stormed out of the store. "Did you strike a nerve? You should know he has a short temper."
"Yeah. I've noticed," I mumbled and turned to Jace. I was still caught up with what happened myself. He spoke about Delilah so passionately, then it was an immediate mood switch.
"You know, he's still in denial."
I narrowed my eyes and cocked my head to the side. "So, you heard everything? What was the point of you asking what's wrong with him if you were eavesdropping?"
"Ah shoot, you got me." Jace smiled, but his smile dropped as fast as it formed. He was definitely a strange one.
"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but he still hasn't come to accept that his best friend hid so many secrets from him. So, of course, he's going to be bias and tell you all the good things about her," Jace said, shrugging, "it's probably the guilt. He thinks he could've saved her. You know how it is. When you find out the person who you thought you knew everything about, turns out to be a complete stranger."
One of my eyebrows lifted. "You talk like you know a lot."
"I know my fair share of information that goes around town. It's a small town, you know?"
"Right. Can I get my check now?"
"Oh yeah, sorry. Trudge carefully around him though. It's a sensitive topic. Not just for him, but for the town." Jace nodded towards the door Thomas had just exited.
I almost laughed. What Jace said couldn't have been further from what people in this town thought, according to what I'd seen for myself so far.
As I went to turn on my heels, I stopped mid-way, shooting Jace a glance back over my shoulder. "Do you, you know, think Delilah really did that? Thomas seems to believe otherwise. You said it yourself. He's still in denial."
"Like you said yourself, what else could have happened? They were all dead and Delilah was the only one present at the time. I hate to say it like that, but that's how it is. And if that wasn't the case, the first person I'd be looking at, is Julia.
"Or maybe even her ex-friend, Silvia. Those two had it out for her. Thomas is too oblivious to notice how Julia really treated Delilah. I don't mean any catty stares or smart remarks either. I mean, Julia can be a real manipulative bitch."
"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I guess that makes sense. Thanks. I'll see you around at work?" My comment spoke like a question.
"Yep, I'll be here," he said, with a pop of his mouth.
* * *
"Excuse me? Is anyone here?" The bell to the flower shop chimed.
My nose had immediately been grazed with the smell of roses. I hated that smell. My aunt used to keep roses in the house all the time. Roses were the only thing she was able to keep happy. I knew that because she took care of them so carefully, they hadn't withered and died.
Looking at them was exhausting. I wanted them to be so beautiful—something hopeful I could count on in that house—I ended up despising them, until they were just as vile as her. Shame to say, it was all because they reminded me of her.
"I'm coming! Give me a minute!" a voice called from deep inside the store. I took that as my cue to circle the inside. The store was more spacious and neater than I'd expected when I first entered.
Everything about the interior's designs were simplistic with light colors, like white, faded browns, sky blues, and pale greens. I was no expert in flowers but I was sure there were over one-hundred different kinds here. I could hear footsteps walking in my direction. I whirled my head around coming in contact with the woman I saw the other day.
"Whew, it's hot. Lord give me the strength." The woman fanned herself with her hands. "I hope you've got a bottle of water with you. You kids are young. You all need to make sure you're staying hydrated out there."
I nodded and smiled. "My friend doesn't let me leave the house without one." It was true. Skylar was relentless. She took better care of my health than I did.
"Good. Speaking of young, a lot of young people don't enter this shop." Her right eyebrow raised.
"Oh, I just came in here to look"—I laughed quietly, clutching at the ends of my shirt—"in case I ever want to come back and find some flowers to add in my sets. You know, summer is right around the corner. It's a good time to start practicing with photos that have summer vibes. It's also a nice side business thing."
"Oh? Photography? Do you make your own sets?"
I glanced at the woman's shirt. Aretha, was the name sewn into her shirt, in cursive white letters. "Yep, that's right."
"You know, what?" She snapped her fingers and smiled. "I've got just the thing for you." I followed behind her as she shuffled to the shelves on the far-left of the shop.
"You caught us at the perfect time because we just started rolling out our sales for this season. These are some of the lovely bouquets our local florists put together made with the freshest flowers! They're all summer themed and fifty-percent off too. Aren't they just beautiful?"
"They sure are—" I gave her a smile but my words faltered when I caught sight of the bouquet full of white flowers placed in front of the large store window. Beside them was a picture frame with a smiling face I recognized off the missing posters from Delilah's memories. How the hell had I missed that? It was directly next to the entrance.
"R.I.P Damon Watts. February 12th, 1998 through March 19th, 2018. . ." was what I whispered off the obituary taped around the bouquet. That was the day he vanished. Could that have meant he was never found . . . or that he was confirmed dead?
There were exactly twenty-one flowers in the bouquet that I could count. Oh, that was right. He would've turned twenty-one this year. From what I remembered from the missing poster, his birthday had already passed, actually. Was she adding a flower every year for him?
Damn that was . . . incredibly depressing to think about.
"Excuse me?" Her ears perked up and she leaned over casually, searching for where my eyes had landed.
"Oh! I was talking to myself. Sorry. I do that sometimes," I apologized, ignoring my own cringe-worthy laughter. The cherry on top was the forced laughter I coughed out. Thankfully, I didn't need to explain in detail because she brushed off my awkward behavior.
She leaned back and smiled. "Don't we all? It gets worse when you're my age."
I sighed out a breath of relief.
"So, do you see anything you like?" One look at her beaming smile and my palms grew sweaty. It was the same smile all sales people taunted me with when I walked down the street—easy on the eyes, but eager and desperate in their souls, pleading with me to buy as if I wasn't a broke college student living off student debt and financial aid already.
I clutched tighter at the ends of my shirt, tucking my bottom lip in between my teeth. Don't give into the pity Chastity, I chastised myself. But I was already pulling out my wallet. Fuck.
"You know what, I do like quite a few of them. I think I'll buy a bouquet today." Aretha's dark eyes lit up as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face and a large smile blossomed on her lips. That was the most ecstatic I'd seen her since I walked in to the shop.
Ten minutes later and I was exiting the shop with a bouquet full of colorful flowers in my hands. Sixty. Fucking. Dollars. And that wasn't even including the tax. Boy, wait until I told Skylar about this one. Aretha had suckered me into buying one of the most expensive ones. My wallet ached and so did my heart. In all the wrong ways.
"Ugh, you guys better be worth it." Sure Chastity, talking to the bouquet was going to do the trick! My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my skull at my behavior. I couldn't have gotten anymore childish.
As my feet dragged along the pavement the scorching sun burned my skin. By the time I reached my car, beads of sweat lined across my forehead and the skin in between my fingers. It was disgusting. I'd immediately sunk into the driver's seat, my attempts to catch my breath feeling more impossible by the second.
I sat the Boquet in the passenger seat beside me, my eyes training forward, only to scrunch my face as they landed on something I didn't want to see. "Oh gosh, well, I'm glad someone is at least having a better day than me. . ."
There was a couple standing just meters away from my car, making-out against the wall. A wall that was probably covered in filth and old gum and whatever else a public wall consumed; might I add.
The woman was pressing her body to his, her breast pinned against his chest, as he used the wall for support. Her lips were locked with his. They looked like they were going to fuck right there. That was just what I needed on top of the heat. . . Definitely not.
The more I stared at them, the more the ginger-haired woman stuck out to me. I saw a trail of light freckles circling her cheeks until they disappeared towards the front of her face. I'd only been able to make out the side of her jaw, but it was enough for the features to click in my head.
"Julia!?" I blurted aloud.
I couldn't convince my mouth to close as Julia removed herself off the blonde-haired male with a smirk plastered across her face. This was not what I'd imagined when Thomas told me he'd give her a few days to cool off. Were they on a break? Had they done this often? This felt like an unhealthy routine for them.
She threaded her fingers through the male's and they began walking down the street, as if they hadn't just been sucking each other's faces off. One thing I didn't miss though, was the glint of the shiny officer's badge tucked below the waistband of his jeans.