I lean against the glass display, which is stocked minimally with boutonnieres and corsages for Homecoming. Aliyah comes over with a sigh as a customer exits the store. Working at Urban Garden is like being a Marriage and Family Therapist or maybe a genie.
The rose-shaped clock near the door tells me it’s almost noon. I gather the black roses I always take my father every Monday and twine a silk ribbon around them.
“Wow, Luxury, you’re the world’s greatest daughter.”
“All I’ve got is Dad now.” I shrug.
Since my mother’s tragic murder, I splurge on an Uber, bringing my father flowers. I’m stepping out when my favorite regular starts up the stoop. Ninety-year-old Mr. Abel has the skin of freshly roasted almonds and a suit as big as his dentures.
“Hey, Mr. Abel. Your bouquet is waiting for you right inside.”
“Luxury, I was fast as lightning with this here cane.” He gestures.
“You sure were. But you know I got you, Mr. Able. The pink Gerbera daisies have your wife’s name all over them.”
I hurry back to grab them, tucking the black roses beneath my arm.Why didn’t Mr. Abel have children? Hell, I’m old enough for his grandson’s son.
I smile at the thought.Lux, be honest. If Mr. Able had a brother, you’d be game.With my pathetic existence, I don’t mind an older guy. Preferably one on the verge of going senile, so he’ll forget I suffer from night terrors. That way, he won’t escape come morning.
A warm heartbeat and a failing memory. I almost like the sound of that.
4
VICTOR
With his sour face set in stone, Burt internally tallies my indiscretions. The commercial flight. The five-star hotel.
Comfortably back in his penguin suit, Burt swipes a white-gloved finger on a milk glass lamp in the living room of the Delacroix penthouse suite. “There’s dust pouring from every gaudy surface.” He points to another lamp that's chunky gold. Then his mouth opens wide.
“If you sneeze one more time, Burt!” I snap, coming down the three steps that separate the master suite from a V-shaped sunken living room. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls give us a 360 of the entire downtown area. On one side, the Empire state building is a dominating historical force. The Hudson River is visible from another side.
“Do your bloody worst,” he mumbles at my threat after a few sneezes. “Actually, let’s kill Whitson before brunch.”
“Let's?”
“Youdounderstand what I've inferred,Duke of Arlington.” I laugh at his tone. I mouth my title with the same grunt of irritation.
“Ah, but you are an avid sharpshooter.KillWhitson for me,” I reply, slipping the last button in its hole on my black shirt.
“I told you we should have opted for the vault.” Burt glares at my cufflinks.
“This is the best Manhattan has to offer, Burt. If anyone steals my cufflinks, they earn my respect.” I give a soft chuckle.
“And then you will find and shoot them because that's all you do. Bait and shoot. Bait and shoot.”
“Of course, I’d be obliged to avenge the injustice.”
Bert’s scoff resounds in my ears as I head down the private lift with a duffle bag containing my sniper rifle.
In the backseat of an Uber, I chuckle at how Burt would’ve felt sitting where so many others have. Burt purchased a Mercedes and had it waiting at the airport when we arrived. Though not the crème de la crème of luxury vehicles, he still doesn’t comprehend that we mustn’t flash money.
After putting on sunglasses and leather gloves, I look up. We're about two feet from Hotel Delacroix.
Bloody traffic.
I open the door and get out.
“Hey, you don’t want the ride?”