Page 44 of Coming Up Roses

Simon grins and knocks his head back over his shoulder toward a log cabin-style house. “No, there. Moving on, why are you here? And what’s up with the flowers?”

Well, shit. This is awkward. “I’m . . . well, Jesus . . . it’s a long story. How much time you got?”

“Plenty. I got all my grading finished up last night. Bring your truck on around to my place and I’ll see you in a few.”

I nod my agreement, but before driving over, I grab some scrap paper from my glove box and pen a quick note to Myla Rose, leaving it along with the flowers on her porch.

Here's hoping . . .

* * *

Right after Ipull into Simon’s equally long driveway, another truck pulls in behind me. Great. In the short time it took me to write my note and drive over, Simon had managed to call Drake and get him there as well. This oughta be fun . . . not.

“Cash-Man.” Drake claps me on my shoulder. “Simon said he found you over at Myla’s house?”

“Sure did.”

He presses his lips together and makes a humming sound before opening the door to the house. “Okay. Let’s head inside. You can tell us what’s up. And don’t try feeding us any bullshit. I’ve known you too damn long.”

Following the scent of freshly brewed coffee, we find Simon in the kitchen pouring himself a mug. “So, you want to tell me why you were at Myla’s place? On a Saturday morning, with flowers?” Simon keeps his eyes trained on me.

“I, uh. Well, I guess I need to start at the beginning.” They both nod, waiting for me to continue. “So, the other night at Azteca’s, Azalea asked me to give Myla Rose a ride home . . .” I fill them in on bringing her home and helping her pressure wash the following day.

When I get to the part about our kiss at the Strawberry Festival, I'm prepared for chaos, but it never comes. Other than Simon cracking his knuckles, I'm met with silence. Like, you could hear a pin drop silence. That silence makes me nervous.

Clearing the cobwebs from my throat, I continue. "So, when I ran into her at Dream Beans last week, I asked her to let me take her out to make up for it. She agreed, and last night I took her to Cotton. Dinner was delicious. I mean, outta this world good. And Myla Rose, damn.”

“Myla Rose, what?” Simon questions, his voice deeper than before.

“There’s just somethin’ about that girl. She gets under my skin.”

Simon’s fists clench. He repeats the motion, this time holding—with enough force to turn his knuckles white.

“After dinner, I drove us back to her place and walked her to the door. Being all gentlemanly and shit. We got to the door, and I was trying to read her, figure out what she wanted.”

“The fuck you mean, ‘What she wanted’?” Simon’s voice has taken on a hard edge.

“Uh, I was trying to figure out if she wanted a goodnight kiss. I settled for a hug, but she seemed disappointed, so I went for it.”

Simon is pacing the kitchen, the muscles in his jaw popping.

“You went for it? Just like that?” Drake asks, calm as ever. It’s like BodySnatchers or some shit. Simon is acting a fool, and Drake is all but inscrutable.

“Yeeeaaah . . .” I draw out the word. “I did. But, the moment my lips touched hers, I was gone. Out of this world, out of my mind. All I could think was mine and more. Full-on caveman brain.”

Simon stops his pacing and whips around to face me, his glare pinning me in place.

“So, yeah. It got . . . intense. Skipping to the end of the story—she asked me inside and saw a few texts on my phone from my brother asking me if I had fucked her yet—"

Before I can even finish my sentence, Simon is right there—right in front of me. He yanks me up from the barstool by the collar of my shirt and shoves me back into the wall.

"You even think about touching her, I'll put you down like a goddamn coyote. You hear me? Friend or not, my loyalty is to her.”

Drake tries to pull him back from me, but it’s no use, and I know he needs to say his piece.

“I mean it, Cash, I’ll mess you up. She’s had enough hurt to last a lifetime, and she doesn’t need some jackass lookin’ for an easy lay to mess with her head.” He emphasizes that last little bit by tightening his grip on my shirt.

Looking Simon dead in the eye, I tell him what I never got the chance to tell Myla Rose. "I am not looking for an easy fuck. And if I were, it wouldn't be Myla Rose. You're right—that girl deserves the damn world, and I intend to be the one to give it to her."

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