Page 59 of Phantom
His words sink in as he keeps driving, and our conversation settles into a comfortable silence with the music playing in the background until the car slows.
He pulls into a parallel parking spot on a street with a mix of shops and cozy shotgun houses.
“We’re here.”
He’s already out of the car and rounding the hood to open my door before I can ask where “here” is. He helps me step up onto the sidewalk and rests his large hand on the small of my back, sending tingling warmth up my spine.
“Hopefully this will answer some of your many questions.”
Finally.
He leads me to a small shop with a cute sign hanging over the door. Saint’s Petals is written in cursive in the center of a pink hyacinth. Sol opens the door for me, letting me enter first, and I inhale deeply as the earthy scent of fresh-cut flowers fills my nose. Sol wraps his arm around my waist and ushers me in. A bell rings to signal our arrival and he promptly lets go before taking a step away from me. The air inside feels chilly without his warm touch.
“I’m coming, hold your horses.” A woman with a thick New Orleans accent warns us from the back of the shop. Only a second passes until a rotund, elderly woman with sun-weathered skin appears, smiling at us before putting on her glasses. When she does, she claps.
“Oh, well don’t you two look prettier than a picture? Mr. Bordeaux, I was wondering when we would get a visit again. I’ve just been sending those roses through errand boys, but I know they’ve appreciated the tips.”
“She loves them, Miss Mabel. I’d like to get her another dozen today.”
‘She’ can speak for herself, I think. But I watch in silence, trying to figure out where this piece of Sol’s life fits in the puzzle I’ve been putting together.
The woman’s rheumy eyes crinkle as her smile grows wider. “Well isn’t she a lucky lady? Consider it done. I know my Simon will be disappointed he missed you, but he had treatment today so he’s feeling under the weather.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
She fiddles with her sugar skull necklace as she shakes her head. “Oh no, it’s just treatments and time right now. Thank you though, sweetheart, you’ve always been such a thoughtful boy. You take after your momma that way.”
Sol smiles again. “Hey, don’t tell anyone, though. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Oh, no need to worry about that. Your secrets are always safe with me. But tell me, who’s your friend, honey?”
I hold my hand out to shake hers and open my mouth to answer but Sol interrupts me.
“This is Maggie’s friend, Miss Mabel. I thought I’d show her the shop where the Bordeauxs get all their flowers, but if you don’t mind, we’re on a tight schedule. I’d hate to keep you open past closing. Is everything ready for tonight?”
Maggie’s friend?I press my hand to the sudden ache in my chest.
“Sure is. All delivered and set up.”
She begins to chatter Sol’s ear off as she prepares a bouquet of white roses in a vase, going on about anything, everything, and nothing in between. The woman has to be the Jaime equivalent of Treme’s neighborhood gossip. To Sol’s credit, he listens, asks questions, and seems genuinely interested. When she’s finished, Sol hands her his black card and she turns around to ring him up.
“I’ve got your regular Sunday bouquet of burgundy snapdragons just about ready for delivery bright and early in the morning, too. People don’t buy fresh flowers like they used to. I’m hoping once the economy picks up that more husbands will treat their wives like you do, Mr. Bordeaux.”
His wife?! He’s been talking about sending flowers to his wife?
Jealousy pricks my heart, but when I try to step even farther away from him, he reaches out and tugs on the ribbon straps of my dress, effectively keeping me in place unless I want to unravel.
“Things will look up soon enough, Miss Mabel. Have a good night and make sure those bouquets keep arriving to the house. I know my wife,Maggie, loves them,” he says with a pointed look to me.
He must want her to think he’s Ben! But why?Her glasses’ lenses are thick, and at this distance with his mask, Sol looks just like his brother.But why would he need to walk around town looking like Ben?
I immediately feel a weird mixture of relief and embarrassment that I was jealous of Ben’swifeand the Bordeaux men’s affection for her. First of all, I adore Maggie. After the shit Monty’s put her through this year, she deserves a daily flower delivery. Second, I have absolutely zero claim over this man walking me out of this gorgeous flower shop. The fact that I care at all has me confused as hell.
Sol lets go of me to grab the flower vase before telling Miss Mabel good night. After we walk out, he moves to open my door and helps me slide inside, placing the vase on the floorboard safely between my legs so it doesn’t spill. When he closes my door I hear a low whistle outside.
Sol straightens and presses his key fob. The doors lock with a chirp and he walks briskly toward an empty space between two shotgun houses. His head is on a swivel, taking in his surroundings, and his hand hovers over a bulge on his right side.
Is that a gun?
