Page 13 of Kylo
“It doesn’t have to be. Plenty of people stick a spider plant in their kitchen, water it every now and again, and move on with their lives. But if you’re already that ‘into’ plants without havingany yet, I have a feeling you’re going to become a plant person. In which case, you’re going to want everything.”
“Do you have everything?”
“Everything,” I admitted.
“Plants included?”
“Well, no. I’m not a succulent or cactus person, so I don’t have any of those. But, yes, my house is packed. I keep telling myself I’m done… then a new type of plant hits the market and I have to have it.”
“How often do new plants like that come in?”
“Well, I get a shipment each month,” I told him. For the first time, my stomach didn’t tighten at the mention of that. “But they’re not always new plants, just new stock. At least once or twice a year, though. It would be more often than that but new varieties cost an absolute fortune.”
“How much is a fortune?”
“I think the most I’ve seen is over thirty grand. But most of them average three or four hundred until they are more widespread and cultivated by other sellers. So when a fun new plant comes out, I usually just buy one for the shop, wait for it to get big enough, and take clippings to root my own.”
“So, what’s the most expensive plant for sale right now?”
“The most expensive ones just came in, but they’re in quarantine. But… oh, the Philodendron Pink Princess is about fifty,” I told him, picking up the small starter plant with dark green leaves and splashes of vivid pink.
“A Philodendron, huh?” he asked, gears turning.
“Fair warning, I almost killed mine when I first got it. It did come back, but it was super finicky.”
“I’ll think on it then. Any chance I could get a peek at the greenhouse?”
“Oh, sure. Yeah. It’s disgusting in them, but we can check them out,” I said, moving down the aisle to make my way toward the door.
This guy was about to follow me, but he heard a little bellow coming from Ernest as he dreamed, making him seek out the sound.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice going a little singsong.
“Ernest,” I said.
“Ernest,” he repeated, a smile cracking that gorgeous, chiseled face of his.
“It’s from a movie,” I admitted. “He’s friendly, if you want to say hi. But he probably won’t even look at you.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, walking over to my dog, crouching down, then stroking his hands down Ernest’s long, velvety ears.
To my surprise, Ernest opened his eyes to watch the stranger as he jiggled his face fat and neck wrinkles.
“Look at all this skin, man,” he said as Ernest yawned. “Hate to say it, but you might need a little nip and tuck, my friend.”
A little laugh escaped me at that.
“Sometimes, when he lays upside down, he looks like he’s melting,” I admitted.
“I can picture it. Well, nice to meet you, Ernest. Your mom is gonna take me outside now.”
At the ‘O’ word, Ernest perked up. Then he did the slowest stretch ever before standing next to the man.
“Can he come with us?”
“Sure.”
“Does he need a leash?”
