Page 3 of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde

Her words hung in the air for one endless, excruciating moment. From his post against the back wall, James shook his head sadly and exited the room.

“Jesus, send the flood,” whispered Carole, polishing off her fourth vodka tumbler.

“I’ve always wanted a flower shop. My entire life.” And then the details spilled from Ricki like molten lava. “You guys don’t know this, but I create floral designs. It’s my passion! And I’m good.Reallygood. I actually run a floristry account on Instagram. I kept it secret from you, but… yeah, it has three hundred seventy-two thousand followers. I do a lot of brand partnerships,” she said with hesitant pride. “I made thousands off my last sponsorship with a brilliant cactus artisan.”

Perplexed, Richard looked at Carole. “The hell is a cactus artisan?”

“Ricki, are you on that stuff?”wailed Carole.

“I’m not on drugs, Mom,” sighed Ricki. “I raised enoughmoney through partnerships to afford night school at Chattahoochee Tech. In May, I received a horticulture associate of applied science degree! And I did it while holding down three floral design apprenticeships.”

“Everything you just said sounds poor,” said Rashida.

“I just can’t picture you operating a business,” scoffed Regina. “I’ve seen you crumble in Excel.”

“Think of the optics,” urged Rashida. “You really want to be the sister who failed out of the family business… to sell carnations? This pursuit is silly. We are not silly.”

Ricki snorted. “Sure, Pass Away Café.”

“Dare I ask,” started Richard, all controlled tension, “if you have a business plan?”

“I do!” And she did, but now she was losing confidence, fast. “Sort of? I guess before I shared it, I wanted to get your thoughts on the idea. Your approval.”

“Hold on,” blurted out Rae. “You’re a secret plant-fluencer? What’s your account?”

“It’s called Botany Flowers Lately.”

Rashida blinked. “That’s not a name—that’s a question.”

“It’s apun,” answered Ricki. And then, because she’d had it up to here, she snapped. “And it’s a fucking good pun! Be happy I decided against ‘I’m Sexy and I Grow It’!”

Incensed, she shot out of her chair. “You know what? Y’all have this rigid idea of what success looks like. Which is fine, but it’s not mine. I don’t want your life. And I’m not cut out for the funeral business. I feel like I’m trying to fit a circle in a square. I feel like I’m disappearing.”

“Why can I hear you at eleven decibels, then?” moaned Carole, gripping her forehead with a dainty hand. She stood up, swaying a tad. “How dare you spit in the face of everything Richard’s done to give us such privilege? I’m going to bed. May God cover you, Rae.”

“Ricki,” corrected Rae.

“Exactly,” she slurred nonsensically. And then James reappeared to escort her away.

“I’ve heard enough.” Rashida rose from her seat. “Ricki, you’ve officially lost it. Good luck, girlboss.”

Regina and Rae hopped up, spun on their heels, and followed Rashida out. Now it was just Ricki and her dad. Calmly, he took one last sip of his wine and faced his youngest daughter. The one he liked the best. His baby, who was supposed to be a boy and be named after him—Richard Wilde Jr.—but, from the start, had refused to follow the path set out for her.

His baby, who, despite being a girl, was named Richard Wilde Jr. anyway because her mother had been fresh out of good femaleRnames.

Wearily, he frowned in her direction.

“Richard,” he started.

“Yes, Richard?”

“I always try to be patient with you. Because of your attention disordered… uh… deficit… disease.”

Ricki’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks?”

“Your sisters are tiresome bitches.”

“I’vebeensaying!”

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