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Chapter four

Janae

T oday started off like any other day. I got up, dressed and went to work. That’s when it seemed like it took a nosedive. Every single person in Vegas who forgot and wanted to get last minute flowers has either called me or has been rude to me, like this man now.

“Do you have any more roses?” an older gentleman asks me as he pushes up his glasses.

This feels like the hundredth person to come into this shop asking me about flowers today. Don’t they realize that ordering flowers on Valentine’s Day is not going to work? Our inventory of roses was reserved for weeks in advanced, though people like this man don’t seem to care.

“I’m sorry, we are out of roses. Can I get you some daisies instead?” I ask him while plastering on a smile, hoping that he doesn’t see how much his attitude rubs me wrong.

I watch as the man runs his hands through his hair. Trying to keep his anger back, he replies to me through clenched teeth, “No. I want roses or at least something that screams ‘Valentine’s Day.’”

I lean forward, resting my elbows against the counter when I lock eyes with him, and my smile drops. Pretending to look at a clock behind him, I begin, “I’m going to say this one last time and maybe you’ll get this through your head. Considering it’s five o’clock on actual Valentine’s Day. No. We don’t have any flowers that are actually for Valentine’s Day. They have all been ordered for weeks.”

I push back from the counter and plaster on a smile once more. “Now, can I get you a bouquet of daisies?”

The man in front of me drops his head, muttering, “Yes. That will be fine.”

“Great. Let me get those for you,” I say, leaving him where he stands and heading into the back room to the refrigerator.

The commotion between Ed and Millie fills my ears the moment I walk over the threshold. “Another order? What type of flower this time?” Ed asks me as soon as he sees me walk into the back room.

Ed and Millie are the best. They’re an elderly couple who have been married for thirty years, though they started the florist shop only fifteen years ago. When I came to them looking for an internship to help fulfill the credit for my horticultural class, they were the only ones who gave me a chance and I’ve been grateful ever since.

“Yep. I’m just trying to figure out if the flowers are for his wife, or girlfriend,” I answer him as I walk into the refrigerator, grabbing the daisies before heading back out to the arrangement table. “This time I got the customer to buy the daisies,” I inform both of them as I hold up a few of the flowers.

I kneel down to the shelf under the table and grab one of our basic glass vases. Pulling it back out, I begin to make the arrangement for the man out front. This is what I love. I don’t really care for all the customer service this job requires. What I really want to do is just stay in the back room making arrangements. People make everything worse where flowers make everything better.

“I bet it’s his girlfriend. If he’s okay with daisies instead of pushing for a more prestigious flower, then he just cares that he has something in hand,” Ed chimes in and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, Millie smacks him on the shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter who the flowers are for, we are here to create beautiful arrangements for them.” Millie points her finger at each of us. Then she turns on me. “And I’ve told you over and over again not to encourage him, Jay.”

“Sorry, Millie. It was just a bit of fun,” I mutter, continuing on and finishing up the arrangement.

Ed and Millie continue trimming flowers, bantering back and forth, but I tune them out. Minutes later, I take the vase and head back to the front of the store. “Here you go, one vase full of daisies,” I say putting it down on the counter, then I type the amount into the cash register. “That will be forty dollars.”

The man gasps. “Forty dollars? That is a rip off, they’re just flowers.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s still forty dollars,” I tell him, putting my hand out and waiting for payment.

He continues to mutter under his breath about it not being worth it, but the man still pays and that’s all that matters. As soon as he’s done, just like clockwork, another person walks into the shop, also looking for flowers.

Hours go by before the shop, even somewhat calms down. This is why I hate Valentine’s Day. I glance at my phone. “Shit. I’m late.”

Right then, Ed comes out. “Late for what, Jay?”

Gathering all of my stuff together, I mutter, “I’m supposed to meet Sam and a guy tonight.”

“Ooh, you have a date?”

“No. Sam just thinks I need to get out more,” I tell him.

“Well, she’s right,” Millie chimes in behind her husband. “All you ever do is work. Here, let me help you,” she says as she hands me my jacket. “Now, go have some fun.”

“I won’t have fun, but I’m going,” I say as I rush out the door. Pulling my phone out, I send Sam a message.

Me: Sorry I’m late. Got caught up at the shop. Be there soon.

Sam: Okay. See you when you get here.

I shove my phone back into my purse as I reach my car. Starting up the car, I reverse out of my parking spot and head to Moe’s. The whole time I’m driving, I just pray this guy isn’t a total douche. It’s hard to know when it comes to Sam and her taste in men.