WILDFLOWER
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
The first thing Ivy did when we got settled was find the night life scene.
Of all the different states in Xynthonia, Monoris is best known for its artistic and club scene. The best actors, singers, painters, you name it, are from Monoris. That’s why when we were looking for somewhere to move, Monoris was on the top of Ivy’s list.
“Girl come on, get dressed!” She said one night.
“I am dressed.”
She stopped, looked me up and down and said, “Oh.”
“Ivy, you fucking bitch.” I laugh.
“I mean if you like it, I love it, bitch.”
Ivy was always gorgeous.
Dark skinned and glowing in the right light. She had a long frame, high cheekbones and medium sized lips. Passing or not, most girls aren't stunning like Ivy and I was no exception. Her favorite color was red, blood red. So Ivy went out and bought all red wigs or if she couldn’t find one in the right color, she would buy it and dye it to her signature color. Then she would wear a matching blood red lip with gloss that made her look like a vampire that has just fed.
That night it was a red bob and a little black dress with green strappy heels. She had been eyeing them since we moved in. I saved up for forever to get her those shoes.
Sometimes, especially that night, I would find myself being kind of jealous of Ivy. Ivy didn’t need ‘FFS’or facial feminization, but I did. We were both on hormones so we both developed breasts. Both had similar skin tones, but I had a slightly brighter complexion. Didn’t matter though because with the long hours I work, I can never take care of it, so I often get pimples, often get bags and lines. Ivy was always gorgeous.
I wasn’t.
“Well girl, let's go then.” Ivy started to move.
“You really think I don’t look good?” I asked, looking at myself in the mirror.
I was wearing a violet crop tank and high-waisted jeans with a black leather jacket. My hair was out and shoulder length. I’m not as tall as Ivy is, even with heels.
“It’s not about what I think, it’s about what you think.”
“But do you think I look good? Like, what if we go out? You think anyone's gonna clock me?”
“Girl you are a fem-QUEEN, stop.” She says sarcastically but keeps moving towards the door. “Let's go, the men are waiting.”
“No, but really, what’s wrong with my outfit?”
Ivy sucks her teeth, “Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just Plain Jane.”
I look at myself in the mirror. I’m fairly fit, I always have been. I even got into school on a track and field scholarship, but I never lift weights so I don’t gain too much muscle.
“Okay, look. You over here wasting time picking and poking at yourself. You won't be the prettiest girl in the ball. So what? Pretty comes a dime a dozen anyway.” Ivy huffed as she came back towards me. She put down her handbag and picked up an eyeliner pencil working it under my eyes. “All it takes is a little bit of liner and a pump of the girls, and your head held high and an attitude that says the world is yours.”
Ivy plumped up my boobs and fluffed up my hair.
“Now can we please go?”
#
It’s been about two years, maybe three since that night. I’ve gone out to clubs with Ivy since then, only when I could afford them. Ivy wanted me to come to this club specifically for forever, so it figures I’d be here now. Still, familiarity doesn’t make me any less nervous. I’ve never been good around too many people. The bass of the music pulsed through the doors and two large men stood on each side. Pointing flashlights at ID’s.
The line to get in wrapped around the block. I was only a couple people away from the door and already had my wallet and ID ready to show. I took a steadying breath when it was finally my turn. I headed to the first large guy and handed him my ID.
“Why are you so nervous?” He asked.
“It's my first time here.” I say suddenly feeling the cold wind against my exposed skin.
I wasn’t planning on partying or being here long, I just want to ask some of the girls some questions. Still, I thought it would be a good idea to dress up. I may not be the prettiest girl in the bar, but maybe if I try to look the part, someone will talk to me - hoping they know something. I was wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck dress with a little cut out on the breasts paired with matching heels. My hair was loose and my shins were sore but I was going to get my answers tonight.
The bouncer looked me up and down before taking my ID. The look was colder than the air. He shined his flashlight over the ID, looked at it for a second and then handed it back to me. “Bag.”
I take the ID back and open my purse, keeping it hanging off of my shoulder before I get the nerve to ask, “Hey do you know Ivy?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t even look at me.
“Maybe you saw her around? She’s about 6’ even, dark skinned, high cheekbones, red wig.”
“You’re holding up the line.” He holds the door open.
Our eyes meet and I can see it in his eyes that he’s not answering anything so I go inside. Little did I know that this would be a signal of how the rest of the night was going to be. I’d approach someone with a picture of us together on my phone and ask, “Do you know this woman? Have you seen her?”
Bartender: “Don’t know her.”
Waitress one: ignores me
Dancer: walks right past me.
Waitress two: “Sorry, can't help you.”
DJ: “no clue.” but wouldn’t even look at me.
This was a mistake.
I’m leaning over the sink trying my best not to hyperventilate. One steady breath, two, and my eyes drift to my reflection in the dirty mirror. I study my reflection. My hair has grown significantly since the two or three years since that conversation with Ivy. I wore extensions to make my hair even longer in a coffee brown. I also learned how to do my makeup and found a skincare routine that works for me. Then I have a sharp wing eyeliner and violet eye shadow.
I did the work. Very much so do I look the part. Ivy could be lost or scared somewhere or hurt and someone here could know where she is and I can’t even get someone to answer where she is because I can’t even fake being strong enough to-
The thought stops immediately.
“Hey.” A bottle girl approaches from the door. “The bosses wanna speak to you.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“Let’s go.”
I should’ve left.
Every instinct in my body is telling me to leave. Get on the train, go home and see if I can visit any hospitals or police stations to see if I can find Ivy that way. But no, that would be too easy. Too smart. Too responsible. No. Instead, I follow her.
The further we get from the dance floor, the quieter it becomes. The bass dulls into a distant heartbeat. We passed the velvet rope, then another hallway guarded by men with black masks. We passed private booths still busy with bottle girls and boys walking in and out. I could hear the moans and ecstasy fueled grunts and slapping skin over the beating music. I’m looking at the bottle girl and notice a sigil burned into her lower back in black. It looks infected but not like it’s bothering her - maybe it’s a tattoo?
Finally, we reach two more men in black with ski masks standing guard outside a pair of double doors.
The bottle girl gave three quick raps on the door and opened them.
More voices spill into the hallway.
“I’m telling you, somebody knew.”
“Or you’re just sloppy.”
“Watch your mouth.” one of them threatens.
I stop in the doorway and quickly turn as the bottle girl closes the doors behind me. The room was focused on itself.
No one looks at me.
No one cares I’m there.
A long table adorned with bottles and empty glasses stretches across the center of the beautiful, black and gold marble room. Five men surrounded it. Two were standing in a face off on opposite ends in a heated argument. One had his legs kicked up on the table crossed over each other.
On one side, is a heavier set, fair skinned man, turned red with anger. He has a semi-connected goatee and peach fuzz around his cheeks. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that touches his upper back. He’s leaning over the table with his fists steadying him and tattooed on one of his hands is what looks like the planetary alignments, except the planets are replaced by symbols and the sun is blocked by a gold watch.
Meeting his glare is a darker skinned man matching it with his own. He has droopy eyes and his hair in twisted locks tied into a ponytail. His suit seems to be suede compared to everyone else’s. His unbuttoned shirt reveals layered chains and an Ancient-Egyptian neckpiece tattoo across his collar.
Sitting next to him is a taller, more slender man with his legs up on the table. Another fair skinned one. He’s smoking something, a cigar maybe? Even sitting down, I can tell how tall he is. Snake-like. Serpentine. He has a tattoo under his right eye and long dreadlocks wrapped around in twists and forming a massive barrel roll going down his back.
The next one, sitting on the opposite side of the heavier one, is another darker skinned guy with a tapered buzz cut. Honestly the most handsome of the group. Still, there was something in his eye. He sat the straightest. Eyes watching with seriousness and silver glinting beneath his black.
Finally at the head, with the serpent insignia hanging over head between the black and gold paneling is one with his legs crossed over each other. He wore a short tapered afro and had his lips tight together. I noticed that when I walked in, his eyes never left me. Like he was peering into my soul.
The arguing doesn’t stop. Instead, it picks up.
“That’s the third shipment this month.” The handsome one stated.
“Fourth, actually.” The snake-like one corrected.
“Third, fourth - it doesn’t matter!” The darker skinned one yells. “Either way, we’re losing money.” The standing dark skinned one’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought he’d crack a tooth.
“Money? That’s what you’re worried about?” The heavier one with the ponytail snarled.
“You should be too.”
“Not when the products are ending up in my neighborhood! We had a deal! I help you out but you keep that shit away from my family.”
So then that’s Enzo.
The snake-like one exhales smoke. “Hey, if your neighborhood wasn’t buying it, it wouldn’t be there.”
“Kids are buying it!” Enzo shot back.
“Kids buy everything.” the seated one shoots back.
“Then stop selling it to them.”
The men stared the heavier one down.
“Careful.” the one standing said.
“Or what?” Enzo dared.
“Enough.”
The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The room instantly fell silent.
It was the one at the head. His posture remained relaxed.
Nobody spoke after he did. Nobody moved.
“D’shae,” The man said.
The dark-skinned man looked away first.
“Enzo.”
Enzo exhaled sharply and slowly sat back down.
The handsome one with the buzzcut spoke next. “We have two problems.”
“Missing shipments.”
Then:
“Someone attacking our interests.”
The room was quiet for only a second. “Or someone informing them.” D’shae said.
Everyone’s attention was on him now and the room went still. D’shae took out his phone, sliding it across the table.
“Every shipment has been rerouted.” the one with the locs says.
“So?” Enzo watches him.
“So only a handful of people know the updated routes. You’re supposed to be in charge of our shipments, Zo. It’s been months. Why am I the one reporting this stuff?”
The silence that follows is dangerous.
“That’s a serious accusation.” the one at the head of the table says it bluntly.
“It’s a serious situation.” The snake-like one responds.
“So you think there’s a rat.” The handsome one responds.
D’shae turns his head back to Enzo. “I think someone is talking.”
Nobody answers and for the first time since entering the room, I realize I shouldn’t be hearing any of this. I shift my weight. It was small. It was enough.
The one at the head of the table spoke up. “State your business.”
Every head turned.
The man sitting next to the big guy spoke up. “Ah, I heard you've been out here bothering my girls and guys,” he smiled. “What do you want?”
Every eye watched me. Not just the one at the head of the table who I noticed hasn’t blinked once. I wish they hadn’t. I tighten my grip on my phone and swallow.
“I’m looking for my friend. She was here. She works for you.” I stutter.
There’s a pause. “What’s your name?” He asks.
“Carmella.” I say slow.
“Just Carmella?”
“Bishop. Carmella Bishop.”
“Carmella Bishop.” He says my name slowly. Like he’s tasting it.
“I’m Keelan. Keelan Andrews.”
He held his head high and stood up grabbing two of the glasses and a bottle. Gently he put ice in both of them and then poured a generous amount in both. He stalked towards me.
Casual.
Smooth.
“This girl you’re looking for, the one who works for me,” he says, offering me the glass. “What’s her name?”
“Ivy. Ivy Rose.” I pulled up a picture with shaky fingers and showed it to him.
Keelan trades the glass for the phone and studies it.
No one says anything. Enzo watches me with his eyes peeled, D’shae’s eyes stay between me, Keelan and Enzo. The snake-like one takes a pull from his cigar eyes low but looking me up and down. The last one, the boss. His eyes never left mine.
“Three weeks.” I said. “She’s been gone three weeks.”
Still nothing.
Then Keelan hands back the phone. “I don’t know who this Ivy is.” He sips his drink.
The words knock the wind out of me and the tear drops before I even know it’s fallen. I nod my head and I’m trying to hold myself together, trying to stay powerful. I’m failing.
“But,” he says.
My eyes find his.
“I own a lot of businesses. People talk. Sometimes they tell me things they shouldn’t.”
The hope comes so fast it hurts.
“You can help me?”
“Maybe.”
I’m biting my tongue. I know better than to say anything. But still.
“Tell you what?” He takes another sip and I forgot that I’m still holding the glass. I look between the glass and Keelan. “If I hear or find anything out, I’ll tell you.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I like helping people.”
One of the guys behind him actually laughs. Keelan looks over his shoulder rolling his eyes.
“And because I might ask for something in return.” he added.
And there it is. The catch.
“Something like what?”
“A favor.”
I could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin. The hair on the back of my neck rising. It’s like the air in the room got dense and the only thing I could hear was Keelan’s voice.
“One favor.” He says.
My heart thuds in my throat. I’m fighting something pulsing in my head.
“No.”
And at that, it’s like I’m released. “Then good luck finding your friend.” Keelan shrugs before turning his back to me.
I stare at him.
The room stares at me.
“What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one.”
I swallow. “There’s always a catch”
That makes him laugh.
“Okay, fair.”
“How about this,” He starts. “I don’t know your friend, but, I’ll tell you whatever I find out, and if you find out that I’m lying, I’ll let you take something from me.”
A few heads turned up.
Even Enzo looked up.
“Anything?” I asked.
“Whatever you want.”
The confidence in his voice was absolute and the weight in the room returned. My eyes lock back with his. “Deal?”
My eyes drift down to Keelan’s open palm. My hand finds his and they meet. The sound leaves the room for a second and the next thing I know, something tightens around my wrist. Cold. Invisible. I feel like I’m being pulled towards him.
Our eyes meet again. He smiles. “Enjoy your night Carmella Bishop.”
