Flowering - Part Six
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
“I could’ve handled that myself,” Agatha tells Aiden, tossing her head in the direction of the fleeing businessman.
Aiden gets himself back into character. He gives Agatha a small, professional smile.
“Sure, but you shouldn’t have to.” He taps the small white text that says SECURITY on the chest of his jacket. “That’s what we’re here for.”
He actually looks more convincing as hotel security now than he did when I last saw him. He’s wearing a black leather duty belt with a radio, a flashlight, and a set of keys clipped into it. He’s not wearing his Timbs, but a slick and shiny black pair of boots.
Aiden honestly could be security here. The outfit, his powerful build, and the fact that he’s a much better liar than I am, not visibly fretting or anxious at all - it works.
So Agatha is understandably confused about the familiar way I’ve been speaking to him so far.
“D’you guys know each other, or something?” She glances back and forth between us, then points at Aiden. “Is this who you were looking for, Carter?”
Aiden swiftly steps in to save me from having to lie.
“No, not me,” he tells Agatha. “We do know each other, though. Met earlier tonight. VIPs in this hotel get extra security. I’m here escorting Brent Windsor’s girlfriend.”
Agatha blinks in surprise.
“Brent’s-? Oh!” She breaks into a friendly smile as Calla appears beside Aiden. “Hi! Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“Oh, god,” Calla groans, like she’s completely embarrassed. “I don’t blame you for overlooking me! I’m in the worst clothes, right now. This is what I traveled in, and all of my bags got lost at the airport.”
She gestures down at her clothes, the same simple outfit that she was wearing when she met up with me and Aiden earlier.
“Aw, no.” Agatha clicks her tongue sympathetically, then pauses, glancing back at the store. “Wait - Brent’s card is on file in the lobby shops! Do you want to get something before you go up and see him? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, right?”
“Oh, good idea!” Calla looks at the shop, her eyes traveling over the elaborate, glittering clothes in the windows. “Um… I’ll just pick something, then. Maybe - that?”
She points to a random dress, and the expression on her face - she genuinely looks lost, uncertain. I don’t think it’s part of the act. Agatha notices it, and a confused crease appears between her eyebrows.
Calla gives her head a shake, then lets out an apologetic laugh.
“Don’t mind me,” she says, flapping a hand at Agatha. “I just, um. I don’t know what I’m looking at. Dresses aren’t really my thing, normally.”
“Oh.” Agatha smiles warmly at Calla, the confusion clearing from her eyes. “Do you want me to help you pick something out? Carter is treating me to some stuff, too. I’m having fun in there.”
Calla casts her a look of sincere gratitude. “Really?”
“You said you’re Brent Windsor’s girlfriend?” the shop employee cuts in eagerly, leaning out into the lobby. “I’m sure we can find you something! Please, come right in.”
Calla smiles at him, then looks at Agatha again. “Do you have any makeup I could borrow, too?”
“Yeah, in my bag upstairs, we could totally-”
“Excuse me,” a new voice cuts in. “Carter Sibley?”
I turn around to find a different hotel employee standing behind me.
Agatha weaves her fingers through mine again, sets her chin on my shoulder. “Yep, this is Carter.”
“Wonderful.” The employee smiles, then gestures across the lobby. “Mr. Windsor has taken out a private booth in the hotel bar. He asked me to have you meet him there when you’re finished up with what you’re doing.”
I exchange a very swift glance with Aiden, then nod at the employee.
“Great, thanks! We will. I mean - I will!”
The employee vanishes back into the crowd, and I take a fast, desperate second to think.
Aiden and I need to go meet Ralph, who apparently saw fit to take out a fucking private booth in the hotel bar. I guess we do need to establish ourselves as Brent and Carter, and that’s a fast way to do it. Smart, actually.
Still, part of me wants to rush to Ralph and make sure that nothing’s gone wrong. But first, we need to get Calla some clothes.
“Okay, um.” I glance at Aiden, then turn to Calla and Agatha. “You girls wanna buy your clothes, then go up to the room to change? That way you can grab your stuff before you head out, Agatha. And you can meet us in the bar when you’re done.”
They both nod at me. I slip Carter’s hotel room key out of my pocket, hand it over to Calla, and abruptly remember the two unconscious bodies we left up there.
“Just stay out of the bedroom,” I hastily add, catching Calla’s eye. “The situation in there is - just - a big huge mess.”
The significant look she gives me tells me that she understands. “Yeah, alright! See you at the bar.”
She links arms with Agatha, and the two of them disappear into the shop.
I snag the employee’s arm at the door. “Can I just sign in advance?”
I follow him inside, where he hands me a little sheet to sign, then rushes off to help Agatha and Calla. I’m left without a pen, and when I feel around in my jean pockets for one, I come up with an orange marker that I’m pretty sure belongs to Ellen. I forgot it in my pocket after our last science lesson.
Feeling beyond absurd, I scribble out something indiscernible and citrus-scented as Carter’s signature, then join Aiden in the lobby.
Finally alone together, we exchange a long, significant look, eyes full of love.
Then we set off together to go find Ralph.
~~~~
Aiden walks slightly behind me, but sticks close.
I know it’s to make it seem like he’s my private security, but even this amount of proximity to him hits me as another huge wave of warm relief. I breathe better with him here, my fluttery heartbeat finding its footing.
“Holy shit, babe,” I say quietly, walking slow, drawing out our time alone together. “It’s so fucking good to see you right now. Everything that’s happened tonight has been batshit.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Aiden quirks an eyebrow at me. “How’d you end up getting handcuffed?”
Mortified at the memory, I feel my cheeks redden. “There was, um - a bit of a mix-up.”
“Oh?” Aiden laughs. “No shit, man.”
“Did Calla tell you what a god-awful job I did trying to lie?”
“Mhm, she did.” Aiden lets out another laugh, and the soft little huff of it warms me to my toes. “Sounds like you absolutely fucked it, huh? Calla seemed pretty much ready to pick you up by your ankles and swing you into a wall. She said she’s never seen anyone blow it so spectacularly. I’m sad I missed it, if I’m being honest-”
“Okay!” I flap a hand at Aiden, who chuckles softly. “Just a yes would’ve done, but thank you for all that!”
Aiden’s eyes linger on the deepening blush in my cheeks, then flit up to meet my gaze. The smile on his face makes my heart begin to race again, but this time in a way that feels so good. I find myself smiling back at him with love in my eyes, and have to quickly break my gaze away.
Jesus Christ, am I happy to have Aiden with me. I feel so much better, although -
“Should you not come into the bar?” I ask, as we approach the darkened entrance. “Are you gonna be okay in there?”
Aiden brushes lightly up against me. Supposedly jostled by the crowd, but I think he did it on purpose. A fast, stolen moment of comforting contact.
“Cute that you’re worried,” he murmurs. “But I think I’ll be fine. Never did any of my drinking in a bar like this, and - I’ve been feeling really steady, lately.”
I’m secretly glad that we don’t have to split up again so fast, but I keep that to myself. “Okay, but if you’re starting to feel uncomfortable-?”
“I’ll say something,” Aiden rumbles softly. “I promise.”
I let out a relieved breath, then step into the darkness of the bar. Aiden follows right behind me.
“If anything, worry about Ralph,” he growls suddenly, surprising me. “I’m gonna fucking kill him. I can’t believe he got involved in this. Doesn’t he realize that the risk for him-?”
“Later,” I whisper quickly, as the hostess at the front of the bar looks over at us.
“Hello,” she says, with a courteous smile.
“Hi,” I begin nervously, desperately hoping that I won’t have to lie. “Um - is Brent Windsor here?”
“Oh, yes. Are you Carter? He told us you were coming.” She picks up a cocktail menu, then beckons for me. “Right this way.”
My eyes rove over the bar as she leads us inside. It’s an extremely upscale, lounge-style place. Wood-paneled walls, plush seats. Very low lighting, almost dark, everything lit from below with a gentle golden glow. The only bright thing is the wall behind the bar, a shining, illuminated display of glittering bottles of top-shelf liquor.
The bartenders work in the half-light, pouring drinks into frosty glasses and using lighters to add low, rippling flames to the tops of specialty cocktails. Music with a deep, slow bass beat plays at a background volume, beneath a bright layer of chatter from the bar’s guests.
We follow the hostess to the very back of the bar, where there are fewer people. There are three small, intimate spaces carved out of the walls, shadowed in the dim light. Private booths, with private tables.
Ralph is kicked back in one of them, his elbows resting on the back of the booth. He’s got a drink on the table before him, his phone in his hand.
It’s the strangest thing, but he honestly does look - expensive, somehow. The Rolex, Brent’s jacket, the lazy and disdainful way he’s lounging back like this bar belongs to him - it all serves to make his own threadbare clothes seem intentionally worn-out, a style choice.
Ralph is playing the part to perfection. He genuinely looks like a very wealthy man.
But the moment he looks up and sees us, he looks like Ralph again to me. And not the same Ralph I knew at the start of last summer. That Ralph tried to force a drink down Aiden’s throat at Angie’s party.
This Ralph stares at Aiden, here in the bar, and a troubled expression instantly comes over his grey-green eyes.
Aiden is looking at him almost the exact same way. With obvious, serious concern.
But they both pull it together before the hostess can notice the change in their expressions. It’s there and gone in a flash.
“Your guest is here, Mr. Windsor,” the hostess says, gesturing to me.
“Carter.” Ralph tosses his phone down, then picks up his glass. “Fucking finally. Sit down, we’re having a drink.”
I move closer to the table, and Ralph’s eyes flit to Aiden, like he just noticed him there.
“Who’re you?” he asks, around a sip of his drink.
“Hotel security,” Aiden says, his deep voice firm and professional. “I wanted to check in with you, Mr. Windsor. Make sure that you haven’t had any problems so far.”
Ralph absorbs that, then shrugs. “Alright, whatever. You sit down, too.”
The hostess excuses herself, leaving me and Aiden with Ralph. We take a look at the booth, realizing at the same time that the seating arrangement isn’t ideal. There’s no single booth seat, and no chairs. This bar decided to go more modern, I guess, and just have large, leather-bound cubes placed around the table for seating purposes.
But the cubes are tucked halfway beneath the table. There’s no room to walk between the table and the cubes, or between the cubes and the curved wall of the booth.
We all have to be close together, so we can talk quietly. So we need to sit next to Ralph, who is all the way on the opposite side of the table.
As a result, Aiden and I end up having to sit on each cube and awkwardly half-hop, half-bounce along them towards Ralph until we get to the right seat. The cubes deflate slightly beneath me and tremendously beneath Aiden, sending up a sharp squeak of leather each time we hop to the next one.
“Oh, my god,” Ralph sputters, watching with wide, incredulous eyes as we loudly close in on him from either side. “This is - you fucking idiots, why didn’t you just move the table?”
“Oh, the table moves?” I ask, out of breath as I finally stop on the cube next to Ralph.
“Are you done?” he groans, looking around to make sure that no one saw that. “Great. Powerhouse intellects, the two of you. And can someone explain to me what the fuck Aiden is doing in a bar? Get out, man, what are you thinking?”
“I’m fine,” Aiden says heatedly, fixing his blazing glare on Ralph. “I can handle myself, alright? You’re the one who’s lost your fucking mind! Do you realize what the hell you’ve done, Ralph, getting tangled up in this?”
Ralph matches Aiden’s glare, and then some.
“I know what I’m doing, okay?” he snaps, keeping his voice low, almost to a whisper. “I can handle myself, too.”
“What if you get caught, dude?” Aiden makes a frustrated gesture at Ralph like he wants to grab him and give him a hard shake. “You’ve never even done anything like this before tonight, have you? A fucking heist?”
“So what?”
“So - at least Jamie and I have done this shit before! We’re more qualified than you.”
“Oh, really?” Ralph arches a skeptical eyebrow. “You two are seasoned vets, huh? Been doing it that long?”
Aiden’s glare darkens. “Way longer than you’d think, man!”
“Yeah!” I jump in. “It’s been like - what, a couple of months, now?”
Aiden closes his eyes, then presses his palms over them. “Jamie. That’s not helpful.”
Ralph makes a soft scoffing sound, leaning further over the table towards Aiden.
“My qualifications are just as good as yours, Aiden!” he says, speaking very fast, breaking into a full-on whisper-shout. “We’ve been doing shit like this since we were kids! First day I met you, we stole something together.”
“It was one fucking bottle of hot sauce, dude, and we were thirteen!” Aiden’s voice is suddenly strained, his blue eyes anguished. “That’s not the same thing! You could get in real trouble for this!”
Ralph stops, staring at Aiden. I think I know why. Aiden just said almost exactly what I said to Ralph in the hotel room, when I was having a meltdown over his involvement in the heist.
I have the sneaking suspicion that Ralph just recognized Aiden’s anger for what it really is. Worry, concern for him.
Ralph sits back, his eyes confused again, his hands resting loosely around the drink on the table. He looks like he doesn’t know what to say, and apparently Aiden is all out of words, too, because he runs a frustrated hand through his hair and drops his head a little, breaking his gaze away from Ralph’s.
“Okay,” I say quietly, glancing between the two of them. “Um - can we-?”
“Look,” Ralph cuts in, his voice suddenly calm and quiet again. “I’m here, okay? I’m in. It’s too late to go back, we - we’ve just gotta take this ride to the end.”
Aiden lets out a heavy breath, runs a hand over his stubbled jaw, and winces deeply. But he doesn’t argue. We all know that Ralph is right.
Aiden leans forward, rests his elbows on the table. Ralph waves off a waiter who was on his way over to take my drink order. He looks at Aiden silently, waiting for him to share what news he has with us.
“We need to regroup with the whole team,” Aiden murmurs, keeping his voice low. “We’ve got stuff to tell you guys. Looks like you’ve got stuff to tell us, too.”
Ralph glances up over his head, his eyes searching the bar. “Where’s Calla? She okay?”
“She’s doing some damage to Brent’s credit card,” I answer, gesturing in the direction of the lobby. “Buying herself some new clothes in the lobby shops.”
Ralph immediately broke into a smirk at the mention of Calla abusing Brent’s credit card, but he looks puzzled at the second piece of information. “New clothes, why?”
“Because she needs to look the part,” Aiden explains. “We decided that she’s Brent’s girlfriend, for tonight.”
Ralph draws back sharply, staring at Aiden.
“Calla - Brent’s girlfriend?” he asks, apparently struggling to absorb that.
“She can’t just keep lurking around the safe room,” Aiden tells Ralph. “Not in what she’s wearing right now. She’s standing out. She needs an excuse to be in the hotel, and this way she can also help you sell the Brent act.”
Aiden pauses, taking in the look on Ralph’s face, then adds - “It’s not for real, man. Don’t get nervous.”
“I fucking know that, obviously!” Ralph says instantly, glaring at Aiden. “We’ve just gotta be careful with how much shit we straight-up make up about Brent. I’ve been trying to get some intel on the AG’s whereabouts, but all anybody knows is that he’s not here. He could come back at any time. Now if he runs into me, Jamie, or Calla, we’re fucked.”
“Well, you’re the one who said to just stay calm, stick to the plan, and everything would go smooth,” I remind him. “Think that’s pretty much all we can do, right? Since we don’t know when he’ll be here, anyways? Just do that.”
“You’ve got some nerve telling me to stay calm, Keane.” Ralph shakes his head at me, exasperated. “After the way you folded after one question from Kate?”
Aiden lets out a deeply regretful sigh. “So sad I missed that.”
Ralph laughs quietly, catches Aiden’s eye. “You should’ve seen it, dude. It was something.”
Aiden laughs, and I toss my hands up in the air indignantly, which makes Ralph laugh, too.
I’m pleasantly surprised to see them laughing together, but I scowl deeply at both of them.
“Alright,” I groan. “You know what? I’m out of here. I was having a better time with Agatha, so. Fuck you guys.”
I try to dramatically storm out, an effort wholly undercut by me having to make my exit by half-bouncing along the leather cubes. I get two away before Ralph seizes my arm and drags me back. Aiden drops his face into his hands, fighting hard to suppress another laugh.
“For fuck’s sake, Jamie!” Ralph wrenches me back onto my original cube. “Don’t you go anywhere! And didn’t I just fuckin’ say that you can move the goddamn table?”
“I forgot that it moves!” I press my fingers to my burning cheeks, grateful for the darkness of the booth, which is keeping us mostly hidden from the other guests. “There’s a lot going on, right now! Fuck these cubes!”
“And you’re telling me to stay calm and stick to the plan?” Ralph lets out a low whistle, like he can’t believe it. “Jesus Christ. Fact is, I’m the only one who’s actually had his head in the game this whole time. You two should be taking your cues from me, because then maybe holy fucking shit. Holy shit, oh my god.”
Ralph shuts up and goes perfectly motionless, staring across the bar with enormous eyes.
I turn to follow his gaze, then stop still.
Calla has arrived.
She’s striding across the bar towards us. She’s already changed into her new dress, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
The fabric almost looks like gold leaf, but there’s a rich, silky softness to it. It dances gracefully with every step that Calla takes. It picks up the low, warm light of the bar, glitters and glows like it’s been gently powdered with diamond dust.
It’s a dramatic look. The dress has a deep, plunging neckline, a fitted waist that spreads into a flowing, floor-length skirt. Calla’s makeup is much softer than Agatha’s, though I have the sneaking suspicion that Agatha did it for her. They picked out a pair of earrings at the shop, too, it looks like. Two shiny golden hoops in Calla’s ears, which go exceptionally well with her buzzed hair.
She looks amazing.
Agatha is walking alongside her, smiling brightly, clearly happy with how Calla’s look turned out. The hostess is also walking with them, leading the way over to our booth.
But Ralph’s eyes don’t break away from Calla for even a second. He stares at her in wide-eyed, slack-jawed silence until she and Agatha stop before the table.
The hostess gestures to Calla. “This young lady says that you asked her to meet you here, Mr. Windsor?”
Ralph doesn’t seem to realize that someone said something to him. There’s a second or two of silence while everyone just looks at him expectantly, and then I feel Aiden covertly kick his foot under the table.
Ralph blinks hard, then clears his throat, straightening up.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, his eyes on Calla’s face. “Yeah, that’s - that’s my girlfriend.”
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