“What do you want?” the man asked.
“Like I was saying before you fucking interrupted, we have a common friend.” Marty grabbed him by the collar and dragged him roughly toward the couch. “Have a seat.” He shoved him so the man fell back against the cushions. “I won’t hurt you unless you make me, Tim.”
“Okay.” Tim looked both confused and terrified at the realization his intruder knew who he was.
“Her name is Ryden,” Marty said. “She’s the florist you’ve been jerking off to.”
The man’s pupils grew even larger. “What about her?”
“I need you to call her and ask her over.”
“Why?”
Marty bent over so his face was only a few inches from Tim’s. “Because I say so.” His tone was calm, but the smile that followed was feral.
“I hardly know her. What’s this about?”
“I want to talk to her.”
“I can tell you where she works.”
“I know where she works, stupid. I want her here.” Marty snatched Tim’s phone from its charging station on the coffee table and threw it at him. “Make it happen.”
“Look, I don’t know what she’s done or why you want her,” Tim said, “but I guarantee you I had nothing to do with it.”
Marty punched him in the stomach again, hard enough to get quick compliance. He deliberately avoided Tim’s face or anywhere that would leave a bruise. “Just get her the fuck over here.”
Doubled over in pain, Tim rasped, “How?”
“This is what you’re going to do. Call and ask her to deliver some flowers. Tell her you’re sick and can’t do it yourself.”
“What if she can’t?” Tim asked. “Or won’t?”
“It’s her fucking job.”
“I’ll…” Tim coughed. “I’ll try.”
Marty dialed the florist’s number and put the call on speakerphone before handing it to Tim. “One wrong word,” he said, pointing the gun at Tim’s head as they waited for someone to answer, “and you’re screwed.”
A female voice came on the line. “Bloom Room. This is Ryden. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Ryden. It’s Tim. Listen, I can’t make it in today, so I was wondering if you could deliver?”
A brief hesitation on the other end of the line, then, “What’s wrong?”
“Stomach problems, I think.” Tim was clutching his abdomen, and Marty had to smile at the guy’s unintentionally witty reply.
“Um…Tim, listen. You’re a nice enough guy and all, but you gotta understand, I’m not interested. So, if this is your way of getting me to your place, then—”
“It’s nothing like that, Ryden. I—”
Marty shoved the end of his gun hard into Tim’s stomach.
“I’m really…not well.” Tim’s tone was convincing, with good reason. He looked like he was on the verge of throwing up or pissing his pants.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Ryden asked. “You don’t sound too good.”
“Doc said I need some bed rest. I think some flowers will help make me feel better, too.”
“Um, yeah…okay. I can be there in an hour.”
“Hurry…” Tim shrank back against the couch when he caught Marty’s scowl. “I mean, that’s great.”
“Do you have any preference?”
“No, it’s up to you. You know what I like.”
“I’ll see you later. Get some rest.”
Tim disconnected and gave the receiver back to Marty with shaking hands.
“You did good.” Marty stuck the phone in his jacket and sank into the armchair opposite the couch. “Looks like we’ve got an hour to kill.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “So, how’s life?”
Before Tim could answer, the doorbell rang. Marty scrambled back to his feet. “Who you expecting?” he asked in a low voice.
“My ex-wife.”
“Fuck.” Marty pulled Tim up roughly and pushed him toward the door. “Go answer and no bullshit. Same drill. Tell the bitch to go away.”
As Tim stumbled forward, Marty stayed on his heels, his gun pointed at the back of Tim’s head. He hid himself behind the door and motioned for Tim to open it.
“Hi, Rhonda. I know we’ve got things to discuss, but today’s not good.” Tim’s words poured out in a rush. “Looks like I came down with some stomach thing, and—”
Before he could finish, a forty-something redhead trailing cheap perfume pushed past him and into the room. “I don’t care what bug you’ve got crawling where,” she replied, half shouting the words. “You’re late again with this month’s—”
When Marty slammed the door shut, Rhonda wheeled around and found herself looking down the barrel of his gun. She went ashen and froze.
“Plant your ass on the couch.” He waved the gun in that direction. “One more word out of you and it’ll be your last. Got it?”
When she hesitated, her eyes glancing about for escape, Tim grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her across the room. They sat side by side, Rhonda clutching Tim’s hand so hard he winced.
“Loud-mouth bitch, aren’t you?” Marty said as he settled back into the armchair, enjoying the sudden change in her demeanor. Her eyes were about to pop out of her head, giving her a vaguely owlish look. “Used to have one of ’em myself,” he added, looking empathetically toward Tim. “Always bitchin’ about something.” Glancing at his watch, he saw they had forty minutes more to wait. Plenty of time. “Now, where were we?” he asked Tim. “Oh, yeah. You were going to tell me about your life.”
*
“I have to make a delivery.” Ryden shouted so Magda would come take her place at the counter. “I’m going straight home after that.” She’d chosen a mix of wildflowers to cheer up Tim. They were colorful and would keep well but weren’t too pungent for a queasy stomach.
“Who are they for?” Magda asked as she emerged from the back room.
“Tim.”
“Ah.” Magda nodded knowingly with a mischievous smile. “Your Tim.”
“He’s not mine, and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped insinuating otherwise.”
“All I’m saying, dear, is that he’s a nice man with a decent job, and he’s smitten with you. You’re the only reason he comes in every week, you know.”
“I do know, and I don’t care,” she replied.
“You didn’t seem to mind his rather prolonged visit last time. I even saw you smile.”
“Oh, my, could it be I’m desperately in love with him and am subconsciously playing hard to get?” Ryden sighed. She didn’t know why she bothered to even reply. Magda wouldn’t get her sarcasm any better than she’d get any of the dozen other ways she’d tried to dissuade her from matchmaking. “Anyway…whatever, I better get going.”
“See you in the morning.” Magda smiled. “Have a fun time with Tim.”
Although she liked her boss, at times like this Ryden wanted to throw her in the stem cutter. The only way to end the debate, at least for now, was to shock Magda’s conservative sensibilities. “You know, I might just stay there all night. Hell, maybe even all week. Hide in his apartment and have wild passionate sex till I need resuscitation and then go back for more.”
Magda blushed. “Ryden!”
“See you.” Ryden winked at her and left.
Not long after, she arrived at the address they had on file for Tim, a ten-minute walk from the flower shop. It was a two-story, single-family home in a quiet neighborhood, nearly obscured from the street by tall greenery.
She was about to ring the bell when she noticed the door was ajar. She rang anyway, and when no one answered, she pushed the door open another few inches. “Tim? You there?”
When no one replied, she cracked the door a little farther and stepped just inside the threshold. “Tim,” she shouted, much louder this time. “Are you okay?” Still no answer. She started to worry. He hadn’t sounded well on the phone. What if he’d been so violently ill he’d passed out…or worse? Perhaps, she considered, he’d been rushed to the hospital and the paramedics hadn’t shut the door properly.