Track 44 Flowers
Track 44
Flowers
The Party According to Veronica
All the romance and coupling around her had Veronica surprisingly pining for her husband. She had hardly been in touch with him since her arrival, partially to torture him a little, and partially because of the Fire Island effect: stepping off the ferry and immediately forgetting the rest of the world’s existence.
Now she found herself not only longing to hear his voice but longing to share the story of how she had saved the day—florally speaking. It had been a long time since Veronica had longed for anything more than the weekly cigarette she poached from her pool guy.
As if reading her mind, Renee approached.
“Veronica,” she gushed, “how can I ever thank you. The arrangements are stunning! I’m so happy you are here!”
Veronica’s smile was so big, it almost cracked her Botox.
Renee moved on through the crowd, and Veronica headed downstairs to the back of the boat to get away from the music and make a phone call, snapping pictures of her floral centerpieces along the way. She felt like a million bucks from being needed and creating the arrangements, and two million bucks after hearing the guests’ and Renee’s reactions to her creations. They looked magnificent, if she said so herself, beachy and bright. She was on more than one planning committee for charity benefits in LA, all in need of centerpieces and whatnot. They would probably be thrilled to have her do the flowers.
Flowers by Veronica, she thought with a “dare she dream” type of grin. She repeated it again, but it wasn’t quite right.
Fleurs par V , she thought, brushing her hand across the air as if it were on a marquee.
Her grin exploded. She swallowed it and headed sternward.
Veronica the florist whisked past the bar, trying to avoid the venomous gaze of the bartender. From what she remembered of the other night, Veronica the drunk had made quite a scene at the Salty Pelican. It was a good thing she didn’t care what Chase Logan thought of her.
Who was she kidding? She cared what everyone thought of her.
She stopped to order a seltzer, intent on making a sober second impression to counter Thursday’s train wreck. Maybe she could change Chase’s narrative from Veronica-Silver-still-has-issues to Veronica-Silver-had-one-very-unfortunate-night.
As she approached the bar, she caught sight of Maggie and her brother having words in the foreground, before storming off. It left her curious.
“A seltzer with a splash of cranberry and a lime, please,” Veronica ordered, as if Chase were a stranger.
He seemed happy to play it that way too. But curiosity got the better of her, or was it nosiness?
“Sibling squabble?” she asked Chase, gesturing to Maggie and Jason in the distance as he mixed her drink.
She had come at the right time. A line was forming behind her.
“More like a lovers’ quarrel. She’s two-timing him.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m a bartender. I know everything.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know this. That’s her brother.”
Veronica took her drink and continued on her way. She slipped out to the open back deck and rummaged for her phone. It was a beautiful night with a full moon rising over the water. Maybe she would FaceTime Larry. Since noticing the appearance of fine lines around her eyes and those threatening jowls, moonlight had become her best filter. Two guests from the party were kissing in the corner, making the prospect of FaceTime feel voyeuristic. Then the couple broke apart.
It was Maggie and Jason.
“ Oh my God! ” Veronica blurted out, loud enough to wake the fishes.