Blood On A Rose

Photo by Vadim Sadov on Unsplash

Zeus heard the sound of the bell over the door. "I'll be right with you," he yelled as he washed the dirt off his hands. It was past closing. He glanced at his watch, making his way up front.

"How may I help you?"

The individual, all in black, turned Zeus' open sign to closed and locked the door. Black, long curls sprang from a beanie. She was tall... thin and moved like a feline. She placed a 38. Revolver to the side of his skull like a long-lost accessory.

She motioned for him to move to the chair in the corner of the room. No words were needed. Mr.   Smith and Wesson said it all. He sat. Her eyes were neither angry nor scared. They spoke of a kind of desperation. A strong need.

"Get up," she demanded and took his place in the chair. "Sit on the floor in front of me. Move and you'll leave here in a bag. I don't want to have to shoot you."

"What do you want?" Zeus asked. "All I have is what's in the register and you're welcome to it."

She pointed the gun at him. "What kind of man works at a flower shop?"

"I don't work here. I own the shop."

"What kind of man owns a flower shop, then?"

"A man who loves pretty things that smell good, I guess."

She smirked. "Hmph, you got something to eat?"

"Yeah, I got some cold cuts in the fridge in the back."

"Get up," she ordered. "Let's get that sandwich. Don't try nothing. I want your cell phone. Give it to me."

She stopped and held out her delicate hand with its pastel peach fingernails. What kind of beautiful, well-manicured woman holds a man at gun point and threatens to kill him?

He placed his cell in her palm. Should he try to jump her? He had a good thirty pounds on her and a couple of inches in height. His wish was that neither of them got hurt. He'd just ride this out.

God was his protector. Things would be okay. She followed him into the back behind the curtain.  There was a bed, refrigerator, microwave and a tiny table with two chairs. In the corner was a sink.

She drug the metal chair out from beneath the table and sat down. The sound it created on his cement floors made his head pound.

"What would you like on your sandwich? I've got chicken, curtesy of Oscar-Meyer, bean sprouts, tomatoes, kalamata olives and horseradish cheese."

"Cheese, sprouts, tomatoes and olives," she said. "Any mustard?"

"Sure," he said. "You want to tell me what this is all about?"

"You a Christian?"

He turned to see her fiddling with his Bible on the table. He sat across from her and placed the sandwich in her line of vision. She looked up. It was then he knew. This wasn't about money. God, give me the words to say that will bless this woman and glorify you.

"Yeah, I'm a Christian. You aren't going to shoot me are you?"

"I don't want to, but I will," she said. "I need that money and I need this sandwich."

She bit into it, hand on the barrel of her gun. Mustard stuck to the sides of her mouth as she followed Zeus through eyes almost the same color of the sandwich spread.

"I told you you're welcome to it," he replied.

"What does this book say about people like me?"

"You mean people down on their luck?"

"Naw, smarty pants. Thieves, murderers."

He smiled. How he could smile with a gun pointed at him while an unpredictable stranger waved it around like a magic wand? He didn't know, but smile he did. She was beautiful, olive skin... Beautiful and dangerous, Zeus, and possibly insane.

"The Bible says God forgives thieves and murders. Have you murdered someone? What's your name?"

"No, I've never murdered anyone. My name isn't important," she said continuing to chew. 

"Want something to drink?" Zeus asked jumping up from the chair.

She picked up the gun with both hands leveling it at his abdomen. His quick movement almost set her off. He'd better not take her for granted because she was pretty. Plenty of pretty things had thorns. He handed her a a bottle of Evian water.

"Open it," she said.

He obeyed. She finished her sandwich and wiped her mouth. "Why is he so forgiving?

"Because He made us, and He loves us. He died on the cross for us."

"I didn't ask him to. He don't seem so smart. A lot a' people despise him."

"Are you one of those people?" Zeus questioned.

She shrugged. "I don't care about him one way or another."

"Yet, you sit here questioning me and you haven't taken off with my money—wait. Your money," he grinned.

"Curious is all," she said. "Is it true he promised the thief on the cross a place in heaven?"

"How do you know that?" Zeus asked.

"I'm from the south. Church is like air down there."

"Tell me your name. I'm Zeus."

"Like in Zeus' Flowers?"

"One and the same," he said.

"You sure smile a lot for a guy that could die tonight."

"And you sure ask a lot a questions about God for a person who doesn't care about Him."

She started to cry, waved the gun in his face, then put it against her own temple. Zeus froze. Jesus!

"Please don't do this," he said crying.

He reached out to touch her hand. Pop. Was that the gun? Zeus slipped to the floor and gathered the woman in his arms. "Why'd you do this?"

"Last question," she said. Blood bubbled from her mouth. "What does He look like? Cuz' I think he's here," she smiled.

Her eyes, open and staring, were all knowing. She looked at peace.  Zeus was positive she got what she came for.

To all who stop by to read my work, I’m appreciative ... truly and I am sincerely thankful you did!  

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