The Florist

"Hello?"

Emery looked up instinctively as the door to Elements swung open, bringing with it the warm summer breeze and noise from the busy city street. At first, he thought the new customer might have been talking to him, but as he glanced up, he saw the man was talking on his phone, pinning the device to his ear with a shrug of one of his slender shoulders. "No, this isn't a bad time. I—"

Emery squinted against the brightness of the figure that came in. He thought the man looked familiar, but initially couldn't place how he knew this stranger in white. He was tall, maybe about 6 feet in height, and dressed to the nines for every inch of it. He had loosely-styled blond hair that fell to roughly chin length, shorter in the back, with longer, dramatic locks swept to the side in front. He wore designer shades, Italian leather shoes, and— Emery narrowed his eyes— a hot pink tie with a golden tie clip. 

Well, he certainly liked to call attention to himself, didn't he? Emery tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose to relieve the growing headache he felt building. It was too late in the afternoon to be dealing with customers like this one.

The customer sighed, seemingly frustrated by something said from the other side of the phone. He whipped off his sunglasses, tucking them neatly in the pocket of his suit jacket. He shuffled off to the right, and Emery was instantly able to place where he'd seen him before. Without the sunglasses, and from this angle, he recognized the guy from the new tattoo shop across the street by the distinctive face tattoo he bore. 

Emery and his family had worked at Elements long enough that he'd seen the rise and fall of several other small businesses from that exact lot. The last one had been a hair stylist, if he remembered correctly, and then it had sat vacant a while. He had no idea if this "One in Chameleon" would withstand the test of time, but the odds were against him. He gave it an optimistic 30% chance it survived the year. 

Emery fiddled with a bit of ribbon as he tried to remember what this guy's name was. He was pretty sure it started with an S?

Samson's lips pulled into a frown. "That's not--"

No, that wasn't it. Maybe Simon?

Simon glanced over at him, and Emery raised a single questioning eyebrow in response. 

The fuck are you looking at me for?

"Actually," Simon-not-Simon said, "I'm going to have to call you back." 

Emery glanced up at one of the strands that had annoyingly come free from his bun, and cursed it. 

Samuel ended the call, then put his rainbow phone in one of his pockets. He took a second, seemingly to compose himself, then threw on a confident smile. 

Here we go.

Emery didn’t care to manage a customer service smile, but he did at least try not to look like he wanted to actively murder someone for disturbing his peace. He opened his mouth to speak, but Silas beat him to the punch.

"Hi there!"

Emery let his mouth fall closed again.

"I've actually seen you around a few times. I own the tattoo parlor across the street."

Huh. So that's what the "One in a Chameleon" was supposed to be. Sus branding, honestly. Emery's estimations of the shop's success dwindled from 30% down to a solid 13%. 

"I've been meaning to come over and introduce myself, and today was the perfect opportunity. I'm Solamh."

Ohhhh. Solamh... Yeah, no. He definitely didn't remember that. Emery was relieved that there was no follow-up attempt at a handshake, at least, but could Solamh get to the point of what he wanted?

The answer was "no," apparently. 

"So it's actually my best friend's birthday today, and I know I should have picked up something sooner, but there's really no time like the present. And who doesn't like to get flowers?" Solamh tilted his head for a moment, considering. "Well, I'm sure some people don't, but she does..."

Honestly, Emery started to tune him out a little as he considered his own social calendar. Come to think of it, Rose's birthday was today. He'd already gotten her gift a week ago, and he was planning on giving it to her tomorrow. He'd already wished her a "happy birthday," but, frankly, he wasn't so keen on going out drinking with her and her other friends on a Friday night. He loved her, but that was not his idea of a good time. 

"...so what do you think?"

Emery blinked, coming back to the present. "Hm?"

"That distracted by my good looks, huh?" Solamh asked with a flirty wink.

It took a herculean effort not to openly roll his eyes. As if.

"I'm kidding," Solamh said, pulling his phone out from his pocket again. He pressed his thumb to the screen, using his fingerprint to unlock it. For a second, Emery thought it might be relevant to the conversation, but no, Solamh was just checking his notifications while he reiterated his question: "I wanted to get her some lilies. How many colors do you have?"

“Any color that you can imagine,” Emery says, and with that, the blond was off listing every color in the damned rainbow. 

In truth, it hardly mattered what color Solamh wanted. With Solamh’s specific requests in mind, Emery headed into the back of his shop. If anyone were to peek into the cooler where he kept all the fresh cut flowers, they would find that the only color that Emery carried of any flower was white. Yet, when he walked out of the cooler, he carried with him flowers in a variety of hues. Some flowers matched the varieties that grew in nature— soft pinks and buttery yellows— while others were an unnatural shade of bright blue.

Magic ran in his family’s blood, and for generations they’d used it to create floral arrangements, gently coaxing each flower to just the right shape and color. If what Solamh wanted was a rainbow, then a rainbow he would receive.

Within each flower, Emery was able to feel a cool, gentle pulse of energy. It flowed through the stems of the lilies, and once they were in his hand, that same energy flowed through him. This very connection is what granted Emery the ability to change the characteristics of each flower. He hummed while he worked, and the vibrations from his impromptu song comprised the score that guided the flowers what color to be. Each bouquet he made was accompanied by a tune that was just as much a work of art as the arrangement itself.

Before long, the flowers were shaped perfectly into the grand colorful spectacle that Solamh had requested. He eagerly thanked Emery for the last minute birthday flowers. "These are perfect!" Solamh said, touching the blooms with gentle reverence. "Thank you. I just know she'll love them."

The rainbow composition might not have been Emery's first choice, but he did what he could to make this walking bag of pop rocks an arrangement that both satisfied Solamh's whims, and didn't look half bad (if Emery did say so himself). Solamh's rings clinked together as he paid for the flowers. “I hope to see you around!” Solamh said with a wave as he headed for the door.

Emery returned the gesture. Maybe his initial impression of Solamh wasn’t the most complimentary, but he didn’t seem that bad. What a strange guy, Emery thought to himself, and put the encounter out of his mind for the rest of the day. He hoped whoever the birthday girl was, she liked the flowers, at least.

With no other customers in the shop, Emery pulled out his phone, making up his mind to text Rose again and see if she was enjoying her birthday so far.