Indra's Heart

FOUR

"Hello," I greet the elderly florist upon entry, greedily inhaling the Earthy scent of the establishment. "Can I please get half a dozen thornless red roses?"

"Sure thing, hon."

Her thin hands expertly clip the stems and wrap the flowers, sending me on my way in less than ten minutes with the smell of honeysuckle and damp soil wafting after me.

Anxiety rips through my stomach as I zoom toward the Moore's residence. This will be the first time that I've picked up a girl on my own. The measly double dates that Will volunteered me for in the past have nothing on this. I pull up two minutes till six o'clock, the ointment on my knee feeling a bit sticky in my denim as I approach the daunting front door. Two firm knocks and I straighten my posture, looking down at the crisp black t-shirt underneath my signature gold chains.

I love gold.

The thicker link is a gift from grandma Lynn. It's intricately designed with a pattern that I've only ever seen on her wedding ring and despite how little I actually clean it, it is ever gleaming. The other one is from my dad, plain and simple, but still very appreciated.

A burly man with a pot belly swings the front door open, scratching his graying beard.

"Hello, sir." I enunciate. "I'm here for Arya."

"You must be Andrew, welcome." He breaks out into a dimpled smile, stepping aside. I enter the humble abode and Mr. Moore plops down in a brown leather recliner, the lamp beside him casting a yellow tint on his oily, brown skin.

Before the silence becomes too unbearable, footsteps descend the stairs. Arya trails behind her mother. While both women share the same eye color and dainty facial features, Mrs. Moore's fair skin and silky brown hair are the main attributes that set her apart from her daughter.

I hand Arya the bouquet, completely enamored with the semi-wet style of her warm blonde hair tonight. Clad in an emerald green halter top and strapped sandals of the same shade, she looks beautiful from head to toe.

"I'll take these for you. You two run along." Mrs. Moore plants a kiss on the side of her daughter's head and disappears into the kitchen with the flowers. We heed her words and take our leave.

The ride to Corvin's house is filled with music and a refreshing breeze from the open windows. Any attempt to strike up a conversation was met with very short responses so I took the hint and let the melodies from my playlist do the talking.

Hillsbury Grove is just as magnificent as it's always been. I roll up in front of the black gates confining the darkest brick mansion on the street. The iridescent stone fountain in the front yard really completes the unearthly impression, especially underneath the orange sunset.

"Invitations?" A deep voice booms through the intercom. I reach into the glove compartment, my knuckles brushing against Arya's knee, and slip both cards into the slot, opening the gates.

The gates of hell.

Shaking away my gut feeling, I roll down the driveway, my foot just barely on the gas. The mansion is much more ominous up close. Crows that would normally fly away from people, crane their necks to watch us from the rooftops. I slip my hand into my date's as we climb the stone stairs and give the ashen-skinned, intimating male at the door our names. He stands in the shadows of the awning, sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and takes a moment to look us over before allowing us entry.

The interior is just as dark and mysterious as I imagined, but the sheer charm of the place is a welcomed surprise. Polished wood floors, giant chandeliers, and antique furniture decorate the space so exquisitely that the urban music and the scent of marijuana heavily permeating the air almost feels out of place. Various topless female servers hold platters of bite sized food above their heads. Only pasties, stilettos, and glitter cover their skin. Arya grabs a colorful drink from a passing tray with her free hand and downs it in a few gulps.