Flowers for the Devil

It was a rainy night when I lost my family. I was seven years old when life decided to turn into hell. Now at twenty-eight, I sell roses in the morning and mop dirty floors at a bar at night. Life hasn’t been kind since my parents left me. The orphanage threw me out since the day I turned legal. Said I was “old enough to survive.” Survive. As if living in a tree house and eating day-old pandesal counted as living. “Sir, please buy one,” I offered, my voice trembling as I held out a wet rose to the man standing in front of me. Rain was still dripping from my hair, and the streetlight made puddles look like broken glass. He looked like he was in his 30s. Tall. Dangerous. And his eyes - God, his eyes were like ice. Sharp. Cold. Assessing me like I was something he already owned. A chill ran down my spine under his gaze. Dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than my entire life. “How much?” he asked, his voice was deep and cold. He didn’t even glance at the flowers. He was only staring at me, as if the rose in my hand was invisible and I was the only thing for sale. “20 pesos for one rose, sir.” My voice was barely a whisper. People usually ignored me. Or yelled. But no one had ever looked at me like that. “I’ll buy them all.” He handed me a thousand-peso bill. Crisp. New. It smelled like power. “I-I don’t have change, sir. Just wait--” I fumbled with my plastic bag, my wet fingers slipping on the coins. “Keep the change.” And he left. Just like that. He didn’t even wait for me to thank him. Didn’t take a single rose. His black car swallowed him whole, leaving only the scent of expensive cologne and exhaust fumes. He would’ve have been handsome…if he wasn’t such a jerk. I clutched the thousand pesos to my chest. That was two weeks of food. Or medicine for the cough I’d had since winter. But why did I feel like I’d just sold something more valuable than flowers? On my way back to the tree house I called home, I noticed someone following me. Not close, but present. A shadow staying with the shadows. Panic surged through me, and quickly ran to a crowded area until the feeling of being watched disappeared. I waited an hour before daring to climb back to my tree. I didn’t sleep at night. The next day at the bar… The velvet room wasn’t just a bar. It was where politicians made deals and men with guns laughed too loud. I kept my head down, scrubbing vomit and broken glass from the VIP floors. Invisible. Safe. “s**t, he’s so hot. I’d ride him all night,” I heard the waitresses whispering near the staff locker room, giggling as they fixed their makeup. “I want him to take me too, sheesh!” Mela sighed, fanning herself. “He tips 50k just for breathing near him.” Every day, that’s all I heard. They were all dreaming of having s*x with a man who kept coming back here. A man who requested the same private room every week. A man I’d never ever seen. I’m just a janitor, after all. Men like that didn’t look at girls like me. “Here they are again, gossiping. Just gossiping”. I was shocked when Richelle just appeared with her trash bag. “Just let them be, they work as a waitress and where just a cleaner, we don’t have a choice.” I sighed. “I wish I could work like an office worker, so I don’t have to clean trashes, bloods and don’t see dead people lying on the floor here.” “Shot up they might here us. Keep your mouth shut if you want to say alive girl.” We were shocked and feel nervous when someone knocks at the door aggressively. “Help me”. A women whispered behind the door sacredly. “Do not open it.” Richelle hissed. “But she need help Richelle”. I replied “What happen to you?” “I was drugged; I need to call my butler please lend me your phone”. Richelle was shocked when I opened the door without having second thoughts. Mom used to tell me to help someone who’s on need when I was still a little and I always do that, we only lived once so I better help than regretting it in the next day. The next day was the unexpected day. The women who knocks the door at the bar came to my spot where I sell roses. "Hi, I was the woman you saved last night. I’m Cassandra, by the way," she smiled. "Oh hi, are you okay now? What happened to you yesterday?" I replied, as if we were close. HAHA. "I’m okay now, thanks to you, or else I would’ve died right in front of you. My grandma said it was poisonous." I was shocked. I didn’t realize it would get that bad. "Are you really okay now?" "Yeah, no need to worry. Thank you, by the way. Lunch?" She invited me to eat. "Uhm, I still need to sell these roses," I hesitated, because aside from needing to sell these, my savings still weren’t enough for lunch and for fare later. "No, it’s my treat." I had no choice but to go with her since she already bought all the roses. I wish I was rich like her, but that’s just how it is. This is what’s destined for me. We talked to much, and I realized I was late. Rush eats me. “Maxine, please help me serve our big customer, Mela left she said it was an emergency,” my boss said. Mr. Romero, shoving a silver tray into my hands. My blood ran cold. The tray had a bottle of Macallan 25 and two crystal glasses. That was not normal. “Boss, I’m just --“. I disagreed “Just put on the uniform in the back, ten thousand pesos, Maxine. For one night. Your tree house rent is over you can rent house, not far from here so you won’t be late next time.” I don’t have a choice. I wasn’t used to short dresses. The black uniform they gave me barely covered my thighs. I wasn’t used to facing rich people. Hell, I couldn’t even walk in high heels. I wobbled like a newborn deer. But it was just for one night. And it was ten thousand pesos. Ten thousand for one night. That was six months of rent. A real mattress. “Wow Maxine you look hot in your uniform”. My co- cleaner also my friend, Richelle trying to lighten my burden. She always said those flowering words though. “Maxine, go to room 235, okay? And don’t screw this up. This customer could by this whole bar if he wanted”, Mr. Romero hissed. “and whatever happens in there, you didn’t see anything. Understand?” “Yes sir.” I sighed, I wasn’t comfortable wearing this kind of uniform and I don’t know how would I take care of that old man. I’m not used to it. I was shocked when Agatha bumped his butt into mine. “That’s why I like you Maxine, you shouldn’t be working as a cleaner you’re qualified to be our model and dancer, your bodies too hot for just a cleaner.” I don’t know how to react from what she said so I just look at her. “Good, go! Here, drink this first to calm your nerves,” Agatha, the head waitress, said with a wink, pushing a shot of something amber into my hand. It burned going down. “Just be patient with him. I heard the guy in there is old”. Like, 60 old. Probably just wants company.” I just nodded. Old. Okay. I could handle old. Old men fell asleep fast. The moment I opened the door to room 235, my entire body trembled. The room was dark except for the city lights bleeding through the window. And a pair of eyes stared at me from the darkness- like a starving tiger ready to pounce. Not old. Not 60. Predator. “G-good evening”. I greeted, my voice cracking, even though I couldn’t see him clearly yet. The drink sloshed on the tray. “Come in.” And it felt like someone had dumped ice over me. That voice. Deep. Cold. The same voice that said “keep the change”. I knew that voice. He was the one who bought all my roses. I walked toward him trembling, carrying the drink I had prepared. My hands shook so badly I almost spilled it, but I felt victorious when I finally placed it on the table. God, akala ko ba matanda? This man wasn’t old. Just like what I said he’s like on his 30s, max. and he looked like a sin in a tailored suit. “Would you like me to turn on the lights,sir?” I asked nervously. Te, ikaw ba naman diba, huhu. “Yeah, sure,” he replied. As I switched on the lights, I couldn’t help but stare. Every detail of his face seemed etched into my memory instantly. Sharp jawline, dark hair. But his eyes were still ice. Cold as ice. While preparing his drink, I suddenly felt dizzy. Not from anything I drank, but from the rush of emotions. The air conditioner was on, yet the room felt warm. Stifling. I almost stumbled, but he caught me just in time. His hands were warm and steady on my waist. “It’s warm in here,” I whispered, clutching his suit jacket. “Did you drink something?” he asked, his brow furrowing. He sounded…. confused. concerned. “Y-yes…. Agatha made me,” I admitted softly. “she said it was for my nerves.” His jaw clenched. “Agatha.” We sat together on the sofa, but I couldn’t sit still. The warmth inside me grew into a wildfire. My heart pounded as I leaned closer, wanting to kiss him. And I did. “Stop it,” he said gently, his hands coming up to my shoulders. But his voice was strained. I couldn’t resist. My emotions overflowed, and I kissed the curve of his neck. He froze. Then: “stop this Maxine,” he murmured. Ohh. He knew my name. Before I could process what he meant, he pulled me closer. He carried me. And that’s when I realized: I wasn’t just trapped with a mafia boss. I was trapped in his arms.