CHAPTER FOUR

AVA’s POV

The night goes by quickly, and with the single flower across my bed in a vase, I think through the entire night, it’s the most excitement I’ve gotten in a long time, a scary experience I wouldn’t want anyone to go through, and then the food and the rose, the food I ate due to hunger, and why would I miss out on free food when I’m as broke as a church rat? And the rose?

The rose, with petals as delicate as a feather, the blood red color reminds me of blood and gives me an Erie feeling, like I’m being watched suddenly, like a warning, at the same time; it gives me a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I put the flower in a glass vase and stared at it till I fell asleep.

And while I prepare for work, the flower stares back at me so hard that this morning it’s starting to have an expression, like it’s laughing at me.

I sigh, pulling my curtains open. You need to forget about the flower, Ava, focus. You have to get your paycheck today, go to the bank and send some money to my brother, go grocery shopping, visit my landlord and beg off another month, and then go back to the restaurant for my shift.

I sigh, the rose completely disappearing from my mind. I need to focus on important things, things that would completely stop my life if I were to stop caring.

Like my job, brushing my teeth, I start to think about my brother, and if he were to not get any more money from me for his treatment, he could lose his life. After losing my parents in a car accident, losing my only brother would be the worst thing that could happen. I try to turn on the shower to have my bath when I realize it’s not working.

Come on’ I tap the shower head and realise my water has been cut off.

I frown, my lips almost wobbling, sucking it up. I head to my water storage. This has happened too many times to count that I had to start storing water. I’m neck-deep in debt, and I have no idea how to solve this issue.

I’ve worked so hard for years, never even making use of my degree because all it gave me were desk jobs with so little pay, and it was all full-time. I never had the time for other job opportunities or working part-time, so I just stopped working with my college degree and focused on surviving, on making sure my brother had the best, and he survived through it all.

Taking the shortest shower known to man, I pull in my clothes—a nude knitted sweater, my jeans as old as time, a coat with a few holes, and a scarf around my neck to protect me from the chilly morning air.

I quickly head out, giving one last look at the rose on the table.

Good morning’ I greet the doorman, checking my mailbox, and I immediately spot my check for yesterday in the pile of bills. I grab all of them and spot the water bill, the light bill, and a letter.

I frown, starting at the single envelope. Looking around, I frown. There’s a fancy F drawn in gold in the middle of the envelope; it looks like it went in the wrong box, because why would I receive something so fancy?

I frown, heading to the door, man.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Alfa, I think there was a mistake with my mailbox; someone dropped this off in mine’ I handed it to him.

He frowns, looking down at my hand. ‘No, that’s for you. A man came here specifically and said to make sure it gets delivered to Miss Ava Marino. Is there a problem, Miss Ava?’ He looks back up at me, looking very sure of his words and quite convincing too.

‘Uhm, it’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Alfa.’ I turn back around, decide to pull open the letter right there, and in fancy black print, I read the content of the letter.

Good day, Miss Marino, You are invited to have brunch in the Pearls of Monte-Carlo. You are to come by noon, dressed neatly, and without anyone having any knowledge of this meeting. If you cannot make it yourself, a car will be waiting for you in front of La Table d’Elise or your apartment complex by 11:30 a.m.

Leonardo.

‘Who the fuck is Leonardo?’ I look around the letter for any clue. Is this the same person who sent me the rose? This has to be some cruel joke I think.

The pearls of Monte Carlo? I frown. Isn’t that the rich people's restaurant by the seaside? I frown. Why would someone take me out to brunch there? And doesn’t this person have a cell phone? Again, a knot gathers at the top of my head: why would someone invite me to a restaurant, especially a restaurant like that? I don’t know anyone here in Monaco; it can’t be Samuel either; he literally lives in the same shithole apartment as I do.

I decided to forget about this. I think this is some cruel prank, maybe by the girls in the restaurant. I frown. I have other things to do. With the bills in my purse slinging over my shoulders and my check in hand, I head to the bank first. It's a long walk, but I can barely afford transportation, so I walk everywhere. The entire walk, I feel like I’m being watched. I start to fidget that anyone in the bank would think I came to steal, immediately sending some money to my brother. I head to work first, then I would go grocery shopping after work and call up my landlord or head to his house if I can.

The restaurant is pretty much empty with about four or five tourists around when I take over from the other waitress. Somehow, during the shift, my mind is on one thing: the clock. I watch it like a hawk, and my stomach starts to gather knots. It feels like my intestines are being tied into various knots. What if a car actually shows up? What if?

I sigh. All the what-ifs—it's impossible.