Blossom awoke the next morning more determined than she was with her conversation with Bubbles. Brick was to remain at arm's length. She knew his antics. He was charming and persistent, so she could navigate their professional relationship with the one up her newfound power gave her. She would not engage, she would not fall all over again. Future Blossom had failed, present her wasn't going to give her the chance.
She spent the week aggressively finalizing the details she had in her control. Buttercup chose a DJ for the wedding, her old bandmate, and Mitch's old flame from her high school band, Rotten Flowers. No harm in stirring the pot at a wedding. She said as if her career (and marriage) didn't depend on the success of this event. She scheduled BC and Princess's tasting appointment. She communicated professional* emails with Brick regarding securing decorations and the approximate count of centerpieces. Encrypted invitations had been finalized and sent out. The goal was to accomplish as much as possible without having to deal with Brick for longer than necessary. All she had to do was secure this venue and finish her fitting. Two ugly birds, one massive boulder.
Buttercup was proud of her work. She was doing well within the company and other branches had been stopping by her office to get to know her. No doubt tipped off by BC that she was seeking permanent work. BC's company B4 & GR8TR dabbled in a range of marketing, publishing, and sales. "Twice as Good" is their motto, and each branch of the company delivers. Especially, their Print and Publishing department, which catered to small independent authors, and creatives. BC had introduced their head of Talent Recruiting, Linda, directly. Blossom was still struggling to write this speech. Maybe she'd focus better after Friday.
Friday Morning, she decided to work from home. Bubbles had dropped unannounced around noon. Blossom's face was buried in her laptop at the desk in her room. She hardly heard Bubbles come in.
"For fucks sake, Blossom, you would've thought this was your wedding! I've been at the door for 5 minutes!" She banged on the wall making the room rattle.
I jumped and spun in my chair to face her. "Children have made you loud and volatile."
"My HardCore has reemerged and refined itself in my old age," she said sweetly, sitting on the bed. "I'm here because your fitting is today."
Blossom fought the roll of her eyes, "In like 3 hours."
"No better start than a head start then!" She quipped.
"How dare you come in here without my babies," I attempted to change the subject.
"Don't change the subject," she bristled. "They're with their dad."
"Oh, so Boomer's in town?" I shot her an arched brow.
"I said don't change the subject, but yes, he got wind of the wedding and marked out space to be present so I could focus on the preparations for it." She crossed her arms with a haughty expression. "We have a working relationship like that. Speaking of working relationships, your fitting with your not-boss/definitely-ex is today, right?"
Blossom should've known where this was going. Bubbles had her fitting on Wednesday. No doubt, she would've demanded to see the dress; and no doubt, despite the clear professional relationship she was trying to curate, she'd want to interfere.
It was Blossom's turn to cross her arms. "It is."
"Perfect," she clapped her hands together. "We're gonna get you ready."
She couldn't fight the eye roll now. "It's just a fitting, Bubs."
She stood with a hand on her hip. "One, you need to look good to get the vibe of what you'd look like on the day, you can't get that with a messy bun. Two, this is your ex, and despite the stage in your life right now (you're doing very well, and we're all proud of you, by the way), you're a bad bitch. It's in your chemical-make-up-of-an-accidental-ingredient. AND THREE, our alterations actually took a minute, and he said you guys have another appointment after, so it's important you look presentable and intentional in a formal dress." She smiled.
Valid points… "Fine."
For three hours, she slacked, letting Bubbles pick the shoes, curl her hair, and apply an appropriate amount of makeup. She flitted over her older sister so animatedly. Blossom was always her favorite dress-up doll. Blossom never had bad style, she just never conformed to a particular look. One moment, she was a library vixen; the next, sultry chic, after that, street fatale, then finally, bum. You just have one of those faces and figures. Bubbles had told her once. Fluid. Bubbles finished smoking her winged liner just in the nick of time.
"Isn't this a bit much for a bridesmaid?" Blossom couldn't help but ask. "This seems a bit… sultry."
"You may feel that way, but the dress," she put a hand on her chest. "You may do it differently for the actual event but this look does it justice." She insisted.
There wasn't any time to waste to make any changes now. With a huff, she thanked Bubbles, slipped on her heels, and flew out her bedroom window. She had to meet Brick at the studio in five minutes.
She was tapping her foot outside his work studio at 4:35 pm, no Brick in sight. Un-fucking-believable. She was trying her best to maintain a professional relationship, but being late again?! She was holding in a scathing text message that would no doubt ruin this campaign. Then her phone buzzed.
BJD: Did some last-minute adjustments last night at my apartment. Can you meet me here instead?
You pompous, self-absorbed son of a bitch!
I don't even know where-
His text came in before she could finish responding.
BJD: Don't start. It's still the same place.
Blossom growled louder than she anticipated, causing the staff of Concrete Rose to turn their heads. She left the message on read and flew out the nearest exit to Brick's unforgotten apartment. They couldn't afford to be late.
Blossom stood outside of the Brick red apartment complex in the upper Southside. During High School, the area went through major changes, and he managed to secure a decent apartment at a reasonable cost after the gouging of gentrification on the locals. She knew the place well. His apartment number 234 was embedded in her memory. The rose drawn in permanent marker on his mailbox, probably now painted over. His name scrawled in the worst handwriting they'd ever seen next to his call button, covered with a worn red apple sticker. "(RRB)" next to it. She walked through the front door and yes, everything was as expected. She pushed the red apple.
"Pinky?" His garbled voice sounded through the speaker.
"Blossom," She corrected him. "C'mon, we're already running behind schedule."
"It's unlocked." He answered.
She trudged up the stairs, chewing the inside of her cheek, and fiddling with the strap of her purse. The sound of her heels was too loud against the hardwood. The familiarity was too comfortable with her anxiety. This was the first time she'd be walking through his front door since she walked out of it all those years ago.
She walked in, and the scent hit her immediately. Cherry-wood, amber. Old coffee on the pot from the morning, the city breeze through his balcony screen door. They both preferred fresh air. It looked as she remembered. Not the day she walked out, but the day she appeared in the "dream."
"Hi," he greeted her from the bedroom doorframe.
"Hey," she breathed back more breathless than she intended.
The silence lingered between them for a beat longer than comfortable.
"Can I get you some coffee?" He offered shyly.
Blossom couldn't help but scoff. "You and I both know that frigid pot of dirt is from this morning, and you wouldn't feed it to a withering plant."
He tilted his head and chuckled, looking more like the him she remembered. "You know me best, Pink-, Blossom," He corrected.
At least he was trying today. "I've got the dress in my room," he reached his arm back to scratch the back of his head, his Coca-Cola t-shirt rising slightly. "I figured you'd change in the bathroom?"
Blossom fought a shiver. His bedroom, so many memories, so many firsts… she could do this. She was a professional, right? Right.
"Sure," she smiled gently. "Let's see what you've got."
He let her pass him before he shut the door. She tried not to let her mind dwell on the proximity as she took the room in. Same burgundy comforter, same grey walls, same cherry wood and amber candle lit on his desk in the corner of his room. It smelled like him, and she tried not to envision the two of them sleeping in on Sunday mornings, thoroughly fucked and slightly hung over, debating on who was going to get out of bed first to make the pot of coffee. He always lost.
"I haven't changed much," he mumbled behind her. "As you can tell…"
"Yeah," she responded mindlessly barely registering he was who he was, and in the room with her. "It's been so long…"
"Too long," the words escaped him, and they both stiffened. Brick shook his head. "Ready to see the dress?" He recovered.
He unzipped the black cover to reveal a red wine holographic dress with a leather corset that looked like it may stop at her knees. It took her breath away but she couldn't help but scrunch her face at the length.
"Don't you think it's a bit-" she began.
Brick swallowed his smile. "Just try it on first then tell me what you think."
She grasped the hanger, their fingertips dancing for a moment with each other before it was in her grip, and made her way to the bathroom. Just as she recalled. One of everything. One towel, one toothbrush, one of everything in its tidy and rightful place. The only thing that was messy about Brick was his desk. The creative process is never neat. He told her with sticky notes of materials, stitches, and looseleafs of designs sprawled around the redwood surface. She criticized it then, but she understood it now with her writing.
She slipped out of her clothes and into the dress that fit her like a glove. Too well of a glove if she was being honest. Her breasts, though confined, were perfectly lifted, and her waist was shrunken under the corset. The dress stopped just above the knee, but with her ass and any distinct movement would rise and expose more thigh than the leg. The draped, simple, off-shoulder sleeves were delicate but disrupted the essence of the dress on her body. She looked like an 1800's harlot. She stormed out of the bathroom, quick to give Brick her remarks.
"It needs to be longer." She demanded.
Brick was seated on his bed, waiting for her to make the grand entrance. He heard her request, and momentarily, she caught the quip of the corner of his lips. He was pleased, smug.
"If I make it longer, it will be ballgown, not bridal." He critiqued.
"Brick," she said gently, trying to keep her temper at bay. They were so behind schedule. "My ass does not fit in this dress."
"Your ass barely fits in any room, Pinky." He drawled with lidded eyes, unabashedly gazing at her backside.
"Brick," she grit dangerously through her teeth.
He rolled her eyes and stood before her, pulling at the hem of her skirt. "You've got a size two waist with a size six ass; I only gaged you for a size four from my memory. I'll add some extra room, and that should fix it."
Blossom spun to the full-size mirror hung on the back of his bedroom door. She bit her bottom lip and tugged at the hem just as he did. The dress was beautiful on her. She felt like her name. Blossom, the blooming flower of love, and the embroidered roses on the leather corset made the look truly romantic, but it was her sister's day. She felt like she drew too much attention.
"What about calf length?" She offered.
The material flowed with rippled edges. She believed if the dress fell past the knee, it'd be better. It'd be more elegant than sultry. Brick would agree. She knew his taste and his aims with fashion. Sexy, was a less is more game. She spun on her heel with the arch of her brow expectantly.
Brick was chewing his bottom lip, head tilted, admiring her, while she analyzed herself in the mirror. Calf length would honestly be perfect, but he needed to make sure she stayed in that dress until it was time for their appointment at the Centennial.
"I'm not opposed," he began, "But if we do that, I might lower the neckline."
Blossom scrunched her face up and shook her head back. "What the hell is wrong with the neckline?"
He approached her again, standing behind her in the mirror. "I made it as high as it was because the length was shorter. If we make it calf length, I'd probably drop it around…" he gently placed two fingers on the fabric where her cleavage met. "Here."
It was much lower than she was comfortable with. "I'm a bridesmaid, not a ho." She deadpanned. "The hem is fine, the length is not. That's the only thing you need to change."
"It'll be more romantic if-" he began.
"There's a fine line between romantic and slutty." Blossom interrupted. "I highly suggest you find it."
"Isn't slutty your specialty?" He shot back. Low blow, but she was making her way to the bathroom to change. He needed her in this dress.
She spun on him wide-eyed, hair on edge, and power rippling through her aura. "EXCUSE YOU? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Brick knew he was poking the bear now. A very dangerous, pink, super-powered bear. But he persisted. "I'm just saying, once upon a time, there was a part of you that would've worn the dress just like this." He pinched the folded fabric on her breasts between his fingertips. "You would've devoured the attention. You would've let everyone in the room fantasize about what your precious flower was really like." He spoke lowly into her ear. "I dressed you how I know you."
She shoved against his chest, and the fabric tore under his grip. He walked himself back against his bed as her pink eyes stalked him down ablaze.
"You dressed me how you think you knew me," she seethed inches from his face. "It's been a long time since I've been that girl, and I've got no reason to go back. So I suggest you take a good look at me now and remember who the hell you see in front of you, because I. Am Not. Her."
Blossom's nostrils were flared her anger seeped through her pores in only the way he brought out of her and she was vaguely aware of the acute breeze on her now exposed nipple. She dared him to break her gaze and look down. She fucking dared him.
"I have to alter that hemline," he swallowed, not breaking eye contact. "I'll try to keep the neckline where you wanted it, but I'll have to pin it."
Her jaw clicked while she held his gaze for another beat. She straightened her back and allowed herself to eye the damage in the mirror. Not too much damage had occurred, but it was torn exactly where he wanted it to be.
"Fix it." She said without looking at him.
Without another word, he stood and grabbed a pin cushion. The two were silent as they accomplished the task. Brick glanced at the clock hung on the wall over her shoulder. 6:00 pm. Time had flown by and she was none the wiser. Too riled up to notice.
"Okay, try to ease out of the dress in the bathroom to not disrupt the pins. I'm gonna so it real quick and have you retry it on." He told her softly.
Blossom wasn't in the mood to argue. She left him without another word and slipped out of the dress. She cracked the door open to stick the garment out then quickly shut it once it was in Brick's possession. She didn't bother to get dressed again if she was going to try it back on, and Brick took his time.
At 6:30 the dress was complete sans the length adjustment. He would have to cut off the bottom half and attach an entirely new piece for that, but the neckline was salvaged. He knocked on the door and stuck the dress through the crack she made ajar. She slipped the dress back on and emerged once more.
"You didn't fix the length," She grumbled.
"Didn't have the time," He said pulling at the neckline, fixing the drapery of her sleeves. "It's 6:45 by the way."
Her eyes bugged out of her head. "6:45?! WHAT THE FUCK BRICK?! We need to leave NOW, and I'm in… I'm in a-"
"You look good enough," He interrupted too calmly for her comfort. "C'mon, let's leave before we're late." He scooped her purse off the corner of his bed and handed it to her. He fought the memory of how familiar the motion was.
"I hope your company doesn't mind a preview," She grumbled.
Then, they were off to the sky.
Brick's POV.
Things were going according to plan… mostly. Banter to anger wasn't their typical default, but it's the only tactic he has at his disposal these days. The old retired page from Butch's book came in handy as they flew in silence from his apartment to Townsville Centennial. Blossom still fidgeting at the hem of the admittedly too-short dress. They landed in front of the large brass revolving doors. The Art Deco designs in the window were tinted for privacy, and the vintage red carpet outside was practically brand new. Blossom began to fish her phone out of her purse and go over key details.
"Okay, so we've estimated the guest count is 150, Risen Robin is the caterer and has already been working with the event date, centerpieces are being made and can be altered depending on the seating arrangements, we know to secure rooms for the brides, and wedding party for set up… aka this whole hotel is on lockdown… then all that's left is lighting, decor, crew, and privacy. That's all you," Blossom finished.
Brick was hardly listening to Blossom. He was staring up at the large letters that said, "Townsville Centennial Hotel," and got a wave of envy. This is where he wanted their wedding. He never told her, but he had decided that their senior year of college when she had brought him as her plus one to the mayor's Fall Pickle Ball. She looked radiant in red. Her copper hair was down her back, and she introduced him to everyone worth rubbing elbows with proudly. "Do you remember Brick Jojo?" "This is Brick Jojo, the future of fashion and design." "He's more than a Rowdy Ruff; he has a vision." He felt seen by her then, and he wanted to be able to walk through those doors and make her proud every time. Every ball, until the day he married her and after. Funny, how life works.
"Brick?" Blossom's voice shook him from his thoughts. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," he breathed taking her hand absentmindedly as he had many years before. "Yeah, Red, let's do this."
They walked hand and hand to the receptionist's desk and she instantly perked at the sight of them, subtly eyeing Blossom's dress. "A suite for the night?" She suggested.
Blossom scrunched her face and sucked in a breath. "Um, no," Brick began before she could get started. "We have an appointment with the event manager. Raul?"
"Oh!" The perky receptionist pulled a too-tight smile as white as her platinum blonde hair. "Well, don't you two dress to impress. I'll buzz him down."
The receptionist turned her back to them and picked up the vintage landline. She swiftly spun back and with a cracking smile informed him he'd be down shortly. "Feel free to take a seat in the lobby!" She motioned.
The two walked towards the lobby, and Brick couldn't help but notice the way Blossom's jaw was clenching over grit teeth. He wanted to soothe her nerves, but he didn't know what to say. On the way down into the loveseat, the dress rose dangerously, showing far more leg than any professional was willing to walk around in. He almost wished he wore a jacket for her, but he was trying not to mess with the balance of things.
Blossom had shown up in his apartment twice. The first time, he was taking a leap of faith with the information she gave him. This time, he was testing a theory. He wasn't sure what results he was hoping for, but for the second time in his life, he was a step ahead of time, thanks to her. There had to be a reason.
Raul came down the stairs taking one glance at Blossom before barking at the receptionist. "Destiny, did you not set these guests up with a suite for the night?"
"No sir, that is your appointment!" She hollered back fighting a giggle.
Brick felt bad as Blossom's face went crimson as she hastily stood from her seat. "I apologize, my fitting," she sneered in Brick's direction. "Ran behind and we did not want to miss this appointment."
"No apology needed, hon," Raul chuckled. "Being in this hotel so long, we see all kinds of business come through these doors. You're barely putting the queens to shame."
Blossom blushed harder, and Brick stored the comment to analyze later. "We're here to discuss our event for October 19th," Brick interjected.
"Right!" Raul clasped his hands together. "The mayor's boy. Come come, I'll show you the room."
Blossom and Brick followed the plump man down the hall. He seemed nearly as old as the mayor and possibly just as cheery. The comparison made them wary. In most cases, anyone this kind had something up their sleeve. They eyed him silently as he chittered in front of them about the history of the hotel and its many benefactors.
"Ah, here we are," He spun to face them. "The grand room!"
Grand, it was. Vintage chandeliers adorned the ceilings with in-ceiling lighting to compensate for the size. Speakers had been built in and the location for the band and DJ were off to the far right. One wall was tapestries and sculptures with baroque decals and cherubs carved into it, the other was floor-to-ceiling stained glass that led to a lovely "modest" outdoor seating area with a fountain. The hall was empty sans a podium at the front and a runner down the middle. At the mayor's Pickle Ball, there was always so much going on that they never had a chance to truly take in the grandeur of the venue, but gutted, it was a gorgeous location.
"Now we have circle tables, or we can do rows depending on the guests. What was the event again?" Raul asked.
"A wedding." The two said in unison ghostly, still taking in the venue.
"My goodness! Well, congrats to you both with such the mayor's favor, it must be a splendid union!" He exclaimed.
That broke their stupor quickly. "Oh, no-" Brick began.
"Not us." Blossom continued motioning between them blushing.
"Our client-" Brick continued.
"My sister-" Blossom clarified.
"Buttercup Utonium and Princess Morbucks." Brick finished.
Raul seemed to jolt into a greater seriousness at the names of the hosts. "Princess Morbucks? As in Basilio Morbuck's daughter?"
Brick and Blossom glanced at each other before fixing their eyes back on Raul. "That's her…" Blossom said timidly.
"Her father is this hotel's number one benefactor," Raul began. "When Mr. Morbucks first moved here, he stayed at this hotel for months, and with him, money poured in. A great service, he did at the time. With the recession and construction around this city, this old hotel was going downhill. He has a dedicated suite; she must have it for her bridal party." He was talking to himself now more than the two reds. "This will be the greatest wedding Townsville has ever seen!" He declared.
The two blinked, but Blossom was first to jump in. "Perfect, we've already secured a caterer and centerpieces." She began. "I believe doing rows will add a touch of elegance to the aesthetic they are aiming for. We're concerned about rooms and parking. Oh, and this is a very, very private event, so secrecy is of utmost importance."
"That will not be an issue, The Centennial is honored to host this event," Raul chimed.
"And how much is it to book this location?" Brick couldn't help but ask. "Our client is working with a very specific budget."
Raul gave Brick an incredulous look. "Budget? You must be mistaken. Mr. Morbucks is part owner, and when he passes (knock on wood), Ms. Morbucks will inherit that ownership. It's not well known, given he is listed as an angel investor, but this should be common knowledge given your client. The Centennial is honored to host this event." He repeated.
Brick stood there dumbfounded while Blossom tried not to freeze over the entire venue. She worked tirelessly to secure this venue, and apparently, all she had to do was name-drop Princess Morbucks as the bride. Any hard-working assistant would be pissed.
"Thank you so much, Raul," Brick began putting a heated hand around Blossom's near-freezing wrist. "We'll email you a list of details and be in touch."
"It's our honor," He said again as if he wanted the sentiment to go to Basilio Morbucks directly. "Feel free to let us know when you two need that overnight suite!"
Blossom huffed ice breath the entire walk outside. "All that work!" She began, "And Princess fucking owns the place?!"
"Red," Brick began delicately. "This is a win."
"I know that!" She threw her hands in the air. "I know that," she corrected more gently. "This is a huge win. The venue is beyond willing to accommodate anything, we're in budget, and everything is going according to plan." She spun and glanced up smiling at the large letters above the doors. "My sister is getting her dream wedding."
"Yeah," He stared at her perfect profile. Her face had rounded out more over time. Less youthful, more womanly. Her eyes shone in the evening light, and her lightly glossed lips looked plump. He missed the way his name sounded on her lips. "Let's hope my brothers don't fuck it up."
Her steel gaze shot to his. "I will murder them."
He couldn't stop the chuckle. "Me first. C'mon, Red, let's get you out of that dress. You look like a hooker."
Hey everyone!
Sorry, long time no write (again), but if you've been keeping up with my stories, you may have seen that I started a prequel to this one and "Use Me" called "Rotten Kingdom", centered around BC and Princess's secret relationship in HS. It's primarily Princess's POV but if you're looking for more of this universe you can find me there!
Okay, see you in the next chapter!