Rock Phillips unlocked the back door of Phillips' Phlowers and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. His graceful movements belied his linebacker physique as he slowly moved towards the office. Turning on lights as he moved through his establishment, Rock noted every detail, preserving them forever with his photographic memory.
Rock advanced to the front of the store and carefully flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Open”. He had gone no more than four steps when suddenly the door opened, accompanied by the jingling of a tiny bell. Rock continued to move away from the door, but his hand went instantly to his back pocket. Without turning, he pulled out an order pad, and spoke to the person walking through the door. “Hello, Vivian. It's been a long time.”
“You haven't lost your touch, Rock,” Vivian DeLaroche purred as she carefully closed the door behind her. She was beautiful, to be sure, but Rock knew from past experiences that her mind was to be admired even more. As Europe's finest nuclear physicist and the world's leading expert on Islamic Fundamentalist terrorist groups, she was sought after by every government.
Rock just wished that he could trust her.
Turning to face her, he examined the woman in his store. Dark hair framed her face, casting shadows on her smooth features. Before he spoke he noticed a slight tightening in her eyes; she was already hiding something from him.
“I never thought I'd see you again, Vivian.”
Rock's eyes found Vivian's, and they faced each other, a thousand unspoken words traveling through their glance. Vivian broke the spell, turning to face out the shop's tinted window. “I need you. I didn't know where else to go.” She sighed, and looked back at him, “I need to get out of the country, without anybody knowing.”
Rock turned and walked behind the counter, straightening his award from the Chamber of Commerce with a deft touch as he passed. “I can't help you, unless you need a floral arrangement. I'm running a special on tulips this week.”
“Please, Rock, I know that this is just a cover. If you don't want to help me because of...” she paused, looking down at her patent leather shoes. Finding some source of resolve, she looked back at Rock with iron in her gaze. “I know that I hurt you in Madrid, but that couldn't be helped. You have to understand that now. The fate of the world was at stake!”
Rock's gaze didn't waver. His eyes remained focused on Vivian's, even as his right hand moved to pick up a pen from the counter. “I just got in a lovely shipment of daisies. They might be just what you need.” His words were even and smooth, and nothing in what he said betrayed the pain in his heart.
“Rock, please. Help me.”
But Rock knew that he couldn't help her. He had quit his post as leader of Team Super Delta, had returned his badge and his gun, and had opened up a flower shop. While some would say that a man with PhD's from Yale, Princeton and Harvard should be doing more with his life, he was happy with flowers.
They never shot back.
Rock pulled out a catalog and carefully flipped to a page. “If you want to tell somebody you're sorry, this bouquet is just the thing. I deliver to local addresses for only $4.99.”
Vivian held his gaze for another moment, searching for some sign that his resolve would weaken, but he was stronger than her. With a soundless shudder she turned back to the door. “Good bye, Rock. I'm sorry that I bothered you.” She exited the store gracefully, followed by the jingling of the door bell.
Rock slowly exhaled, lowering his gaze to the counter top. He allowed his hands to relax, and didn't bother to try and stop their shaking. Letting her go was the hardest thing he had ever done. But it was necessary, if he was going to be able to give up his old life and stay in the flower business. He was done with the past, and would never go back to it.
The ticking bomb in his safe, however, was about to provide a very dramatic counter argument.
