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Florentine
Florentine lifted the clear bottle of vodka to her red painted lips and took another long hard sip. She belched but covered her lips gracefully with the palm of her black gloved hand and then placed the vodka down between her legs as she sat alone in her car. Her hands wrapped tightly around her dear friend to prevent it from the coldness that was settling in from outside.
"Sons of bitches," she uttered to herself as her eyes focused outside to the magnificent double doors that remained open to the Whippowillow Club and a long black silken carpet led the way from the parkinglot up the steps to the doors. On each side of the door where two men dressed in costume, or so it would seem. Red jackets, gold trim and a matching hat. With each couple that strode in hand in hand a slight bow of the head was followed by the two doormen in a gracious welcome jesture, a jesture that surely would not be alloted to Florentine.
Another Mercedez had rolled up smoothly, black and shiney and another gentleman popped out in a black suit and had made a comment about the cold while another doorman swung the passenger door open and a woman stepped out like a swan from the water. She eyed the valet and knodded a thankyou with a slight tilt of her overly coiffed up head and made up face. The couple stepped up the black carpet and were greeted by the two doorman with their knodding heads and the couple disappeared into one of the finest clubs New York had to offer. Their car was driven off by the valet to the special parking lot where it would remain while its owners chatted amungst old friends about days gone by but mostly discuss the latter days. Money, riches, big houses, big cars, bigger bank accounts and worldwide sundrenched vacations.
Florentine knodded her head, feeling the effects of the vodka finally started to saturate her brain, relax her muscles and accept what is to come next. Her car was parked in the quest parking lot, she was asked to back it in but not given a reason why and yet it was best for her at any rate. She never dreamed she would be here, in a rented black Chevy that was out of place with the rest of the vehicals, sitting in a guest parking lot and eyeing all of her old school mates walk into a club she had never been allowed in a child.
Some she had recognized through facial features and bodily jestures that seemed to remain still in time even after twenty years. Some she did not recognize. Perhaps sugery had altered their expressions or time wounded them, but several of the couples were just that, strange individuals arriving in a country club to discuss their past lives and current lives and expected futures.
Florentines eyes were becoming dreary, she lifted the bottle of vodka from between her legs and took another long sip. She needed to feel nothing walking inside of there, she needed to feel calm and confident and when the eyes of her former classmates would stop and stare at her odasity to show up, even after twenty years, she would need to feel daring and showy. The vodka was painfull to swallow but a much needed medicine.
Her eyes turned to the passenger seat beside her, clean and shiney and uncluttered but for one large navy and gold book. It had a year written across it that was faded from years gone by. The book had sat in her desk drawer for twenty years and for the first time since leaving school, it was relieved of its life in a drawer of darkness and taken outside to the world again. Grabbing it, Florentine flipped through the pages and came across the photo of Gina G. Groman. A lovely dark haired girl with dark eyes though masked under the colorlessness of the photo. She expressed a smile greater than the ocean across a smooth face of silk and under her own photo were her own words marked out in black marker:
Florentine, failure is your destiny. Love Gina G. Gorman.
The words were like daggers plunging into Florentines heart even now years later the words were a course reminder of who she was then and who she is now. Perhaps Gina was correct, in fact she truly was or perhaps those very words haunted her deeply enough to believe them and accept the fact that Florentine Louise Daisy Camson would fail.
A tear formed in her eye and Florentine wiped it with her gloved hand, she had a recollection of herself as a teenager who had been delighted to have the schools most popular girl sign her yearbook. Gina had always been cruel to her that perhaps by signing her yearbook was a sign that Florentine was forgiven. She had done nothing wrong but she was not accepted and that was unforgivable thus Gina signing her yearbook was a sign, a good one.
"Bitch," Florentine shouted hitting her gloved hands against the steering wheel and then sat back and looked up, around and at the next car that rolled up to the black carpet. Did anyone hear me? She thought deserpately to herself. No.
There was no longer a long line of cars awaiting their turn for the valet and it appeared as though the last car was releasing its passengers. The couple strode out of the car in a repeat motion of all the previous passengers, like royalty. Florentine watched as they stepped in and their car disappeared with the valet. She took a final sip of her vodka and screwed the cap back on and tossed it on the passenger seat atop the yearbook. She checked herself in the mirror and sat upright, am I drunk enough to do this? She thought, her eyes were slightly unfocused, her muscles relaxed and her breathing calm. Yes I am.
She opened the door to the chevy and stepped out, her black heels clapped against the ground and she stood up with the help of her hands grabbing onto the open door. Not gracefull but she wasn't there to impress, she was there for revenge. Revenge of the greatest kind and the vodka had enable her to brave it while the years of regret enabled her brain to want it and the young girl who still remained inside her, hurt and depressed and lonely cried to be released of her pain.
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But overall, I like the storyline and idea, good work!
