Chapter One
Indie’s POV
Ever since I was a little girl, I have been obsessed with flowers. My dad was on the road a lot, but I always got very excited when he came home because each time, he had a different single flower for me.
The first one was a rose.
That went on till my high school graduation where he got me a bouquet of flowers.
My biggest dream was to own a florist shop and two years ago today I made that happen. He would be so proud of me.
He passed away three years ago. Leukemia. Back then I was doing a crappy admin desk job, but when he passed I knew I needed to follow my heart.
I wish his death had brought my mother and me closer but our relationship was always strained. My mum was one of those mums who wanted to enter her daughter into beauty pageants and go for high teas with the girls.
I spent my days outdoors on hikes, getting my hands dirty gardening and chugging beer from a beer tap.
She thought I was crazy for quitting my job and opening this place up. I’m not.
I was turning so much profit, I hired someone to assist me. I love Lillian. She’s so cute and sweet and such a warrior for what she’s been through.
We were so busy today getting flowers ready for a wedding. No not her wedding. Or mine.
She’s closer though and she’s four years younger than me.
Her partner Alexei was fine! I knew he would be because Lillian is a cutie. She was very strange at first when I would mention him, but then I met him for the first time and I knew why.
He killed her brother. Not a bad thing honestly, Lillian’s brother was the devil. Alexei did us all a damn favour.
I’m a realist. I know life isn’t perfect and that crime happens everywhere and that the system is fucked up. They wouldn’t have done anything if Lillian had gone to them. All it would do is make her situation worse.
Everyone from these parts has heard about The Princes of Vengeance. Most think it’s a gang and sure they might be. No one knows what they actually do but people know who they are by the tattoo crown on their right cheek below their eye.
It was the first thing I noticed about Alexei.
Speaking of, here he comes into the shop to pick up Lillian. The shop door jingles as he enters, and he nods my way before heading over to Lillian and they share a kiss. “Ready to go, baby?” He murmurs.
“Just finishing this last one up and I’m done,” she answers.
Alexei leans up against the counter and stares at me. “What’s on the agenda tonight Indie?” He asks.
“It’s Lawn bowls tonight,” I answer.
Alexei thought it was hilarious at first that I did old people things like playing bingo, chess and bowls.
However, I think Lillian told him why I do it. And I guess who I’m doing it with.
The entrance to Golden Haven Senior living is inviting with soft, cushioned armchairs in floral and plaid patterns arranged around a rustic coffee table adorned with family-style photo albums and potted plants. The walls are painted in soft, buttery yellows, and a charming grandfather clock ticks gently in the corner, adding a sense of nostalgia.
The main gathering area feels like a cozy living room with overstuffed sofas draped in knitted blankets, a large stone fireplace, and a well-worn bookshelf filled with classic novels and family board games. Soft lamps cast a warm glow, and framed photos of nature scenes and local landmarks create a familiar, comforting atmosphere.
It’s where I usually find Jonny.
Jonny is a 79-year-old man with a warm, weathered face that tells the story of a life well-lived. His skin is tanned and lined with deep creases, especially around his eyes, which still sparkle with a mischievous glint despite his age. His hair is silver-white, cropped short but still thick, with a slight wave that hints at the dark, unruly curls of his youth.
He wears loose, comfortable slacks and a plaid flannel shirt over a plain white undershirt. A gold watch, slightly too large for his thin wrist, glints softly whenever he moves.
His hands are strong but gnarled with arthritis, the knuckles swollen and the skin thin and spotted with age. Despite his physical limitations, Jonny carries himself with a sense of dignity and a dry, wry humour that hasn’t diminished over the years.
My dad introduced me to Jonny. When my dad was younger he got into a bit of trouble and had to do community service here. Dad formed a close bond with Jonny and even after completing his community service, he came back and saw Jonny.
Jonny needs high attention care because of a spinal cord injury that put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His children didn’t want to have to take care of him so they put him in here.
I see him more than they do.
“Indigo,” he yells when he sees me. Nurse Natalie glares at him and he does it back. “My favourite person is here I’m allowed to yell,” he argues.
My name isn’t Indigo. It’s just Indie, but he calls me Indigo because of a knitted sweater I wore the first time he met me when I was five.
“Today is Lawn Bowls day,” I tell him. “Why are you inside?”
“Hilary is outside,” he answers in a hushed voice. “She wants my cock.”
I bark out a laugh. “Sure,” I drawl.
“She does, she cut up my silverside for me,” he argues.
“Then I’ll make sure to stay away from your knife,” I deadpan.
He wheels out from the table and I follow him outside.
The courtyard is centred around a well-maintained lawn area designated for playing bowls. The lawn is bordered by flower beds filled with colourful blooms, including roses, lavender, and marigolds, creating a fragrant, cheerful atmosphere.
The bowls area is a rectangular stretch of smooth, manicured grass with clear boundary markers. Alongside it, a wooden bench with cushioned seating allows residents to sit comfortably while watching the game. There’s a small wooden storage shed nearby that houses bowls equipment and lightweight folding chairs for extra seating.
Jonny stops by the start and I go over to the shed to get the bowls out. I make my way back over to him and he plucks the blue bowls out of my hand. “Lucky colour,” he comments.
I can’t argue because he’s won every year. So far this year it’s 2-7.
I suck at lawn bowls.
