Courtesy of one of Brett’s friends, a beautiful rose was graffitied on the side of the abandoned warehouse near the highway. Black and white and every imaginable shade of gray, the clue in Dave’s handwriting beside it. Too nervous to do it during the day, Dave had done it at two in the morning, and Julia could picture the stain of black paint on his index finger, Brett making fun of Dave for being nervous. She could almost picture Dave starting and stopping, looking over his shoulder. She wished she had gone with them. She drove past the warehouse just to take a look at it again when another phone call came through.
THE NINTH ROSE
It’d been strangely easy to find an a cappella group on such short notice. The Internet did wonderful things. “La Vie en Rose” was even in their repertoire, and they were open to the idea of performing just one song, at a stoplight in the middle of town, for an audience of one.
THE TENTH ROSE
Julia had really pushed for skywriting or fireworks on this one. Dave could argue all he wanted, Julia couldn’t see anything else that would match the over-the-top glory of roses in the sky. In the end, logistics had put a stop to the discussion. The alternative wasn’t half-bad: Evan Royster, a junior, had recently been written up in the local newspaper for his “fire art,” elaborate drawings of lighter fluid that blazed for a few minutes before disappearing forever.
He was dressed in the bear suit, waiting with his lighter in the far corner of the mall’s parking lot where Dave and Gretchen had gone GPS-drawing.
THE ELEVENTH ROSE
Julia could not believe their luck when they went to the costume shop to find the bear suit and they’d found a giant rose costume.
“You know that’s going to be you inside, right?”
“Absolutely,” Dave said, already grabbing it off the rack. “I can’t believe rose costumes exist.”
“Never underestimate people’s cheesiness,” Julia said, poking Dave in the stomach, wishing it would elicit his usual head-shaking response.
THE TWELFTH ROSE
Julia arrived at the harbor right as Dave texted her that he was about to meet up with Gretchen at the mall. Julia’s Mazda was parked in the harbor’s lot. The orchestra kids were set up in a semicircle around the car. They were in their little band tuxedos, practicing their sections. The sun had already dipped behind the ocean, and twilight was growing darker.
“They’re on their way!” Julia cried out, and the orchestra fell quiet. “Remember, start playing once she sees the car, and crescendo right before they kiss.”
“How will we know when they’re going to kiss?” one of the violinists called out.
“Seriously? Have you never seen two people kissing?”
“I don’t know...” the shy voice said, trailing off in a way that made Julia feel bad.
“Just. You know. Take a guess. When their faces are about to touch would be a good time.” She looked around for Brett. “Did you get a confetti shooter?”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m kidding. You have the rose petals?”
“Right here.” He pointed at two buckets on either side of the car, filled to the brim.
“Perfect. You get one; I’ll get the other. Wait until they kiss.”