Lavender Haze

By Mad Winters

Cynthia Purdee is put to the test in Lavender Haze. She's gone her

entire life without stepping outside of the box. What happens when

she does open up to those who aren't just her best friends? One trip

will have her falling in love while danger lurks around every corner.

Will she be able to navigate the latest challenges

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Jan 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9789360498498

Book preview

Lavender Haze

Mad Winters

Ukiyoto Publishing

All global publishing rights are held by

Ukiyoto Publishing

Published in 2024

Content Copyright © Mad Winters

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

www.ukiyoto.com

Dedication

This story is dedicated to those who enjoy a good slow, slow burn of a romance with mystery, coming of age, and adventure. I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing and editing Lavender Haze. This story is also dedicated to my annoying, lovable siblings, they bring my life light.

I'd like to pay acknowledgements to those who support my writing in any way, shape or form. Thank y'all for coming along on my journey in Lavender Haze. I'd like to acknowledge the romance lovers and the fact that some of us can't steamy scenes even when mine are brief. I hope this brings someone some amount of pleasure like some scenes did for me in this Lavender Haze.

Contents

New Soundtrack

Bright Lights

Never Blinding

Emerson

Double Nerd

Locha Mocha

Charm

Road Trip

Sizzler

Sting

Underground

Blooming

Daring Beauty

Forest Reels

The Son

Acceptance

Stubborn

Chapter 18: Hurricane

War

Jet Black Heart

Las Vegas

Ben is His Name

The Lucky One

Flaming Hot Cheeto

Hummingbird Isle

Heartbeat Island

Treasure Trove

Instinct

Close Call

Buttons

Obligations

Beautiful Things

Timber

Original

Good Trouble

Bonding

Campfire

Roots

Disaster

Lavender Haze

About the Author

New Soundtrack

I

'm highly skeptical about moving to Emerson, New York so that I can take care of my grandparents. I love them, I really, truly do, but never in my life have I ever been able to enjoy the world around me. I did my best to keep my shit together, managing to keep my parents proud of me. Pride shot through my heart, causing the flutter to tickle the bone underneath my golden skin. I purse my dark pink lips together, brushing a strand of my long, thick, caramel brown curls over my bony shoulders.

            I'm soon slowly inhaling to slowly exhale as my olive green eyes narrow on the canary yellow colored, round cottage in my view. I eye the ivy overtaking the house with the overgrown trees hiding the cozy, earthy home of my grandparents. I raise a brown eyebrow at Eliza Purdee, "Sis, why can't you live with them for a change?"

            "I am happily married, starting a life of my own, Cynthia! I do not have time to take care of our grandparents. Sorry." Eliza scoffs, tucking her slick, dark chocolate brown wavy hair behind her. She was thick, curvy with a golden tan to match my own. Her eyes were a hazelnut color. She was two inches taller than me, putting me at five foot two.

            I am petite, slender, making women like my twenty five year old sister jealous. She once admitted it to me when I caught her then fiancé giving off creeper vibes by eye fucking me. I shivered, growing uncomfortable as I left the room when Eliza brought him over to meet our parents in Georgia, Eliza, can't you be more sympathetic?

            I could, baby sister, but what good would that do you? Some hard life lessons should do you some good. Eliza says, smacking her lips before returning to her dark green 1950s mustang.

            I heard the engine start up as she zoomed out of the driveway. I briefly eyed the mailbox closer to the highway, further from the house. I hadn't been to my grandparents house in ages– if I'd ever been. I tilt my head as I eye up the cottage home, reminding me of where I grew up. I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders, starting up the driveway to knock on the front door.

            My heart pounds in my chest causing me to bite my bottom lip. I love Eliza, but it wouldn't kill her to take responsibility. I knew she was married, but the man has this gleam of devil in his eyes. You could easily tell if you ever met him. I shudder to think what he did when he wasn't in the presence of my sister.

            I shift on the balls of my heels. My shoes were black ankle boots. I begin to wipe the palms of my hands down on my dark blue jeans, tugging at the bottom of my lilac, tank top snugly hugging my upper torso. I don't know why I'm nervous. My grandparents didn't hate me.

            I think I'm scared of messing up only to ruin a good thing even with Marianne and Robert Purdee who were seventy and seventy-five respectfully. I aspired to be like my grandparents someday with the whole ideology of a long standing marriage. I start to wring out my hands, nearly pacing when it seems to take them ages to answer the front door. Are they alright? Or did something bad happen to them?

            My worries were put to ease when my grandfather swung open the door. He was frowning as a gruff, older male shoved past me with a look of irritation. He too watched the other male scurry off as if he was about to brawl, Cynthia!

            I jumped at the cheery voice of my grandfather, tearing my gaze from the strange male with a nice ass. I furrow my eyebrows, Grandpa! What took you so long to answer the door?

          My dearest, Cindy, what do you think? Your gramps had some business to discuss with the rogue gentleman whom you just watched walk away. He's too old for you. Now, come in! Robert Purdee eagerly ushers me into the house.

            I lug my duffle bag inside as the atmosphere takes on a stuffy aura. I drop my bag at the front near the door as I turn to the old, senile man. I scoff, "Grandpa, this place seems quite stuffy. How about opening some windows?"

          "Cindy Lou, the AC doesn't work like it used to!" My grandfather heartily laughs, joking as he jabs a golden tanned, sausage finger to the living area. His nickname for me nearly caused a blush to coat my golden tanned features yet it doesn't. He loved to embarrass me with or without people around.

            I release a huff as I head towards the living room. I was about to march towards the red satin curtains, layered with dust when lights flickered on. People were shouting at me with surprise and vigor. I slowly, but surely process what's happening as well as who the people are surprising me.

          Cindy! Glad you could make it to Emerson! Lola Kyle beams, wrapping an arm around me. She's my age, five foot one with a slim waistline. She's got an ebony skin complexion with piercing hazel brown eyes. Her hair is long, falls to her bum and is a chestnut shade of brown.

            "All aboard the Emerson Express!" Moira Haim shouts, wrapping both of us into an embrace. Her skin is a deep olive complexion with gray eyes. Her hair is curly, thick, and a maple shade. She has black, thick, round glasses covering her eyes, resting on the bridge of her nose.

            I assumed I was living with my grandparents to take care of them, Um, what are you two, ladies, doing in Emerson? Weren't y'all off to College?

            Moira giggles, covering her dark red lips as her gray eyes shoot to the hazel brown of Lola, "Duh. We are headed to college in the fall– in Emerson."

            I take a minute to process her confession. My eyes narrow then proceed to widen in disbelief. I rub at my eyes, "Are you fucking my dad?!"

            Moira chewed the inside of her cheek, lightly blushing, "Your dad is an old man. No, I'm fucking the English teacher."

            Girl, really? Lola asks, feigning shock as she slaps her hand to her cheeks.

          I scoff, Miss Murdoch?

          She's single, twenty seven, and my type. Moira nonchalantly shrugs as the blush is still evident upon her olive features. She was semi joking when she revealed that she was fucking a teacher.

            No, when we started High School in Georgia– Miss Murdoch was twenty seven. She'd be forty and wrinkled by now. Lola corrects our best friend.

          I groan as I want to be off the subject. I lift a hand, Y'all are attending college in Emerson? Why?

          "The land of opportunities, sweet Cyn." Lola answers, puffing out her cheeks.

            They have everything from learning to partying including finding oneself. So, why not? Moira voiced, giggling as excitement flooded her veins.

            The three of us had plans to attend college, having been unable to right after high school graduation. At least two out of three in our best friendship group will be attending college.

            Miss Cynthia won't be attending Emerson Community College. She'll be present with us– to help care for us. My grandmother quips, having swiftly glided into the living room. She always looked displeased by one thing or the other; a sour gleam evident in her light colored eyes.

          Where did grandpa disappear to? I gently muse, raising an eyebrow as the elderly woman grimaces.

            He took your duffle bag to your room, Miss Priss. Say goodbye to your friends. We have a lot of work to be done– work, you'll be doing. My grandmother irritability states, causing my bubble of light heartedness to pop.

            Lola and Moira eye my grandmother like the woman has grown a second head. They don't want to leave me alone with her since she can be rude. They leave me with one last gleam of concern before I'm alone with my grandmother.

            I fold my arms to my bosom, Why did you chase them off? I haven't seen them in months. I thought the gators in the swamp ate them!

            "Who do you think you are to talk to me that way, Cynthia Lou Purdee?!" My grandmother hisses, quick to back hand me.

              My mouth pools with blood from her aggressive slap to my face. I'm in shock as confusion sweeps into my brain. Why would the old bat hit me for speaking my mind? I'm soon scowling at the elderly woman, unimpressed with tactics to make me loathe myself. I try not to catch an attitude with the elderly woman, "Why did you pop me in the mouth?"

          "This is my house! As such, you will abide by my rules. First things first, you will get a part time job to earn your stay." My grandmother coldly informs me, beginning to pace in front of me.

            Why did my parents suggest that I take care of my grandparents? I didn't think I'd end up slapped on the first day, drawing blood. If I would have known the outcome then I would have remained with my parents. I gently brush my fingertips to my jawline, I–I don't know any places in Emerson, I just got to New York; today.

          Lucky for you, your grandpa just spoke with somebody who would more than likely be willing to hire you. My grandmother nastily replies as her eyes roam over my body.

          I want to argue with the elderly woman, keeping my mouth shut. I've come to learn in certain situations not to speak. I only nod my head in agreement, feeling the tension and dread in the atmosphere heighten. I don't fancy the woman slapping me again, Yes, ma'am.

          "Your grandfather will need your help on a daily basis. I'll be busy, outside of Emerson; doing things I can't with your grandfather. He's got a friend looking for a nice, young hot thing to keep him company in his bedroom." My grandmother stops pacing, wincing at me as I pick up on her gross, underlying meaning.

          "I'm not looking for some old dude to keep me company in the bedroom." I'm quick to correct the elderly lady. I was growing less affectionate to the woman who gave me a sharp glare like I would date some sixty to seventy year old gross older male. I preferred men my own age– why was that so hard to grasp?

          My grandmother clicks her tongue as she shakes her head of white hair in a tight bun pinned to the base of her skull. She isn't sure what to do with me, "You'll obey my rules, my orders or the worse of the worse will come to fruition. Are we clear, Miss Priss?"

          Yes, ma'am. I duly remark in a monotone voice, making sure to leave out the sharpness I had in mind. I had come to learn that my grandmother wasn't dicking around about her rules. I wonder if this is why my mother hadn't visited my grandparents since we were children.

          Get to your room! Start unpacking your things! My grandmother quips, practically snarling spit in my direction.

            I don't hesitate to head to my bedroom, finding the only other vacant bedroom in the cottage home. I was relieved to find that it was far from my grandparents bedroom– on the other side of the house. I lock the door on my way in, sitting on the plain white, twin sized bed in order to catch my breath. Emerson is a New Soundtrack, but I would not be dancing to the beat any time soon.

Bright Lights

T

he lights of Emerson are bright– blinding even. My olive green eyes narrow as my grandmother whips around several speeding cars. I was assuming the job my grandmother wanted me to get would come later upon getting settled at her home. My grandmother insisted I end up working at a bar in the heart of the city on my very first night in New York, You want me to work in a bar?

          Shut the fuck up, Miss Priss! My grandmother hisses, unamused by my curiosity.

          I quietly groan, unsure of even speaking. I was aware that I could end up with another hit to the face. I wasn't risking the woman turning on me again. I clench my fists as the woman drives through the streets, running a few red lights. I kept wondering why she was never stopped or pulled over for my grandmother breaking the rules. I'm a twenty one year old woman who's scared of her ruthless grandmother.

            I was beginning to miss the south where things were swept under the rug– difficult issues were avoided, and nobody spoke about feelings. I heave a sigh out by accident as my grandmother parks in a barely crowded parking lot. I'm able to see the surrounding skyscrapers all around, further in the distance. I scowl at the hole in the wall bar called; Wisteria Heights in lilac purple and yellow neon signs, Is the owner of this bar fruity?

            My grandmother itches to raise a hand to me as her nostrils flare due to her anger, Cynthia Lou Purdee, would you not make me kill you in the parking lot of a good friend?

          Yes, ma'am. I irritably mumble, aware that the elderly lady is liable to take out her built up anger out on me at home.

            My grandmother becomes on high alert. She stops in front of a blue metal door with rusted hinges. She straightens her posture eyeing me, Be on your best behavior. Follow my lead, keep quiet, and keep your head down.

          I do as I'm told, following my grandmother into the bar. I keep my opinions to myself as my eyes roam over buildings. I make a few notes about how the inside seems fancy with cream colored walls, and round tables to chill having been scattered throughout the bar. I was a bit bothered by a stage with a singer, giving it her all. All in all, the bar didn't seem to be jumping on a Monday night.

          Ah, Marianne Purdee! The bartender greeted the elderly lady with a grin splashed across his face. He didn't like the white haired witch, starting to deeply dislike her husband. The man is thirty one with broad shoulders, standing at five foot nine inches in height. He's got short, slightly curly honey colored hair with opal blue eyes.

            The man had some dark stubble of hair on his chin, marking a four o'clock shadow. His skin was a shade of olive while Marianne eyed him like he was nasty. His smile dropped as exhaustion became prominent on his handsome features, "Did you bring her?"

            I had zoned out, having kept quiet like my grandmother ordered. I bit the inside of my cheek, on the verge of just walking away. The idea would be good– if I knew where to go.

            My grandmother cleared her throat, blocking me still from the man's view, I did bring my granddaughter. If you lay a single hand on her hair– well, you know what will happen.

            The man scowls at Marianne. He becomes even grumpier, bitter as his lips are pressed into a line, "Fine, Marianne."

          Asher, this is your new worker. My grandmother stepped from in front of me, soon nudging me close to the counter of the bar. She briefly eyes her green colored fingernails, I expect her home at a reasonable hour.

          Will do, Marianne! Asher saluted my grandmother with a fake smile directed at the elderly woman. As soon as she was gone, his eyes turned to a narrowed glare on me. He didn't like me– that much was obvious.

          I wait for the man to tell me what I'm going to be doing. If I ask, will he bite my head off? I'm embarrassed since all he's doing is glaring at me like I'm a disease that he was just diagnosed with, Sir–

          Do not call me, Sir. I'm your boss. My name is Asher. The man says, lowering his gaze to the counter he had been wiping down. He knew I couldn't serve unless I had a license. He could always have me cleaning the likes of Wisteria Heights. He did need the help, You'll be cleaning.

            I can't argue with the man since I don't know him. I did as he said, whenever he said it. I couldn't risk my grandmother finding out that I didn't obey my boss. I wished things would have gone over smoothly yet the day seemed to be dragging on. I'd be glad when my shift was over– I kept receiving glares from Asher every time I came across his line of vision.

            I was tongue tied– unsure of what to say to the man. I just did as I was told, keeping to myself. I had what seemed like a decent job, no thanks to my grandfather. I didn't get the sense that Asher liked either of my grandparents. The more I thought about it– the more I realized that my new boss was the one storming from their house when I arrived, brushing past me.

            That's another reason why I'm assuming the man can't stand me. I can't blame Asher for disliking me or them, but the stone cold way he left was something else. I stroked my chin as the man called my name to gather my attention, "Yes, Sir?"

            Your shift is over. Asher calls to me with a tense jawline. He doesn't bother to glance my way, making me unsure of what to assume about his dislike towards me. His lips purse as I gingerly nod my head.

            I blow a sigh of relief once I'm able to clock out– all in all I didn't fancy returning to the home of my grandparents. I need to set a goal to build towards in order to get from underneath their noses. So far, my grandmother was the only conflict I was having. I haven't spent enough time alone with my grandpa who seemed keen on me having a life just the same. I'd have to see what happened as anxiety flickered to life in the pit of my stomach.

            I had been aware of the lengthy drive to Wisteria Heights from the outskirts of Emerson, where my grandparents lived. I'm shaky as I exit the bar, scowling at the darkness that engulfs me. I wonder what time it is as a shudder of dread fills my heart. I can't believe my grandmother thought it was a good idea for me to work part time at a bar after dark. Did the woman not believe in safety for women?

            Rolling my olive green eyes to the deep blue skies, I assumed she didn't. Or else my grandmother would have thought twice about allowing me to work at night. I needed to speak to my mother who didn't mention the abuse that her mother could have put her through. I assumed that my mother just didn't speak to her parents. I tense as the stench of alcohol intermingling with death infiltrates my nostrils.

            I'm realizing how good I had it, growing up in Georgia. I hear a hiss from a cat before a trash can is knocked over. Goosebumps litter my skin as the creepiness of the night lingers, refusing to hide itself. I have always hated the night time, where nothing good ever happens. I inhale sharply to slowly exhale, One, two, Jason is coming for you…

            Cynthia. The gruff, raspy voice of my newly cemented boss calls from behind, startling me. His voice holds a slither of worry as he walks over, placing a hand reluctantly on my shoulder.

            I snap myself out of whatever calm I was trying to achieve by thinking of Jason Voorhees. I take a deep breath before raising a caramel colored eyebrow at my boss, Sir?

          Goddammit, Cynthia. Call me, Asher for fuck's sake. I'm taking you home. He said, using a set of keys to cause a beep to signal a black Cadillac sitting in front of the bar.

            I can walk. I bitterly muse, not fishing for his help. Why should I accept his help whenever it was evident the man couldn't stand me?

            Cynthia, you don't have to be so stubborn. Alyssa reminded me that it's not safe for a young woman such as yourself to walk home alone, especially from this distance. Asher said, lightly chuckling as he unlocked his vehicle, opening the passenger door for me to take a seat.

            I erase the bitter mood wrapping around my brain as I allow myself to relax. I gingerly nod, accepting his offer as I slide into the Cadillac. My brain begins to overwork with worry as I realize Asher could be a serial killer. I briefly bit down on my tongue so as to not make any ludicrous accusations, Who is Alyssa?

            "Oh, Alyssa is my girlfriend. She's the official club singer. People enjoy her smooth, soft, sultry voice. I definitely appreciate it." Asher breathes in explanation upon taking a seat behind the steering wheel. His sour mood of contemptment for me seemed to slip.

            Relief floods my veins as I fully relax, She's a gorgeous woman.

            That she is. We're planning an August wedding. The man says with pride etched onto his soft pink lips. He was definitely happy whenever he spoke of Alyssa.

            I don't utter a word about the idea of an August wedding. I let my eyes drink in the dead, lifeless city which was confusing. Whenever my grandmother drove me into the heart of Emerson earlier; everything was lit like a Christmas tree. A pang starts in my heart as I think of the adventures Moira and Lola will be having; separate from my own. I craved to be normal yet nothing was normal