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Once inside, I retrieved my pretty notebook from the desk and headed out, ensuring all the lights were off in the funeral home. After closing and locking the front door behind me, I turned and ran smack dab into a clothed brick wall.
“Oh, my lanta!” I exclaimed, clutching my chest in surprise as I stumbled backward. The brick wall was actually a well-dressed, handsome man.
The man caught me around the waist, keeping me on my feet. “Whoa, there,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Uh, well, it’s half-past nine, and we’re in front of a funeral home. Being scared kind of happens in these instances,” I quipped, attempting to step back from him.
“These kinds of meetings happen often?” he asked.
The stranger reluctantly released his hold on me, and I took the opportunity to size him up. He had dark hair, a handsome face, and a fit physique, all accentuated by his attire—a white t-shirt paired with jeans and a black leather jacket.
The leather jacket caught my attention. “Are you one of Mace’s friends?” I inquired, hoping perhaps he was someone new from the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club. A little excitement would be just about right. I nodded to the motorcycle parked by the front door.
“Mace?” the man repeated, glancing towards the motorcycle parked nearby. “I’m going to need more of an explanation than that.”
Realizing I was conversing with a stranger in the dark, a sense of caution washed over me. I needed to find out who he was or make a run for it. Although he didn’t seem immediately threatening, I knew better than to let my guard down.
Taking another step back, I maintained a safe distance. “Uh, who are you? If you’re here for Mr. Brooks’ funeral, it’s not until tomorrow.” Why else would a stranger be at a funeral home other than to go to a funeral, right?
The man smirked knowingly. “I am here for the funeral, but I know it’s not until tomorrow.”
If he had been aware of that fact, then what would he be doing here now? “Uh, okay,” I muttered, feeling uneasy. “Then maybe you should come back tomorrow, Mr...” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.
He extended his hand towards me. “You can just call me Rocco. I’m assuming you are either Imogen or Dorothy.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how he knew my name when I had no idea who he was. “Well, I’m Dorothy, though I must ask how you even knew my name.”
Rocco’s smile widened. “My uncle talked about you and Imogen every time he called.”
“Uncle?” I tilted my head, trying to make sense of all of this. How did Rocco’s uncle know me if I didn’t even know who Rocco was?
“Donald,” he nodded towards the sign in front of the funeral home. “Donald Brooks.”
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. I had just bumped into Mr. Brooks’ nephew—the same one who was taking over Brooks Mortuary and Cremation.
“You’re...” I began, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rocco confirmed my suspicions with his next words. “Your new boss.”
Rocco
A mixture of curiosity and amusement swirled within me. I had called earlier, leaving a message on the answering machine to inform Imogen and Dorothy I planned to stop by, but it seemed Dorothy hadn’t gotten it.
“I’m assuming you didn’t get my message,” I drawled, breaking the silence.
“Message?” Dorothy’s brows furrowed in confusion.
I nodded. “Yes, the one I left on the answering machine earlier today.”
Dorothy’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of realization. “The blinking was you?” she asked.
I chuckled softly. “Uh, well...” I trailed off, slightly puzzled by her reference to blinking.
“On the answering machine,” she clarified. “I saw the machine blinking before we left to get margaritas. Imogen figured it was her panic calling me earlier, so I didn’t even listen to the message.” She swallowed nervously. “Which probably isn’t a good thing to tell my new boss, huh? That I saw there was a message, and I ignored it,” she whispered.
“Honest mistake,” I shrugged, trying to ease her worry. “I half assumed the machine was a relic and wondered if you would even get the message.”
“You’re right about it being a relic,” she admitted with a sheepish grin.
