Charity smoothed her hair down. “I’d have thought that too a couple of weeks ago,” she said. “But it turns out I can live with it. It’s not like any of you were useful. A failure. A parasite. A criminal. I’m not going to lose any sleep.”
She stalked away, her heels loud on the metal floor, even over Clay cursing her the whole way. The door slammed behind her, and Clay relaxed. He slouched down in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. In about an hour, his hands would feel like they were in a vise, but right now, he could nap.
Oh.
He looked over at Errand Boy and jerked his head toward the doors.
“You’ll want to wait outside,” he said. “These usually block cell signals.”
Errand Boy looked equal parts baffled and afraid.
“Are you really Catholic?” he asked.
It was a bit of an odd digression, but Clay supposed it was a valid question.
“Yeah,” he said. “Not a good one, but that’s not required.”
Errand Boy nodded. “I’ll pray for you.”
He looked like he meant it.
“Go fuck yourself,” Clay told him. “I can get to hell on my own.”
Chapter Fifteen
Grade had gone to school with Lennie “back then it was Gardener” Bennett.
He didn’t remember her. That wasn’t unusual. Grade had been a memorable kid—between the missing and/or dead dad and the pregnant sister—but he’d not had a lot of friends.
Apparently he’d gone to school with Harry too. Or at least been there at the same time.
“You haveno ideahow glad I am that you applied,” Lennie said. She hooked her arm through Grade’s as they walked down the corridor. Grade wasn’t too sure how to go along with that—he didn’t think anyone had ever done that to him before—but Lennie seemed happy enough. “You advertise for a morgue attendant, and I swear, the weirdos and the creeps just appear out of nowhere. Just disturbing people, Grade.”
“I’m sure,” he said.
Lennie shook her head, her glossy mane of honey-blond hair sliding over her shoulders. “And honestly, I think most of them would be disappointed. I know it seems like a creepy job, but it’s not. It’s just like any other workplace. We have paperwork that is never done, there’s a lady in accounts who complains about the creamer every single week, and there’s not that much difference between a dead body and a cardboard box.”
Grade did think he might have liked Lennie if he’d gotten to know her when they were kids.
“I never thought of it that way,” he said.
“I mean, if youthinkabout it being a person once, that’s different,” Lennie said. “But if you don’t, it’s just another awkward thing to move from one room to the next. It’s not like you touch them or anything.”
She unhooked her arm from his and turned to point a finger at him while she took steps backward.
“Don’t touch them,” she said. “Do not touch the corpses. People will get really angry.”
“Cross my heart,” Grade said as he mimed the motion.
The smile was back as Lennie turned to push a door open; she had to put her shoulder to it to get it to move.
“Anyway, here we are,” she said as she waved him into her office. “Head of HR, me. Who’d have thought it? I mean, it’s just me and an intern from the high school, but still. Sit down. I’ll get you the paperwork you need to—”
“Before we start,” Grade said, “could I just use the restroom?”
Lennie rolled her eyes at him. “You did always have a tiny bladder,” she said. “Always asked to go in the middle of class.”
Maybe he wouldn’t have liked her after all, Grade mused. He tuned out the directions to the restrooms—he’d memorized the layout weeks ago, for entirely different reasons—and finally managed to excuse himself out the door.
