But that bus wasn’t aiming for me. It had been aiming for Piper. Did that mean she was really the one meant for death? Or had it been me all along?
“But why didn’t we end up in heaven? How did G.R. find us?”
“People that die violent or sudden deaths don’t cross over right away. I guess it’s because their spirits are too shocked to realize they’re dead. Sometimes they’re good candidates to be a Death Escort and G.R. finds them and makes them a deal, like he did with you.”
I made a good candidate because I was easily seduced by money. Anyone who never had anything would be. Add that to the fact I became a killer as a child and you had a perfect match.
“What’s your name?” I asked, turning away from the heavy topic for a minute.
“Everyone calls me Charming,” he said with a smirk.
“Charming,” I said, deadpan. “Are you serious?”
“I come by it honestly.” He got up and filled his bowl with another serving of chili.
“People think you’re charming?” I scoffed. I thought he was an ass.
“I have a way with people.”
I made a rude sound. “Do people thank you while you’re killing them?”
“I give the friendless a friend, the depressed hope, and the rejected acceptance. When their time is up, they go happier than they were.”
I looked at him again, looking past the red, trying to see what he claimed others saw in him. All I saw was white, perfect teeth, wide shoulders and a sarcastic grin. He was wearing dark jeans and a heavy grey sweater with a zipper near the neck. It had a collar, which was flipped up around his jaws.
To me he looked like a soap opera actor.
I watched one of those shows today and I thought it was ridiculously cheesy. But the ladies must like them, so maybe they liked him too.
But really, dude? You let people call you Charming?
“So basically you get close to people, get them to trust you—like you—and then you Escort them.”
“Pretty much.” He flashed me a grin that said he liked his job.
To do what he did, I wondered if he liked himself.
That thought brought me up short—I’d never thought about that before. About liking myself. I guess I always knew where I stood in the world. At the bottom. And I did what I could to survive. I never really had the luxury of self-worth. But sitting here now, it seemed self-worth wasn’t a luxury; it was something everyone should have.
Charming pinned me with a hard look. “Are you having second thoughts about the job?”
I sat up a little straighter. “Me? No.”
“Then why isn’t it done?”
“It’s been harder to kill her than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah, well, not finishing the job would be harder.”
“What do you mean?”
He smirked. “Seriously? Did you not ask what would happen if you didn’t do the job?”
No. I hadn’t. G.R. (when had he become G.R. to me and not Mr. Burns?) hadn’t really given me a choice about completing the job. It was this or an eternity in hell. It wasn’t a hard choice.
Charming rolled his eyes. “You were given an amount of time to do the job. To prove yourself as a Death Escort. If you don’t do the job, you get recalled.”
“Recalled?” I asked.
