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She blinked. “Huh?”
“Bitter and sweet.”
Wow, he really had lost his fucking mind.
“Mmhmm,” she said, not sure how to change the subject so she could feel less awkward. In the end, she grasped at the most pressing issue at hand, looking him straight in the eye. “We need to figure out a way to jog your memory. Help you remember who you are.” She pulled a face. “Though with Roberta on vacation, there’s no fucking help anyway.”
“Who’s Roberta?” he asked with a frown.
Bunny allowed herself a long blink, letting the backs of her eyelids rest in place as she took a long, deep breath. “The receptionist,” she explained, deciding not to go into too much detail. It wasn’t going to ring a bell with him anyway.
“You’re crazy,” he told her. The hint of a smile lingered at one corner of his mouth.
She snorted under her breath. Maybe he was right. “Yeah well, no one can see you, so all they do see is me talking to myself like I am crazy.”
She stretched, taking her time to mull things over before continuing.
“The fact is that you have a job to do, and you’re not doing it.” Bunny pressed her lips into a thin line that betrayed how worried she really was. “Each day the consequences of that will get worse and worse.” She paused, shaking her head. “Me explaining this to you is so fucking ironic.”
She petered off as Di approached the table, short stack and OJ in hand. She slid it onto the table in front of Bunny and leaned across to reach for the coffee cup.
“Refill comin’ right up,” the waitress winked, leaning a bit too far.
Even though he tried to lean back, Di’s shoulder brushed against Death’s arm.
The next moment, a shimmer filled the air around the waitress, looking like some indiscernible steam. It expanded, swirling, until it was the same size as her whole body.
And then, seconds later, Di’s soul was standing next to the booth as her body crumpled to the ground.
Several diner patrons gasped. One woman in the back screamed, forcing Bunny to resist rolling her eyes. People always screamed in emergencies, but it was rarely a helpful action. She hated to think what would happen if triage nurses screamed every time a new patient was brought into the ER with a nail through their foot or a bone protruding from a broken arm.
Lord.
Bunny was much more concerned with the fact Di was gaping at her own body than anything else in that moment.
“What the—” the waitress breathed. She normally had a healthy tan, but even her soul was looking wan and distressed. “Is that my body right the hell there on the floor?” She looked at Bunny, accusation in her eyes. “What is this? Some kind of astral-traveling bullshit?”
“Fuck,” Bunny murmured under her breath. She looked from Di, to Di’s body, to Death as the cogs in her brain tried to turn fast enough to process this situation with only half a cup of bad coffee as fuel.
“What?” Death asked, his face the picture of innocence. Bunny’s eyes widened as she realized he didn’t even know he had done anything.
He thought this was normal.
“Who’s he?” Di demanded, a hand on her curvy hip as she stared at Death. “And where the hell was he two seconds ago?”
Bunny looked between Di and Death, eyes wide, knowing she needed to do something but not quite what that was. In the end, it was the other patrons of the diner who made up her mind for her.
“You can see me?” Death breathed, his brows lifted with interest.
An elderly man at the next booth was squinting through thick spectacles at Di’s body. “Is she okay?”
“Somebody call 9-1-1!” someone else shouted.
“Fuck,” Bunny hissed, sliding out of the booth and down to the floor beside an unconscious Di.
“I’m a nurse,” she told the rapidly gathering crowd, going through the motions of checking Di’s vital signs. “She’s gonna be fine—just give me some room!”
The crowd backed up and then was held at bay by other waitresses.
