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Time moved in slow motion as her mossy hazel eyes swept down, her wet lashes nearly touching the apples of her cheeks.
The wind was knocked straight out of me. My head spun. My blood was thick, and all she’d done was walk past me.
I watched her leave, and despite the alarm bells clanging in my skull, I silently followed. Down the darkened hallway, the woman stood across from Tootie and Bug. The aunties nodded as the mystery woman smiled.
Just like that, the weeping probably-not-a-widow was clear eyed and smiling kindly at the women. I hung toward the wall, feeling like a creeping asshole watching the three women talking in the dark hallway, but then it happened.
Tootie reached into her purse and placed a stack of bills into the woman’s hand.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
2
LARK
The worst partof my job was all the dead bodies.
A chilly breeze still clung to the air as spring made its creeping transition to summer. I sucked in the moist air, loving the fact that you could smell the water no matter where you were in town. I scanned the sea of faces standing around the grave site. My black mirrored sunglasses concealed my eyes as I looked from face to face, curious about those who’d come to pay their respects and imagining their lives like a movie playing out right in front of me.
Surprisingly, a few more people had shown up today than were at the wake yesterday. In my experience, the opposite was typically true. It was still a depressingly small number of people, and it was no wonder Tootie and Bug had needed my services.
I was alone, but that wasn’t unusual nor uncomfortable for me. I simply held my head high, dabbed my nose at the appropriate times, and played the part. From my vantage point in the front, but nestled discreetly to the side, I could see two distinct groups of mourners forming.
The first consisted mostly of tall, imposing men wearing various styles of well-tailored suits. Even the one covered in tattoos, the ink peeking above his collar and out of his shirtsleeves, wore a suit that looked to be made for him. Most resembled each other with broad shoulders, long straight noses, and an unmistakably dangerous glint in their eyes. More than one looked like he was ready for a fight. The woman who’d introduced herself to me as Bug stood in the center of them.
The Kings.
Among the imposing circle of suit-wearing beasts were two young women. Only one of the Kings was not shooting daggers toward the Sullivans. Rather, one of the women was sneaking glances in their direction. Specifically, toward the oldest Sullivan. Duke, if I recalled his name correctly, appeared completely oblivious.
Very interesting.
I schooled my face and looked down at the open hole in the earth. When one of my roommates in Chicago had told me about how her cousin had made a killing as an improv actor at funerals in New York, my wheels had started turning. One by one my roommates had moved on to New York or LA, some even giving up altogether and packing up to head for home. I couldn’t give up the dream, not yet.
My big break was only a job or two away. I just knew it. The office temp work I’d been doing between acting jobs in Chicago was fine, but not enough to sustain my lofty city apartment rental. Or my thirst for adventure.
So one semiprofessional-looking website later, I was officially a mourner for hire in the Chicagoland and coastal Michigan area. After fifteen funerals, all the faces were starting to blend together, but observing and drawing conclusions about the strangers who moved in and out of my life was one of the best parts of this job. Improv acting kept life interesting, and the romance novels on my nightstand didn’t hold a candle to the salacious stories I could come up with in my own mind.
Tootie and her group of mismatched, haphazard family members stood on the complete opposite side of the Kings. Her soft, round face smiled at those who walked up, and she offered enthusiastic hugs to everyone, whether they seemed to want one or not. The Sullivan men were also stupidly handsome.
They were dressed in jackets and ties, with some in freshly pressed denim, a bit more blue collar than the Kings appeared to be. They exuded confidence and charm. One look at the older man who stood beside Tootie and you could see where the men got their classic good looks. Though he looked a bit lost, the rugged lines of hard work outdoors made his face only handsomer.
I took in the distinctions between the two groups and how both shot angry, spiteful glares toward the other. As I continued to look on, my lips pressed together in a demure smile anytime someone’s curious eyes lingered a moment too long.
Everyone except forhim.
On the outskirts of the Sullivan clan was the man from yesterday. The one I couldn’t seem to shake. He was tall and broad. His chin tipped up slightly, giving him an air of cockiness that would have been enticing if it weren’t for the permanent scowl he wore with it.
When I had walked past him at the funeral home, I was so inundated with his rough and masculine smell and pointed stare, I nearly stumbled in my new heels. His haunting whiskey brown eyes had tracked my walk out of the room, and though I’d tried to ignore it, I could feel them all the way until I rounded the corner out of view.
The little girl was with him again today. She was too young to be his little sister, and the way she clung to his leg after coming back with a plate of cookies yesterday, and again today, revealed he was likely her dad. When he wrapped a strong hand around her shoulder and pulled her closer, my heart stuttered, just for a moment.
His masculine, protective vibe was sexy—there was no denying that—but I’d been given a job, and I doubted banging the brooding grump just to see if he’d crack a smile was part of the performance.
But seriously, who doesn’t love a grumpy DILF?
Tootie and Bug had specifically requested actual tears after they found my website and hired me. I was also instructed to sprinkle in a few well-timed gasps and sudden shotgun sobs. Nothing too over the top, but enough to get people talking. My eyes flicked to the old women, who’d taken to completely ignoring each other in public.
I laughed to myself.
