snapped me out of my daze. “Hey, wait up!” I chased after him. “Be ready how? Where?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Just be ready. Wear something appropriate.”
I ran to catch up, tottering on the high heels Jasmine had picked out for me earlier in the day. “Appropriate for what?”
“Your occupation.”
Occupation? Was he talking about the stretchy slacks and semi-dressy t-shirt that I generally wore when substitute teaching? But the hard look in his eyes said otherwise, and suddenly I felt very stupid. Of course he didn’t mean that. He meant dress like a succubus. Like a slut. My bowels felt liquidy. “I can’t do that.” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t help it. “I could never go through with something like that.”
His eyes were like knives. “You don’t have a choice. It’s what we do.” He turned away, walked a few more steps and disappeared like smoke into the night.
What we do? What do you mean we , I wondered. Then it struck me. The smoldering gaze, the instant attraction. He was a male version of what I was. An incubus. No wonder I’d wanted to get naked with him in the backseat of my car. Was that what I looked like now? Irresistibly sexy? I started to have a little sympathy for Harold the undertaker.
I might have felt proud of my new sexual attractiveness if not for the looming threat of tomorrow’s ‘task’. The idea of hooking up with a complete stranger made me queasy. I didn’t care what Miss Spry or Mr. Darcy said, I simply couldn’t do it.
But the final blow came when I re-entered the funeral home. Miss Spry expected me at ten o’clock the following morning.
The same time as my mother’s funeral.
The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen, three pairs of eyes opened wide and three jaws dropped.
“Holy shit, Auntie Lil.” Ariel was the first to speak. “Did you mug a hooker last night and steal her clothes?”
Eleven going on thirty. That’s my niece.
“My eyes are watering,” Jasmine said. “Where on earth did you find a tank top in lime green?”
Your closet , I thought.
Grace tipped her head, considering. “I kinda like it. I think the silver boots are really cool.”
“You’re not going to the funeral like that. Right?” Jasmine couldn’t stop staring. I thought she was beginning to remember the tank top. And the much-too-short black skirt. And the bangles.
“You totally should,” Ariel said and laughed. “Can you imagine?”
I put down the purse and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I fully intend to go to the funeral in this.” And then I delivered the line that I’d conceived of when I was getting dressed. “It’s what Carrie would have wanted.”
Three pairs of eyebrows went up, and three heads nodded appreciatively. Because, yes, it was exactly what my mother would have wanted.
“Then I’m changing my clothes,” Ariel said and, before I could stop her, she’d ran back upstairs to peel off the new black dress I’d bought her.
Grace looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “Can I wear my purple, sparkly shoes? The ones with the curly, pointed toes?” These were from last year’s Halloween costume, when she’d wanted to be a genie.
“Sure, why not,” I said. Delighted, Grace ran off to find them.
Jasmine looked at me over the top of her coffee mug. “You look like shit.”
I felt like shit. I’d hoped the outrageous clothing would draw attention from away from my pale face and the dark pits beneath my eyes. Peeking in the mirror earlier, I’d seen a ghoul looking back. Which was no surprise since I’d spent the entire night in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet. There hadn’t been much to get sick on – I’d hardly eaten the day before – but every time I pictured what I was supposed to be doing at ten o’clock this morning, the dry heaves had taken over.
I can’t do this,
He looked over his shoulder. “Just be ready. Wear something appropriate.”
I ran to catch up, tottering on the high heels Jasmine had picked out for me earlier in the day. “Appropriate for what?”
“Your occupation.”
Occupation? Was he talking about the stretchy slacks and semi-dressy t-shirt that I generally wore when substitute teaching? But the hard look in his eyes said otherwise, and suddenly I felt very stupid. Of course he didn’t mean that. He meant dress like a succubus. Like a slut. My bowels felt liquidy. “I can’t do that.” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t help it. “I could never go through with something like that.”
His eyes were like knives. “You don’t have a choice. It’s what we do.” He turned away, walked a few more steps and disappeared like smoke into the night.
What we do? What do you mean we , I wondered. Then it struck me. The smoldering gaze, the instant attraction. He was a male version of what I was. An incubus. No wonder I’d wanted to get naked with him in the backseat of my car. Was that what I looked like now? Irresistibly sexy? I started to have a little sympathy for Harold the undertaker.
I might have felt proud of my new sexual attractiveness if not for the looming threat of tomorrow’s ‘task’. The idea of hooking up with a complete stranger made me queasy. I didn’t care what Miss Spry or Mr. Darcy said, I simply couldn’t do it.
But the final blow came when I re-entered the funeral home. Miss Spry expected me at ten o’clock the following morning.
The same time as my mother’s funeral.
The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen, three pairs of eyes opened wide and three jaws dropped.
“Holy shit, Auntie Lil.” Ariel was the first to speak. “Did you mug a hooker last night and steal her clothes?”
Eleven going on thirty. That’s my niece.
“My eyes are watering,” Jasmine said. “Where on earth did you find a tank top in lime green?”
Your closet , I thought.
Grace tipped her head, considering. “I kinda like it. I think the silver boots are really cool.”
“You’re not going to the funeral like that. Right?” Jasmine couldn’t stop staring. I thought she was beginning to remember the tank top. And the much-too-short black skirt. And the bangles.
“You totally should,” Ariel said and laughed. “Can you imagine?”
I put down the purse and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I fully intend to go to the funeral in this.” And then I delivered the line that I’d conceived of when I was getting dressed. “It’s what Carrie would have wanted.”
Three pairs of eyebrows went up, and three heads nodded appreciatively. Because, yes, it was exactly what my mother would have wanted.
“Then I’m changing my clothes,” Ariel said and, before I could stop her, she’d ran back upstairs to peel off the new black dress I’d bought her.
Grace looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “Can I wear my purple, sparkly shoes? The ones with the curly, pointed toes?” These were from last year’s Halloween costume, when she’d wanted to be a genie.
“Sure, why not,” I said. Delighted, Grace ran off to find them.
Jasmine looked at me over the top of her coffee mug. “You look like shit.”
I felt like shit. I’d hoped the outrageous clothing would draw attention from away from my pale face and the dark pits beneath my eyes. Peeking in the mirror earlier, I’d seen a ghoul looking back. Which was no surprise since I’d spent the entire night in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet. There hadn’t been much to get sick on – I’d hardly eaten the day before – but every time I pictured what I was supposed to be doing at ten o’clock this morning, the dry heaves had taken over.
I can’t do this,
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