Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Holy shit,” I exclaimed.
“WHAT?” Brittany yelled into my ear.
She was squealing right along with me as I told her what happened.
“Oh, we are definitely discussing this tomorrow,” she snapped. “I’ll bring the coffee this time.”
I drove to work in a daze, totally out of it. That man’s lips were deadly.
***
Of course, I would have to deal with a grieving family.
Fucking Ray. All he did was see a pretty girl and he had to jump on her the moment she showed up.
Although it was convenient, since the woman seemed to make the crying man’s weeping become harder.
I hated this part, dealing with a man who was so broken up about his daughter’s death.
To make it worse, their daughter was burned alive, which the man made sure to point out to me numerous times. The man’s wife just sat there in shock. She didn’t speak or cry; just sat there and stared blankly into space.
Controlling my shiver, I bid them to take a seat as I watched the woman and Mr. Platt walk back into the back.
I didn’t understand what was going on, and why those two couldn’t go with them, but it really was none of my business.
I was paid to guide them to where they needed to go, and show them around. Not be their psychiatrist. I was a hairdresser. Normally that would make me a confidant of sorts, but that was my failure in life.
I hated dealing with people. I was awkward and socially unkempt. I didn’t want to deal with their petty problems, because I had enough problems on my own.
When I was in my senior year in high school, people liked to call me Queen Bitch. They always said that I thought I was too good for them, when, in reality, I was barely hanging on to my crumbling family. Taking care of my own problems came first, which normally put me in the ‘bitch’ category.
“Can you bring me something to drink?” The weeping man asked.
Just as I was about to comply, a biker walked in the door, and my breath stalled in my lungs.
He was wearing the same type of vest that I’d seen on the men that pulled into my neighbor’s driveway several months ago.
Did he know my neighbor?
Then his thunderous expression made me take a step back, and swallow convulsively at the contempt on his face.
Thank God it wasn’t leveled on me, because I probably wouldn’t have been able to stand against his ire.
“My sister, Shannon Spada, is being buried two days from now,” the giant said.
“Of course, what can I help you with?” I asked.
The giant also had a Mohawk, and my eyes kept straying from his thunderous expression to the couple in the corner.
Didn’t Mr. Platt just take that woman back for the same reason?
“Name’s Tiago Spada, I’m here to checkout some of the rooms, get some things ironed out before the viewing of my sister in a couple of days,” he snapped.
Looking at my paper for the name of the sister, I found her, and the name Tiago Spada next to it. As well as the woman who’d just gone back with Ray. Adeline Spada. Hmmm.
My eyes widened. “Of course, I’ll be glad to show you the way,” I said as I turned quickly.
My eyes went wide as man after man poured through the door, but I didn’t comment on it. Hopefully ignoring them was the way to go.
He nodded, but didn’t answer.
Looking at the weeping man in the corner, I felt horrible that this family couldn’t come together for their dead loved one, but I was not one to judge. My family wasn’t all shits and giggles either.
“O-okay, follow me,” I stuttered as I led him past the weeping people in the corner.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the killing glare he turned on who must be his parents, and I barely contained a shiver.
Doing my best to ignore the intimidating man at my back, I led him down the hallway and started my usual chatter about the funeral home, and what the company’s goal was.
When we finally made it to the first viewing room, I was extremely relieved to find that the other fifteen men didn’t follow us.
“Do you have any special requests on what you’d like to see?” I asked him.
“Actually, I’d like to see the very back room. We have a lot of people coming, and I’d like as much privacy as possible,” He said.
So it went. I showed him what he wanted, and he asked questions.
Then the officer and his dog showed, freezing me in my tracks.
My lungs froze in my throat, and I about had a panic attack on the spot.
It didn’t help, either, that the dog was going nuts, barking and straining at the officer’s hold.
Everything seemed to dim out, and I stared in horror at the man and his dog.
“How do you get to the back?” The police officer all but snarled at me.
I started at the question, stepping back until my back hit the podium and I could go no further.
With a shaky hand, I held up my finger and pointed towards a door that was partially covered by a long curtain at the back of the room.
The man’s big arms strained to hold the dog back, and finally, he let the dog go.
The dog dashed off, shooting like an arrow towards the door, only to come to a stop with barely restrained violence.
I watched it all in a fog. What the hell was going on?
When the K-9 officer arrived at the door, he cursed and bellowed at me.
But my eyes and mind were no longer on the man yelling at me, but on the man who’d just entered the room.
He was wearing his badge on his left hip and his semiautomatic Colt .45 on his other. He had a black polo shirt tucked into his jeans, and black sunglasses sitting on top of his head. His eyes were all for the dog though, completely disregarding me.
I was going to be sick.