I nodded a polite hello to the other guests as I made my way to stand behind the chairs. I stopped next to a tall guy in a tasteful gray suit who looked like he had just come from a GQ photo shoot. He was few years older than me and had dark hair and deep green eyes—and he seemed to be fascinated by me. I played with my hair and avoided direct eye contact.
“I like your dress, very classy,” he said.
I looked down at the deep purple sundress I had chosen instead of my mother’s monstrosity. I reddened as I fixed one of the straps that had fallen off my shoulder. “Thanks. I guess.”
He held out a hand. “I’m Derek.”
“I’m Madison.” I reached my hand towards him but instead of it shaking it he turned it and kissed the top.
I pulled my hand back, rubbing the bit his lips had touched with my thumb.
“How did you know Max?” he asked.
Shit, I needed a cover story. Why hadn’t I thought of some reason for being here? “I killed him” definitely wasn’t going to cut it. “I ummm…”
“Oh, you don’t know him either?” Derek elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t worry, I’d never blow your cover. I’m a professional mourner too.”
“You’re a what?”
“Oh, crap. Sorry, I thought I’d seen you around the circuit, maybe one of Bill’s crew.” He handed me a business card.
I looked down at it.
Happy Mourners: a professional mourning service. Director: Derek Hill.
“I still don’t really get it,” I said, slipping the card into my purse. “Why would anyone need to hire people to be at their funeral?”
Derek shrugged. “It seems there are a lot of people out there who don’t have many friends or family. They hire us to fill the seats. We stand around, look sad and anyone who really knew the client doesn’t feel bad about a low turnout.”
I gave a throaty laugh. “Who would even pay for that?”
“Well, that guy Max did.” Derek pointed to the picture next to the casket. “The client arranges things ahead of time. He hired six people to be here, just in case. I guess he didn’t think anyone would show up to his funeral.”
“How would he know? He’s dead!” I said. A couple of the seated guests glared at me.
Derek held a finger to his lips.
“Sorry.” I lowered my voice. “How would someone know how many people had showed up or even if anyone did at all? You guys could just take his money and run.”
“We’re a business built on honesty. We have to be trustworthy or we’d be out of a job.” Derek wrapped an arm around me. “We assure all our potential clients by inviting them to attend example funerals so they can hand pick the services we provide.”
I shrugged. “It still sounds a little creepy, but I guess it’s not hurting anyone and it’s good that all the seats are full.”
“That’s how I see it. I founded this business after seeing my uncle Peter, one of the nicest guys in the world, only get four people at his funeral. I thought I could save others the embarrassment.”
“It’s nice of you to honor his memory this way. “
“He meant a lot to me. Anyway, enough with business. Why are you really here, Madison?”
I looked over at the casket. “I feel really guilty now.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m kind of crashing this funeral. I was hoping to tag along to the wake and get some free food.”
Derek raised a eyebrow.
“I even brought my big purse,” I said, holding up my bag.
He laughed and covered his mouth. “That’s horrible.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” I said.
He shook his head. “I won’t. To be honest, that’s one of my favorite perks of the job.”
“You don’t think I should leave?”
He waved a hand at me. “No, you’ve got to eat. Plus these widows always put on way too much food. Most of it gets thrown away anyway.” He looked over at a devastated Sheryl in the front row.
“She’s not his wife,” I said out loud.
“How do you know?”
“I spoke to her when I came in. They’re divorced.”
“Looks like she still misses him, regardless,” Derek said.
“I hate funerals,” I murmured, looking down at my shoes.
“You chose a strange place to pick up free meals then. Maybe try a wedding next time.”
“Everything is so fake. No one seems to treat the dead with any ounce of respect.”
Derek glanced around at the other hired mourners. “I’m sure others aren’t that bad. How many funeral have you been to?”
“This is my fourth. If I hadn’t lost my job, I wouldn’t have to be here.”
“You’re crashing funerals cause you lost your job? Man, that is depressing.” Derek patted my shoulder.
I rubbed my eyes. Of all the horrible things that went along with my role, seeing others upset was probably the worst.
Derek scanned my face. “You know, you’re really pretty when you cry.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”
“Gorgeous. Have you ever done any acting?”
“I was in a play in high school. Why?” I wiped my eyes.
“I know you don’t like funerals, but if you’re going to hang around them for the free food, you might as well get paid. How would you feel about trying out for our team?”
“You want me to be a professional mourner?”
“You look attractive when you cry, and I assume you can walk in heels,” he said, glancing down at my Doc Martins. “There isn’t a lot more to it than that,” he explained.
“I don’t know. I’ve needed a new job for a while but working at funerals everyday…”
“If you need the work, you can’t say no. It’s easy money plus there are other added benefits,” he said.
“Like what?”
“We’d get to know each other better.” He reached down and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.
I blushed. He was kind of cute. “Fine, I’ll try it but no promises. When do I start?”
Derek glanced around as the priest started the service. “Now seems like a good time,” he whispered.
It took a while for Sheryl to take the makeshift stage. She stumbled across the wet grass, dabbing her eyes as she went. A man in a suit led her to the front, tapping her arm as they walked. When she arrived, he whispered something to her. She nodded. She shuffled her feet as she looked out into the crowd. Her eyes looked heavy. Her fingers tore at the edge of a piece of paper in her hand.
“Thank you all for coming. Max would have been pleased to know he had so many people that cared about him. I’m not going to stand up here and praise the kind of husband Max was, because the truth is he wasn’t the best man in the world, he was just Max.” Tears ran down her face and her words became quieter. “A man I had known for twenty years, who I’d loved until we grew apart when we wanted different things in our lives. Part of me will always love him, and in another world we could have still been together. I blame myself for not being there on the day—after all, Max and Mr. Rivers had never gotten along.”
“Rivers?” I took a step back, realizing what I had caused by imagining water. Not only had I killed Max, but I’d made a little old man into a murder. I held my chest as my breathing sped up. What had I done? My eyes began to water.
“You’re really good at this,” Derek said, touching my elbow.
I covered my mouth with my hand.
“Maybe, a little too good. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. That high school drama class must have really paid off.”
The priest had joined Sheryl at the front and was patting her back. “Why don’t you take your seat?”
Sheryl nodded, burying her face in a tissue.
“If there is no one else that would like to speak, I’ll start my closing remarks,” the priest said, opening his Bible.
My mouth hung open as a tall blonde woman rushed forwards and t
hrew her body across the casket.
“I know her,” I said, taking a step forwards.
“No, Max, you can’t leave me like this,” she shrieked. “I need you.”
Sheryl rose from her seat. “Who are you? Get away from my ex-husband.”
Derek turned to me. “You know Cindy?”
“She’s my former boss’s sister. Wait, how do you know her?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and whispered, “She’s a mourner. She’s part of our crew.”
“Her?” I pointed at the woman who was still crying across the top of the coffin as Sheryl approached her. “I knew something was wrong with Linda’s funeral. She had never even mentioned having a sister.”
Derek pressed his teeth together. “Sorry about your friend. Cindy can be a bit over the top, but a lot of our clients like her dramatic flourish.”
As if on cue, Cindy shouted, “We were lovers! He was the only man to ever satisfy me.”
“I’m guessing this isn’t real,” I motioned towards the scene in front of us.
“Get away from him, you hussy,” Sheryl said, pointing at the younger woman. “Get off of my husband.”
Cindy huffed, pulling down her dress. “I see, now you regret leaving him?”
Sheryl’s eyes narrowed as the man in the suit held her back. “Let me at that stick insect.”
“Is she going to be okay? Should we stop them?” I asked Derek.
“No,” Derek took my hand. “Cindy loves the drama and the client probably requested the hysteric lover to make his ex-wife jealous. It’s one of our most popular packages. Come on, let’s get to that wake before all the good food is taken.”
I knew I should have gone home when the funeral ended. I had gotten the answers I had come for. Maybe it was his green eyes, the way Derek said my name or how he had placed his hand on my back to guide me back to my car and invited me to join him at the reception. A simple touch had caused my brain to melt into a pile of goo. Keeping up the lie was a bad idea, but that didn’t stop me.
He held my hand, pulling me inside the reception hall that had been tastefully decorated in the seventies. “This way to the good stuff.”
I blushed, hoping my hands wouldn’t turn into a sloppy mess of nerves. “Been here before?”
“Yeah, I’m here at least twice a month. The owner refuses to update the decor, so this place is only popular for funerals and wakes nowadays.” He pointed at the orange chair backs.
“True. No one in their right mind—” I jumped as I nearly ran into a stuffed bear. “What the hell is that?”
Derek chuckled against his fist. “That’s Blue. I should have probably warned you, the owner is a trained taxidermist. He uses this place as a museum for his art.”
I shuddered. “Do I have anymore of his creations to look forward to?”
“A few deer heads, and I think he still has a squirrel on display.”
I stuck out my lip. “He killed a poor little squirrel.”
We stopped in front of the crowded buffet and Derek handed me a plate. He picked food off the table, alternating between putting the food in his mouth and on his plate. I watched some of the guests crying into napkins as they picked at their food.
I held the plate against my stomach and leaned towards Derek. “Are you sure it’s okay we’re doing this? I’m feeling a little uneasy. It feels like stealing.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s fine. Better we eat it, or they’ll just throw it all away. Here, try this.” He picked up a sausage roll and held it to my mouth. “I thought you’d done this before anyway?”
I chewed slowly, realizing he’d caught me in a lie. “I guess I’m just prone to guilt. I feel bad every time I come to one of these.”
“Understandable.” He fingered greedily through the pile of food on his plate as he looked for a secluded corner to relax in. We stopped next to a wall and he leaned against it. “So your boss that hired Cindy, what happened to her? How did she die?”
“Freak accident, she froze to death in a walk-in freezer.” I examined a piece of shrimp.
He paused for a second like he had heard me wrong before laughing out loud. “Wow, that’s one hell of a way to go.”
“She was apparently the first person ever to die that way. Linda always worried she' d die of lung cancer. She tried to stop smoking at least once a month.”
He rubbed his chin. “It least it’s unique. The people we usually work for die of heart attacks, car accidents or of old age.”
I looked down at the floor.
“I know it’s weird but sometimes I think about how I want to die,” he said.
I turned away, hoping he’d take the hint and change the conversion.
“I want a hero death, one where I save puppies from a fire, bring a drowning kid to safety or take a bullet for someone.”
“Okay, Superman, I think you’re in the wrong profession or have been watching too many action movies. The real world isn’t like that.”
“I’m serious. I want my death to mean something. To go out in a blaze of glory.” He waved an hors-d’oeuvre at me.
“Well if you keep eating that much junk food, you won’t even make it to your next birthday.”
“I can’t help it, it’s an excellent spread. Someone is trying to make up for a guilty conscience,” he said with a full mouth.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“The better the food, the worse whoever is paying for it feels about the person dying. Great food means they must really feel bad about something they did or said just before the client kicked the bucket. Believe me, happens all the time.” He picked at a chicken wing.
I glanced over at Sheryl. “Yeah, that does make perfect sense.”
Chapter 12
I opened the door to my apartment and pumped my fist in the air in celebration. “I did it, I finally got a new job,” I said, dancing through the living room.
Aaron bolted from the sofa tossing his bowl of noodles on the table to take my hands and dance with me. “That’s amazing, Mads! It’s about time.” He swung me around the room as he asked me questions. “What’s the job? Where will you be working?”
I felt dizzy as he pulled me close to him and my breath stopped. I stumbled backwards and landed on the sofa.
“So spill,” he said, joining me.
“Now, I need you to be open-minded cause it’s a little weird, but it’s kind of an acting job.”
“If the next words out of your mouth involve video cameras and farm animals I am not going to be able to be open-minded,” he joked.
I puckered my face. “No. I’m going to be a professional mourner.”
He looked at me blankly. “A what?”
I took a deep breath. “I go to funerals and pretend to mourn the dead.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “That’s not really acting.”
“Whatever.” I waved my hand at him. “It’s a great job. Plus the guy in charge is super nice, kind of cute and thought I’d make a great actress.”
Aaron flinched at the word cute. “It sounds like a scam to me. Why would anyone pay people to do that? Wouldn’t their family or friends just normally show up for free?”
“I sure hope it pays—I wasn’t planning on working for free. I know it sounds unusual, but I saw them in action and it seemed to be for real. Plus you’d be surprised at how many people hire them. Apparently even Linda did,” I told him.
“See that can’t be true. Linda didn’t need fake people at her funeral. She was an awesome lady and she made everyone laugh. I only met her a couple times and I even thought about going,” Aaron said.
“I was as shocked as you are. Her fake sister, who granted looks nothing like her, is one of their mourners. I saw her doing her mourning widow act with another corpse,” I explained.
He shook his head. “How did you even get this job?”
“I ran into the company director at a funeral and he liked me. He said I was a natural and I
could start this week if I wanted. I can’t wait. To top it all off, he’s gorgeous and funny, so hopefully I’ll get to work with him sometimes.” I picked up Aaron’s bowl and fished out a noodle from the nearly empty container.
“You mentioned that already.” He stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So there was no interview? He just hired you out of nowhere? Are you sure this place even exists? Maybe this guy and Linda’s fake sister just go to funerals to pick up chicks.”
“Well he gave me his business card and—”
“I could make my own fake business cards for like twenty bucks,” he interrupted me, standing up from the sofa. “I don’t think you should trust this guy.”
“Calm down. The cards had their website on them. I checked it on my phone and it all seemed fine to me.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Anyone can build a website. He could be a serial killer or a criminal.”
I took his hand. “I’m a big girl. I promise to do my research before I go work there.”
“Fine, I’ll stay out of it. Whose funeral were you at anyway?”
I paused for a moment, slurping the leftover noodles. “Oh, you know that guy my mom knew? She wanted to go, so I went with her.”
“But you hate funerals. You rant about them all the time.”
“Well I changed my mind when someone told me they’d pay me to attend them.” I shrugged, thinking of Derek’s green eyes. “Plus, I’m starting to get used to them now. If I don’t know the dead person, it’s a lot easier.”
“It sounds depressing but it’s a job, so as long as you’re happy. Congratulations, I guess.” He reached down and squeezed my hand. “I think we should go out and celebrate. It’s not everyday one of us gets a new job.”
“Maybe in a few weeks. I haven’t gotten paid yet.”
He waved his other hand at me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. It’s on me.”
I bounced in my seat. “Okay, let’s do it then.”
Becoming Death Page 8