The Last One to Let You Down

by K. L. Hiers

  “You have a really big heart,” Cypress soothed, setting his wine glass aside so he could take Tom’s hand. “I know that by how you talk about what you do for a living. You put a lot of love into all the people you take care of.

  “But you need to take care of yourself first.”

  “But I do.”

  “Is that how you ended up selling embalming fluid?” Cypress drawled. “Because you’re putting yourself first?”

  Tom said nothing, looking away.

  “When was the last time you took a day off?” Cypress challenged. “Went on vacation? Took yourself out to the movies?”

  Tom couldn’t honestly remember. He’d worked through his last birthday, all the big holidays, and the last movie he saw he’d rented through his cable.

  “Caring about what you do makes you good at your job,” Cypress went on, “but caring so much is dragging you down, too.”

  “I don’t know any other way to do it,” Tom said quietly.

  “I’m going to help you.” Cypress squeezed Tom’s hand. “Trust me.”

  “And saying stuff in a mirror is really gonna do something?”

  “You’ll see,” Cypress teased.

  “Well, what about you?” Tom finished his wine, leaning over Cypress to set the empty glass on the bedside.

  “Me?”

  “You work like a crazy person, too.”

  “But my job doesn’t involve seeing people whose faces have been eaten by small dogs,” Cypress pointed out. “The trauma level as a florist peaks at getting pricked by thorns or being cussed out by angry husbands if their wives’ flowers are late.”

  Tom laughed. “That happens?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Cypress said. “Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day are the absolute worst holidays. We’re busy enough with everybody who thinks to order in advance, but then you get all these guys who wait until the very last fuckin’ second.”

  “I’m so sorry, but I am definitely that guy.” Tom grinned sheepishly. “My step-mom’s flowers are always super last minute because I’m awful.”

  “No!” Cypress groaned, clutching his chest. “Say it ain’t so.”

  “Oh, I am totally that guy.” Tom couldn’t help but snicker, kissing Cypress sweetly. “Mmm, I’m so sorry.”

  Cypress playfully popped Tom’s ass through the blankets. “Ohhh, you’re definitely gonna get spanked for that.”

  Tom laughed harder than he had in weeks, squirming as Cypress attacked his neck with hot kisses and slapped at his ass a few more times. He wrapped his arms around him, his laughter lost to Cypress’s lips.

  They kissed, long and slow, holding each other close. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, and when they finally came up for air, he’d completely forgotten what they’d been talking about.

  “Mmm, time to go to sleep,” Cypress murmured. “We both gotta get up early. Shower. Get to work.”

  “Yup. Sleep. Work. Totally.”

  “I mean it.” Cypress grinned. “When we both have a day off together, I will gladly stay up all night rocking your world. But tonight, we sleep.”

  Tom had certainly been given those kinds of promises before, but with Cypress, he actually believed it. “Mmm, good night.”

  “Night, Tom. Sleep sweetly.”

  Falling asleep in Cypress’s arms was startlingly easy, and Tom didn’t wake up again until his alarm was blaring the next morning.

  He was refreshed and smiling as he reached over to poke at his phone to turn off the alarm. His muscles had a distant ache, like after a long run or a good work-out, and it was fantastic. He smoothed his hands over his body, wiggling around in the ghost of Cypress’s cologne and sighing loudly.

  He heard Mister Doodles bark, and he looked up to find the little dog glaring at him from the foot of the bed.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m on it,” Tom said, quickly retrieving his robe from the bathroom to take her out for a morning walk around the yard. He knew he had messages to read, but he’d look after Mister Doodles was taken care of. Once she’d done her business, he led her back inside and started getting ready for work.

  He checked his phone and smiled when he saw the messages were from Cypress.

  Was not easy to leave you this morning, but duty calls. Last night was incredible. I want to see you again very soon.

  That one made Tom grin, and his stomach was instantly lighter.

  Your morning affirmations are as follows:

  I am worthy

  I am beautiful

  I am going to touch myself in the shower while thinking about Cypress pulling my hair

  Tom laughed out loud. The whole thing, especially the last one, was ridiculous. He decided to humor him all the same, stepping into the bathroom and facing his reflection. He was a little startled by the fact he couldn’t stop smiling. He was sleepy, but he was in such a good mood.

  Taking a deep breath, he began to recite, “I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am going to touch myself in the shower.” He rolled his eyes. “While thinking about Cypress pulling my hair.”

  He laughed again and cleared his throat to speak once more.

  “I am worthy.”

  But then why don’t I push for a raise? Maybe take a trip like Cypress said? I haven’t been to the beach in years.

  “I am beautiful.”

  Maybe I could get my teeth fixed. Plenty of adults wear braces. It’s really not that bad.

  “I am going to touch myself in the shower while thinking about Cypress pulling my hair.”

  God, that would feel so good. Let him bend me over the bed—no, the kitchen counter. Oh, even a stretcher at the funeral home. Just to have him inside me again.

  Tom wasn’t sure if these affirmations were supposed to make him feel better or horny or what. His reflection looked back at him, uncertain, and he neglected the third iteration in favor of carrying on with his fantasy in the shower.

  It was fast, tangling his fingers in his hair and wishing they were Cypress’s as he came after only a few strokes. He couldn’t stop picturing Cypress’s bright smile, his smooth skin, or that fat cock. Showered and spent, Tom quickly got out to get ready for work.

  Before he got in his car, he made sure to text Cypress about his progress this morning:

  Affirmations done. Orgasm achieved. :)

  He felt pretty proud for sending such a cheeky little message, and he couldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the funeral home.

  The wonderful night he’d had must have been written all over his face because Aaron was very quick to accuse him the second he walked into the office.

  “You skank!” Aaron gasped. “You got laid?”

  Tom was so glad Earl was on the phone and their other coworkers hadn’t arrived yet. He sat down at his desk, hissing frantically, “Will you shut up?”

  “Oh, my God.” Aaron bounced in his chair. “You did. You’re fuckin’ glowing.”

  “Will you please be quiet?” Tom resisted the urge to hide his head on his desk. Keeping his voice low, he confirmed, “Okay, so, maybe Cypress surprised me with dinner. And maybe, yes, there were things of an adult nature that went down, and that’s all I’m telling you.”

  Aaron clapped his hand on Tom’s back. “Look, someone around here needs to get some. I’m officially going to live vicariously through you from now on.”

  “But you’re straight? And you have a girlfriend? I don’t know which of those things makes this weirder.”

  “Maybe the girlfriend. But—”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Gerald interrupted, marching in with a sour expression.

  “Definitely did not get laid,” Aaron whispered.

  Tom almost choked on air.

  Gerald loudly cleared his throat, hissing, “Hey, cut that shit out. We have a situation.”

  Before Aaron or Tom could ask what was going on, a tall black man in a suit walked into the office with a grim smile. He was handsome, though a bit older than he initially appeared, judging by the gray
in his mustache.

  Aaron’s first thought was the man was a visiting funeral director, but then he saw the badge on the man’s hip.

  “Good morning,” the man said. “My name is Fox Sanderson. I’m an agent with the SBI, the State Bureau of Investigation. I’d like to ask you all a few questions about some of the families you’ve all recently waited on.”

  “What happened?” Tom blurted out.

  “They’ve been burglarized,” Fox replied flatly. “There have been several families whose homes have been broken into while they were here at your funeral home. One or two, maybe a coincidence. But after the seventh one was reported, the city police contacted the SBI.”

  Tom grimaced. He obviously knew nothing about any of this, but he felt guilty immediately. Fox was staring at him with such an intensity that Tom was ready to confess about the one time he cheated on his math test in the fifth grade.

  “Aaron,” Gerald barked. “Call the Hun family at once. They left fifteen messages with the answering service last night. You’ll meet with Agent Sanderson when you’re done. Earl.” He turned to Earl at the dispatch desk. “Hey, Earl!”

  Earl was still on the phone, frowning over at Gerald as he covered the receiver to snap, “What? I’m on hold with the police department.”

  “The police are already here.”

  “Where?” Earl squinted at Fox. “Well, that’s some mighty fast service, I hadn’t even gotten through yet. We didn’t need you to come in until eleven.”

  “No.” Gerald growled, ripping the phone out of Earl’s hand and slamming it down. “This man is here about the burglaries.”

  “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?” Earl pouted.

  “Divert the phones to the answering service. I want us all to be available for Agent Sanderson’s questions.” Gerald snapped his fingers at Tom. “You. Tom. We don’t have any preps today. Go on.”

  Tom bolted out of his chair, almost tripping over his own feet. “Uh, yeah. Yes, sir. No problem.”

  Gerald offered the agent a strained smile. “You may use the arrangement room up front.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ayers,” Fox said. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

  Tom’s legs were jelly as he showed Fox into the arrangement room, his thoughts running away into sheer panic. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but his anxiety heavily disagreed. He couldn’t stop tapping his foot as he sat down at the long table, positioning himself opposite Fox.

  “Name?” Fox asked politely.

  “Thomas Hill, sir.”

  “What do you do here at the funeral home?”

  “I’m the embalmer.”

  “How long have you been working here, Mr. Hill?”

  “Ten years, sir.” Tom really wanted to ask about a lawyer, but he was worried it might make him seem guilty. He decided against it.

  “Where were you last night between six o’clock and midnight?”

  “Uh, I was here working late for part of it, and then I went home.”

  “Anyone who can corroborate that?”

  “My boyfriend,” Tom said, unable to resist a smile despite his nerves. “We had dinner here, and then we went to my place. He, uh…” Oh, why couldn’t he stop smiling. He must have looked like an idiot. “He spent the night.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you his name?”

  “Cypress Holmes, sir.”

  “Cypress? Runs Doyle’s Flowers?” Fox looked surprised, and his stern demeanor dropped. He laughed, asking, “You’re dating Shirley?”

  “Shirley?” Tom blinked.

  “You haven’t met the old man yet,” Fox mused, a twinkle in his eye. “Ask Cypress about it when you see him again.”

  “I will do that.” Tom could feel his face getting hot as he realized he still had a lot to learn about his new beau.

  “Now, I’m going to be straight with you, Mr. Hill.” Fox leaned across the table as his professional posture returned. “Some of these burglaries did happen when the families were out for their services. Anybody could look up the obituaries in the paper and figure out when a funeral is happening.” He held up a finger. “But two of them happened when the families were here for viewings.”

  “But those aren’t published, not even on our website,” Tom said, his brow furrowing up. He made a face as realization kicked in. “You think it’s someone here at the funeral home.”

  “Access to the family’s home address, including next of kin, and intimate knowledge of their schedule.” Fox folded his hands on the table. “If it’s not an employee, it could be someone else who’s being given this information.”

  Tom couldn’t think of anyone who would do such a thing. To target a family that was already grieving seemed excessively cruel. He didn’t even think Junior would do that.

  Then again…

  “All I’m looking for right now is a lead,” Fox went on. “Do you know of anyone here who would have any sort of motive for robbing these homes?”

  A funeral director with a horrible drug problem whose cash flow I just interrupted.

  “No, sir,” Tom said firmly. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I don’t actually meet with the families, you see.”

  “Right, because you’re the embalmer.” Fox nodded. “Gerald told me you work in the back.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you did go out to the Dresser’s house?”

  Tom shuddered as he felt an echo of Mrs. Dresser’s hand cracking him across his face. “Yes, sir. I did. I’ll go on removals if they need me, but that’s about it.”

  “Do you remember seeing anything unusual at the house? Hear any of your co-workers talk about it later? Any comments about the electronics at the home?”

  “No, sir,” Tom said firmly. He wasn’t about to explain Bosco checking out the CD’s because it would sound incriminating, and he didn’t think Fox would understand.

  “If you happen to think of anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” Fox stood up and handed Tom a business card. He cracked a small smile. “And be sure to tell Shirley I said hello.”

  “I will, sir,” Tom said as he took the card, tucking it into his pocket. He remained frozen in the chair.

  “You can go now.”

  “Right. Sorry. Thank you, sir.” Tom quickly scrambled out of his seat.

  “Please send in Mr. Wayne next.”

  Tom managed a thumb’s up and retreated into the office to fetch Earl. “Hey! Earl! The agent is ready for you.”

  “Thanks, Tom.” Earl appeared lost without his phone, muttering some swear words under his breath as he headed to the front of the funeral home.

  That left Tom alone in the office, and he sat down at his desk with a sigh. He hadn’t seen any new names in the cooler log, so he wasn’t expecting to embalm today. There was only one body in the prep room, a Mrs. Poole, who was waiting for Miss Edie to come in and do her hair.

  Tom usually enjoyed having a chance to breathe, especially after how busy the last few days had been, but now he was antsy.

  He checked his phone and was disappointed to see he didn’t have any messages from Cypress. His curiosity got the better of him, and he could not resist sending another text.

  Met someone that knows you this morning. I am dying to know why he called you Shirley.

  He paused.

  Miss you

  Tom grimaced, quickly deleting the second message and putting his phone away. He could always clean to help pass the time, he decided, and he walked back into the prep room to get started.

  He was halfway through scrubbing the walls when the keypad signaled someone coming in, and he turned around to see who it was.

  It was Aaron, shaken and pulling at his tie as he groaned, “Fuck, that guy was tough, huh?”

  “He was okay with me,” Tom said, going back to scrubbing. “Sorta had this whole strict high school principal vibe. I was about to start telling him about this time I cheated in middle school.”

  “I waited on almost all the familie
s who got robbed,” Aaron complained. “The Delaney family was Gerald’s, the Winslow’s were Junior’s, but the rest were all mine.”

  “He asked me about the Dresser family.”

  “Yeah, well, that one was mine, too.”

  “I know, sorry. I… I can’t believe someone would do something like this.” Tom paused. “No, I definitely can because people really suck, but someone here? No way.”

  “Junior,” Aaron scoffed. “That jerk takes anything that’s not nailed down.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “Did you know he took my Dr Pepper out of the fridge? The one with a sticky note with my name very clearly written on it?”

  “What a prick.”

  “Right?” Aaron laughed bitterly. “He took the drink and left the sticky note.”

  The keypad beeped again, and Miss Edie came swishing in with her giant purse. Her face lit up when she saw them, and she gushed, “Ah, my babies are here! Hi, babies!”

  “Hey, Miss Edie.” Tom waved a gloved hand. “I’ll come give you a hug in a minute.”

  “Oh, you’re fine, baby,” Edie said, giving Aaron a big hug. “I’ll just hug on this one here. Hi, baby! Aw, what’s wrong? You and that silly girl of yours fighting again?”

  “No, we’re fine,” Aaron replied. “We got some state agent guy here, questioning all of us.”

  “Oh!” Edie’s eyes widened, and she set her purse up on the counter. “That’s exciting! What’s going on?”

  “Someone’s been breaking into people’s houses while they’re out at funerals,” Tom explained, peeling off and tossing his gloves into the biohazard trash.

  “Oh, that’s awful, baby!” Edie gasped, taking out her brushes and combs to start fixing Mrs. Poole’s hair. “Who would want to go and do something like that?”

  “This agent seems to think that someone here at the funeral home is responsible.”

  “There’s already been seven robberies,” Aaron added. “Can you believe it? Seven.”

  “They’re burglaries, baby,” Edie corrected, running a comb through Mrs. Poole’s bangs and teasing them up. “Not robberies.”

  Aaron gave Tom a very pointed look, clearing his throat purposefully as he asked, “Oh? There’s a difference, Miss Edie?”

  “Burglary is when you break into a house to steal stuff,” Edie said. “Robbery is when you take it from another person using force.”