Mariss watched her walk away. She sat on the sofa with her smoothie and begged God to give her the strength to make it through just one more day. If she had to be awake to do it, she was going to need help.
The funeral home was unnecessarily cold. Mariss wished she had a jacket to cover her arms. The only clothes she'd had were a pair of jeans and a shiny tank top. Why Juliet had packed it, she was at a complete loss.
“Please accept our deepest sympathies, Mrs. Red,” the funeral director was saying, but Mariss was having a hard time focusing on anything other than the garish boxes that would be her husband's home for the rest of time.
“I know this is difficult,” he continued. “Please, believe me. But it's a necessity, as I'm sure you understand. Why don't we start over here.”
Mariss blinked in the direction of the marble coffins that he pointed to and suddenly became angry. It made perfect sense that this man would try to capitolize off her grief and confusion by directing her to their most expensive coffins just because she had money. However, she wasn't going to stand for it.
Her rage must have shown in her face, because Juliet suddenly grasped her wrist. Instead of exploding, which she was sure was the reason Juliet had a death grip on her, she played along.
“Do they come shorter?” she asked of one that looked particularly too big.
“Excuse me? Shorter?” the funeral director asked. She checked his nametag. Barry Winston.
“Barry, my husband was short. Only five feet and two inches. He doesn't need a coffin that long. Does it come shorter? Can they chisel me a coffin that's shorter than this one?”
“Well, they don't chisel…” He blinked at her, probably trying to see if she was serious or not. “I'm sure we can make a concession in your case. Absolutely.”
Mariss let a sweet smile cross her lips when she wanted to laugh at his attempt to placate her. “What else do you have?” she asked in the same tone she would have asked the clerk who was pulling stilettos off the shelf for her to try.
“Uh, well,” Barry stuttered as he dealt with the disappointment of not making a big sale. “Over here…” He led them across to another room of shiny black coffins. “These tend to be our best sellers.”
Mariss nodded. Probably because they were cheapest. “Juliet, can you get in that and see how you fit, please?”
“What?” Juliet and Barry asked at the same time.
“Well, you're like, what? Six feet tall?”
“Five eleven,” Juliet corrected.
“Close enough. I want to see how much extra room there will be.”
“I'm not getting in the coffin.” Juliet's eyes danced with humor and anger, like she couldn't figure out which to feel.
“I'm paying you, so you'll get in if I tell you to.”
“Stop being a bitch, Mariss,” she snapped, obviously making up her mind to be angry. “Just because you're mad at Barry don't take it out on me.”
“I'll give you five hundred bucks to get in that coffin right now.” The dare had the desired effect.
Juliet blinked at her. “Really?”
Mariss chuckled. “Yeah.”
“I'm still not getting into that thing. How morbid is that?”
“I'm afraid I can't allow you to-”
“Do you have anything red?” Mariss asked, cutting Barry off once again.
“Excuse me, red?”
“Yes. Red.”
Barry nodded. “This way.”
Mariss spotted the glossy mahogany coffin as they walked into the room. The decorative detail on the corners reminded her of basketballs, even though that wasn't their purpose.
“This one,” she insisted, running her hand over the smooth finish. “Shall we fill out the paperwork?”
Barry breathed a sigh of relief that suggested he was ready to be rid of her. “Yes. Please, this way.”
Mariss sent Juliet home. As she sat on the sofa watching something boring on TV, she pondered the wisdom of that choice. The hotel room was empty and lonely and a little cold, but no matter how she adjusted the thermostat, she couldn't get warm.
Worried that she might be going into some kind of delayed shock, Mariss called a cab and had it take her to work. The building was empty for the most part since it was late evening. She knew none of her girls would be in the office. To distract herself, Mariss pulled up a blank document and started writing. She had no characters or settings or even a plot in mind, but she had fear and anger and pain. She had all of this dispair and sadness and no way to get rid of it. Instead of letting it kill her, she put it to paper.
CHAPTER NINE
THE TWO RED WIVES
Mariss woke to the angry sound of someone clearing their throat. She looked around to find that bright purple wall mocking her pain once again. She'd only meant to nap an hour before going back to the hotel, but her exhaustion got the better of her. This was the second night of coming in to work on her book. Two nights of eighteen thousand words each had given her a substantial story to work with.
She blinked up at Brit's angry face and grinned. “Oops.”
“Mariss, I'm having you banned from the building for a couple weeks. This is ridiculous.”
“It wouldn't be so ridiculous if it was Brett's body in the morgue,” she groused. Brit's eyebrows knit together in pain, her lips turning down in a sad frown. “Sorry,” Mariss said. “I didn't mean that.”
“Yes, you did, but probably not the way it sounded, I'm sure. And you're right, I guess.” Brit sighed. “That's why I'm doing this. If I am ever in this situation - God forbid - I'd expect you to do the same thing for me. Understood?” Brit took her by the arm and helped her off the bed.
Mariss didn't answer. She went to her desk to pack up her computer and anything else she might need.
“I'm not sure I want you taking that with you,” Brit said quietly.
“I started a new story and it's the only thing keeping me sane right now, so I'm keeping the laptop with me.” Mariss left no room for argument.
“Fine. I can handle that, but no work, okay? We can handle this place for a while.”
“If it burns down, do you promise to call me?” Mariss shoved her bag over her shoulder and pierced Brit with a look intense enough to knock over a horse, but her friend didn't even flinch.
“Absolutely, sweetie. Now, go. Do you want me to call-”
“No, I'll be fine,” she rushed to say. At Brit's skeptical look she added, “I promise. I just need a ride back to the hotel.”
“I'll call you a cab.”
By the time Mariss was back in her hotel room, what little bit of sleep she'd gotten had worn off. She lay down on top of the bed covers and fell asleep in her clothes.
Juliet woke her some time in the early evening. Mariss frowned at her, wishing she would go away.
“Don't look at me like that. You need to get up and get dressed so we can go. The viewing is tonight. Did you forget?”
She had forgotten and wished she could keep it that way. Instead, she dragged herself out of the bed and threw on the dress Juliet had picked out for her. Mariss fingered the hem, remembering the last time she'd worn it. She'd gotten off work to meet Holden for dinner only to find both him and Sebastian waiting for her. Dinner had been tense, but the rest of the evening had sealed her fate.
They'd gone back to a hotel room Holden had reserved for the three of them. She could still feel Sebastian's fingers on her skin as he unzipped her from the dress, Holden's eyes on her from across the room as she was undressed for him to see.
Turning away from the sheath dress, she caught Juliet's eye. “I can't wear that,” she sobbed. “I can't wear that one. He wouldn't want me in that dress.”
Juliet nodded. “I brought a few others. They're in the closet.”
Mariss moved as if on a cloud. She couldn't feel the carpet beneath her feet or the air in her lungs as she flipped through the few dresses there. They were all black, but they would have to do for tonight.
“I need you to go to the
apartment tonight after the viewing and bring me a dress for tomorrow. Do you remember the Vintage 1960's shift dress I wore to that launch a few months back?”
Juliet frowned. “That one? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But, it's not-”
“Yes,” Mariss said forcefully. “That one.”
After a long moment of staring each other down, Juliet finally nodded. “Alright. You want the whole outfit?”
Mariss nodded. “I do.”
Juliet turned when there was a knock on the door. “That will be our car probably. Brit wanted to be there. Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
Brit was standing outside the door when Juliet opened it.
“She's not dressed,” Brit said as she stepped into the room.
“I'm getting there.”
Mariss grabbed a dress from the closet without looking and stripped out of her clothes. She threw the dress on, slipped into the shoes Juliet handed her, and fluffed her hair.
“No makeup?” Juliet wanted to know.
Mariss shook her head. She checked her reflection and turned to her two closest friends. “I'm ready.”
No, she wasn't, but she didn't have much choice. Brit reached for her hand and Mariss gave it, but the friendly gesture did nothing to calm the roiling emotions inside her.
“Sebastian won't be there,” Juliet informed her on their way down the hall. “I called and asked him not to come.”
Mariss nodded, but inside, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
The drive to the funeral home was short and depressing. When they arrived, Holden's mother was waiting for them. The beautiful woman stood outside the doors. When she saw Mariss, she broke into tears. With her arms outstretched, she pulled Mariss into a tight hug.
“I couldn't go in,” she said into Mariss' hair. “I couldn't do it.”
Mariss took her hand and squeezed it, tears filling her eyes. “I'll go in with you, Mrs. Red,” she said to her mother-in-law. “We don't have to do it alone.”
They stood there for a long moment embracing, gathering strength from each other before they walked inside.
There were so many people. Mariss tried not to make eye contact with too many of them. She couldn't stand the pity in their eyes or the way they stared at her like she might break, because that was her biggest fear. That she would shatter into a million pieces in front of all of these people. She was as fragile as they thought she was with no one to hold her together. Mariss gripped her mother-in-law's hand. The other woman squeezed it right back.
Holden lay surrounded by white satin, his dark skin in deep contrast. Looking at him laying there so peacefully, one would never know something so tragic had happened to him.
Mariss stared down into the coffin trying to force herself to touch his cheek. If she watched long enough, she could pretend she saw his chest rise and fall as if in sleep. She pressed her hand to her chest like that would stop the pain and tears and the hysteria that threatened to choke her. Mariss took a deep breath that came out as a ragged sob that echoed through the hall. All of the soft chatter silenced as if she'd screamed instead.
Slowly, Holden's prone form began to disappear from view, but Mariss didn't have the presence of mind to realize she was sinking to the floor. Arms wrapped around her, lifting her to her feet until she could maneuver herself to the nearest seat.
“This is my fault,” she murmered. “This is all my fault.”
“The only one responsible for this is that bitch who killed him and Herbert is going to take care of her.”
Mariss turned to Juliet, forcing all of her pain and despair aside until only the anger remained. Over her shoulder, she watched Holden's mother weep her broken heart. When her eyes met Juliet's again, she knew there was no kindness in them.
“I want her,” Mariss said, enunciating each word with enough venom that no one could argue her meaning.
Juliet nodded. Whether she was just appeasing her or if she understood, Mariss wasn't sure, but she said, “I'll make sure that happens.”
Deep shadows danced around the room. Mariss watched them until she could no longer sit still. She changed into street clothes and wandered around the room, picking up discarded, dirty clothes and drinking shots evenly spaced every twenty minutes. When she couldn't stand being alone any longer, Mariss called a cab.
Half an hour later, she knocked on the door with an unsteady hand. Her lip quivered and she pulled it between her teeth to steady it at the same time Sebastian appeared in the doorway.
“Mariss?” He frowned. “What are you doing here?” He didn't sound like he didn't want her around, so hopefully he was alone, but she would never presume. He shoved one hand in his pocket and waited for her to answer.
“Uhm.” Her voice caught and she looked down at her hands, fighting to separate herself from the words she was about to say. “I couldn't sleep. I can't sleep there. He's not home. He's never coming home, and…”
She stopped, unable to get the rest out, and glanced up. Sebastian was still frowning, that regal forehead of his furrowed in concern. Mariss looked away, unable to abide his scrutenizing, cerulean gaze. He knew all the right words to say, all the faces to make, but in that moment, Mariss only wanted to hear-
“Come in here.” Sebastian's voice was gentle and caring in a way Mariss had never imagined he could be.
She looked up as he swung the door wide and stepped out of the way. Taking a step over the threshhold, she looked around at the impressive apartment, her eye falling on the Grand Piano on prominent display in the foyer.
“I'm alone,” he said. “In case you were wondering. Would you like some tea?”
He was being far too polite and it immediately put her on edge. Mariss nodded anyway and followed Sebastian to the kitchen. With very calm, deliberate hands, he filled a kettle and set it on the stove to heat. He leaned his elbows on the counter, watching her. His sleeves were rolled up, so she figured he'd probably been in his office working.
Mariss fought to keep her eyes on her hands in her lap, but everything about him commanded her to look, from his intent blue gaze, to his abnormally messy hair, to the unknotted tie around his neck. Tears threatened, but the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. Not now. Not anymore.
“Excuse me,” Mariss said softly. She shoved herself away from the counter, slipping off the bar stool, and went straight for the spare bathroom. She shut the door behind her and locked herself in. Only then did she allow herself to crumble into a heap on the floor. She kept her sobs quiet as her heart broke for the thousandth time. This was her fault. It was all her fault. She was being punished. If she'd stayed away from Sebastian in the first place, this wouldn't be happening. Her husband would still be alive. Yet, here she was, seeking comfort from the man who'd caused all of this.
Self-hatred propelled Mariss to her feet. With her heart pumping fast, she grabbed a handful of the shower curtain and yanked as if she could pull her life back together. As if the angry violence of the act would somehow lessen the despair that settled around her like cold, dark, poisonous clouds.
The plastic popped. Mariss yanked again and again until the whole thing ripped from its rings, but it did nothing to abate the anger inside her. With a pain-filled cry, she kicked out hard with the intention of putting her foot through the door, but it was far too sturdy for that. The repercussion sent her flying back against the sink. Mariss hit her hip bone on the marble counter top and dropped back down to the floor with a yelp. Her body curled in on itself as if that would help stave off the throbbing pain.
The pain helped to ground her, though it brought another round of tears and sobs that couldn't be quieted. What was she even doing here? Of all the friends she had in the city, why had she come to Sebastian for comfort?
The answer to that was a pitifully simple one and Mariss refused to answer herself honestly. Brit was busy with last minute preperations for the funeral the next day and the other girls w
ere working overtime to make sure nothing fell through the cracks while Mariss spent the next few weeks in mourning. She was now banned from the office, the only place where she felt any semblance of comfort.
“Mariss,” Sebastian called through the door. His insistent knocking suggested he'd been calling her name for a few moments.
She stood and opened the door as he attempted to jiggle the knob out of her hands.
“What the hell?” His eyes were like blue fire with his fear and concern. They only made Mariss want to scream even more. “What happened? Are you alright?”
Mariss heard the kettle whistling in the other room.
“You'd better get your tea,” she said and shoved her way past him. Even through all his clothes, the feel of him still sent electricity singing through her body, awakening things that only her husband should have awakened.
Her dead husband. Holden was dead.
Fresh tears, anger, and hopelessness pumped through Mariss' veins spurring her toward the front door. He wasn't coming back. He could never come back.
“Mariss, sweetheart, where are you going?”
Sebastian's footsteps stayed close behind her as he chased her through his apartment.
“I'm leaving. I don't know. I shouldn't have come here.”
“Why not?” he sounded hurt and confused.
Mariss spun on him, giving her best angry glare. He stopped advancing toward her and just stared.
“Because it's your fault!” she shouted. “You did this!”
“I did this?” His eyes widened in shock, then filled with anger. “How the bloody hell are you going to put this on me?”
“You wouldn't leave me alone! I begged you to leave me alone. I told you I couldn't control myself around you and you pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn't…” Until she couldn't control herself anymore. That was what she wanted to say, but she couldn't admit that kind of weakness here, now. She spun on her heel, and before a fresh wave of tears streamed down her face, she left the apartment.
Mariss stumbled on the threshold. She caught herself before she fell on her face, and ran down the hall to the elevator. When she turned to send the car down to the main floor, Sebastian hadn't followed her.
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