Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
This funeral is heinous because shit like this shouldn’t happen to anyone. Murdered while sitting in a car? The minimal details I know make it sound like a hit, like something you’d expect at a red light in Mexico or South America.
I pull my eyes from the man speaking in the front and run them back in the family’s direction. Mila is watching me, and the second we lock eyes, her lips twitch as if she’s annoyed that I’m even sharing space with her in the same room.
We didn’t leave things on a bad note. She knew before I touched her that I wasn’t the type of man to call the next day. Sex with her didn’t mean I was going to fall head over heels or even want to date her. She said she was fine with that, and as misogynistic as it sounds, of course she wasn’t. It’s clear by the hatred in her eyes that she has regrets, even though she left that tiny above-garage apartment the next morning with a smile on her face and cheeks flushed from the handful of orgasms she demanded from me. She instigated the entire thing. She came to me, not the other way around.
I pull my eyes from her, not wanting to cause any more stress than she must already be feeling.
Luca begins to fiddle with the button on his little suit jacket, picking at the thread enough that the button comes off in his hands. Mila pulls the thing from his fingers, but the boy jerks his hand away from her, leaning closer to Mrs. Taylor in an effort to get away from his aunt.
When Mila leans over to speak quietly to Luca, he buries his face into Mrs. Taylor’s clothes, ignoring her words. It’s clear this entire situation has been hard on all of them.
The funeral is too short for being the final goodbye for two people.
I debate what I should do as it’s my row’s turn to stand and issue my condolences to the family. Trying to be the bigger person, I step into the line, shaking Mrs. Taylor’s hand wordlessly. Mila pretends I don’t exist, but now isn’t the time to force the issue.
She’s hurting, and I’d never be so egotistical to worry about myself in a time like this. I know there are degrees of grief, and losing a man that I was close to for years doesn’t even come close to her losing her sister.
My throat threatens to close as I walk past the caskets.
As good as a lot of funeral homes are, they’re never able to get the people quite right. The skin coloring is always off by a few shades. The makeup isn’t how the person in the casket would’ve done it, and today is no exception.
Janet doesn’t look peaceful despite her pretty blue dress. I press my hand to the side of her casket. I take a few more steps forward, my throat working on a swallow as I see my friend, knowing it will be the last time. The couple will be cremated so there’s no graveside service. This service is it.
I pause, uncaring if I hold the line up for a minute or so, refusing to be rushed in this moment.
My goodbyes are a whisper in my head, his belief in the afterlife controlling how I handle this situation rather than the blankness of my own beliefs.
My position in Cerberus makes me want to seek vengeance for the both of them, but I’m standing in a funeral home in St. Louis, not outside of some compound in South America. I feel impotent and helpless as I walk away.
Chapter 4
Mila
Funerals are always exhausting, and what a shitty way to feel. Like I have any right to feel tired when two people I loved are now gone forever.
I drained every penny of my very meager savings paying for the service and cremation, and knowing how long it took me to get even that small nest egg saved up makes me feel a little bitter.
The stack of mail in my lap outside of my sister’s house isn’t helping any.
The sun is starting to set on what I’d consider the second worst day of my life. The first being the day last week when I got the call about Janet and Carlen being shot in their car.
I refuse to cry at what I’m seeing as I flip through the envelopes, the words FINAL NOTICE and TERMINATION stamped in red on several of them.
I no longer have to wonder about the trouble they were in. The proof of their financial demise is staring me in the face.
I came to the house because I was numb from the funeral and figured it would be easier to deal with some of the shit here, but I didn’t make it past the front end of my car before I decided to climb right back behind the wheel. This is too much for anyone to handle, and the hits just keep coming.