Waking Up Dead Page 5

  I tried not to snicker. This new fallen angel talent proved to be very useful. Suriyel yanked me behind a huge grave monument.

  “Yipe!” I cried not as much from surprise than from being close enough to see a faint scar coming out of his neatly trimmed goatee. It crossed through the strip of a beard that accented his angular jaw.

  My hormones jumped to attention each time I saw him. All the blood rushed south and the disco beat between my legs thumped at a much faster pace since switching bodies.

  The curve of his bottom lip made it easy to tell he was none too happy about the stunts I pulled. I wanted to kiss away the frown.

  “Why must you tempt fate?”

  I took a step backwards. “How was I supposed to know thinking it would cause it to happen?” I glanced over the cemetery to see if anyone heard me. Talking to a tombstone would land me in a room next to Kitty’s at the county loony bend. “I’m new at this fallen angel thing.”

  “Every time you try out one of your newfound skills you draw attention to yourself, and the oddity that you are.”

  Poof! The vision of me rolling around in Suriyel’s mane vanished. “What the hell do you mean by calling me ‘odd’? If you ask me, an angel collecting souls by using a computer-slash-phone thingy is odd.”

  Suriyel handed me my cell phone. “Lower your voice, and pretend to talk to someone on it. You know you are the only one who can see and hear me.”

  “How did you get my phone?” I looked up. He was right. People were staring at me. I flipped the phone open, and gestured to it as if to apologize for taking a call.

  “I meant you are currently residing in a reanimated body. You have no clue what you are doing. You could end up killing someone.” He pulled a big strand of hair out from where it was stuck in my maroon lipstick, the lightest in Stacy’s assortment of black or just plain grotesque. A trip to the town drugstore still waited on my list of transformations for the new and improved body.

  I wondered if he knew how often he touched me. Was he normally a touchy-feely kinda guy? One glance at stern set of his mouth and warrior’s stance said, “no.” My mouth watered. Snap out of it! You’re acting like a cat in heat. Lusting after a beautiful angel is sure to set off some kind of sin-o-meter in Heaven. Talk about drawing divine attention.

  “Stop that!” I batted his hand down so that people wouldn’t wonder why my hair was sticking straight out to the side instead of smothering my face like it usually did.

  An elderly couple walked by with upraised eyebrows. I began swatting the air for imaginary winged-pests. The real pest stood beside me shaking his head at my antics.

  It took them all of ten minutes to hobble past. I turned to Suriyel. “What, Suri? So the big bad fallen angel police are going to come carry you away.”

  “My name is Suriyel not ‘Suri.’ And, yes it will be something like that. Only this time, you will have no choice but to accompany me in spending an eternity as a wandering soul.”

  “I’ll try to control myself. Although I’m not quite sure how seeing as how I’ve never been able to mow some evil old biddies down with a tent before! Now the preacher, I’m real sorry about him.”

  Suriyel threw his head back with laughter then looked a little surprised. “Just try to control yourself until I can teach you some basic skills so you can do what you came here to do.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him I was on TV for a brief, yet agonizing two seconds when he disappeared. “Now, come on! You have got to stop doing that!”

  “Stop doing what, sugar?” It took me a minute to place the only person besides Nina who would wear her tightest, shortest outfit to a funeral—Beverly’s daughter, Melissa. ‘Mel’ for short. She chomped away on her gum.

  “Uh, I wasn’t talking to you, Mel.” I flipped the phone off, and stuck it in my purse.

  “Oh! I bet it was that cute little ol’ Mason. He sure has been glad you’re back in town.” She teased, then nudged my shoulder so hard I fell into the tombstone.

  It’s none of your business how happy Mason is or how he got his happy!” I blushed from the roots of my hair to my chest and started toward the car.

  “Why, Stacy Summerlin! A couple of nights ago, you were telling me all the juicy details from the size of his pecker to that thing he did with his tongue,” she bent to whisper loudly in my ear, “down there.”

  I’d go up in smoke if I turned any redder. I shoved her back, mid-stride. “Mel! This is not the place to be talking about,” I stopped to help her unhook her purse from the floral stand my push knocked her into, “that!”

  “Thanks,” she continued as if nothing had happened. “Whatever you say. We can talk about all the details when we go shopping tomorrow.”

  I stopped in front of the door to the funeral home limo.

  “Don’t tell me you’re boinking Mason tomorrow and not shopping!”

  The limo driver cleared his throat. Hopefully, Robert and Kitty didn’t overhear.

  I whipped around to face her. “I am not boinking anybody. Just pick me up and we’ll go to the mall.”

  Her eyes ran-down the only solid black dress in Stacy’s wardrobe without the skull and crossbones, “Lord knows you need to.”

  Chapter Four

  A spree at Charles County’s only strip mall with a small-town fashionista seemed the perfect way to ditch my niece’s tragic Emo image.

  “You’ve changed,” Mel said. Her nose wrinkled into pug-like proportions as she scanned my black Ed Hardy T-shirt, black jeans, and combat boots.

  I hesitated, concerned I somehow blew my cover. Mel breezed over my lack of response.

  “You haven’t let me at your clothes or make-up since your senior year when you went through that stupid Goth phase. Not even for prom!” Mel tossed her bleached hair, shellacked into obedience by salon trial samples. “Mason said he was scared shitless when you came to the door wearing that black poofy prom dress with all that black make-up to go with it. You can’t say I didn’t warn you when I did your hair.” Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as we entered the local department store.

  “Emo,” I corrected, following her in a pair of sneakers and jeans.

  “Emo. Goth. What the hell? You might as well be wearing a chalk outline.”

  “That’s just mean, you heifer.” I laughed. The irony was too tragic.

  Whirlwind Mel flew through the aisles and trotted me back and forth from the floor to the dressing room like a professional. She got knocked-up in high school and kept the baby. Her parents helped raise Jenny. The child’s father moved to another state when Mel’s daddy vowed to castrate him. Mel settled for a beauty school diploma instead of a degree in fashion design.

  We loaded six complete outfits and matching lingerie—sans any skulls whatsoever, into her Prius and headed to her mother’s salon. Despite its clientele, I loved being able to browse for vintage clothes while my color set. I guess the Bea Arthur-esque caftan I spotted a week ago was no longer an option.

  Mel looked at the bangs I kept blowing out of my face. “How can you have mind blowing sex when you can’t see the guy?”

  I gripped the Oh Shit Bar. “Is that all you can think of?”

  “I haven’t dated anyone since Jenny started crawling. Of course it’s all I can think of. The other day, I was sitting on the washer during the spin cycle, and mom almost caught me. There’s nowhere to take care of business in my parent’s house.”

  “Are you serious?” My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. Hunh, I wonder if it really works.

  Mel made a tsk of disgust. “You are such a prude! I mean, when you came back in town the other day, you gave me a blow by blow,” she snickered at her pun. “Pardon the expression, of each dirty deed since Spring Break and about hooking up with Mason. And now, you’re closed up tighter than the liquor store on Sunday afternoon!” Mel hit me on the shoulder and veered off the road. “Girl, don’t you know I’m living precariously through you?”

  Oh hell, Stacy must be some kind of Emo-slut.
I added another thing to my to-do list. Get checked for STDs.

  “Vicariously,” I corrected. “Mel, cut me some slack! I’m supposed to be weirded-out! My aunt was murdered, and I’m moving to Nashville to start a real job.” I jabbed her in the leg. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s going to leave a mark. Why are you punching me lately? You never used to punch back,” Mel whined.

  She was right. I never punched back. I took the abuse—abuse from Craig and abuse from the Nina’s and Lorna’s of the world until someone ultimately abused me to death.”Well, maybe it’s time I did.” The ferocity of my words echoed in the car.

  Mel nodded. “Fine. Some men like it rough. Or so I’ve heard.”

  “Oh get off of it, Mel,” I chided.

  “I’m trying to get off, and you aren’t helping me!”

  We giggled. It felt good to let go

  “I know that sex toy parties are illegal in these parts. Hell, you can’t even get them mail ordered. I tried! But those personal ‘neck’ massagers the drug store carries will do the trick in a pinch.”

  At the salon, Mel made me promise to get her a proper BOB when I got to Nashville so she could lock herself in the bathroom, the only private space in her house. In return, I walked out with the coolest hair-do I’d ever seen on Stacy. It fell just to the shoulders with staggered, choppy ends and shorter bangs. The color needed work, but I owed Mel a treasure trove of sex toys for making me feel better about myself.

  * * * *

  My new do and outfit elicited approval from Kitty as I accompanied her and Robert to the lawyer’s office.

  “I cannot believe you’ve transformed yourself like this! I’ve been trying to get you to dress like a respectable person for years. It took Ava’s death to make it happen,” Kitty said from her spot the front seat where she sat stiffly with her purse in her lap. I pictured her in white gloves like “Driving Miss Daisy.”

  “It wasn’t Ava’s death. It was…well, I am starting a new job and all.”

  “Your mother was just trying to tell you that you look nice,” Robert explained as he drove his paid-in-full Cadillac Coupe.

  “Thanks, R—uh…daddy.”

  Please Lord, don’t let the rest of the ride involve conversation. I needed time to figure out how to switch my amended Will with the one the lawyer had on file.

  Kitty already read it. She was extremely unhappy about all her sister’s possessions being left to Stacy. “Ya’ll weren’t even that close.” She huffed for the thousandth time since reading it. “There are some heirlooms and furniture that belonged to Big Mama. I was supposed to get those if anything…” her voice broke with emotion, “ever happened.”

  I knew exactly which pieces she referred to, an antique matching buffet and table, and some serving dishes. They once belonged to our great grandmother. After Big Mama passed, Kitty inherited the coffee table, end tables, and holiday linens. She also helped herself to several knick-knacks and pots and pans she thought I didn’t know about. Luckily, Big Mama knew us all too well. She left certain things to each of us to avoid a battle guaranteed to last the rest of our lives.

  Robert pulled the Cadillac into a parking spot at the lawyer’s office.

  “Don’t you worry Mama, you’ll have a chance to buy anything you want when I hold the estate sale,” I snipped.

  All the air evaporated from the car as Kitty sucked a deep breath in. The second before all Hell broke loose, I added, “I need all the money I can get to get on my feet in Nashville, you know.” I got out of the car and slammed the door before she blasted me.

  With NASCAR-like speed, she tapped my bumper or rather, heels all the way up the sidewalk to the historic home renovated in early pretentious lawyer-style.

  “You had better not sell that buffet or that table and chairs, either. You hear me,” she bellowed and chugged beside me without a hair out of place. “Those things are priceless to this family. Your aunt would simply come back from the grave and haunt you.”

  I stopped on a dime. I did teeter inches away from the grave and bargained my way back to haunt my friends and family. It wasn’t really funny, yet I broke into crazed laughter to avoid telling her my gruesome tale.

  “College made you lose your manners. You should have stayed here and worked with your aunt since ya’ll were obviously so close,” Kitty railed over my laughter.

  Robert broke us up. “Stacy, you know better than to get your mama all worked up. The last time you two fought, I had to buy her a new Land Rover.”

  Wow. I didn’t know he had it in him to try the guilt trip approach. I knew she nagged him for it so she could haul her dumpster and side-of-the-road finds home in it.

  He put an arm around each of us to gently guide us up the front porch stairs. “I’d hate to see what she’d want now. With this crappy economy, I can’t afford a Hummer,” he chuckled. Drawing us in tighter, he said, “Now, ya’ll are both upset over Ava’s death. Let’s get this over with, then we can work something out about the furniture.”

  Hmm. Neurotic episodes worked for Kitty. Let’s see if they worked for me in exchanging the Wills. I burst into tears in the reception area.

  “I’m sorry.” I fanned my eyes with my hands. “The situation just caught up with me, and I am just…so…upset.” I emphasized the last three words.

  “It’s okay, hon. Robert, get her some water, ” soothed Kitty as she fished a tissue out of her purse for me, checked it for lipstick marks or worse, and handed it to me.

  My episode continued until we got into the lawyer’s office. Pierce Banks III, was an old family friend, old as in old when Big Mama was a toddler. His son and grandson, the IV and V were in practice with him. They did their best to shut down most of the other attorneys in town.

  Pierce tried to get up from his chair to greet us. He failed miserably, mostly due to size rather than age. He grunted, then propelled himself out of the reinforced leather desk chair.

  I marched right over and gave him a full frontal hug as I scanned the desk for the Will. Fumes akin to the inside of a fourteen year-old Bassett Hound’s mouth assaulted my nose. I spotted the document, open on top of a file and tried to pull away from his stench.

  “Miss Stacy, it is going to be okay.” His big sausage fingers on the small of my back spread all the way to the top of my butt in an attempt to console me. He pressed me into his girth and didn’t let go.

  Kitty rushed to his desk. “Mr. Banks, I am so sorry! She’s a bit overcome today,” she said in her sweet southern drawl and pried me out of his lecherous clutches.

  I plopped next to her on an antique reproduction of a Civil War love seat while she glared at him for making advances on her daughter.

  Robert didn’t notice. He gawked at the ten-foot tall tiger some taxidermist formed into a lumpy standing position. It loomed behind Pierce’s desk. I winced and crossed my legs at the sight of the tiger’s pecker.

  “Wow! Pierce—this is new. Did you get it?”

  The lawyer puffed up like a peacock, and turned to the tiger. “Why yes! My sons and I went on a safari last year, and the guide got this one for me.” He hurumphed. “That’s what we pay them boys the big bucks for.”

  He rotated to his desk like a little ball with legs, and picked-up the Will. “Now, I had my girl make copies of this for you.”

  The window behind him blew open and startled us. The poor attorney dropped the papers on the desk. The blinds billowed. Sam saluted me as he hovered next to a huge oak tree.

  The angel came off as snide and arrogant, but he was very helpful, almost too helpful this time. The tiger started to wobble. Robert closed the window. Kitty and I watched in disbelief as the once graceful beast toppled over in slow motion.

  Pierce gathered the papers on his desk, and didn’t pay attention when Robert said, “Oh, no,” in the same slow-mo effect producers use in football.

  The rotund attorney squealed like a girl as the animal pinned him from behind.

  Kitty screamed and drew me i
nto her non-existent bosom. Sons IV and V ran into the office to find their dear father mauled by a stuffed animal. Robert and the others pulled the tiger off the shaken attorney.

  I thanked Samael for the distraction, however extreme, and imagined the file and his copy of the Will at the bottom of the Charles County landfill. I visualized the Will in Kitty’s purse in place of the old one on the desk.

  A disheveled, humiliated Pierce senior refused to cancel our appointment. No one blamed him when he decided against sitting down for the duration of our meeting.

  My work was done. I disconnected from his monotone voice, and considered the little situation of what to do with the house and all it contained. I promised Suriyel I would come with him once I found my killer. I can’t take antiques, a house, and all the rest of my stuff with me wherever I’m going.

  Oh hell. In my haste to bargain for more time, I forgot Stacy ceased to exist when I did. I was so selfish. I didn’t think of Robert, an indulgent father who doted on both Stacy and Kitty. I considered Kitty but didn’t know the serious ravine between mother and daughter. Kitty was sure to be eaten with guilt at the relationship they never had. I needed to take the time I had left to mend things between them.

  I broke the silence of the ride home. “Ki—mama, I have decided you can have the furniture. I mean, what am I gonna do with it?” I hesitated. “I may hold onto the house for a bit until the market gets better.”

  Kitty sighed in relief and turned to face where I sat in the cocoon of the back seat. “Really? What got into you?”

  Robert chided her into saying, “thank you.”

  “What are you going to do about the catering business she left you?” Robert asked.

  “I’ve thought about that, too. And, if ya’ll don’t mind, I am going to see if they will hold my job for me in Nashville. I want to try to finish her last few catering jobs,” I explained and hoped sin didn’t count double if you were one person living in another’s body.