21. Knox
21
KNOX
“ I s anyone surprised they’re dead? It was only a matter of time given how they lived their lives.”
“—heard Lauren was tryin’ to whore herself out.”
“Patrick was such filth. Do you know he tried to kiss poor Candice in the parking lot one day while her husband was inside Tillman’s Groceries?”
“I thought they would look worse. Trixie really did a great job.”
“Just think how Beatrix got that talent? Fixin’ the dead up like this? It just ain’t right for a young woman to be handling such things.”
“Beatrix is so weird. She hasn’t even shed a tear this whole time. You’d think she’d spare at least a few for her own mother.”
“Can a freak love anything?”
I lean against the exterior wall of the funeral home and listen to the people of Chasm as they file out of the building. They seem lovely. I can’t wait to really involve myself in this community. I roll my eyes as a few give me curious, suspicious glances. In my jacket pocket, my phone vibrates. Pulling it out, I find a couple of messages from Thatcher.
Thatcher: I told you to have your things ready, not still thrown around the room.
Thatcher: We’re heading out soon.
Whoops, did I not pick everything up? That explains why they missed the funeral. I wish I’d known they weren’t going to make it. I wouldn’t have bothered putting on one of my nicer outfits. What a waste. I shove my phone back into my pocket.
What am I supposed to do now? I glance up at the house on the hill. I guess I could head up there and start throwing shit in trash bags. As I consider my options, the last few people leave and head to their cars. My attention falls to an older couple as they hobble to their vehicle.
“Twenty bucks says, Beatrix will be a deadbeat just like her mother in ten years,” the woman says just loud enough for me to hear as they move away.
The older man chuckles. “I give her five.”
Judging by their ages, I doubt either of them will see if their bet comes true. If Beatrix ends up a junkie like her mother, she won’t be around long. I can’t imagine the twins wanting to put up with that shit. I know I definitely won’t.
I wait until they’ve pulled away to move. Rather than head up to the house, I enter Bright Starr. Since I’m here, I guess I can tell Patrick and Lauren to fuck off one last time. Overhead, a little bell chimes. It sounds like a recording as it echoes through the building.
“—come to tomorrow’s service. I know how you have some reservations about our Lord, but even if you don’t quite have faith in him just yet, just being a part of a tight-knit community might do you some good. Just because you’ve lost your family doesn’t mean you’re suddenly alone, Beatrix,” a man’s voice says, drifting from a room off to my right as I enter.
“I, um, we’ll see.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways. This may have been a blessing in disguise for you.”
Between the talk of God and the overwhelming floral aroma in here, I’m immediately put off. Moving away from the voices, I enter the room where the funeral was held. Along with the deceased, there are chairs set up in four rows of seven. Beneath them is a navy blue carpet that’s old and worn. The paint on the wall is some ugly lavender color, and the light fixtures? Gag . This room needs a whole gut job.
That’ll change soon enough. I can’t have this represent me.
Laying on seats or on the floor are service programs, forgotten by the masses. Trash and crumbs roll like tumbleweeds as I walk by. Ahead of me are two simple white coffins with worn brass handles and floral details carved along the sides. When I get to the front of the room, my feet plant themselves beside Patrick Hunt’s coffin. Looking down, I peer into the face of Thatcher and Sagan’s father. He looks like a typical older white guy. With a hairline that’s drifted backward, sunspots, and thin lips, I see nothing of the twins in him. Good, because I don’t think I could get my dick up for someone even remotely as ugly as this bastard.
That’s saying a lot since looks aren’t what typically turn me on about a person.
“Service is over, ma’am,” someone announces behind me.
Ma’am?
I roll my eyes as I turn around. The guy walking into the room is in his mid-twenties and the epitome of a bro-dude. He wears a simple sports jacket with khaki pants, neither of which look like they’ve been properly fitted to his frame. With wide shoulders, a square face, and short but messy mass of bland brown hair—he looks like he peaked in high school and is now in his fizzle out stage.
“ Excuse me?” I ask coolly.
“Oh.” He blinks as he takes me in. Instantly his demeanor changes. The corner of his upper lip curls as his nostrils flare and his pupils narrow. “Sorry, I thought I was talking to a woman.”
“Well, there’s no woman here,” I shrug.
His eyes drag down my body and the disgust on his face intensifies. “No, there is definitely not.”
Some people simply can’t deal with the fact that there are those out here in this big old world that care about their appearance. Clearly he doesn’t. Look at those scuffed, out of style shoes he’s wearing. The guy is probably still clinging to underwear he wore back in high school that’s now riddled with holes and a waistband that’s just barely hanging on.
Gross .
I smile at him brightly, tucking away my own prejudices for his type. “Well, I’m just on my way out.”
As I move toward him and the exit, the guy crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve never seen you around Chasm.”
“That’s because I’m not from here.”
Years ago, I would have stammered and shook under the tight mocking smile that spreads across his face. His type can be such assholes. But I’m not the same person I was back then. Thanks to Thatcher and Sagan, I’m not the pathetic quaking fool I once was.
I move to step around him but am forced to stop as he sidesteps to stand in front of me, preventing me from leaving. My stomach tightens with anticipation as my smile grows brighter. Does he want to play? Because I got time and a lot of pent up energy. This idiot wouldn’t even see his death coming.
“You know, my father and I run a church. If you’re still in town tomorrow, you should come to our service,” he offers. “Maybe we can cure you of your affliction.”
That’s right, goad me. See how well this turns out for you .
“Oh yeah? What affliction is that?”
Before he can answer, another guy around the same age steps into the room to join us. With long greasy red hair, a gut that belongs to some drunkard, and adult acne so thick it looks like he has a rash all over his face, this guy is even more of a wash out then the first one. The newcomer places the card table he’s carrying on the floor with a huff.
“Hey, Trevor, what do you want me to do with this— oh .” The redhead sizes me up just as quickly as his friend had. “Who the fuck are you?”
Great, now there are two .
The guy who stopped me originally, who must be Trevor, snickers. “This here is my new friend. I was just telling him how coming to my church might do him some good. What do you think, Sebastian? Think God can save this one?”
“Maybe?” Sebastian says, inspecting me as if he’s looking for anything their god might find redeemable. “The Lord can create some awesome miracles, but it’ll take a lot to fix this one. Look, he’s wearing lipstick.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s lip gloss.”
“ Whatever it is, you shouldn’t be wearing that stuff. It’s for girls,” Trevor replies.
Oh god, I’m going to have to deal with people like these two for the foreseeable future. Why did I agree to go through with this plan with the twins again?
I cross my arms over my chest. “Says who?”
Sebastian snorts. “Says everyone. What guy wears makeup? And what the fuck are you wearing?”
“That’s a woman’s shirt.” Trevor shakes his head. “Look, it’s my job to help you save your soul. Since God hates f?—”
“Don’t you dare say it! You don’t get to talk to my guest like that, Trevor,” a soft voice snaps from behind both guys.
Rather than look sheepish or even ashamed at being caught talking poorly to a guest, Trevor’s whole face lights up. But not in a childish-delight type of way. This smile is all teeth and twisted with a sickening glee as he turns to face the newcomer. He only gets halfway as the woman in question steps around the two of them and enters the room.
The Starr girl.
She glares at Sebastian and Trevor as she passes them. Though shorter than me by at least four or five inches, she steps slightly in front of me as if to shield me. Both guys stare down at her like wolves about to descend.
“Trix or Treats! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You ran off earlier before we could… chat, ” Trevor greets. “I wanted to?—”
“Get out,” she interrupts in a low but firm voice. At her sides, her hands curl into fists. “The service is over, which means you’re no longer welcome here.”
“Hey, come on now, Trix. No need to be like that.” He places his hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded, and takes a step closer to her. His smile grows as the girl shrinks away from him. “I’m just being the man God wants me to be and helping out a friend in need.”
“Your dad helped with everything. I’ve got the rest of this. Now get out.” Her voice is stern and deepens as she gives her orders.
Sebastian snorts as Trevor takes a step into Beatrix’s personal space. He reaches up and tries to stroke her cheek, but she jerks her head away immediately.
My jaw sets as I witness an interaction that echoes so many from my past.
“Trix, you’re going to give our new friend the wrong impression. He’s going to think you don’t like me.” Trevor looks at me then, his smile faltering. “Sebastian, will you escort our friend outside? I’d like to talk to Beatrix alone.”
I laugh outright as Trevor’s friend approaches me.
“You can try,” I offer, dropping my hands to my sides. I have my knife on me, but I don’t need it to stop an attack. My bare hands can do a lot of damage. I might chip a nail though. That would piss me off.
Just as Sebastian reaches for me and I stiffen, ready to show him I’m more than a pretty face, a voice calls out,
“Trevor? Sebastian? You guys still here? We have to go!”
Both guys freeze. They exchange glances, disappointment crossing both their faces. Sebastian shakes his head and grabs the table.
“I’ll leave this by the front door,” he grumbles. “We can pay our condolences another time.”
He shoots Beatrix a hungry look that makes my skin crawl before he disappears. Trevor sighs and looks down at Beatrix. He tries reaching for her again, but just like last time, Beatrix moves out of the way.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses.
“Oh but I enjoy it so much. How can I not?” Trevor’s eyes flash with glee. “Anyway, I’m sorry about your family, Trix. But don’t worry, I’ll always be around. Maybe I’ll stop by later and I’ll hold you real close while you cry on my shoulder.”
If he comes by later, he’ll have to deal with the twins. Given their obsession with her, it probably won’t bode well for Trevor. Oh well, I don’t plan to warn the guy. It’ll be a lesson he’ll learn the hard way.
“Scurry along, Trevor.”
He chuckles before shooting me a look of disdain. “God loves all his children, even the ones that don’t respect him. Feel free to join our congregation, newcomer.”
I’d rather suck Satan’s dick and call him daddy then walk into your place of worship . I want to say it, it’s on the tip of my tongue. If I wasn’t about to take over this funeral home and plant myself firmly into Trevor’s community, I would.
But I am, so I refrain.
“I’ll be seeing you around,” I promise him lightly, keeping hold of my smile.
Trevor’s nostrils flare before he turns and leaves us alone. Both the Starr girl and I watch Trevor’s retreating form until he’s gone.
“Sorry about Trevor. He got hit too many times in the head when he was on the football team.” Beatrix turns around to face me fully while she talks.
Woah, close up, she’s actually decent to look at, I’ll give her that. I can appreciate a person who cares about their appearance. Her black jumpsuit is stylish, with pant legs that are straight cut and a top made of lace with a half collar around her neck. Around her waist is a corset-like accessory, emphasizing her hourglass figure.
Damn, I’m jealous of her curves .
“You don’t have to apologize for them. It doesn’t bother me,” I assure her with a half-smile that’s short lived as I size her up. “I could’ve taken care of them myself.”
Beatrix returns the smile with a full one. It comes on slowly but with more warmth than I expect from a complete stranger. I narrow in on it for a second. Is this how she’s gotten the twins to be so enamored with her? This pretty smile? Eh, it’s nice, but it takes more than a pretty face and nice outfit to win me over. I swallow my natural inclination to dismiss her and move on.
“He probably would’ve left you alone but you’re…” She waves a flippant hand in my direction without finishing her sentence.
I stiffen. Great, I lower my guard for a second, and here I am, about to get reprimanded for not fitting the mold of her stupid, backwoods, incestuous, traditional ideology. All small-town people are the same.
“I’m what ?” I growl out as I brace myself for her conjecture.
“Too pretty. Sorry, I thought that part was obvious.” Her smile fades. “Avoid Trevor if you can. Anyone that doesn’t fit the norm around here is a prime target for him.”
Too pretty ? Her unexpected compliment has me inwardly beaming. Oh how I do enjoy being complimented. Beatrix turns her back to me to listen to the recorded bell that rings overhead.
“I think they’re gone now. Would you like me to walk you out?” she asks. “I can watch to make sure they don’t come back around to harass you, if you’d like?”
“Actually, I’m waiting for some friends. I told them I’d wait for them to show up before leaving.” At the curious furrow of her brows, I add, “They were supposed to make the service but got held up.”
Understanding flickers across her face. “Oh, that’s why you’re here.”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“I know everyone in town, and there was no way Patrick or my mother would’ve associated with you.” She turns to face me once more, her gaze sweeping over me curiously.
“Because…of my prettiness?” I hedge suspiciously, unsure if this conversation is about to take a dive.
At her nod, I relax. She didn’t say it again, but she agreed, so that’s twice she’s complimented me. Ok, Thatcher and Sagan, I’m starting to see something I like about her. I could get used to this.
“Well, you’re right. I didn’t know them.” I shrug. “But I’m sorry for your loss.”
I study her face, searching for a flicker or guilt or sadness. Instead, the Starr girl purses her lips together and her expression shuts down completely.
“I appreciate the sentiment.”
But it’s not necessary , I finish in my head for her. Huh, I guess she’s really glad they’re gone. Good for her for taking a stand. Even though she did it the lazy way. She could’ve easily killed them herself instead of having someone else do it for her.
“Are you about to toss them into your fancy ovens or are you going to bury them?” I ask curiously.
“These two will be cremated this evening,” she answers.
“Cool, can I watch?”
At this, the Starr girl lets out a startled laugh. “No, you can’t watch! Why would you want to?”
“Death fascinates me.” She’ll see that soon enough. “And why can’t I? I won’t touch anything.”
“Because if you got hurt it would be an insurance liability that I’m not ready to tackle.”
Alright, well I can’t argue with her on that. Not until the guys reveal that the business is no longer hers to worry about. I let it drop and check my watch.
“I’m sure my friends will be here soon. Care if I just wait quietly?” If she says no, I’ll do it anyway, just out of sight. I’m not heading back to the motel only to come straight back here.
The Starr girl makes a face then lets out a sigh.
“Alright, well, I need to lock up, and it’s too cold for you to hang out outside or waste gas trying to keep your car warm.” She raises a brow. “Why don’t you hang out in the foyer while I transfer the bodies into a fiber container?—”
“What’s that?” I interrupt curiously.
Beatrix blinks, surprised by my question. “It’s like a cardboard coffin that’s built to burn away quickly during the cremation process. Anyway, while I do that and turn on the retorts?—”
“What’s a retort?” I probably should’ve done my homework on the workings of a funeral home since we’re planning to take it over but… that kind of studying and research is boring. I’d spent my time working on the new interior design for this place instead.
“Ah, it’s the machine that does the cremation…” She pauses to consider something before she tacts on, “It’s also called a cremation chamber.”
Huh… I give the Starr girl a nod as I turn this information over in my head. Maybe I’ll use it to impress Thatcher or Sagan later on when we do a real walk through of this place.
“Um, so, like I was saying, while I do that there are some finger sandwiches and snacks leftover that you can pick through if you’d like. If your friends aren’t here by the time I come back up, you’re more than welcome to join me up at the house. I want to grab a few of the deceased's belongings to burn with them.”
I flash her a grin. “Any plan with food is a good one to me.”
Her chuckle is unexpectedly sultry. “I think so too. What’s your name, pretty stranger?”
Ok, if the Starr girl keeps feeding my ego, we might just get along. At this rate my head is going to be too large for my body to carry. Thatcher and Sagan are going to hate it.
I offer her my hand, my grin widening. “I’m Knox Keele.”