Minka
MINKA
I stumble through my apartment the next morning, searching for those damn shoes I selected two nights ago, and snarling when four sets of Malone eyes stare back in silence.
Tim, of course, has common sense and knows not to pile into an apartment as small as ours.
“Stop watching me and start helping.” I toss pillows off the couch and send the remote flying until it lands with a crash. “It’s a black shoe, people. Hardly a mystery, considering we’re heading to a funeral.”
“Black heels,” Felix teases. “Black pantyhose.”
“Black dress,” Cato adds. “Almost black hair. It’s all a bit depressing.”
“Yes, but so is burying a woman as young as Jada.” I slam my knee against the edge of the coffee table and hiss, but the collision shifts the table, at least, and reveals my heel hidden beneath. “Finally.” I bend and snap the damn thing up, only to straighten out and growl at the four identical stares. “Is no one else disappointed at the loss of potential? She could have been rich and famous. And if not that, then a happy housewife and mom. But she fucked up and now it’s all over.”
“Our moms died in their teens,” Micah rumbles, draping his arm over Tiia’s delicate shoulders and holding her close. Because she’s in a whole other world, a whole new city, in someone else’s apartment, to attend the funeral of a woman she’s never met, to support a man she hasn’t met, for the brother-in-law she’s known for five minutes.
Wonderful.
“Jada made her choices with both eyes wide open,” Micah continues. “She was too old for the young and na?ve excuse. And she had a family to fall into when things got bad. Maybe they were assholes. But she had options.”
“You’re mean.” I sit on the edge of the couch and slip my foot into the heel. “Scientifically speaking, I’m not sure she was mature enough to enter a marriage, have a baby, or avoid the advances of an older, charming man who would eventually be her undoing. And when that all came down, I’m not sure she had the mental capacity to sample drugs safely. She was screwed from the start.”
“Scientifically speaking,” Cato drawls, “she had the love and support of a man who would have killed himself to make her happy. You can have a rough upbringing and an underdeveloped maturity, and still know actions come with consequences. Even kindergarteners are taught that.”
“I sure hope you all get this out of your systems before we meet up with Fletch.” Standing, I smooth my dress down and check to make sure I’m ready. “We can think she was a piece of shit without saying so out loud at her own burial.”
“It’s gonna take a miracle to keep all five Malone mouths shut.” Felix grabs Christabelle’s chin and pulls her in for a kiss. “We’re an outspoken group who speak the truth.”
“Also known as insensitive,” she quips. But she smiles and kisses him back. “Don’t speak at all if you think the words will be offensive.”
“This isn’t about Jada anymore,” Archer mumbles. “She’s dead and has no feelings. But Fletch and Mia matter. Mia, especially, deserves to know the people who created her are valuable and special and worthy. She is them, so every shit thing you say about Jada?—”
“Is a shit thing you’re saying about Mia.” My phone trills on the kitchen counter, so I start that way, but Archer turns first and picks up the device, spying the screen and swiping to answer with a grin before I can choose to ignore it.
“It’s the mayor.” He sets the phone in my palm and kisses my down-turned lips. “We’re leaving in five, just so you know.”
“You’re a pain in my ass.” I turn on my heels and move into the hall. But I bring the phone up and play my part. “Mayor. It’s Mayet.”
“Hello, Chief. I trust you have everything you need to get through today? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Uh…” I wander through my bedroom door and stop by the window overlooking our street. “No, I don’t think so. I have a checklist, and I believe everything has been taken care of. Is Fifi at work today?”
He chuckles, soft and sweet in the back of his throat. “No, but she informed me in advance and organized Ms. Guthrie to cover until she’s back. She’s very astute in her work, Doctor Mayet. I have no concerns that she’ll straighten everything out when she returns.”
“I know she’s astute! She was mine first. Remember?”
“I’m aware Archer’s brothers are in town.” Change the subject ! It’s like he screamed the words but without saying them at all. “Including Felix Malone.”
“Mmhm. Is there an issue with that, Mayor? Do you have a problem with Felix being in your city?”
“Are you going to make me say it?” His voice takes on a darker, meaner edge that is probably designed to intimidate others. But not me. Never me. “Felix’s streams of income are no secret.”
“Felix’s streams of income, I’m told, are directly related to the stock market and alcohol sales inside the myriad clubs he owns and manages.” And I’m being obnoxiously vague, purely to annoy the man who annoys me. “I’m assured Felix’s presence in Copeland will be quiet, quick, and without issue. Will we see you at the funeral today?”
“I had intended to swing by,” he grumbles. “However, I’m aware the gathering will be relatively small, despite Detective Fletcher’s many years with the force. Do you suppose my attendance will be received in a negative light?”
“It’s kind of charming how you speak with big words when you’re uncomfortable. You’re nervous, and instead of turning up and risking being asked to leave, you called me instead, like I can somehow dial in on the intricacies of a social gathering and give you good advice.”
“Mayet?”
I snicker. “I doubt very much that he’ll be mad if you swing by . You’re our friend, in a way, and you wish to show your respects. You’re also aware the extended Malones will be there, and despite that, you’re still coming. Unless,” I narrow my eyes, “you’re attending so you can get close to Felix and call it a coincidence. I dunno, Justin. I don’t think Felix will break the law quite so loudly while the mayor and a handful of cops are nearby.”
“So you admit he breaks the law?”
“I admit nothing. Come to the funeral. Or don’t.” I shift the flimsy curtain aside and glance out at the street. “Fletch will appreciate your show of support, even if he can’t vocalize it today. Fifi will like that you’re there, so she can still feel like she’s working, even in some small capacity. I can tick today off as a social interaction and not feel bad for declining your next thirty calls, and Mia will like seeing more people there to support her mom. Nothing negative can come from your attendance, as far as I can see.”
“Any negatives to me not going?”
“I don’t know!” I turn when I feel Archer in the doorway and smile when I’m right. His eyes brighten the moment our gazes meet. “You’re asking me to make this decision for you, Justin. But I don’t think anything horrible will happen no matter what you choose. If you come, great. If you don’t, then I doubt Fletch will even notice. Do whatever your schedule allows and move on with your day.”
“My daughter is in the city.” He coughs to clear his throat. “And her friend, Sophia.”
Stunned, my eyes widen. “Sophia’s in Copeland again? Why?”
“To visit me,” he drawls. “Of course. They’ll arrive later and stay at my home for dinner. Do you want to?—”
“Come to dinner?” I stride across the room. “Absolutely not. Besides, we have our own family in town for the night, remember? So unless you’re inviting Felix Malone for dinner…”
“Well…” He considers it for a beat. “Professionally, I’m not sure that would be?—”
“Exactly.” I snag Archer’s hand and head into the hall. It’s time to go, and a fantastic opportunity to cut our call short. “You keep yours up on the hills, and I’ll keep mine down here with the commoners. There’s no need for overlap. I have to hang up now, Mayor.” I stop at the end of the hall and eye the family I’ve somehow landed face-first in. I didn’t want them. But here we are anyway, eating together and trying not to kill each other. “We’re leaving my apartment,” I explain. “We’ll be at the cemetery in about twenty minutes, then the ceremony thing will be pretty quick. So if you want to come, the window is small. Let’s go.” I turn left and head toward the door. “I’ll see you in a bit. Maybe.”
“Yeah.” He nods, his stubble scratching along the phone. “I’ll be there. However, I’ll maintain my distance. Respectfully.”
“Of course. Be sure to let Sophia and your daughter know I said hello. I doubt I’ll catch up with them this visit, considering how busy everyone is.”
“You could if you came to dinner.”
I open the apartment door and allow Archer to lead me onto the stairs. “No thanks. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure.” He exhales a gusty breath and rubs his jaw. “Alright. See you soon.”
I pull the phone from my ear and grin when Archer takes it and offers a thick black coat.
“It’s going to be freezing out there, Minnnka.” He drops my phone into the coat pocket, then offers the coat, opened, for me to slip my arms into. “You’d forget your own head if I wasn’t here to bring it out the door with us.”
“Impossible. Without my head, I would be deceased.” But I snuggle into the warm cotton he selected from the closet specifically for me. Why buy a new one for myself when I could simply cuddle into one of his ? It’s a no-brainer. “Fletch in contact with you?”
“Yeah.” He wraps his arm around mine and helps me down the stairs while everyone else follows. “He’s heading to the cemetery now, too. The hearse is set to arrive just a few minutes after we do, so then we can carry it out and get the funeral started.”
“It all feels a little…” I wrinkle my lips and struggle to find the right word. “I don’t know. Maybe it would be different if we were burying someone we were fond of. If not for Fletch and Mia, we wouldn’t care at all, ya know? And I think, for that reason, this all feels robotic and odd.”
“I’ll always prefer to bury someone we don’t give a shit about,” Cato rumbles. “The second we have to do this for one of us, I’m rioting.”
“Has anyone considered the possibility, small as it may be, that the man who hurt her will attend the funeral?” Christabelle broadens her shoulders when Archer and I stop at the second-floor landing. “I mean, I understand I’m missing a lot of the details, but from what I gather, she was in a relationship with this man. Drug dependence and toxicity aside, she was with him. And sure, he was the reason she was hurt, which implies a certain lack of affection. But psychologically, there might still be something there. A spark, or familiarity and regret. He might want to see her one last time. And if he does, do any of you have a plan for this?”
“Fuck.” Archer yanks out his phone and dials while turning and pulling me down the stairs. “Detective Balladae. It’s Archer Malone.” He silences while Balladae speaks, and nods in agreement to… something. “Will you be attending Jada’s funeral today? It’s come to my attention that Booth turning up isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. He might—Yeah…” Another nod. “That’s what I figure.”
“Smart thinking, darling.” Felix hugs Christabelle close and presses a noisy kiss to her cheek. “I’m surprised none of us considered that before now.”
“Alright. Thanks. Bye.” Archer lowers the phone and meets my eyes. “Elen and Balladae wondered the same and already made plans to escort Jada’s body from the funeral home to the cemetery. They’ll stay back and observe, so if Booth turns up, they’ll arrest him quietly and minimize disruption to the funeral.”
“So that’s sorted, then.” Micah brings Tiia down the stairs, past Felix, and around to lead us the rest of the way. “It’s time to get this shit done. We’re not here for the dead chick. We’re here for the cop.”
“You say cop like it’s a dirty word.” Teasing, Tiia allows him to squeeze her hand and pull her along. “Seems you have unhealed trauma, Malone. It’s time to deal with that.”
“Shush.” He leads her past Steve, our landlord, who waits at the bottom of the stairs, and through the front door without acknowledging him. “Let’s get this done.”
A fleet of matching black SUVs wait outside our apartment building, so although Micah leads Tiia to the one in front, Archer takes me to the car in the middle, only to open the door and reveal a grinning Aubree snuggled up beneath Tim’s arm.
“We’re riding with you today, I guess.” Archer helps me climb in. “The others can figure themselves out.”
“Hey, Pet.” Smirking, I duck my head low and plop down on Aubree’s left. “Good day for a funeral, huh?”
T he funeral director’s staff organized speakers to be placed strategically, subtly, within range of Jada’s plot. A flower arrangement sits upon an easel type stand, and a picture of Jada from her glory days, pointed toes, soft, swirling skirt, and hair tied in a severe bun, sits amongst the flowers.
Because this is how we want her to be remembered. Young, beautiful, driven, and healthy. This is how we want Mia to remember her, if only to save the slice of her soul that will hurt as she grows and comes to understand the truth of what happened.
I circle Mia’s hand in mine as the hearse slowly ambles across grass, the wind whipping my hair back, and the cold making the little girl shiver.
Aubree takes her place on my left, and Fifi stands on Mia’s other side, holding her hand and wiping her nose with a hanky she thought to bring along.
I’m not sure I could ever be so selfless as to attend the funeral of a woman who once held Archer’s heart.
Worse, shattered it, over and over and over again.
I might accuse Seraphina Lewis of a lot of things, ranging from uptight and sliding toward downright mean, but something she is not, is selfish. For Fletch, and for the little girl who captured her heart, she would do anything. Even when the payment is a man who expresses himself in all the wrong ways too many times to count.
“Here she comes, Moo.” Fifi lowers into a dignified crouch and gets on the girl’s level. Then she points toward the hearse and murmurs, “Your daddy and uncles will carry her over here to us.”
“She has to go in the hole?” Mia’s voice crumbles as she looks at the plot literally dug and prepared for today. It’s all so confronting for someone who doesn’t deal in death every single day. So final for a little girl who still has a lifetime to live. “It’s going to be really dark in there when they put the grass back on.” Teary-eyed, she looks up at me. “It’s not snowing, Aunty . Do you fink that means she doesn’t want to go into the hole?”
Fuck. Me. Sideways.
I swallow the lump in my throat and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s not dark in Heaven, Moo. And maybe she’s saving the snow for tonight, when you go to bed, to let you know everything is okay. Remember how Uncle Arch said she might make it stop so it wouldn’t get on your hair while you’re trying to say goodbye?”
“Isn’t that such a pretty picture of her, Mia?” Fifi gestures toward the picture by the flowers, smiling so genuinely, it makes it damn near impossible for me to know if she’s faking pleasantries or actually likes the woman who fucked over this family. “Don’t you love how her skirt goes all the way to her knees?”
I let them chatter. To focus on the good and not on the dark clouds above, and I look over to the hearse as a group of six men hoist a heavy wooden box onto their shoulders and make damn sure she’s secure, even when five out of six couldn’t give a single shit about the person inside.
Tiia and Christabelle stand together, and Mayor Lawrence hovers an easy thirty feet away, security personnel flanking him on either side, though all of them wear suits and solemn expressions. It’s the very best Jada could have hoped for, I think. Considering the hurtful things she did and the pain she caused to those who loved her the most.
While Fifi and Mia talk quietly about dancing, and the little girl squeezes a red Care Bear between her arm and ribs, I watch Archer lead the procession with Fletch on his left. Archer’s firm lips and darkened eyes are focused directly on me. While Fletch’s lips are swollen and his eyes are on his little girl.
Micah, Tim, Felix, and Cato do the job they’ve been tasked with, while Felix’s security team outnumbers the mayor’s by a long way. But they, too, are discreet. Fanning across the cemetery and not infringing on a young mother’s final farewell.
Searching, I cast my attention to the detectives hovering by a large oak tree, knee length coats flapping by their legs, and their eyes slowly scanning for Booth.
Whether he comes… still a mystery.
“They’re gonna set her right there,” Fifi explains, pointing toward the straps crisscrossing the plot. “And then your daddy will tell us all the things he loved about her.” Her voice crackles, and her shoulders collapse, if only for a moment, before she coughs and broadens them again. “Look at all these beautiful flowers people brought for her. Does your mommy love flowers?”
The closer Jada’s casket comes, the fatter Mia’s tears turn, until finally, they set her down, and the little girl chokes on a painfully quiet sob. “I fink she liked flowers. I like flowers.”
“I think she liked them too,” Fifi confirms. So friggin’ selfless. So sweet and kind to walk a girl through the hardest day of her life. “What was her favorite color, Mia? Do you know your mommy’s favorite color?”
“Pink, maybe?” She shakily opens her coat to reveal the lovely soft-pink dress they selected together. “That’s why I picked this one. So she would like it.”
The funeral director speaks, of love and loss and grief and all the usual things. But I don’t hear his words as the guys step away from the casket, and Archer circles around to press his chest to my back. He drops a kiss to the top of my shoulder, a slow, lingering touch of his lips until the warmth of his breath bathes my skin. But I watch everything around us. The mayor, who stands in complete silence, and Fletch, who wanders up to wait on Fifi’s other side.
He doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t even reach around to take Mia, though I know he wants to. His hands fidget for something to hold on to, but he’s selfless, too. And if the girl wants to go to him, she will. And if not, then he won’t be the reason she can’t be where she wants to be.
Felix and the others make a row behind us, respectful and silent, eyes lowered and lips closed.
The undertaker reads a passage from a bible; something about children and peace and grief. About a mother’s love and a father’s sacrifice. And when he’s done, he nods and waits patiently as Fletch realizes it’s his turn.
Silence hangs, except for a soft melody on the breeze. The sounds of sniffling. A little girl’s choppy inhalation of air. And then Fletch wanders to stand beside the older, rounder man, shakily unfolding his prepared sheet of paper.
“Um…” He tests the microphone and brings it away from his lips when the single word comes out too loud. “Sorry. We, uh…” He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly despite his tall collar. “We’re all out here today for Jada.” Nervous, he reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m aware of the subtle undercurrents every adult here knows about, but I’m eternally grateful you came anyway for my baby.”
He looks down at the sheet of paper and draws a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to remember the bad anymore. There’s so much we could obsess over, ample details to pick apart and feast upon. But it’s too much to carry, and I consider it a ridiculous shame that the bad could outweigh the good in instances like these. Not when there’s a little girl whose DNA is half made up of the person we speak of. And since I’m the only one here who knew her, truly, back in the day knew her,” he looks up from the paper and swallows, “I want to tell you about that time. Because it’s my goal, my duty, to leave you all with one lasting, positive impression of the woman I made a baby with.”
Shy, perhaps even sorry, he looks at Fifi.
“Jada was an only child who came from a well-to-do family. She was the apple of their eye, in that she was exactly what they sculpted her to be. They were a family of influence, and she was to become the starlet they wished for. But despite what you think you know about her now, when she was a teen and sneaking out of her home, she didn’t do it for the reasons you might think.”
He coughs out a quiet laugh and re-folds the paper. He gives up on it and glances to Mia instead, smiling and holding her devastated gaze. “Your mommy used to sneak out to be with me. Which, in any normal circumstance, would be horrifying. I beg you, baby, don’t do that.”
She giggles, soft and silly and pleading for more. “What were you doing, Daddy?” Her voice is soft amongst the silence. Shaky when she tries to speak louder. “Were you dancing? Or kissing, maybe?”
“We were for sure dancing and kissing. Those were two of our favorite things to do. But we didn’t have to sneak out for that. Your mommy was supposed to perform this one weekend when she was sixteen. It was a show she’d been practicing for months, and though all the other dancers had to audition for their part, your mommy was who the directors created the show for in the first place.”
“She didn’t want to do it?” Mia gently pulls her hand from mine, but only so she can hug her bear and stare across a casket littered with the sweet drawings of a four-year-old. “She didn’t want to dance?”
“She did. She loved to dance. But we found a bird’s nest a few days before the show. It had been knocked from a tall tree, and two of the five eggs must’ve broken from the fall.”
Predictably, Mia gasps. “Oh no.”
“Your mommy was so sad, Moo. She looked for the momma bird for hours, but couldn’t find her. And she checked the broken eggs to see if there was anything she could do. There was nothing. But there were still three good eggs.”
“Did she save them, Daddy?” She hiccups and crushes the bear’s neck with her arm. “Are they okay?”
“Well, it takes a long time for eggs to hatch, and your mommy didn’t have a lot of time to stay with them. Her mom and dad wanted her to be at the dance studio every afternoon, but the day after we found the eggs and waited for the mommy, she said she wasn’t waiting any longer. She snuck out with a shoe box and collected those three babies, and then she hid them in her bedroom, keeping them warm and holding them in her hands. She didn’t want to go to the show, because then the eggs would get cold. So she told her parents she was too sick to dance. She faked a cough and cried of a tummy ache and when that wasn’t good enough, she told them to leave her the heck alone, because she felt sick.”
Mia’s lips curl into a small, wobbly, devious grin. “But she wasn’t sick.”
“Nope. Not even a little bit. She wanted to save those birdies, so she gave up the show and made her parents mad . She took care of them like they were her babies. She was able to care for something more than she cared about herself. And that’s when I knew we would get married someday, and once we did, I knew she would give me the prettiest, sweetest, most wonderful little baby bird of our own.”
“Me.” Fresh tears slip onto Mia’s cheeks. “I’m the baby bird she gave you.”
“You sure were. She never regretted giving up the show for the eggs, and I know there isn’t a thing in the world she regretted trading for you. Because she loved them, and she loved you.”
“Did the baby birds crack out of the shells?” Hopeful, she stands on her toes and shakily smiles. “Were they okay? Did they find their mommy?”
“Yep.” He slides the paper into his back pocket and extends his hands to give her the go ahead to come around to him. So she breaks away from me and Fifi, clutching her bear and carefully navigating the surroundings of a hole in the earth. Then she jumps into Fletch’s arms and sets her cheek on his shoulder. “The little birds hatched, using their cute little beaks to break the shells when they were big enough. Then your mommy opened her bedroom window and set the box on the sill. She told them she loved them, and described the tree they fell out of. She gave them all the information she had, so they could go find their mommy, and then they flew away. She saved them, Mia. Now, they get to fly in the pretty sky and have an amazing life.”
“I didn’t know that.” Sniffling, she uses the sleeve of her coat to wipe beneath her nose. “Mommy didn’t ever tell me about the birds.”
“It was so long ago, and she’d had her own baby bird since then. So, I guess they weren’t on her mind very much anymore. But I remember it all so clearly, because that was the day I knew I would make a family with her.”
“You loved her very much, huh?” She leans back and searches his eyes. “You loved her very much, so you could make a little baby bird like me.”
“Yeah.” He swipes a tear from his cheek and leans in to press a kiss to hers. “I loved her with my whole heart and soul, and it all began that day with the nest. She was brave and selfless, even when she knew it would get her in trouble. And that’s what I want you to be. Brave, even when it might get you in trouble. Selfless, but only for the people who would do the same for you. I want you to be strong and fearless and amazing, Moo. Because your mommy was. When she was at her best, she was the best.”
Carefully, Aubree steps out of our line and swipes two flowers from the large display surrounding Jada’s picture. Then she moves around the casket and offers the flowers to the Fletchers. “Birdies love flowers, and I think your mommy probably loved anything her birdies loved. So why don’t you give her this flower, Moo? You can place it on top and tell your mommy goodbye.”
Oh god.
Here it comes.
My eyes itch and my lungs squeeze until it hurts to breathe. I don’t make a single sound, but Archer still knows, pulling me closer and resting his lips by my ear. “I could never do this if you pass, Mayet.” He draws a long breath until I feel his chest grow, then exhales, the air making my hair flutter. “I would sooner put myself in the ground with you.”
“I don’t even want to consider what will happen when one of us goes.” I turn and tuck my shoulder under his arm, so Fletch and Mia remain in my peripherals, setting flowers on Jada’s casket and crying over the finality of what they’re doing. But I rest my cheek over Archer’s heart and blink the tears from my eyes. “I don’t know how to handle an existence without you in it. Someday, eventually, one of us will go before the other. I’m not ready for that reality.”
“Cyanide pills,” Felix whispers, leaning into our space and flicking my hair when I hastily swipe tears from my face. “You each have one. When shit’s getting dicey, you pop those pills and run into the afterlife together.”
“Not concerning at all.” I roll my eyes and press my palm to his face, pushing him back. “He doesn’t have access to cyanide, does he?”
Quietly chuckling, Archer sets his chin on the top of my head. “Probably. I’ll get some for us, too, so we never have to worry about outliving the other.”
“I love you, Mommy.” Mia presses a shaky kiss to the top of Jada’s silky-smooth casket. Then she rests her cheek on the cold wood while Fletch follows suit. “Fly little birdie.”