Page 47 of Cooper

But I’m not going to focus on that, nor am I going to focus on the fact that we’re going to my landlord’s funeral this afternoon. I’m also not going to think about the fact that I haven't heard from Jenkins in days. And as we drive to the venue where the funeral is being held, don't even get me started on the unsettled feeling that I get inside my gut, that's impossible to ignore.

Despite the fact that London, even in funeral clothing, is luminous and so beautiful I can't keep my eyes off her, I still feel like my life is a whirlwind. As we arrive inside, the place is loaded with people in expensive clothing, and they might as well be eating pigs in a blanket and other fancy hors d’oeuvres, with the logos plastered on easels, disguised as pictures of old Tommy. If it weren't for the flower arrangement in the centre of it all, this place would scream convention.

I know that London feels extremely out of place here, and her nerves are showing, as she holds my hand, hers feeling cold and clammy. So, when a woman approaches, and introduces herself as Tommy's niece, London immediately relaxes. The place is shoulder to shoulder with people, the soft din almost dizzying, and as I wait for a eulogy or speech of some sort, London and Tommy's niece continue to converse.

Tommy's daughter, Laura, approaches me. I offer my condolences once again. “The wire should come through in a day or two. There was a slight mix up with the bank. But it's all straightened out now.”

“There's no rush, Laura. As you're aware, your dad never charged me anything extreme, so money is not an issue.”

“My father had strict, specific instructions, Cooper. This is all part of it. The man did not leave a stone unturned. Christ, this looks more like a convention than a funeral, but that's what he wanted.”

Tommy's niece has her back turned to Laura, still speaking to London. I overhear London say that she needs to use the ladies’ room, as she taps my arm to get my attention, and I nod, and watch her walk away with the lady. That's when the switch goes off inside my head. This place is far too crowded, and any suits that are here are going to be lost in the shuffle.

I excuse myself from Laura's company and follow London to the washroom. Ignoring the dirty looks I’m getting from other ladies as I push the door open, I call out her name, first the fake one, and then the real one.

... but she doesn't answer.

London

“You know what? I need to use the washroom, too. I think there’s one in that back hall.” Moira says. She’s the only person in this room that doesn’t seem stuffy and all-businesslike, as we’ve been chatting about our kids, and how excited they are about Christmas.

“Okay, good. I’ll come with you.” I tell her, as I give Cooper’s arm a squeeze. He’s talking to someone, I’m guessing that it’s Laura, and I hope that there is a chance to be introduced once I return. “I didn’t know Tommy. I feel sort of out of place here.” I explain as we walk towards a hallway that leads to washrooms, and other doorways with unmarked doors. The ladies’ room has a short line.

“Hey, let’s go use the other one.” Moira suggests.

“There’s another one?”

She scrunches her nose. “The staff here said we could use the corporate one if this one is full. They expected we would need it with this crowd.”

She opens a door that leads to another hallway. It’s quiet. Nobody else is there. “It’s just down this way.” She murmurs conversationally. We seem to be walking down a very long hallway and then we exit through a doorway into a stairwell.

“Gosh, it’s so far away we might as well have just waited in the lineup.” I comment.

She pulls out her phone as she snickers at my comment. “Be careful texting on the stairs.” I tell her, picturing her falling headfirst down them.

“I’m fine. It’s just one more floor.” She says. This building is no funeral home. It’s not quite a convention centre but definitely not a funeral home. And I start to wonder why this corporate washroom wasn’t on the same floor or just one floor difference.

“I think I’d rather just head back. This is ridiculous.” I add, as we reach another exit door. “Wha…where?” I say as she shoves me out the door, right into an awaiting minivan. The door is open, and the force of her push is so hard I fall to my knees, while some guy grabs me, covers my mouth aggressively with his hand, and pulls me into the van, while she closes the door abruptly and gets into the passenger side front seat. There is a third person, in the driver’s seat, who turns the wheel ninety degrees and tears off quickly. The turn is so abrupt, I feel the world spin.

“You scream, I gag you, got it?” The man holding his hand on my mouth says.

I nod and he takes his hand off my mouth. “What do you want from me?” I ask, voice shaking.

Moira looks over at me. “We’ll get to that. Where’s your cell phone?”

“I left it at home.”

She looks at the man next to me. “Check her.”

Quickly, I show him that, in my A-line, pocketless dress, it’s impossible for me to have anything on me.

“She’s clean.” He says.

“Now. What do you want.” I ask, wondering what the hell is going on. If the F.B.I. called me and said that these people are getting their money, why the hell are they after me? I’m willing to bet my life on it that that’s why they’re here, but just to keep up with the whole safety thing, I figure I’ll let them tell me why they’re here, instead of volunteering information.

“You sure are very cocky for someone who’s just been kidnapped.” Moira says.

I scoff indignantly. “Is your name even Moira? You’re not related to Tommy, are you?” I ask, thinking that this angle is much better.

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