Page 89 of Finders Reapers

He shrugged. “You brought it up.” Jamal pointed out.

I did. I had no idea why.

“I used to have a tattoo of aMy Chemical Romancealbum cover on my chest,” Fletcher admitted, clapping his hand together as the bartender delivered our shots. His attention fixed on the alcohol as he plucked it from the tray and passed it down the bar.

“Which cover?” I turned in my stool.

“Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.” Fletcher took his shot without a wince. “Even though I have more tattoos now, I miss that one, but I couldn’t bring myself to get it again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jamal cut in.

“Old man,” Fletcher replied with a snicker.

“You had plastic surgery?” Jamal asked, changing the subject.

Fletcher picked up another shot. “That surprised me.” He admitted. “You had this whole hot girl next door thing going on.”

I rolled my eyes. “Every celebrity has surgery,” I lifted my shot and took it with a wince. “Even YouTubers, TikTokers. Everyone. People are so critical, the second your teeth aren’t perfect, or you look like you’ve gained weight just because you ate too much pasta at lunch, you get ripped to shreds. All of my friends had the same number of subscribers that I did. It started with Botox. We went together.”

“I can see that,” Fletcher said. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

I shrugged. “It’s weird, but I haven’t checked Tiktok once since I died.”

“You’ve got bigger things going on.” Fletcher nudged me before placing his hand on mine.

“Okay, okay,Don Juan.” Jamal waved his hand between us. “Dim those headlights.”

Fletcher wiggled his brows. “Why? Jealous that it's not just you for a change, Mr. Darcy.”

I snorted. Darcy—Pride and Prejudice. British. “Clever,” I clapped my hands together.

“Come on, Jammy.” Fletcher’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Live dangerously for once.”

“Fine.” Jamal rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. “I used to have a poster of Farrah Fawcett in my room growing up.”

Fletcher rolled his hand as he took a sip of his beer. “Continue…”

“And a gentleman never tells.” Jamal shot him a look.

“Protecting the integrity of a poster.” Fletcher snorted, pressing his hand against his mouth.

“A poster that was hard enough to stand on its own,” I added, falling into giggles.

Jamal sat back. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Suit yourself.” Fletcher sniffed. “I’m going to hit the head.” He announced as he slid off his stool.

I rolled my eyes but smiled as he danced away, leaving Jamal and me at the bar. I held out my hand to draw the attention of the bartender. I had ordered more drinks and finished my mojito when Jamal spoke again.

“I collected his soul, you know,” Jamal said, turning towards the direction of the bathrooms.

“Who? Fletcher?”

Jamal nodded. “He was a scared kid.” He continued, frowning. “Did he tell you had cancer?”

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat.

“That’s only part of the truth.”

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