Page 8 of Leo
She snorted.“Of course he is.You think we’d let our favorite kid—”
“Hey!”Leslie cried.
“Our favorite kid under the age of ten,” Naomi laughingly amended, “get hurt or in trouble?No, the kids wanted to get pizza after we were done here, and I wanted to check in with you before agreeing.How’s Edward doing with textures and all that now?”
I sighed inwardly.“He’s still good with most of the pizza places in town, but I’ve got some homemade ones in the freezer if you want to swing by and grab them instead of dealing with weekend crowds.”
Naomi made a thoughtful noise, hearing my unasked question.“He’s been doing fine with the noise so far.A little uneasy with crowds, but Leslie’s been great with picking out rides and games that had fewer people waiting.”
The soft chime of the funeral home’s front entry opening and closing sped my decision.“If you’re all okay with it, I’m okay with it.Just keep an eye on him with the pizza—he’ll try to eat his weight in it then get sick all over your car.”
Naomi was quiet for a beat.“Maybe heading home and heating up frozen pizza’s a better idea.”
I laughed quietly.“Let me know what you decide.I’ve got incoming.”
“Happy Funeral-ing,” she said, blowing me a kiss over the phone before hanging up.
I shoved my phone back into the inside breast pocket of my suit jacket and headed for the front of the house, fixing my face in politely neutral lines.
And yes, I’d practiced it.My dad and uncle had made me when I started helping out in the homes as a teenager.People know you’re half salesman, Leo,Dad had warned.Don’t try to overcompensate by looking like you’re grieving along with ‘em.Don’t try to come off as some stick-up-the-ass and aloof jerk, either.Gotta find that middle ground of understanding and professional, kind without being a doormat.But never forget thisisa business.We provide a service and once you start going soft, people stomp you into the ground.
Though given what Ambrose had said about his parents’ funerals, knowing that he’d been the recipient of Uncle Benson’s kindness and how it affected him even years later, and knowing that Ambrose hadn’t been the only person in Benson’s long career who’d received similar assistance… It made me think maybe my father might have been wrong about a lot of things, especially when it came to the business side of our industry.Benson had been well liked socially but also professionally.His advice had made it possible for me to not only complete my training as an embalmer and funeral director but also step into the position he’d left open with his death.
He’d been the one to steer me toward the Rainbow Chamber of Commerce, suggesting I look into it for ‘when it was my turn to run the place.’Benson had left me folders of information, suggestions, tips, hints… Things that were entirely different from my father’s business model when it came to interacting with our clients.He wanted to be more present in the community as well.He’d come to Gaynor Beach later in life, taking over the family business’ branch there after his cousin Jeremy had retired.Benson had fallen in love with the town, with how welcoming and accepting of the queer community it was, and how he could finally live openly in a way he’d never felt comfortable doing in his younger years.He’d only tentatively made steps toward more community involvement in the years before he passed, but by then the cancer had started to sap his strength.I felt obligated to fulfill his wishes, so the first thing I did was apply to the Rainbow Chamber of Commerce.
That was the one piece of advice Benson had given me that had not panned out well.The Rainbow Chamber of Commerce was run by a different board than the one that’d been in place when Benson had first heard of it.He’d never joined it himself, the formation of the RCC happening just a year or so before he passed.Instead of the open, diverse board he’d kept information from, it was now—just about six years later run by a very staid and hidebound group that felt the extent of the RCC’s involvement should be slapping a rainbow flag sticker on member businesses and having a float in the various parades Gaynor Beach held throughout the year.The board was very invested in appearances, in beingin chargeand making sure people respected ‘the community.’
As far as they were concerned, trans rights weren’t their problem, earring Ken wasn’t Barbies gay bestie, and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell wasn’t a big deal.
When I reached the front lobby area, two older ladies were perched on one of the sofas, clutching their handbags and looking both nervous and a bit grim.“Good morning.Welcome to Morris Family Funeral Home and Crematorium.Are you here for Ms.Dennis’ viewing?”
One of the ladies nodded as they rose to their feet.“Yes.There are a few more coming.We were waiting.”
“If you’d like to wait for the others here, feel free, but Ms.Dennis is in the Perpetual Peace room, just past those white doors.You’re welcome to pay your respects and spend as much time as you’d like with her.”
The women exchanged looks.“We’re just here to make sure she’s really dead,” the first woman explained.
The second one nodded.“I wouldn’t put it past her to fake it, just to get our hopes up.”
I stared.“I… I’m sorry?”Knowing she wasn’t well liked was one thing but seeing her predictions—hell, her hopes—pan out before my very eyes was disconcerting.“Faking it?”
The first lady smiled kindly, reaching out to pat my arm.“Delia Dennis was mean as a snake ever since she drew her first breath.I spent every day of my school career here in Gaynor Beach terrified I’d catch her attention.”
The second woman made an agreeing sound.“We tried.We were kind to her, and we turned the other cheek and all of that, but Delia… She just hated us!”
The door opened again, admitting two women and a man, all around the same age as Ms.Dennis.“He says she’s in there,” the first lady announced, pointing to the Perpetual Peace room’s doors.
“Hot damn and hallelujah,” one of the newcomers muttered, and they all moved in a herd toward the viewing room, leaving me feeling both gobsmacked and just a tiny bit like bursting into inappropriate laughter.
I took myself to my office and shut the door between me and the vultures.“What the actual fuck,” I muttered, covering my face with my hands and groaning into my palms.“What the actual living fuck…”
The soft buzz of my phone in my breast pocket dragged me out of my reverie.I was half expecting Naomi to be calling again with questions about Edward’s aversion to this texture or that smell.Instead, it my screen flashedAmbrose Nice Bunsat me.I barked a startled laugh and answered, still chuckling.“Hello, Ambrose Nice Buns.”
A pause, then, “Thank you.I try to keep fit but you know how it is sometimes, owning your own business making it difficult to get any me time.”
“That’s why I waste money on home fitness equipment,” I said with a sage nod he couldn’t see.“Which I use exactly three times then decide fuck it, I’ll take up jogging instead, then decide that’s what people who hate themselves professionally do, so I go order another gizmo off the ‘zon and hope it’s what sticks this time.”
He laughed softly, a warm and ticklish sort of sound.“Solid plan there, Leo.Sounds like you’ve got a real routine in place.”
