Page 4 of Dear Pink

“Give me a second.” I hit the close button on the video again, but my mouse freezes in place. She gives me an impatient sigh, reaches her arms around me, and pressesctrl +w. A vacuum of silence replaces the noise, and my shoulders relax. Maude sighs again and returns to her cubicle.

Nothing scares me more than Maude’s temper. If I can face her wrath today, I might as well open the ominous email.

Dearest Hannah,

Girlll, I guess I’m dead if you’re reading this email. I told you I would haunt you from the grave. Did you think it was a joke? Even from the depths of beyond, I have things to teach you. My tenure as Yoda isn’t over. (OH, and yeah, I’m a hot Yoda ghost in fishnets and a red cape).

Damn it. I swallow back a sob. The email won’t stop taunting me. I bend under my desk and push the red off button on the power strip. The surrounding computers make a sucking sound before going dark. A loud groan fills the quiet room. Bite me, computer.

“Hannah, did you kill the computers?” Maude’s shrill voice behind the cubicle wall demands an answer. When I don’t answer, she stands up and pokes her head over the edge. “What’s going on with you today?”

I can’t let her see my tear-stained face. I grab my phone and jog toward the elevators. “Going to the IT department,” I yell behind me. “I must have a virus on my computer. Be back.”

“Should I—” The elevator doors close, cutting off her agitated voice.

Inside, I clutch my phone to my chest like a child with a teddy bear. My heart pounds against the black plastic cover. I take nice slow breaths. Not knowing what else her email says kills me. I’ll never be able to concentrate today with it looming over me. Forget editing the stupid polo bears before lunch.

I wait for the elevator to move and open the email from Libby again.

No surprise I left you things to do, right? I’ve made a bucket list to brighten your life. Don’t worry, I won’t make you swim with sharks or take on a lion, though those sound awesome. I’m starting you out small. You must complete this list, or I will haunt you forever. Still funny from the grave, right?

This is your life, Hannah. Don’t waste a moment. Plus, they’re required. I’m dead. It’s my dying wish.

I love you. You were the best friend a girl could hope for in a single lifetime.

Libby

P.S. You must do these six tasks in order. No exceptions.

The pounding moves to my ears and my head turns woozy. She left me a bucket list. Me?

Damn it, Libby, you always were a pain in the ass. Countless times where Libby made my life miserable, wonderful, unbearable and, oh, so crazy meaningful flutter in my mind. The memory of when we crashed an epic New Year’s Eve party, and she pretended to be an Elvis impersonator makes me giggle.

Dressed in a white be-jeweled jumpsuit, a pompadour, and sunglasses, she said in a thick overdone Southern accent to the doorman with a clipboard, “Hound dogs and blue suede shoes, we are sooooo late. You must be relieved we arrived at all.” The bouncer was speechless as Libby forced past him, dragging me behind her. “Watch out, Elvis coming through.”

I danced the entire night with Elvis and a crowd of strangers under a disco ball and strobe lights. I wouldn’t have danced so freely if I had known anyone at the party. The anonymity made me brave. But Libby was the bravest.

When the DJ asked for any last song requests before the countdown, Libby walked right on stage, took the mic, and sang “It’s Now or Never” a cappella. The crowd joined on the second verse and sang with her until the end.

I shut my eyes and cover my face with the sleeve of my cardigan. “This is just like you, Libby, pushing me out of my comfort zone,” I say to the empty elevator as the doors open.

A red bike rolls into the area, forcing me into the corner. Behind it, a man enters, head lowered, a black helmet in his hand. The tall, muscular man doesn’t see me as he drives the bike inside and plants it in the middle of the elevator. Damn, this man takes up serious space. With one hand on the handle, he leans over and pushes the floor buttons. My gaze drops to his butt. I can’t help it. It’s tight and, oh, so fine.

Libby’s voice rings in my head.Damn. Pinch his ass. Or at least slap it.

I choke back a laugh even though tears still rest in the corners of my eyes. I’ve developed a split personality. My emotions are a scattered disaster. Shaking my head to clear Libby’s voice, I skim my focus upward. A skintight red bike shirt decorated with bright logos covers his broad shoulders. This guy is fancy and prepared for no-nonsense riding. I clear my throat, and he whips around, his long wavy locks glinting in the light.

“Oh, you scared me. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Is my bike in your way?” He slides the bike to the side and turns, smiling at me. His perfect, straight teeth and adorable grin make me step back farther even though I’m already in the corner. This guy is too hot to be true. I must be hallucinating. “I’m so sorry. I plowed in here without looking,” he continues. “My mind’s all over the place today. Wait, are you okay?”

I force a smile at this god-like man. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

I frown and straighten my skirt. “Well, that’s rude.”

“No, I don’t mean. I meant—you’re in an elevator crying. You’re upset. I didn’t mean you aren’t attractive. You are—I mean. Geez, I need to shut up.”

“It’s alright,” I say. “I had a tough morning.”

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