The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare by J.B. Hartnett

Author:J.B. Hartnett [Hartnett, J.B.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

I arranged my hat and poked in one of my two hat pins to secure it in place. Ahren walked in and casually set down a glass in front of me. I could smell the whiskey when he came through the door and knew the potential burn it was going to cause when it hit my throat. I watched him in the mirror, the way his body moved under his jacket, and when he leaned to the side, I could see the clear outline of him. God bless boxers. I smiled to myself, embarrassed at where my mind went on a day like today.

He moved to stand between my legs, looking down at me.

“Ahren?” I warned. “Really? I mean, you know, funeral and all. No real time for jiggy-jiggy.” I went about sliding a pearl stud into one ear.

“Jiggy-jiggy?” he smirked, as he lifted a glass in tandem with an eyebrow and waited for me to take it.

“I don’t usually drink before work,” I said with a pause.

Work.

His voice was tender when he said, “Yeah, you’ve been putting on a brave face, but you know this is different. I thought this might take the edge off, and you and I could toast Delilah in private. You know, before you have to…work.”

“So you weren’t trying to have jiggy jiggy with me?” I set the glass down so I could put on my other earring.

“No, but if you think that’ll help take the edge off better than whiskey, I’m happy to oblige.” He grinned.

I once again picked up the glass and held it to await the inevitable clink. “To Delilah, one of our last touchstones.”

Ahren didn’t say a word. Mine were apparently enough.

He’d sat with Delilah long after the sun had set and only carried her into the house when a frantic Mrs. Smith came out into the garden looking for them. He said it was a beautiful experience and an honor.

“She knew, Gen. Somehow, she knew it was coming.” He told me.

We finished our drinks, I finished beautifying myself, and off we went to Everly and Scott Funeral Home.

Mrs. Smith had made the call informing Taylor of Delilah’s passing. He ran the obituary in The Marin Chronicle and The Phoenix Sun Times, as well as online. Though she did not want a lot of hoopla, she did want a small service, just in case someone showed.

When we arrived at the funeral home, I was in my black suit, hat, and gloves. Ahren looking dashing in the same suit he wore to my Olympic event tryout for coffin vaulting. This time he wore his shirt buttoned to the top, a grey and black striped tie, and silver cufflinks. I hid my naughty thoughts – kinda – and determined he and I would have to make the best of a shitty day later.

Mrs. Smith met me at the front door. She’d been waiting in the lobby with her husband, Michael, who looked just as mild-mannered and sweet as his wife had described him. He was a long-haul truck driver, and he and Mrs.

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