“Because of course you texted them back,” Corey muttered. “Your murder is going to be reenacted on 48 Hours. I’ll cry on camera and everything during my interview. I’ll even talk about how special you were.”
“Make sure I’m played by Angelina Jolie in the re-enactment,” I said. “She’s the only one that can pull off my cheekbones.”
“I’ll get right on that,” he said. “Because I’m sure she’d be flattered to be told she has the cheekbones of a drag queen. Any other requests?”
“All of you must mourn me for a year and wear black the entire time.”
“Can’t,” Corey said. “My wardrobe is more spring than death and sadness. You know this because you made me go shopping.”
“Also, don’t serve cheese at my wake. Paul tends to go overboard when there’s cheese and he gets gassy.”
“Plates and plates and plates of cheese.”
“You’re fired from planning my fake funeral.”
“I didn’t even want to do it anyway.”
“Love you.”
“Ha! Look! They’re totally hammering near each other. I don’t care if they’re cousins. I want them to bone. Bone, fake TV construction cousins! Bone. The one on the right is totally a bottom. He’s just quivering for it. Show him your fluttering hole!”
I stared at my phone, biting my bottom lip. Corey had a point. I could be talking to a murderer who would placate me with sweet words before breaking into my house and carving my skin to wear my face. Or, it could be someone awesome. Decisions, decisions.
Really, there was no choice.
Who is this?
Nothing.
Then, a two-word reply that struck fear into my very soul.
It’s Darren
I screamed and threw my phone across the room where it bounced off the wall and landed on the ground.
“Jesus Christ,” Corey gasped as he flailed off the couch. “What the hell!”
I whimpered.
“What happened?” Corey demanded, picking himself up off the floor.
I raised a trembling hand and pointed toward my phone. “It’s… it’s him.”
“Who?” he asked, walking over toward my phone. “Do you have a stalker? Are you in the witness protection program and now the people that wanted you dead in your old life have found you? Is there going to be gunplay and explosions? Do I need to find killer boots to wear for—oh. It’s Darren. That’s disappointing. I may still wear the boots, though. I thought you had his phone number already? And why are you texting—” His eyes widened. “You were flirting with him!”
“I didn’t know it was him! I deleted his number months ago!”
“And that makes it better? You would rather have it been a random stranger than Darren?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed because it was obvious. “In what reality would I ever flirt with Darren!”
“Hate to break it to you, Sandy,” Corey said. “But you do it all the time.”
“You shut your mouth, you ungrateful slut,” I snarled at him.
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. That happened, so.”