Disclaimer: I own nothing from Dead Like Me. This is for entertainment only.
Summary: The gang has been reassigned to New York City against their wishes. George steals a penthouse to finally live in peace. She sits in her apartment one night to discover a note in one of her suitcases. Upon reading, she discovers the truth about Rube. The others feel something is off with George, but will she have the strength to tell them her discovery? Will their new residence clash with other reapers? And why is Reggie here?
Author's Note: Ooh! I've been waiting forever to start this. It will be a slow process, but I hope you enjoy the show.
Deadlocked
One: The Letter
I would be happy right now if a graveling ate my face off. Anything that prevents me from seeing Mason and Daisy locking lips like plastic wrap overlapping itself. They just keep going, too, despite my valiant efforts to separate them. They've almost become one face, one entity of lust. The sucking and sloshing noises are making me want to vomit. I admit defeat and stand up, ready to move out.
I've had an apartment in mind for some time now; a penthouse on the outskirts of Central Park loaded with bells and whistles even I can't figure out. The man who owned it died last week by choking on a hard candy, which caused him to lose balance and fall off of the balcony. Mason wanted to claim the place as his own, but Daisy talked him into moving in with her. Now that they were too busy to notice, I could have a new home and not just a couch to crash on. To be honest, since Rube left I've found it hard to be alone at night. I was so used to him meeting me at Der Waffle Haus just because we both had sleeping problems. Now, I've literally got nobody to depend on.
I mean, seriously no one. Roxy loathes me. Probably blames me for Rube's disappearance. Probably blames me for our sudden move to NYC as well. Damn Cameron and his stupid idea to switch things up. Honestly, I think the way he runs things is bullshit, but what can I really do about it? This is my afterlife. It's a job. It keeps me occupied.
"Holy Hell," I drop my bags in the doorway. This penthouse is immaculate, complete with marble kitchen tops, a fireplace below a 65" flat screen tv, and a leather couch and loveseat complete with a glass top coffee table. I shut the door behind me and scope the rest of the place out. There is one bedroom tucked away around the corner with a bathroom big enough to live in just next to it. There is one of those fancy jet-tubs for late night soaks and bubbles. And the closet! Oh – the closet! Walk-in, shelves and a center Ottoman big enough for two people to sit on. All of the previous owner's clothes are there, but I plan on selling them at the thrift shop down the street. The amount of money invested in clothes alone could feed an entire nation of starving children. I plan on using it for rent. I'm definitely not moving out of this Heaven any time soon.
I walk back through the living room and look against the outside wall where the double glass doors open to the balcony. It's more of a porch; there is one chair on each side and a few hanging plants. What say I can fake my way into this lease? No one will know I'm here yet anyways. I can use this time to think of a plan to take over. As I take my suitcases to the bedroom, I nearly scream again. The floor length windows allow a beautiful sunset to peek in at me. I peer out at the architectural jungle. I let out a squeal of joy instead of screaming like I really want to. This penthouse is just awesome.
I empty a few of my belongings, some of which I haven't worn in almost a decade. As I unfold one of my older blouses, a folded up paper falls from between the fabric. I pick it up off of the bed and open it. I immediately recognize the handwriting and read slowly to savor the moment.
Peanut,
Nothing can truly explain what is happening to me. I can't completely explain everything to you, though I would love to over breakfast sometime. I had to leave. I had to leave and I see what consequences it brought – not on me, but on you and the others. I never meant for some douchebag to take over, but it was out of my control. It was all out of my control, you see. The morning I left, I had no knowledge of where my day would take me. Higher powers in the universe dealt me a deck of cards I was not ready to flip over. I'm certain you are curious . . . My daughter Rosie was reaped. She spent her last years in care of a home and it was her time. Now you know. Roxy has a feeling, but I never confirmed it. I trust you won't tell the others. As far as my location goes, I can't say much. I'm sure I will see you again someday. Everything takes time. Everything has a reason. Take care, Peanut.
Rube
I hold back tears and fold the note back up. My night suddenly grows dim. I throw some pajamas on and rummage the kitchen for some supper. Between the fresh fruit, vegetables, meats, and water I find a microwaveable meal. I'm not in the mood to cook, or even think right now. Rube had to see his daughter die? How horrible. In a way, it's good that he was there. If I had to see Reggie reaped, I'm sure we would have a decent time crying and laughing in the meantime. But her passing over would be hard. Maybe that's where Rube decided to leave. Seeing his daughter go on without him might have sent him overboard.
He's sure he will see me again? I'm sure that was just a nice sentiment. I find a bottle of Pinot Noir and a glass. After one gulp, I ditch the glass. A bottle is sufficient enough to get through a rough night. Even if it means a bad hangover. I earned this wine and this penthouse. And I will be damned if I can't make my stay in New York City a good one.
Cheers, Rube.
