It was one of those days. One of those days where it felt like the whole world was trying to kick you in the ass. The biggest trouble with those days is that they always start off normally enough. There's never any warning that today's the day the world takes a crap in your shoe.
I woke up feeling good. Good enough. I'm dead, for Christ's sake. How great can I feel? I actually managed to get some breakfast before popping my soul for the day. And it all went downhill from there."Here are your post-its. Roxy, Daisy, George, and Mason." Rube slapped the yellow slips of paper in front of us, snapping his notebook shut and sliding out of his seat. "And if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Try not to get into too much trouble."
--That should have been my first clue--
"Looks like we've got a double, Georgie-girl," Mason said, leaning over to peer at my post-it. "What do you say to giving us a lift then?"
"Mason, Mason, Mason," I sighed, turning to give him the same 'public transportation is good for you' speech that Rube had given me, but he was giving me the most pathetic puppy eyes I've ever seen. My stomach flipped and I sighed again, nodding. "Fine. I'll drive."
"You're such a push over, Georgia," Daisy teased, gaze hardening the slightest bit as Mason grinned and threw his arm around my shoulders.
"No, she's a kind, compassionate friend," he corrected her, oblivious to the glare he was receiving. What the hell is with her? I wondered as Daisy shrugged, gathering her purse and pushing herself up.
"Whatever. I've got to get going if I'm going to get this guy's soul in time. Tootles." Roxy snorted, following in suit.
"And I have to check in at the station. Mason, don't you fucking dare take that money," she snapped, making Mason withdraw his hand from the tip Rube had left for Kiffany.
"Bloody eyes like a hawk, that one," Mason muttered after Roxy was gone. I rolled my eyes and patted his arm gently.
"Maybe if you didn't break every law you could, she wouldn't be so hard on you," I offered, smirking as Mason sneered.
"Oh, fuck off. Let's go. Best get there early to find our reaps." He nudged me out of the seat as I rolled my eyes at him again.
"And yet you didn't deny it." Mason only grinned, putting a hand on the small of my back and steering me towards the door. The feeling of his hand sent flutters through my stomach that didn't belong. Why the fuck was this simple action making me giddy? Jesus, it's just Mason. Stupid, fuck-up Mason.
No…not stupid, per say. He wasn't a dumb guy. He just didn't always make the right choice. Okay, so he almost never makes the right choice. But really, he's a good guy…
"Ready for some fun, Georgie?" he asked as I pulled out of my parking place, eyes sparkling with mirth. I rolled my eyes -Again. Jesus, how often do I do that? And at Mason alone?- and put on my shades, speeding off to the supposed 'fun'.
This reap turned out to be anything but fun. Mason and I sat on a park bench, watching people pass and waiting for a sign of impending death. The possibilities weren't that hard to find. Hundreds of bikers, bladers, and skaters, moving at breakneck speeds along the path. A man trimming tree branches away from some phone lines. A woman walking a rottweiler that looked like it weighed three times as much as she did. And…
"There," I said, pointing to where a man was cleaning a statue of a rearing horse. His ladder was wobbling as he scraped pieces of gum and pigeon droppings from the stone with some kind of knife. Mason glanced over and nodded, following as I made my way over there. He was distracted, though, by the woman with the rottweiler.
"Excuse me, but don't I know you? I swear, you look so familiar," I heard him say as I stood a few feed away from the statue, gazing up at the man. The name on his jumpsuit said Earl T. The name on my post-it said E. Turner. Poor Earl was going to die.
"Pardon me, sir?" I called up to him, stuffing my crumpled post-it in my pocket as he looked down at me.
"Yes, little lady? How can I help you?" He looked at me with kind eyes, and I found myself wondering about his life. Did he have a wife? Kids? Grand kids? He had a happy look to him, something I couldn't imagine on the face of someone who had to clean up bird shit for a living.
"I…just wanted to say thank you. For cleaning up the park like you do," I heard the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could think. A smile grew onto his lips, and he switched the blade to his other hand, pulling off his glove and holding a wrinkled hand out to me.
"Thank you, Miss. I don't often get appreciation for my job. You've made my day worth getting up for." I felt sick to my stomach as I shook his hand and took his soul. Sending me a final smile, he returned to his task of cleaning the statue. I jumped as Mason touched my shoulder, jerking his head back towards the bench. I followed him silently and reclaimed my seat just as fate was set into motion.
A graveling darted down the path and the rottweiler took off after it, its leash jerking out of the woman's grasp. With a wail, she took off after it, calling for him to heel. The dog - that damned dog - followed the graveling under Earl's already unstable ladder. It wobbled violently for a moment before he fell, tossing his blade in surprise. He cracked his head on the statue and crashed to the ground, the woman tripped…just as the blade came down.
I winced, looking away before the inevitable. The scream of an onlooker made my stomach churn violently. Mason gave me a concerned look, touching my cheek softly as I closed my eyes.
"Alright, Georgie?" he asked. I could feel him leaning closer, and I shook my head, forcing my eyes open to look at the souls of Earl and the woman, watching the chaos with confusion.
"…I'll be right back," I choked out, stumbling away from the bench before he could stop me. I heard him call after me, but I didn't turn, racing down the path until I couldn't see him. Until I couldn't' see any of them. Staggering to the side of the path, I retched into a garbage can, heaving up all of that breakfast I had been so excited about having.
Why the hell was this reap bothering me so much? It was just like any other… He was no different than the others. It was unexpected. A horrible accident. Just like my death.
I ducked my head as I retched again, looking up as someone gently held the hair back from my face. Mason gave me a small grin, holding my hair with one hand and rubbing my back with the other.
"You all done?" he asked, a look on his face that I'd never seen before. Was he…worried about me?
"Yeah. I'm finished," I mumbled, letting him wrap his arm around me and lead me off. It was nice, really, having someone to take care of me again.
"…Do you, you know, want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly, continuing quickly as I looked up at him. "I mean, I know we aren't particularly close, but you know you can tell me anything, right? I'll listen." It was sweet, the way he blushed and looked everywhere but at me. Like a little boy who just admitted to liking a girl and didn't want to get caught.
"That's really nice of you, Mason…" I started, but he interrupted me, removing his arm and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"But you don't want tot tell your secrets to a stupid fuck-up like me, yeah? Forget it; it was wrong to even offer." He quickened his pace, leaving me in the dust for a moment as I gaped at him. …What?
"That wasn't what I was going to say," I called, jogging to catch up. Mason scoffed and stopped, turning to face me.
"You don't have to pretend for my sake, George. I know what everyone thinks of me. They think I don't know, but I know."
"Jesus Christ, Mason, shut the fuck up and listen for a second!" I exploded on him. He frowned, reluctantly closing his mouth and watching me expectantly. "What I was going to say," I continued, "was thank you." Mason immediately lowered his eyes to the ground. I sighed, shaking my head. "And you aren't stupid. Yeah, you fuck up sometimes, and you make shit decisions, but you aren't stupid." He gave me another look I'd never seen before on his face, seeming torn between disagreeing and hugging me. I didn't give him a chance to do either, turning and sliding behind the wheel of my car. "Come on. Let's go home and get drunk."