The taste of whiskey flowed down her throat. She never drank but considering that it was a sad occasion and she wanted to feel SOMETHING in this room of sad and heartbroken people, she downed her third glass of whiskey. She hoped it'd work to produce some tears when she got to her emotional side. Last week her uncle had been murdered and now they were in the funeral home, 'celebrating' his death. Hand to heart she never got along with her uncle. She barely knew him. Her parents never much visited him and so she met him in her past 30 years five times. The fifth time was two days before his murder. The police called her in for questioning a day after his death to ask questions but she couldn't tell them much except him being a rather... short-tempered person. After that, they never came back to her for questioning. Why should they? She didn't have a motive to murder him, much less the time because at the time of his murder she was out in some bar, listening to a guy singing. It wasn't necessarily a good tune or song, he was drunker than her right now, that much was obvious.
"Charmaine? Are you still with us?" Her mother, a grey-haired, kind woman, stepped next to her.
"Do you want my honest answer or a lie?" The older woman grinned at her daughter, wine glass in hand.
"I think that's my answer," she chuckled and the two women toasted their glasses.
"How long will this last?"
"Another hour here and afterwards we'll have the banquet but I don't think anyone would notice your absence. So, just stick around here and then you can go to 'work'."
"Thanks, mom." She had today off. So she could do whatever afterwards. Maybe visit the bar again in the evening, see if the guy sobered up and performed better than the last time she was there. Their aunt walked over to them, tears in her eyes. No doubt not because her husband was dead but because her brother was in prison now. He couldn't take his temper and the stolen money from himself anymore. So when they fought over him treating his sister badly and stealing his money while visiting him, he grabbed the first thing and hit him over his head.
"Thank you for coming, Andrea," she sobbed, wiping the tears away. You could still see the bruises on her arms, but she was showing them now, not afraid anymore. In hindsight, this was the best for her too.
"You're welcome, I'm sorry for what you have been going through because of my brother-in-law." The red-haired woman waved it off, a small smile on her face.
"He's gone now. I'm just sad that Robert had done it. It would've been better if he would have died naturally," she sighed and the older women continued talking while Charmaine walked off and out the door. She wandered around for a while, whiskey still in hand. She was actually in search of a toilet, all the alcohol had to get out as well when she heard a voice. Recognizing it at once she followed the sound. This time he sounded better. Way better. Walking towards the voice she came to a flight of stairs going down. No doubt where the bodies were prepared.
"Hello?" she shouted down the stairs. The man stopped singing.
"One moment," she heard shuffling from below and seconds later she saw him walk up the stairs.
"What can I do for you? Everything ok over there?" He stood before her, just slightly taller than her, pale skin and platinum hair.
"Oh, it's perfect? I guess? I don't have any experience with that but it looks good," she shrugged looking at him. He looked worn and something was troubling him.
"So...?" He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
"I heard you sing," she acted like a teen again and if she could she'd slap herself for it. "It sounded nice. Better than in the bar..."
A smug grin was on his face as he realised what she was talking about. And doing.
"You're flirting with me. While attending a funeral service."
"Didn't know or liked him very much," again with the oversharing, she thought.
"That's not a good thing to say about someone who just died, don't you think?"
"Yeah, but what's been said, been said. Can't take it back, now can I?" She returned his smug grin.
"So you've heard me sing and now you're here? Have you been following me?"
"Now, don't get too full of yourself," she tucked a stray black hair behind her ear, "this is a coincidence. My aunt decided which funeral home she wanted. You should know that."
"Ahh, yes. Mrs Wilkinson. Lovely old lady." She nodded and silence fell between them.
"I should head back now, I guess. Attend the funeral and such."
"I have another gig tonight," he said as she turned around to leave.
"Oh really?" Turning her head to see him she couldn't ignore the faint fluttering in the pit of her stomach. It's been ages since someone excited her that much.
"If you want to listen to a full song come at 9 pm," he winked at her before walking back down the stairs. She stood there listening to him sing again. He knew she stood there listening to him sing. A smile spread across her face.