He held out his hand, and right before I grasped it, he introduced himself, “I'm Death. So nice to meet you.”
I paused my hand in mid reach but then I faltered. I wanted to go back into the system and he could probably help me do that. But not before I handled matters here. If there was a chance at getting my murderer, I couldn't walk away.
“It's okay.” He smiled and looked down at my hand.
“I'm sorry.” I grasped his and shook. Treating Death like he had the cooties didn't seem to be a smart idea.
My hand clasped his and a frigid cold shot up to my elbow, and might have spread further if he hadn't let go.
He looked down at my hand and his. “Wow. Sorry about that! You've still got some human on you. Wasn't expecting it.”
“So, you could have, you know, killed me?”
“No. I only deal in live humans. I just meant touching me might feel uncomfortable. It's a little like chewing on tin foil. Feels unpleasant but isn't really a problem.” He sat back down and motioned for me to make myself comfortable.
I sank into the seat, trying to hide the disappointment. It was nice thinking I had a back up plan just in case the thirty-day trial period turned into thirty years.
“I take it that's not what you were hoping for?”
“To be honest, no. I was hoping that you might be the escape clause I was looking for.”
“I'm sorry. I wish I could help. You do seem to have a brilliant soul. It would've been a pleasure to help you along. I do so like the bright ones.”
“Thanks.”
“So, how do you feel about being here for a little while longer?”
I relaxed back and sighed. There was something strangely comforting about the Reaper. I guess that was the dichotomy of death. Sometimes it was frightening but every now and then in the right moment in life, it was warm and welcoming.
“I made a bad choice and now I'll have to live with it.” How many times had I told my clients that same thing? More than half of them would then reply that they hadn't been thinking clearly. Drugs, emotional duress, the list went on and on. I'd righteously told them that they'd better start making the right choice or they'd end up in jail.
Now look at me. I was using the same tired excuse about not thinking clearly. I was as full of bullshit as they had been. I'd thought I could cheat death. There are a lot of things in life you might be able to cheat and get away with. Death isn't on the list.
“But how do you feel? It's a huge change for you.”
“I don't know. A bit frustrated I guess...”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and nodded. Why am I telling the Reaper about my emotional state?
“Do you actually do counseling?” It was a crazy thought but he did sound like one.
“Yes. I just got my online degree.”
“You got an online degree in counseling?”
He smiled widely and nodded. “Of course, I had to use my alias. It's not like I could matriculate as Death but I did all the work myself. Wow, some of that reading was quite lengthy too.”
“In addition to...” what would be a politically correct way for describing sucking the life out of someone? “Reaper activities?”
He nodded. “Ever since Fred moved in, he's been referring them to me.”
“Fred?”
“The human accountant downstairs. We golf together on Wednesdays.” He pointed to the corner near the door where a new club leaned against the wall. “Just bought it off EBay last week. Can't wait to try it out.”
“There's a human here? Does he know about all of this?”
“No. He doesn't. He didn't know what the building was and we had an open office. It was something of a paperwork slip up that no one's been able to figure out. He was such a nice guy that we all lobbied to let him stay.”
“And Fred gets you clients?”
“Well, he got me my first couple but I've taken to it like a fish to water so now those clients have been getting me referrals. Fred has been a wonderful human to have around.” He stood and took a framed photo off his bookshelf of three guys on the golf course. “That's Fred, Dennis and me. Dennis is the tooth fairy. He's even dabbling in dentistry now, because of Fred. Have you met him yet?”
“The tooth fairy?”
“Yes. He golfs with us a couple of times a month.”
There was a rap at the door, then a young man poked his head in. “Hey, Doc. Your two o'clock is here.”
“Thanks, Tim!”
I stood up and couldn't stop shaking my head. Where did the craziness of this place end?
“Thanks for talking to me.”
“Any time! Door’s always open!”
***
After the party gone wrong and the idea that he might be waiting at my condo, I needed a drink badly. I pulled up to a bar I'd known my whole life but had never frequented. It was one of those local joints that didn't get much of the tourism crowd. Being a public defender, I was always worried about running into one of my clients here. It was the perfect place for how I was feeling.
I walked into the mostly empty dim room. The Joker by Steve Miller played on a jukebox in the corner. A couple of guys shot pool, the balls clanking and cigarettes burning in the ashtray.
I grabbed a stool as far away as I could get from the few other patrons. A middle-aged bartender who would have looked at home in an old western approached me.
“What'll you have?” he asked, slapping down a peeling cardboard coaster.
“Something strong.”
He nodded and returned with a bottle that appeared to have red wax dripping down its side. The label read Maker's Mark. He poured a shot and then placed a coke beside it.
“You might need a chaser.”
The smell of it alone made my eyes burn and my stomach do a flip-flop, but I threw it back in one gulp anyway. Trying to keep it down, I'd never been so happy to chug a coke in my life.
I pushed the shot glass forward and nodded toward the bottle.
“Another coke, too?”
“Definitely.” I slid the empty coke glass forward.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked as he refilled both.
“Nope.” Not unless you want to die today.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yep.”
I was still none the better after three shots, a sugar high and a fuzzy feeling later.
“What's got such a pretty girl looking down in the dumps?”
I hadn't noticed him sit beside me until he spoke, probably due to the aforementioned fuzziness. I knew he was older by his voice but, when I turned toward him, I hadn't expected someone looking down a decade.
“I'd love to share but I'm not at liberty.” If he only knew how honest I was being.
“Then just listen.”
“Thank you for the offer, but trust me, you really can't help me with this.”
“You need to listen,” he chastised and even threw in a finger pointing for good measure.
I was wondering if I had a choice. He seemed intent on having discourse and I was pretty sure I couldn't drive. A taxi would take at least ten minutes to get here so I guess I was hearing him out whether I wanted to or not.
“I've witnessed war, death, disease and every other type of atrocity you can imagine, let alone the ones beyond your fathom.”
I'd been staring forward but now I looked back at him. He was old enough to have gotten around the block a few times and seen a few wars. But there was something about the way he said it that made me start to wonder who, exactly, this man really was.
“I knew you had good instincts.” He smiled as if he knew what I was thinking.
“Who are you?”
“I work for the company. You could call me a recruiter.” He took a sip of a draft beer he had in front of him.
“Do you work in the building?”
“We don't all work out of the building.” He leaned a little closer as to not be overheard. “Now listen to me, I know you plan on quitting at the end of the trial period. That's not a good idea.”
“Why not? I hate this job.”
“Doesn't matter. This is where you're supposed to be.”
“Fate doesn't think so and isn't that his department?”
He shrugged. “He doesn't understand, yet.”
“But you, as a recruiter, do?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want another refill?”
I turned to the bartender, and waved my hand over the glass shaking my head.
When I turned back, the old guy was gone.
Chapter Ten