Insidious(15)

It had been hard not being able to have the same relationship with him that we had before Adam and I broke up. He’d become something of a second father to me since moving to town.

“I didn’t see you at the estate,” I said, peering up at him.

“I didn’t go. I’d just spotted you in the procession on the way back from the hardware store, and I wanted to see how you were doing.” He planted a kiss on top of my head as I finally pulled away.

“Been better,” I admitted, noting the handful of mourners eyeing me as they passed by.

“Hey.” He perched a finger on my chin, redirecting my head in his direction. “Don’t pay any mind to them, okay? Things will get easier. I promise.”

I gave a meager smile.

“How about you swing by the bar sometime, give us a chance to talk.”

“I’d like that,” I affirmed.

We both noted the last of the cars pulling into the lot, and Mr. Reynolds sighed.

“I’ll let you go,” he said, giving me one last hug.

We said our goodbyes, and I fell back into step with Carly and Vanessa. As we walked along with the others to the burial plot, a few girls ahead of us shared in a less than discrete conversation.

“Why didn’t they have an open casket? My brother knew this one guy who was in a car crash, and his folks still had an open casket,” said one of the girls.

“Yeah? Was this guy decapitated, too?” remarked her friend sourly.

“Are you serious?” Her two friends gawked.

“From what I heard, that wasn’t the only body part that got taken off,” she confirmed.

They gagged at the thought, and I immediately slowed my pace.

“They’re gonna need closed caskets when I’m done with them,” growled Carly as she and V noticed me lingering back.

“I need some space,” I affirmed. “I’ll see you guys after.”

“You sure?” asked Vanessa.

I nodded, heading across the cemetery. A massive black oak tree sat nearby, so I made my way over to it, resting my back against the ridged bark. The funeral was still close enough that I could observe it, but I thankfully couldn’t overhear anything being said by the pastor…or anyone else.

“Nauseating, isn’t it?”

I whirled around and stumbled back as a figure appeared from behind the tree. “I’m sorry?”

Reese Blackburn pushed off the tree bark and strolled out towards me, sporting an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Resentment? Frustration, maybe. He ruffled a hand through his bed-head brown hair. His clothes weren’t in much better shape. Reese appeared to have pulled his black slacks and matching blazer out of the hamper, as the articles were pressed with wrinkles. It was by far the most disheveled I’d ever seen him look. “The bloviating,” he affirmed.

There was a large camera dangling from his neck, and when he lifted it up to take a distant snapshot of the service, I caught a better look at his AC/DC ‘Highway to Hell’ t-shirt. Not exactly what you’d call funeral-friendly attire.

“Obviously no one wants to cast dispersions on some dead guy, so you always hear the same things. ‘He was the nicest, gentlest, sweetest person,’” he drawled flatly. “All a funeral really is is just a social facelift. Put ’em six feet under and any asshole becomes a saint. Just once, I’d like to see a little honesty.”

“Excuse me?” I finally uttered.

“What? You disagree?”

“To your blatant psychosis? Yeah,” I blurted, my tone swiftly shifting from stunned to downright anger.

He smirked as he lifted his camera again, but I swatted the lens away, ruining the shot.

“Why the hell are you even here?” I demanded.

“Trust me; I had better things planned for my morning, but our editor insisted I come here to cover the service. You know, write a touching article about my firsthand account of the tear-wrenching memorial of our beloved quarterback. Yada, yada, yada.”

“Are you really that stupid, or just that insensitive?”

“I prefer the term honest. Prince Charming on that placard over there wasn’t the Golden Boy everyone insists on advertising.”

“Oh, I get it. Residual trauma from swirlies has got your panties in a bunch,” I shot back. “I suppose it is easier to badmouth someone who can’t defend themselves, right? How manly that must make you feel.”

He grinned, but it didn’t mask his obvious aggravation as he got a better look at me. Reese suddenly chuckled to himself.

I ignored the gesture and turned around.

“Look, I’m not judging you or anything,” he remarked.

“Judging me?” I queried, spinning around.