Drop Dead Gorgeous

Subject change, party of one.

“Yeah, was about to get started.” I look at the papers to find that it’s an essay assignment. I scan quickly and realize why Jacob is questioning himself. “Grandpa would love this.”

Eyes locked on the unseeing, closed ones of Chad, Jacob asks me, “You think it’s okay?”

I bump him with my shoulder, hitting his bicep because he’s so damn tall I can’t reach his shoulder. “Better than okay. Turn that in and get your A, but more importantly, you should go by the cemetery and read it to Grandpa. He’d get a kick out of your singing his praises and calling him your hero.”

Jacob smiles, not his normal cocky one but a true, sweet smile that touches my heart. I remember how scared and unsure he was when he first came to Grandpa and Grandma’s house. Too quickly, just like the years passing, that smile turns to orneriness. “You think Holly is there today?”

Holly Linzinski is my best friend, by force. Literally.

We met because she works at the local funeral home as a hair and makeup artist, and she came along for a pickup one day. She glommed onto me like the stickiest glue, and I can’t seem to pry her off no matter how many times I’ve tried. She jokes that she has a death wish, so I’m the perfect bestie.

She’s lying. That blonde, cute tomboy with a killer smile is one of the liveliest and most life-loving people I’ve met.

And also, way too much for Jacob to handle, a fact I try to reiterate for the umpteenth time with a finger in his face. “You leave her alone, you hear me? Hell, you wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like that anyway, so it’s best that you don’t get that particular reminder of how young and innocent you still are.”

“Innocent?” He huffs. “Says you. Holly’s a total MILF. Mom I’d like to . . .” Jacob accents each word with a hip thrust that’s half-dance move and half-sexual move.

I scowl bloody murder at my insolent brother, wondering if I’ll have to add him to the bodies currently piling up in the morgue. “Why, you . . .”

For once in my life, the gods must be listening to my prayers because none other than my bestie, Holly herself, walks in behind Jacob right as he says that.

Instant karma.

Either that, or Jacob has seriously pissed off someone up there in the clouds.

“Mom you’d like to what?” she asks, her mom voice in full effect. She comes up right behind Jacob, growling in his ear, “I wish a muthafucka would try.”

He whirls in shock, going almost as pale as I am. “Oh! Holly! I didn’t realize . . .”

I laugh, his fear and shock a hell of a lot funnier than mine were earlier when he got me. Holly laughs along with me as she holds up a hand for a high-five.

We smack palms, and Jacob finds his cool guy front, standing up to his full six feet and widening his shoulders. He still looks like the eighteen-year-old kid he is, but he gets points for trying.

“Anything you want, I’m totally down, baby girl.” He throws his voice low, trying to sound like those daddy kink guys on TikTok and failing miserably, mostly because of his baby face. He doesn’t even have to shave more than once a week.

If we were out and some guy approached with that sort of line, Holly would throw her head back and laugh in his face, but because it’s Jacob and she’s kind, she won’t completely destroy him. “Good try, kid, but I heard you right the first time. I just tried to give you a way out by pretending I didn’t. And if I need dick, it’s going to be from someone I don’t have to teach. Ain’t nobody got time for that!” she jokes. “And also, life lesson number 512, when someone says,” she adds a bit of Samuel L Jackson to her tone, “‘wish a muthafucka would,’ it’s never an invitation, no matter how much you’d like it to be.” She punches her palm with her balled-up fist, “I wish. Smack. A muthafucka. Smack. Would. Smack.”

It sounds much more threatening this time, as she intends, and though I know she wouldn’t actually strike Jacob, she does hit him where it hurts.

His pride.

Jacob’s jaw goes tight, but he smiles through it. Same as always, playing it off. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take. I’m gonna keep on aiming for this particular basket.” He dribbles an invisible ball, jumps, and shoots for the basket . . . Holly. “Swish.”

She doesn’t encourage him, but it’s hard not to appreciate his perseverance. She shakes her head, but her smile is enough for him to call it in his own favor. He grabs his paper from my hand, not caring that I haven’t even finished reading it, and heads toward the door.