“Stop apologizing. We’re snowed in, but you are—” He grazed my shoulder with an upper tentacle and shook his head. “I have a list of shows and movies my brothers wrote for me, but I haven’t decided what to begin with. Have you seen any of these?” He turned his phone my way.
I skimmed the titles. “Yeah, most of them actually.”
“Which should we watch now?” He dropped his head on the backrest, showcasing his sharp jaw, and flopped two of his upper tentacles next to me.
“How do you feel about serial killers?” I grinned, sitting upright.
Spiro frowned. “Uhh, what?”
“Movies, series, podcasts about them.”
“I saw Friday the 13th and Halloween on a movie marathon in the cinema with my brothers and some friends once. They were good. Is that what you watch?” He indicated my black attire.
I wrapped myself in the blanket from my lap. “I love horror. At least I know the evil there is fake. What else can you assume based on my looks?”
“I asked, not assumed.” He poked my foot with the tip of a lower tentacle. “But I wonder if you like night strolls in the cemetery.” He smirked, but not in a deprecating way. His playful side was peeking out and I wanted to lure more of it from him.
“Well, I do. I work there.” I thrust my chin up.
“What?”
“I couldn’t find a decent job, so I applied everywhere that paid more than minimum wage. Apparently, not many people want to be around corpses.”
The confusion on his face was priceless. “Please continue before I freak out.”
I giggled. “I’m a professional mourner. Which means I cry at funerals. My job is to look miserable and wear black.”
“I’ve never heard of that profession.”
“You’d be surprised how many families are so small or feud-ridden that they run out of people to say the last goodbyes. It’s quite sad.” I gathered the blanket to my chest. “Makes it easy to cry.”
“Do you like doing it?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, which was a nice change from the reactions I’d usually get.
Had anyone ever asked me so many questions about myself before? I couldn’t recall. As long as I could keep my most shameful secret hidden, I’d be okay.
“Most days, yes. I hope I’m helping people at least a bit. Maybe to find closure or release all that emotion brewing. Working at a cemetery is not creepy at all. Or not in a bad way, at least.”
Spiro twisted the bracelet on his wrist, his gaze focused on me. “You talk about your life as if it was boring, but it’s just the opposite. What do you mean by that?”
“Have you ever been on a stroll in the cemetery on Halloween, or on the Day of the Dead? All those candles on the graves make the place seem so serene. Almost magical. They fill the place with a strange kind of happiness. It’s heartfelt when peopleremember the loved ones who are gone and honor them by coming over to light a candle.”
“I never thought of it that way.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’d like to see a cemetery in the snow? There’s a big one downtown here.”
I perked up. “Mount Carmel Catholic Cemetery is on my list to visit when I’m here. Al Capone was buried there.”
“So you’re a dark soul who’s into serial killers and gangsters, huh? You’re not a sweet little kitten at all.” Spiro poked my blanket-covered leg with a tentacle, and I caught it. He searched my face, looking as if he were about to apologize.
“I can be both.” I blushed and fumbled to point to a line on his phone. “We should watch this.”
“Dexter? Is it a science thing? Or was that an American cartoon back in the 90s?”
I giggled. “You’ll see. Your brothers have good taste, though. This list is peak.”
The show started, and I got sucked in as the first time I'd seen it when I was probably way too young to see justice being served by a sexy serial killer. Watching a series with someone who had no idea what to expect from it was a fun experience. Spiro leaned forward and commented when he was shocked, like a kid who hadn’t watched TV since forever.
I climbed onto the backrest and got comfortable lying along it, letting my tail swing back and forth behind us.
Chapter Five
