“Don’t leave me, kidda, we wouldn’t survive that,” Mari whispered.
“Never,” I promised.
???
Thanks to Vortex’s friends and Inglorious, the funeral was perfect. The media and nosey parkers were kept well away. The service for Natasha was beautiful; Mari managed to struggle through her speech, and I was just barely able to speak mine. Papa and Dad both said kind words and reminded the attendees of Natasha’s sense of humour and the scrapes she would get into.
“Natasha would see death as a whole new adventure. No doubt she’s causing mayhem up there,” Papa stated, making me sob-laugh.
After the service, we headed to the graveyard where she was being buried. Mourners sent so many flowers that it was overwhelming. More prayers were said at the gravesite, and as the funeral ended, Mari’s legs gave out from under her. Dad caught her up and supported her while Papa stepped in on the other side. Vortex held me as I threw a black rose on Natasha’s coffin. Anyone else would have thought it inappropriate, but black roses had been Natasha’s favourite.
Slowly, we began walking away from the grave as they lowered Natasha into the ground. We couldn’t watch that happen. Dad and Papa got Mari to the limousine first, and Vortex helped me in. Sadness and tragedy marred the day. Natasha had died in the prime of her life. It was unthinkable, but it had happened. The silence in the limo was profoundly deafening as we left. There was nothing to say.
Mari had booked a restaurant out for the wake. Tash had been popular, and many mourners had been invited to the funeral. The food was laid out buffet-style, and Mari, my dad, and I waited by the doors to greet everyone. Mari and Natasha hardly had any family; a few distant cousins on Mari’s side, but that was it. Natasha’s father had been an anonymous sperm donor, so there was nobody from his side. Like Mari had been my pseudo-mom, my dads had been Natasha’s pseudo-fathers.
Once we’d greeted everyone, Vortex led us to a table that had been reserved for us. He fetched plates of food and drinks and generally made sure we were fine. Considering the circumstances, we were managing. After a while, I needed the toilet. When I came out, one of the waitresses was standing at the sink washing her hands. She glanced and then whipped her phone out.
“Hey, I’m Summer. Tell me, Amy, how did you feel today went? What does it feel like to know death is stalking you? Do you think you can outrun the Grim Reaper?”
“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, shocked.
“Come on now. Don’t be shy. This is your fifteen minutes of fame. I was the one who caught that psychic’s vision, and we’re live right now. Tell my viewers how it feels to be stalked by death.”
“You don’t have permission to film me,” I mumbled, turning away.
“South Dakota is a one-party state,” Summer gloated. “Come on, Amy, don’t be stuck up. Talk to my followers. What was it like when you crashed? Did you find Natasha immediately? Was she badly burned?”
I spun around to scream at her, but there was a loud slap, and Summer fell quiet.
“How dare you?” Mari seethed.
Summer stepped back in fear. “You slapped me!” she squealed.
“I’d have punched your teeth down your throat,” I muttered.
“My daughter is dead. She’s not a soundbite or a social media post. Natasha was a real person, loved by everyone who knew her. You come here today to get likes for yourself. Shame on you, and on your parents who didn’t bring a child up correctly.”
“Leave my parents out of this!” Summer snapped.
Mari pounced. “Well, young lady, if something happens to you and you die, I hope some nasty little troll does the same at your wake.”
Summer paled. “Bitch, leave my family alone.”
“No. And I’ll be watching. And should you die before them, I’ll be there with a camera, posting their grief and sorrow. You’ve no humanity. You think Natasha’s death is entertainment? And your viewers—ghouls, all of them. I hope their parents never experience the agony of losing a child, and then have a nasty, spiteful, evil troll torment them. Should that happen, well, they got what they deserved.”
The door flew open, and Vortex stormed in. “You’re done.”
Behind him hovered the manager. “You’re fired!” he yelled.
“You can’t sack me! Dude, I need this job!” Summer shouted.
“Oh, Karma’s a bitch, and she’s getting her own back, you vile child,” Mari seethed.
“Summer, I can dismiss you. You’re harassing a grieving mother, who should have been able to say goodbye to her daughter peacefully. Instead, you’ve wrecked the memorial wake for a victim of a disaster. I’m not only firing you, but I’ll make sure you don’t get another position in catering!” the manager exclaimed.
“Don’t bother. I’ve called the big guns. This bitch will never work again. Any interview she has, this footage will find its way to the potential employer. The only job she’ll get is whoring, andeven those clients would need to be careful that she’s not filming them,” Vortex hissed.
Pings came from Summer’s phone, and she glanced down. “All the angry faces!” she cried. She cut the feed and turned to us. “You ruined everything!”
