A Funeral Kind of Love

Imagine you fell for someone at a funeral. Weird? Maybe. Is it possible? Yes, yes it is. Remember love has no limits and apparently no place either...
Black. There were hundreds of them: the little black dots. That is all that could be seen if one were on the balcony looking down on the funeral taking presence below. At moments like these a mutual feeling of pain or great loss is meant to take place in everyone; everyone but you. Simply for the fact that you didn't even know the deceased until today and your mum refused to let you go for band practice, so that she could go meet up with everyone else from work and mourn over the guy that used to deliver mail. You think?
You decide to look down to your jet black Converse sneaks, which compliment your perfectly shaped legs that are being shown off by your appropriately shorter- than-usual black number. Mum said it was a bit risky but you told her off by saying that since she forced you to come you had the right to choose the outfit.
A very tall woman with a massive black hat waves up to you, signaling for you to come down. You don't look too eager but do as you have been asked and run down, only seconds later to appear just outside the door where she sits smiling. Wondering why you've been called and questioning the stranger's smile cautiously, your eyes land on mum who is walking up onto the porch with two glasses of most-likely red wine. Your mother had always been an awful drink.
"I thought you said some old man from work died," you ask your mother completely bored out of your wits and ignoring the woman who asked for your presence. She lays one of us the drinks into the larger lady's hand and in return she nods her head showing gratitude. You narrow your eyes at her.
"Yes, that's right."
"He looks more alive in that box than this dreadful place," you mumble before she shoots you with a distasteful glare. "Sorry did I say something wrong?"
Mocking innocence stains your face and your provocative words. Mum looks more than ready to attack you but you shrug it off, especially when a soft giggle fills the background. You both turn to see the lady in black from earlier laughing sweetly in a comfy wooden chair.
"This is Ms. Mohr, Kilhana," Your mother says as the other woman smiles up to you with her intense blue eyes that appear to be more creepy than welcoming; you feign a smile in return. "As you can see she wanted to meet you a while back but you know my schedule - constantly tight!"
You wonder where this conversation is leading to. "The point being...?"
"She thinks your music is quite the stunner. So she was wondering if you could play at her grandchild's party."
You sigh before putting on a very serious expression. "How much are we talking about here?"
"Three thousand pounds," Ms. Mohr replies, proving she is neither a mute nor a broke.
You hesitate to seem more professional even though that's one hell of a good deal! "Aight," You agree with a subtle tone. "However, I need to discuss the arrangement of the stage and projection details etc."
"That will not be a problem. I assure you," she hums rather pleasantly. You don't know why but you cannot help but feel that there's something off about this woman.

-------------------

It's about ten in the evening now and the sky is dark and thick with monstrous clouds you would expect to find in a children's horror story. You are sitting outside on the balcony, with your back flat on the stifling cold tiled floor. A star manages to dart from the dark cloud but soon enough it disappears and begins its solitary version of hide and seek. You close your eyes as lyrics form at the back if your head. The words are blurry and are not making any sense so you curse aloud before your eyes flicker open.
Another ring vibrates in your pocket, probably from Ajax asking you where you are. A sigh of frustration leaves your parted lips as you get onto your feet. You turn your back on the sky and the lights of candles from a Catholic mass taking place near the river, you and walk into the bedroom that you have been spending most of your time in. Truth is you had no idea whose room it was, but guessing from the dust on the shelves it was abandoned a while ago. That was made it the perfect getaway. No one would think you would think of it as one of the probable whereabouts of lil Kelhani who stole her mother's ride to drive back to the dead man's house.
Nobody knows. Nobody would find you. Right?
Suddenly, a sudden ruffling sound comes from the other side of the door. You freeze.
'A robbery', you ask yourself eyes glued on the wooden plank, 'No, why would someone steal from a dead man's home? '
The doorknob shuffles violently, obviously indicating that someone is trying to come in. You knowing very well that if anyone catches you in there you are more than done for, so you quickly slip yourself underneath the bed. There you hold your breath. The door bangs open.
"Great, I think I broke the hinges."
The words came out as a whisper, a very frustrated one. Moments of struggle passed as the person adjusted the door back into its frame. Soon after a sort-of click sound came. The air around you seems to have gone silent and your eyes dart from side to side searching for their presence. Your breathing gets heavier and your heart beats hard against the carpeted floor.
Where are they, you question yourself. Did they leave?
Several seconds went by and still there was no indication of movement. Maybe they left, you think before releasing a sigh. "Well that was a relief," you laugh at yourself in a low tone before dropping your head onto the back of your left hand," For a moment there I was almost cau-"
Before you have the chance to finish your sentence cold fingers curl around your ankle and firm its grip. A rush of adrenaline forces your body to tense, but before you can react you are violently dragged out from the under the bed stand to face your death sentence. You scream.
"JEEZ - Shut up, would yah!"
A pillow flies to your head and hits you at full force forcing your nut to thud against the ground. "Ow!"
Throbbing and surging with pain, your head falls into your hands after whacking the fluffy white object off. Once finally having the strength to lift your head, your eyes fall on the most beautiful person you have ever seen.
His tall frame glares down on you whilst the electric blueness weaved in his eyes puts you in some sort of venomous trance. Dark and disheveled, his hair fell carelessly on his almost too perfectly structured face only, defining his jaw line further. Its only then you notice his most predominate feature: his tattoos. Heavy ink climbs up from his toned arms, its curvy designs disappearing underneath his grey tank shirt that hung loosely. His milky skin is so delicately smooth and against the lacy dark drawings acts like the ideal contrast. He really was gorgeous; intimidating- but still gorgeous. It was a mystery to how you didn't die.
However, you seem to be in super idiotic mode and so this super awkward word - that makes you wish that you would rather be in the coffin - slips out of your mouth:
"Wow."
And yes, you just said that out loud.
He lifts his thick brow then rolls his eyes. Making the blue gems take a quick trip around, before his eyelids dropped and send butterflies roaring into your stomach. Even when he closes his eyes he still looks amazing.
"Great, another fan," He says in an uninterested tone full of irritation. His voice is husky and holds an element of country.
A fan?
You are beyond blank. Then your eyes narrow and form a scowl. "A fan? Are you that cocky?"
Completely ignoring the second question, he answers. "Yes, those freaky girls that climb the hotel's walls just to take your toothbrush, which they will cuddle up with just before the go to bed which is surrounded by billions of posters of you," he scoffs quite bitterly making almost no sense but still ticking me off. "Sound familiar?"
The image of his godlike features rot within seconds to reveal his little horns. "Sorry, no it does not sound familiar. I would have rather have stuck that toothbrush through your pretty face."
His eyes grow larger at my statement. "You think I'm pretty?"
You almost choke on your spit. "Yes, like a... princess."
A frown forms on his face. "Does a princess have this," You follow his free hand which slowly unzipped his dark jeans, revealing a bulge. You yelped before throwing the pillow to the hazard zone.
Your cheeks were ablaze. "What are you doing?! We just met - you wanna strip - just walk two blocks down the road! There's a gigolo joint down there. With your body I'm sure you can make a grand within a seconds!"
"Does it look like I have sex for women I could confuse for my mom," he asked looking very disgusted at my mention of 'gigolo'. "I was just proving to you that I'm in no condition to be crowned Princess Sophia. At your age I thought you would've seen a dick before?"
You don't answer him.
A smirk slips onto his delicious looking pink lips. "You're joking. You're seriously a virgin? What are you twenty ?"
"Twenty one...."
He didn't look convinced.
"... In a couple of days."
He started laughing at your very touchy V-card. This was when he was going to pull the Miss V nickname. You hated it when people made fun of your purity. Who could blame you with a mother like yours who practically lived on one night stands. Mornings after alcohol and cries of why he left as your alarm everyday was sickening and only made you cringe.
"Stop laughing at me if you don't know who I am."
Obediently, he comes to a hush and glares at you. Then what you do next shocks you both. A ice cold glare with so much resentment is shot in his direction. His stare changes instantly to one that is shocked and , then another, to showing regret.
You decide to sit up. Tears forming at the back of your eyes, you hold them in but dismally fail when one falls, wetting your skin. You tense.
A warm hand falls on your face and gently wipes the wet trail. It's so warm... Almost as if it actually cares.
"Sorry, I didn't realize..." He traced off looking for a word suitable to describe him.
"That you're an arse. Jerk. Cold hearted bastard." You continue for him.
"I would prefer sexy in front of all those but yeah," he said so confidently you were shocked how inconsiderately vain he could be. But as your eyes laid on his beautiful azul orbs, you became speechless. They looked so saddened and yet so worried.
"But I do mean it when I say I'm sorry for what I said," he added showing sincerity in each word. You were taken aback.
His accent? It was different?
"You American," you ask before kicking your leg to be rid of his hand's monstrous grip and wiping off the contrasting gentler hand that rested on your cheek. Once free from his release you notice the pinkness that has formed on your ankle. "And a murderer?"
"Yeah. I am American, I thought you knew tha- Hold up!"
I looked at him and tilted my head to the side. "What?"
"You really don't know me ,do you?" He sounded so surprised. He was still on this topic?
You looked about the room to confirm if you was the one he was talking too. "Uhhhh... yeah. Am I meant too?"
He shook his head in absolute relief and smiled at himself. Your heart skips a beat. "No," he hummed in a low whisper. "No,you're not."
Your chest feels as though its going to explode. Could he stop that, you thought to yourself, the last thing I need is serious heart problems.
Then a thought occurred to you. "So what are you ?"
"What? I'm a guy obviously. Do you honestly want me to show you again?" His fingers pinch his jeans zip. "I promise not to tell anybody. Consider it my treat to you for being a complete ass."
He winks. Then comes the smug look.
"No, that's not what I meant!" Your face was going to explode! "I was referring to your name. Let me start- My name is Kelhani. Kelhani Pettican. Your turn."
His smirk was still super- glued to his face, teasing you was very entertaining for him. "Cole, Cole Mohr. My lady." He does that in a fake British accent that sounds so mutated you can't help but chuckle.
He joins in the laughter and proceeds with our conversation. We spoke about how he was on some modeling trip - which made so much bloody sense cause he's a hot throb and a half- and so he decided to pop in and visit his grandparents for the two week stay. He was from Houston but the countryside part so the country- like accent made more sense. He lived by himself in New York and had a pretty busy schedule. "So luckily, one of my grandfather's acquaintances passed and that's why I'm here at his funeral."
"That doesn't explain why you're upstairs? In this room," you remind him.
"Well I was on my way to my way for a quick interview with Vogue but then someone decided to stand on the balcony of a house with no light on or anyone at home. So forgive me if you looked fishy?"
"I was tired and pissed at my mom, so I thought I deserved some sort of freedom." The bitterness in your voice is too evident.
"What ticked you off?"
"I'm part of a band. I'm the lead singer for Ripped Wings. So we had practice today. I missed it," You sighed before curling into a small ball. "It's not like it matters anyway. The real problem is how the heck I'm going to get ready for the upcoming gig. "
"You have a gig? "
"Yeah for Ms. Mohr's kid or something."
His eyes rolled at your ignorance. "Wow, your stupidity stuns me."
You look at him and bark," Hey, I'm a B student!"
He smirks before running his hand through his thick dark locks. "Yeah and this gorgeous specimen before you is an A- Student."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Everything."
"Makes sense."
A silence fell after that. It was awkward and you started playing around with your laces. Twirling them into childish knots that you would undo again and again. "Kelhani," he said so delicately your insides melted. "That's a beautiful name. If I'm ever to change my sex could I have it? It sounds more fitting."
Your eye twitches. It remarkable how vanity spills out of him. "Princess."
He cringes. "I will flash you."
"Sorry!" My hands are shaking frantically in the air. He smirks ,turning me eight shades darker, and once satisfied then turns away. "I hate you!"
He continued to smile.
His smile was so beautiful. Then again everything about him was.
Then a vibration echoed through the room. It came from his pockets. He whipped out his iPhone 6 and looked annoyed by the message.
"Go," you say even though it stung a little. Why did it sting? You hardly knew him...
"My manager is such a pain. I prefer hanging here with you."
"Someone died here."
"I never said it was the most romantic place."
You rolled your eyes. This time you did your best to not transform into a tomato, imagining that any chemistry could happen you two.
After some serious argument and manipulative convincing - which took at least two hours - he eventually gave in and took off. It bothered you to why he didn't ask for your contact but hey he was just a guy who was looking for some fun for one night, then the next morning they run off or climb through the window of the doors locked.
Men like that exist, Mum taught you that.
You sighed as the the reality of your mum returning in some guy's car to screw your head in came into sight. It sickened you that she was probably going to take him home for the night. All you hoped for was that it wasn't the pastor. Your chances of going to hell were high enough.
But the real question was: was he really like them? Like those vulgar men?
Of course he was one heck of a vanity case but he wasn't cold. He was warm...Beautiful... And made you feel really fuzzy inside. You can't pinpoint how you feel exactly but you can admit that it felt good. Speaking to him made you forget everything that really hurt and when they did bubble up, he quickly changed the topic and even though his choice was as cheesy as hell. It was cute.
He was cute. However, you were never going to tell him that. Even if he dove off a cliff for you.
The hooting of cars is drawing in. Well, it was nice whilst it lasted now time to deal with this crazy woman and her man-whore for the night.
--------------------
Beep.
Your phone beeps as you fall into your bed, your body forming a star fish shape. It's probably Ajax, again. It's best to ignore him till tomorrow morning when he's too hungover to lift a finger. That's one trait all the people had in common in your life: alcohol. It was more drunk than water and surprisingly more available.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
All of a sudden your Samsung S6 is on steroids and is beeping and vibrating like its epileptic. At first you just ignore it and go brush your teeth in the bathroom. Then you overhear the desperate moans of your mother and the heavy rhythmic movement. You almost choke on your toothbrush.
Toothbrush...
"Cole..." You trace of only realizing how wide your smile is when you catch your reflection in the mirror. "Stupid jerk."
You chuck your it into the glass and storm back to your room. There your phone grabs your attention and you give in and decide to go through some messages to keep your mind occupied.
128 messages from Ajax.
18 calls from Ajax.
4 messages from Mum.
I kept scrolling till the most suspicious thing appeared on my screen.
1 message from 206-875-7899.
This number was foreign to you so due to curiosity you opened the message. Your world came to a hault.
It read:
Hey V-girl,
I'm coming over at around three am. Don't get too excited. We need to discuss about my party and how the stage is and blah- blah- blah. You get the gist and ,yes, the lady from earlier with the huge hat is my pet monkey- no- she's my gran!
If you don't cooperate you know what I'm capable of doing as your punishment. ;) So get ready and I hope you don't mind but I'm bringing pizza FOR MYSELF! MOI! Did I mention it's for my hungry ass?
Anyway, see you later,
Princess of Jerks
P.S. If you help me out with a new design for a tattoo then I will help you with your lyrics to your future hit single.
Funny thing about that song, it was a hit single, except you recorded it in New York whilst your muse wore his black tee and suave black jeans. You waved at him whilst he smiled at did so in return. His smile was dangerously beautiful. That was just another thing you loved about him. Or should I say your boyfriend.