Hands All Over

Ch. 2 Back Again

Angela was just finishing up embalming someone when her cell phone rang. Raising an eyebrow, she took off one set of gloves and reached for it. "Angela Ruiz," she answered in work mode, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as she put another pair of gloves on. She always double gloved, you could never be too careful around dead people no matter how much disinfectant was put on them.

"Angel? It's Juice," came the voice on the other end. "We met today...when we needed a body..."

She smiled, she didn't need the reminder; his goofy grin had stayed with her all day. "I remember. What can I do for you?"

"Is the uh...oven free? We need it and we know Skeeter's a little...distracted," he said for lack of a better word. Skeeter was probably having the time of his life with the Croweater he'd sought out as payment.

"Yeah, sure," she replied on a shrug. She figured Skeeter already knew about it. She knew they'd probably need it for something that wasn't exactly legal, but her moral compass had never pointed true North and Skeeter had explained how important the Sons of Anarchy were in Charming. If they needed her, she was more than happy to help out. "Come over whenever. I'll be here."

Juice found that interesting. "Do you live there?"

"Yeah, actually," she answered on a light laugh. "There's an apartment over the parlor."

"Creepy."

"You get used to it, I guess. These bodies...do they need anything special done to them?"

She could hear him sigh as he thought. "Um...no, probably not. I don't know. Do bodies usually need something special?"

"Well, are you taking their ashes with you?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary, though I'm not a hundred percent sure. Tig's a weirdo."

Angela didn't know who Tig was, but she made a mental note to turn the cremulator on, just in case. "Okay. Just let me know when you're out back."

"Sounds good," he sang and she could hear the smile in his voice. "See you later then, Angel."

"Later," she said, taking off both pairs of gloves and tossing them into the trash. She looked down at what she was wearing and cursed. Of course, a bunch of hot biker men would be coming over when she was in sweats and a tank. Quickly, she went over to the incinerator and turned it on so it would heat up before rushing into the parlor.

She ripped open the door that hid the stairs to her apartment. Taking the steps two at a time, she bounded into her place. The apartment had originally been worker's quarters for the huge plantation house but when Skeeter's old man transformed it into a funeral home, he'd converted it into a decent sized apartment complete with a small kitchen. It was cozy, if not a little morbid.

Once in her bedroom, she quickly changed into a pair of tight ripped jeans before throwing on a red plaid shirt over her white wife beater. She re-braided her hair so it was nice and neat, finishing just seconds before her phone went off. "Angela Ruiz."

"We're outside," Juice's voice answered.

"Be right there," she said already on her way down the steps. Instead of going out of the front door, she went around back. That's where the boys had gone before, and she was pretty sure that's where they'd be again. She spotted five bikes and a truck as she rounded the corner. Their owners were leaning against the building, a few of them smoking, one of them looking down at his feet.

Juice pushed himself off the wall and headed her way. "Hey Angel," he greeted with a big goofy smile that made her heart skip a beat. "Thanks for doing this on such short notice."