Stealing The Show (Such Sweet Sorrow Trilogy, Book One)

9

"She really loved Grammy," I tell the receptionist.  

"Let me call someone," the receptionist says. 

Up until that moment, everything was working way, way better than the plan I'd had. I couldn't believe how well it was going. It was like it might actually work.  

The plan was for me to cause some sort of distraction up front while Shoe slipped into the back, pretending to be a maintenance man, and found Paps' ashes, then wheeled them out inside the mop bucket. But Dramatical is selling this poor receptionist lady on it way better than I could. 

When she picks up the phone, though, I realize there are a lot of things I don't know. Like: where are Paps' ashes? What do ashes look like? Are they in a bag, or in a jar, just sitting out on a shelf? I have no idea. I have this vague hope that Shoe would be able to stalk them out somehow.  

But whoever the receptionist calls doesn't come up to check on Dramatical, no matter how hard she cries. I hear this man's voice down the hall talking to Shoe. There's this back and forth that I can't really hear because Dramatical is clinging onto my leg in complete, soul-crushing grief. But then Shoe comes speedwalking up the hallway past the receptionist, wheeling the mop bucket in front of him. Behind him is a man in all black with a reverse collar. Some kind of chaplain dude, I guess. 

"Leave now or I'll have to call the police," he tells Shoe. Shoe does indeed leave. The man bends down to talk with Lacey, who suddenly gets her wits about her. 

"There, there," he says. "Grief can be overwhelming at times, I understand." 

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand.  

"Actually, I'm feeling better now, thanks," she says. She flies out the front door and I'm left standing there with a receptionist and a man of the cloth kneeling on the floor in front of me. 

"She was really close to Grammy," I say, and hold up the envelope full of bullshit pamphlets. "I'll take a look and get back to you. Thanks."  

We leave, with Shoe ducking into the floorboard of the backseat. He's laughing and shouting down there about how awesome that was. 

"Busted by the clergyman!" he shouts in, for no reason, an awful Australian accent.  

"What happened?" we both ask him. 

"Jesus, that fucking place. There was carpet everywhere, dudes. I was looking around for somewhere to pretend to mop, but I swear there wasn't one fucking tile of linoleum anywhere. So when Mr. Clergy came out, I looked really weird standing there with a mop bucket. He just told me to leave, man. Cool of him. He coulda called the cops, easy." 

"You are so my hero," Dramatical says. 

"But did you see where they keep the ashes?" I ask. I think they've forgotten that it wasn't just for a dramatic prank. We need those ashes. I need those ashes. 

"No fucking clue. It's all wooden doors and, like, maroon carpet. Even the walls had carpet. I don't know where they would be unless I get to look around a lot longer." 

I quit talking then.  

Because. 

We failed. 

After we drop Lacey off at her house, Shoe comes up to the front seat. "Sorry, Maestro. That totally didn't work." 

No more ideas come to us, so we just sit there and drive in silence. I take him over to Wendy's to drop him off at work. 

"Go through the drive-thru and I'll give you some chili-cheese fries as a consolation prize," he says.  

When I get to the pick-up window, Shoe comes jogging out the door and gets back in Eeyore with me.