Cheaper to Reaper Page 4

  “I’m Ali Rao, your spiritual reanimator,” the guy tells me as he opens the folder he’s holding. He reads for a moment, then looks at me.

  “Chloe, we’re going to give you your after-body and new clothes.” He grins then as his eyes sweep over my cute red dress and platforms.

  “Not that what you’re wearing isn’t very attractive,” he practically purrs at me. My eyes widen. The doctor — reanimator, whatever — is flirting? With me?

  Wow.

  If he thinks I’m cute, he’s going to trip over his freaking tongue when he sees my besties. I’m just passably cute, but they’re all knockouts.

  Samuel looks ticked off again. “Can we get on with this?” he snaps. I roll my eyes. The guy is apparently rude to everyone, which sort of makes me feel better about the way he’s been treating me.

  Ali’s grin widens at that and he steps toward me. “I need you to get up on the bed.”

  The way he says that, with the look he’s giving me, makes me think of other ways he wants me to get in bed.

  Ah-hem.

  “I know you can’t actually lie on the bed,” he tells me as I dutifully float over to the bed and then hover over it like I’m lying down. Ali follows and stands next to me.

  “But I need you to get as close to it as you can. Once I reanimate your body—” his eyes travel down said body then and he wiggles his eyebrows like a comical perv, “—you’ll have a sudden return of gravity and that can be rather… overstimulating.” He leans close.

  “I wouldn’t want you to collapse from the feeling.” He’s purring again and I’m not stupid, so I don’t miss the innuendoes.

  “Hurry up and get this over with!” Samuel barks. I glance over the man’s shoulder at Samuel, who looks like he’s about ready to take Ali’s head off his shoulders. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have his tool in his hand.

  Snort.

  I wonder what his problem is, but Ali distracts me when he closes his eyes and puts his hands over me, one over my boobs and the other right at the cooch. Of course, I can’t feel them, but it’s kind of weird, what he’s doing. It’s like watching a pervy wizard casting a spell or something.

  Samuel makes a growling sound, and Ali grins while keeping his eyes closed. It’s like he’s somehow messing with the Reaper, but I’m not sure how. I’m not getting the joke.

  Ali’s lips start moving. I wonder then if he’s chanting or praying. But I’m distracted by a weird feeling — and the fact that I can feel. It’s like a million pinpricks all over my body. It reminds me of last summer when the girls and I didn’t want to pay the admission fee for the fireworks show, so we watched from the hill overlooking the arena. I didn’t realize until it was too late that I was standing on an ant hill. I never stripped so fast in my life.

  And a whole lot of people got a different show that night.

  The sensation of ants marching up and down my body changes to a sort of electrical charge feeling. It’s creepy and itchy and I want to jump off the bed, but I can’t move. It’s like Ali has put some sort of bind on me or something.

  The shock thing goes on for a long time, but then it changes. And what follows is worse. So much worse. From tingly itching to “I’m on fire, help me, Elvis!” I’m channeling Ricky Bobby here, but thankfully only to myself. Still not sure if I can speak yet, and not being able to would be a good thing still, cuz I’d be cussing a blue streak at Ali right now if I could.

  Thankfully, the fire doesn’t last long. But what comes next is yet again worse. A prickling starts at my feet, runs up my legs, over my torso, down my arms and before I know it, my skin feels like it’s being ripped apart.

  Holy crap, this is like the worst thing ever! Bring back the ants, the shocks, the fire… anything but this oh my gawd, I’m being run up and down a cheese grater! thing.

  Mentally, I’m shrieking and screeching, begging for mercy, but I’m pretty sure no sound is coming from me. Obviously, whoever designed this afterlife thing figured out real quick that they needed to keep the barely departed silent until they got through this freaking ridiculous torture.

  Thankfully, the skin shredding only lasts for a moment and then, WHAM! my body lands on the bed. I guess I wasn’t hovering close enough, because I get the wind knocked out of me.

  “Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Ali says when I get my senses back. Sort of. I feel like I’m slightly buzzed.

  The pain is gone at least, thank God. That was freaking horrible. Now, my body still feels tingly, but not like it’s being shocked or shredded. I actually feel really good now. I take a deep breath and I’m relieved that I am breathing.

  I realize then that Ali’s hands are still on my boobs and cooch, but this time, he’s actually touching them. I glance down and then back up at him and give him a look. He smirks and pulls away.

  “What’s a surprise?” Samuel asks over Ali’s shoulder. I turn my head and see him peek around the reanimator or whatever he is. Samuel’s eyes get wide.

  “Uh, yeah,” he agrees.

  I frown. “What?” I say without thinking and I want to cheer because I can talk, finally. “Do I have three arms or something?” I ask as I raise my head to peer down at my body. I lift one leg, then the other, then both arms. Everything looks normal to me from what I can see.

  I turn back to the guys with a quizzical look. They haven’t answered me, but they’re both staring at my body. Weird.

  Ali grins at me. “Much nicer in physical form,” he says. I cock my head to the side, unsure what he means.

  Samuel glances at Ali, sees him staring at me and then the scowl slides back down his face as he looks back at me.

  “Come on,” he growls as he reaches out and pulls me up to a sitting position, then tugs my hand to pull me off the bed. I’m surprised that my new and improved legs hold me up, and I don’t even wobble. Maybe I’ll be less klutzy in the afterlife. One can hope.

  “We have places to be,” Samuel declares. It’s then I realize how freaking big the guy is. He towers over me. I had kind of thought we were about the same height before, but I must have been floating a lot higher than normal. Now that I’m actually touching the ground, the top of my head barely comes up to his pit.

  Before I can argue about Samuel’s bossiness, Ali interrupts. He at least is a normal size, just a few inches taller than me.

  “Hold on, I have to give her the uniform.” He moves to a closet and starts rustling through outfits that are hanging there.

  I glance down to where my hand is still being clutched by Samuel. I think he forgot he was holding it. I look up at him and I’m startled to see that he’s staring down at me with that interested look on his face again.

  And that’s when I remember I’m mad at him. I pull my hand away and cross my arms over my chest and pointedly look away from him.

  Pointedly. I’m staring at a blank wall, but oh well. I’m sure my point is pointedly being made. Jackass.

  “Are you a three?” Ali asks.

  I frown. Three? Well, hell, I thought I would be at least a seven or eight. I mean, I’m no nine point five like Tabby always tells us she is, but I’m not that ugly. I don’t have to slather barbeque sauce on to get the dog to play with me or nothin’.

  Besides, Ali and Samuel both were just giving me looks that said, “Yum,” if I was reading them right.

  I look over at Ali and tilt my head, unsure what he’s asking. He grins at me and runs his eyes over my body again. That look kicks in some female instinct that makes me prop my hands on my hips and tilt them. Yeah, he’s interested. Wow.

  And then I feel stupid when I realize what he’s asking. Size, dummy. “Five,” I say and he nods and turns back to the closet.

  “Should have known, with those curves,” he mutters. Samuel makes a growling sound again and I glance at him. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and is looking at Ali like he wants to slug the guy. He’s big enough to send the poor man through the wall, I think.

  Apparently, even g
uys in the afterlife are weird. I’ll never figure them out.

  Ali calls Samuel over. “We can use the blouse from the leprechauns,” he murmurs quietly. I think he doesn’t want me to hear what he’s saying, but for some reason, my ears seem to be working better than ever.

  “But what do you want to do for the pants? I’m not going to have anything in her size.”

  Samuel says something that I can’t hear, but Ali chuckles and digs through the closet, then pulls something out that Samuel seems to like.

  “I don’t have jackets or boots small enough for her, but I can substitute the sweater and shoes from Mother Nature.”

  Ali finally gets a uniform together, then walks up to the bed and lays it out. I move beside him and look down. My lip curls in distaste.

  I have a flashback of arguing with someone that I didn’t want to go to a certain school because they had “hideous uniforms.” I have no idea who I was talking to, but it seemed to be some sort of authority figure. A family member? I shake my head. I can’t remember, honestly. Samuel did say I wouldn’t be able to remember those I left behind on earth though.

  Somehow, I know that the uniform before me is even uglier than the one I hated in my other life.

  This uniform has a red cardigan, white blouse, a blue and red plaid skirt, blue tie and the fugliest shoes I’ve ever seen. Black leather, low heel, lace-ups. They look like something a grandma with bad arches and no taste would wear.

  No way. No freaking way. I’m going to march back down the hall and beg His Eminence to let me plant freaking flowers instead.

  “This uniform on you is going to send my schoolgirl fantasies into orbit,” Ali says as he nudges me with his arm. Samuel growls again. I ignore the jerk and focus on Ali.

  Dude is seriously handsome, especially when he smiles with those white teeth against his dark skin like he’s doing right now. He gives me a wink and I am pretty sure I’m blushing now.

  No doubt he’s only saying that because he saw the look of utter disgust on my face. I hold up one of the shoes with my thumb and forefinger, like it’s a diseased rat.

  “Seriously? These are the most hideous shoes I’ve ever seen.” I open my fingers and let it fall back on the bed, dismissing it. “Can’t imagine anyone gettin’ off on someone wearing granny joggers.”

  Ali chuckles. “On you, beauty, they will be sexy,” he purrs again. More growling ensues and Ali’s smile widens. I think he’s poking at Samuel on purpose.

  I’m also starting to think Samuel is part wolf shifter. Or maybe bear. And Ali must be a cat shifter, with all the purring going on.

  They’re both starting to get my back fur up though. I don’t wanna be in the middle of their pissing contest.

  “Whatev,” I tell Ali. I look back at the shoes on the bed.

  “Frankly, I’m gonna have a talk with whoever the jackass is who’s in charge of the Reaper school, cuz I just don’t see why I can’t wear my own shoes.”

  I stick out my foot then and twist my ankle, so Ali can appreciate the true awesomeness of my silver platform. As long as I can keep my shoes, I can work with the rest. The uniform may be ugly as sin, but I can deal with a button up blouse, and the skirt is short enough to show off my legs. They might be stubby, but they’re pretty nice.

  Ali makes a weird sound and I look back at him. He’s holding a fist to his mouth like he’s trying to hold in a laugh and is looking at me with raised eyebrows.

  “What?” I ask. He just shakes his head and glances back at Samuel.

  “Nothing.”

  I frown and glance at Samuel, who has an expression of… well, I’m not sure what. But I can say that he’s definitely leaning more toward the bear theory.

  Samuel’s jaw tics a few times and then his eyes find mine. “Get changed and I’ll meet you out in the hall,” he orders.

  Ugh, bossy men just get my tail up. I want to tell him where he can go, but considering we’re already… uh, occupying the afterlife, I’m not really sure if that would be an insult.

  Both Samuel and Ali leave the room and I get undressed. I let my gorgeous red voile dress drop to the floor and stare at the puddle it makes on the floor. I sigh; the beautiful shimmering material is a reminder of my former life, what I can remember of it anyway.

  Glittery, glamorous… and gone.

  It’s still weird that I can’t remember the past. I mean, I still remember a lot, like the fact that the girls are my best friends, and that Addison and I have known each other since grade school, Maddie and Tabby since middle school. Even though Tabby might be a back-stabbing slut, Maddie a brainless airhead and Addison a busybody, I love them all.

  I know that I lived in Texas. Born and bred. I speak Texan and Yankees can’t understand my “all y’alls.” I am — was — a senior at Sam Houston High School. I was about to turn eighteen and had been planning a tailgate birthday party at the tractor pull, complete with a DJ and Jell-O wrestling. Yeah, I’m a redneck.

  Or I was, anyway.

  Honestly, I don’t feel different now. Other than not remembering some of my past, my mind works the same as it always has, and whether that’s good or bad, I don’t know. And my body — I run my hands down my sides, frown at what I’m feeling, then glance down.

  Eyeballs go a-poppin’ yet again.

  My figure is, for lack of a better word, enhanced. I mean, seriously, my boobs are bigger, my waist is trimmer, and my thighs are smaller. Holy sh— it’s like I channeled Jenny Craig and Dempsey Marks all in one shot.

  Dang, maybe all that fiery shredding pain was worth it. Better than suffering for months at a gym and doing without Dr Pepper floats and Hawaiian pizza, which would be a sin in my book. I wonder if we eat in the afterlife…

  At that thought, my stomach growls and I realize that yep, we must, cuz I am freaking starving all of a sudden. Dying must give you a hella appetite.

  That is all the incentive I need to put the ugly ass uniform on, but I’m not wearing the lame ass gramma shoes. Nuh uh. No way.

  I pull the skirt on and I’m glad to see that it’s short, at least. Now I can show off these great new legs I’ve got. This outfit might actually be decent with my platforms.

  The blouse is made to cover you all the way up to the neck, but I’m not having any of that. I button just the middle three, then I tie the shirttails up under my boobs, Daisy Duke style. I knot the tie around my neck like a choker and tie the sweater around my waist.

  I wish I had a mirror, but I think I look pretty good. I’m no Tabby with her perfect face and body, but I can at least do cute.

  That’s another thing that makes me sort of glad that I’m going to the Academy, even if the outfit sucks — I won’t have to be the “sassy, fun, and sorta cute” friend to Tabby’s “day-umm, did you check out that tasty bee-ach?”

  Being a less-than sucks.

  I know it’s stupid to worry about my looks. It’s way more important how you treat people, how you act and all. I get that. But when you’re a teenage girl, believe-you-me, it is all about the body and the face. Hot guys don’t wanna date the “nice nerds” or the “smart chicks.”

  They want “hot body eye candy.”

  Maybe being dead is gonna be a good thing. I mean, I doubt dead people date. Probably won’t be any cliques at the Academy either. I never could find one I fit into, so it would be nice not to be just a cling-on with the Jocks, Nerds, Goths and all. I’m hoping, anyway.

  I pick up my cute dress but leave the fugly shoes on the bed, then head out into the hall. Ali is gone, but Samuel is still waiting for me. I’m surprised, but not surprised. I figured he would have gone back out to the waiting room with the girls, so Tabby could climb her ghost ass back up on his lap. She’s such a hoochie.

  Yeah, I know. I admit it — I’m jealous of her.

  Samuel’s eyes travel over me and one of his eyebrows slowly moves toward his hairline. Whatev. I cross my arms over my chest and look away. I don’t care what he thinks. It’s not like I have to answ
er to him over the uniform.

  “Not exactly how the school meant the uniform to be worn,” he tells me and I glance back to see his eyes are glued to the skin showing where my skirt and shirt don’t meet. The guy is confusing the hell outta me, I gotta say. One sec he’s cold and rude; the next, he’s drooling on me like a bulldog over a t-bone.

  I think he realizes he’s staring, cuz he runs a hand over his face and then turns to walk down the hall. I roll my eyes, but I follow. It’s not like I know where I am, or where I’m supposed to go. Kinda need to stick with him for a bit, even if he is a prickly ol’ bear.

  As we pass one of the other doors that I’m assuming is another exam room, it opens and a giggling Tabby walks out. Ali is right behind her, the widest grin I’ve seen on his face yet.

  And it’s no wonder.

  Tabby got her new “uniform too.” Unlike my virtuous never-seen-a-penis schoolgirl look — okay so maybe I slutted it up a bit, but still — Tabby is wearing what amounts to dental floss and a washcloth.

  I remind myself that the girl is going to be a siren and hopefully on a rock in the middle of the ocean far, far away, and that she is probably dressed for that job description, but… ugh, at the moment I want to punch Samuel’s eyes until they swell shut so he can’t see her and then wrap her up in my knitted cardigan.

  Like me, Tabby looks better than she did before. And that means that she’s gone from a nine point five to a twelve. Maybe a thirteen.

  Her outfit — and I’m using that term very loosely, kinda like Tabby’s morals — matches her baby doll pink hair. My lip twitches as I fight to keep it from curling up when I realize that her super gorgeous hair is now shinier, thicker, fluffier and longer. Her body is even curvier, her lips puffier, her eyes bluer, her cheeks pinker.

  I really want to punch her in the ovaries right now.

  Tabby snort-laughs when she sees me, her judgey eyes traveling up and down as she takes in my outfit. Her hand slips under Ali’s arm and she pulls him close, like she’s going to tell him some big secret. It doesn’t escape me that she’s just come out of the room where she probably changed in front of the guy.