A Fortune I Seek

Chapter 1

Four car doors slammed, one loud bang after another until we were all standing on the sidewalk, staring at the black painted building. Like some humorless joke, the funeral parlor looked too cheap to be seriously considered. But the flowers around its base were in full bloom and a beautiful pink, which brought some sense of ease to the otherwise dreary exterior.

"I still don't understand why we needed to come to this." I said under my breath. The tool of my black dress was itchy against my legs and it poofed outward too childishly for my preference. But my mother says it makes me look nice and apparently, for this occasion, it is more appropriate for me to look like a doll than the killing machine I have been raised to be.

"Because mom and dad think it's necessary to honor a dead guy." Bear whispered beside me. He looked even more uncomfortable than I did in his tux, rented of course. I have never seen him in anything other than ripped jeans, worn boots, and too old t-shirts. It was damn near sickening to see his black hair brushed back and oiled into place. The scruff on his chin had been shaved and even the scar split through his left eyebrow somehow seemed less crude when paired with a white undershirt and tie.

My mother shushed us and politely accepted a service pamphlet from the welcome table. Then she folded her hands around my father's offered arm. If it was sick to see my brother, it was absolutely appalling to be in the presence of my well-dressed parents.

A woman, as deadly as they come, with eighty-three lives claimed by her hands. Dangerous when holding knives but unstoppable with a gun. The kind of legend people whisper about because mention of her name might summon her from hell. I idolize her, my mother ... at least, I used to.

Her dark jeans and boots and low cut shirts had been replaced by a long black dress that fit her more beautifully than most women. Her curly black hair had been pinned back from where she usually keeps it wild and untamed. Sniper straight eyes and intimidating focus had been safely tucked away to allow sympathy that transformed her killer looks to something much softer. She was still beautiful but now she was controlled.

My father played pretend as well as his wife. Much like my brother, he was a burly man with a hefty beard and leery eyes the same color as murky water. His heart of gold had long since been tarnished by his thirst for blood and along the way his muscles, ironed by rock solid corruption, had been built into robust clubs that could take your head with one swing. He was scary, nightmarishly scary, even to me – who has also seen him frolic like a fairy through the backyard with our dog. I would rather stab myself repeatedly than be under his scorn.

Yet in this funeral parlor, his tattoos were hidden and his muscles were bogged by the boxy cut of his tux, also rented. He was still tall but he did not seem so dominating, he was still scary but not enough to make anyone avoid him.

Here, we were just a normal family.

And I did not like the feeling of being average.

"It smells like old people in here." Bear commented. He was quickly slapped on the arm by a tiny woman who had been wobbling past him with her cane. He apologized repeatedly then pulled me over to stand guard between him and his abuser, as if my five foot stature could potentially protect him. He ducked down behind my shoulders, "Save me."

"Save me first." I bargained, "Let's leave. Mom and dad can pay their respects. I think I saw a burger place down the street-"

"Bear, behave." My mother hissed from ahead of us. She met my eyes directly, "And you better reign in that attitude, Val. You will not embarrass us here, do you understand?"

"Yes." I mumbled.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between Bear and I, "I asked if you understood."