Pushing Up Posies

by Eve Langlais

  All the employees of Grim Dating wore a robe like the boss, some flung over their shoulders, others—the freakiest ones—fully shrouded. She’d gotten used to seeing them practically drift around. They had a way of moving as if they floated. Disturbing but obviously some kind of illusion trick because of the cloak.

  In the beginning, she might have thought they took the whole Grim Dating theme too far; however, given their obvious success, perhaps they were on to something.

  As she arrived at the top floor, she found a box on her desk and Brody—Mr. Reaper—standing over it, frowning at the contents.

  “I don’t know if I like it.” He whirled and held out a business card. “What do you think?”

  He wanted her opinion? She took the card from him and arched a brow at the cartoon reaper etched on it, the scythe digging into a heart beside the company title and website.

  “It’s—” She paused and thought of the clientele he served. The cosplayers who, according to internet research, lived their lives as the characters they dressed as. People who probably didn’t have an easy time finding love. “I think it’s actually perfect.”

  “You do?” He sounded most surprised.

  “It’s cute without being too cute. It gets across the point that you’re open to things that other dating services might not be.”

  “I guess.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “If you don’t like it, then tell your designer you want something new.”

  “I can’t. Head office had these made.” He scowled. “But I am drawing the line at the T-shirts.”

  “What T-shirts?” It was only as she spoke that she saw the other box sitting on her chair, open, with fabric spilling out.

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  “He’s just complaining to hear his voice,” announced Julio as he strode in.

  “Fuck you,” Reaper growled.

  “No, thanks. You know I’m a ladies’ man.” Julio winked. He was a handsome man with tanned skin and dark hair. The epitome of sexy Latino. But not her type. She preferred her men tall, dark, and brooding. Kind of like her boss.

  Oops. She wasn’t supposed to think about him like that.

  “What do you want?” Reaper scowled.

  “I wanted to say keep the mugs! These are made for caffeine junkies.” Julio—his cloak flung over his shoulder almost like a scarf—held up a massive cup. He wore a gray, form-fitting T-shirt and black jeans.

  “They sent mugs, too? Show me.” Brody, because he just didn’t look like a Mr. Reaper with that expression, snatched it from Julio’s hands and turned it around in his hands.

  Julio began to extoll the virtues of it. The man had a silvered tongue. “Solid construction. Dishwasher safe. And the size is most excellent.”

  “It will take an entire coffee pot to fill,” Posie remarked.

  “You’re right.” Brody peered inside. “These we can use. But the T-shirts have to go.”

  “I’ll have the boxes put in the dumpster,” Julio declared.

  “Throw them out? Why would you do that when you can use them for free marketing?” Posie exclaimed.

  The men turned to look at her, but it was Brody who said, “Explain.”

  “Explain what? That it’s a waste to throw out perfectly good merchandise?” She snatched one from the box and shook it out, the black T-shirt super cute with the Grim Reaper logo on the front. “People will wear these.”

  “Not me,” Julio declared.

  “Or me,” said her boss.

  “You’re not who the marketing is for. You want people talking about Grim Dating. Free swag that they can wear is the best kind of advertising.”

  Brody rubbed his chin. “That might be useful for bringing in more of the humans. We’re running into a shortage. But at the same time, it will make our actions more visible.”

  “Visibility is a supposed to be a good thing,” she argued.

  “Not if the wrong sorts get involved,” Brody muttered. “Maybe we shouldn’t get too loud.”

  The very idea that any company would want to hide their success boggled the mind, but then again, perhaps he worried too much attention on a cosplayer dating service would draw negative reports and shaming on social media.

  “Let me ask, what is your goal here?” Posie questioned.

  “Making matches.”

  “These will help you do that by exposing your brand to a wider audience.”

  Brody’s phone rang, screaming something about great big balls of fire. Her boss sighed. “What does he fucking want now?”

  He answered, and she couldn’t hear what was said other than Brody’s clipped, “Yes, sir. Understood.” He hung up. “Julio, we are going to take Ms. Ringwald’s suggestion and distribute those shirts. Figure out the best locations to reach viable potentials. The boss says we will have ten thousand more by evening.”

  “Ten thousand?” she said faintly. The cost boggled the mind, not to mention, the timing of the call and the instructions. Almost as if... She eyed her office suspiciously. Was she being watched?

  “The owner doesn’t like to do things small,” Brody said, distracting her.

  “I will handle it at once, Commander.” Julio saluted, and as he swept past her to grab the box, his cloak swirled, a splendid affair that made the fabric seem even more fluid than smoke.

  She wondered if the other employees thought it odd that she chose to not wear one. Then again, her employer never asked her to. Probably because he knew she’d say no.

  Once they were alone, Brody rubbed his hands together. “That was an excellent suggestion. Got any more ideas?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Brody beamed at her, and she couldn’t help but actually smile back. Mr. Kulley hadn’t been one to care about her opinion.

  “I’ve only just started working here. I barely understand how things work yet.” She’d spent her entire time thus far just handling Brody’s appointments. No filing. No typing. She didn’t even have to answer a phone. The appointments were set up elsewhere and appeared on her computer. She’d never done less in her life, and she kind of felt guilty he was overpaying her.

  “Well, if you think of a way I can improve business, let me know.”

  “Don’t you have a marketing department?”

  He scowled. “Thus far their ideas haven’t been useful. These modern times aren’t what they’re used to.”

  She blinked. “Are you saying they don’t know how to use social media to leverage your business?” The very idea shocked.

  “See what I mean? You obviously have a good grasp of what’s needed to take the business to the next level. Perhaps we can discuss it over lunch. Which,” he said, raising a finger to forestall her argument, “is work. Not pleasure.”

  “I shouldn’t leave my post.”

  His grin proved teasing as he said, “Then order in a meal. We’ll eat in my office.”

  It sounded reasonable. So why was she nervous as the noon hour approached? Not wanting to overstep any bounds, she had a proper lunch delivered—thick sandwiches, drinks, and chips. Not exactly gourmet, but not completely fast food either.

  At noon on the dot, she knocked at his door. It swung open immediately, startling her.

  Brody beamed. “On time. I do like that about you, Ms. Ringwald.”

  “I’m a person who likes punctuality.”

  “In my profession it’s also quite important,” he admitted.

  Which made no sense. How did being on time help him match people?

  “Lunch is here.”

  “Excellent.”

  He snatched the bag from her hand and strode to his desk, where he laid it out. Then he sat behind the massive piece of furniture, sandwich in hand, eating it over the wrapper, a napkin nearby. For all that he dressed like Death, he had impeccably clean manners.

  “Tell me, Ms. Ringwald, have you arrived at any ideas as to how we can recruit more potentials?”

  “How about we start by not calling it recru
iting?” she quipped.

  Most people would have laughed. He nodded. “A valid point. I shall endeavor to watch my language.”

  “Have you thought of having a booth at the comic-cons that pop up in various cities?”

  “The what?”

  She spent a few minutes explaining. Then a few more minutes behind his desk pulling up websites and images. By the time they’d finished lunch over an hour later, they’d progressed from Mr. and Ms. to first names.

  Why, she was almost at ease around him until he said, “I need to step out this afternoon, but I shall return in time to provide you a lift for your journey home.”

  “No need. I’ll be perfectly fine.” She cleared the remains of their lunch from his desk.

  “It’s still raining,” he pointed out.

  “I need a new umbrella, so I’ll just buy one on my way home.”

  “There is such a thing as being too stubborn,” he chided.

  “Actually, it’s more about being polite. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way to come back here to give me a ride. You don’t owe me one, and I shouldn’t expect one. So go to your meeting and don’t worry about me. I’ll make my own way home.” Before he could argue further, she swept out of his office and returned to her desk.

  She waited for him to leave, only the door to his office never opened. Odder still, when she knocked to deliver a rare stack of folders, he didn’t reply. When she popped her head around the door, it was to find him nowhere to be seen. He’d somehow managed to escape without her notice.

  With him gone, and no appointments to manage, she expected to finish reading her book, and yet around midafternoon she heard raised voices on the other side of the glass wall. The argument appeared to be getting closer.

  She tucked away her paperback—bought at a used bookstore for less than two dollars—and pretended to look alert. When the door swung open, she was ready.

  A tall man with an angry expression entered, flanked by Julio, who was wearing one of the new T-shirts. They were accompanied by a very tall woman with a no-nonsense expression. Helga was not someone to trifle with before she’d had her coffee in the morning. Or anytime for that matter.

  The stranger causing the kerfuffle sported a luxurious mane of platinum hair that flowed past his shoulders and was held back by the tiniest of braids wrapped around his temple. When he got close, she noticed his eyes were the bright green of spring. He wore a very pale gray suit that fit his frame quite nicely. It complemented the feathery white wings popping up from behind his shoulders.

  “Hello, sir. Can I help you?” Posie asked nicely.

  He ignored her, but he had a harder time ignoring Julio when he threw himself in front of his path. “For the last time, you have no business here.”

  “I’ll ascertain that for myself if you don’t mind.” The stranger swept Julio aside hard enough that he stumbled.

  She’d like to see him lay hands on her. She planted fists on her hips. “Excuse me, but we don’t allow the physical handling of our employees. Please kindly conduct yourself as a gentleman.”

  “Is that a human talking to me?” His brows rose high enough to almost meet his hairline.

  “Yes, I’m talking to you. You will apologize to Julio right now.”

  “I will do no such thing. How dare you speak to me in such a way. And how is it you can see me?”

  “I can see you because you’re standing right in front of me. Now, I don’t know who you’re supposed to be. Perhaps a seagull? Whatever the case, you will kindly behave yourself while you’re here.”

  “A seagull!”

  Judging by his indignant expression, she might have guessed wrongly at his costume.

  11

  “Albatross?” she offered. “I get them mixed up.”

  “Did you just insult me?” The man drew himself tall. Who knew green eyes could appear so cold?

  “She did,” was Julio’s snicker.

  Posie hastened to correct the misassumption. “No, I was not insulting him.” Not entirely true, but never admit to being rude to a customer out loud. “What are you supposed to be then? Perhaps a dove? Your wings are too big for an ostrich.”

  “I am not a bird.” The very word appeared to taste sour to him.

  She, on the other hand, managed the sweetest smile. “Let me try again. I’m guessing it should be obvious.” She tapped her chin. “Male harpy?”

  Someone sucked in a sharp breath, and it occurred to her that she wasn’t being very nice. But there was something about this man that rubbed her wrong. He wasn’t just rude; condescension oozed from him.

  Unacceptable. Being Canadian didn’t give him the right to treat her like the gum on the bottom of his shoe sticking to the pavement every time he took a step. If he couldn’t treat her with respect, then she’d show him how that felt.

  By the scowl on his face, he didn’t enjoy it.

  Julio turned away, and his body shook as if he were having a fit, whereas Helga appeared so stoic she might have been a statue.

  A sneer pulled Mr. Seagull’s lips. “I guess I should make allowances given you’re only an ignorant human.”

  “You might want to read up on the definition of ignorant,” she muttered.

  “You should be kneeling in respect before me. I am an angel, descended from Heaven.” He spread his hands and raised his gaze, attempting to look beatific.

  It made her giggle because it was so ridiculous. “Sure, you are.”

  “You doubt my word?” His fine brows arched.

  “Now she’s done it,” muttered Helga.

  “Oh, shit. Fuck. I wish I was taping this,” Julio sputtered.

  “You have the wings, but where’s the robe? And everyone knows angels have halos.” She circled a finger over her head.

  “Not all choose to wear them.”

  “Or you haven’t earned one.” The next obvious choice.

  It caused him to suck in and widen his shoulders. The wings ruffled rather realistically. “As Heaven’s emissary, I am one of the most highly ranked.”

  “If you say so. I still have my doubts as to the angel thing seeing as how I was always taught they were nice.” The implication was understood, and the man recoiled, while Julio outright chuckled.

  “Someone really should do something about that tongue of yours. And then explain to me how it is a human can even see my wings. She shouldn’t be able to see me at all.” Mr. No-Angel glared at Julio.

  Julio finally composed himself. “I’m afraid Ms. Ringwald is not into the cosplaying like you and I.” Julio winked at her. “She sees right through our shams.”

  “Sees through it?” Repeated in a musing manner. No-Angel eyed her. “You think I am a human acting a part.”

  “And really doing a good job staying in persona.” She gave him a thumbs-up.

  Julio choked while Helga coughed and looked away.

  No-Angel cocked his head and peered at her more intently. “Fascinating. Have you always been able to see under façades? Or did it start at a certain age?”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You will come with me.”

  Posie chuckled. “Like heck am I going anywhere with you.”

  No-Angel puffed out his chest. “You don’t get a choice.”

  “Actually, she does. And she said no.” Julio stepped between them. “I think we’re done here.”

  “That is not your decision to make.” An insult meant to cut Julio down. “I am here for the Guild Commander.”

  Meaning Mr. Reaper, and guess what. Deciding who got to see him was her job. She acted as the intermediary between her boss and clients. This intruder didn’t appear to be a client.

  Mr. No-Angel went to step around Julio. Posie moved to counter him. “Excuse me, but I’m afraid you’ll have to stop right there. You don’t have an appointment.”

  “I don’t need one. Step out of my way.” Firmly said, his hands folded in front of him. Nothing to indicate violence yet the
menace oozed. The guy did not like being denied.

  “One, you do need an appointment. Two, Mr. Reaper isn’t here, so your childish tantrum is being wasted. Three, here at Grim Dating, we have what is known as a safe workplace, which means we can and will receive respect from everyone who enters our building, be they employee or potential client.”

  “I don’t have to respect you, human.” Mr. No-Angel vibrated with rage.

  “Actually, you do.”

  “Dirty, beastly—”

  She cut him off. “What did I say about using your nice words?”

  “Nice words?” Julio leaned against the wall he was laughing so hard while Helga had her arms crossed and appeared more stoic than ever.

  “I speak to you as you deserve,” No-Angel spat.

  “Is this how people who go to Heaven are treated?” she asked. “I have to say, I’m not impressed. I’d rather go to Hell.”

  “Oh fuck, you did not just say that,” Julio exclaimed.

  The angel smiled. “As if you were ever making it to Heaven.”

  The words were meant as an insult, but she sighed in relief. “Thank gawd.”

  The angel winced.

  She smiled. “Now, as I was saying, Mr. Reaper is unavailable this afternoon. If you’ll make an appointment—”

  “When will he return?”

  “I’m afraid that information isn’t available.”

  “Surely you know.”

  She didn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Make an appointment if you wish to guarantee a meeting with Mr. Reaper.”

  “You will tell me right now when you expect him.”

  “You’re telling me?” She snorted. “I don’t take orders from anyone wearing wings.” Just a man in a cloak who signed her paychecks.

  “You think my wings false?” They spread out impressively. The things they could do these days with the right kind of robotics.