Make 'Em Wonder

Trigger warning: This story contains dark themes and a "bad" word.

August 2003 

Grace walked through the nursing home. A man had answered her ad.  

She was glancing at the numbers outside the doors. Finally, she saw room 187. Grace knocked on the closed door. 

She heard someone clear his throat. “Come in.” 

She walked in. The bed was on the right-hand side of the room. A tall, thin man sat in the bed, looking over his reading glasses at a book. 

“Mr. Powers?” 

The man smiled, and she could see through the wrinkles what had been a very good-looking man. “Call me Bobby...Ms.?” 

“I’m Grace Downs.” She giggled. 

Bobby smiled. 

“Have a seat...”  

Grace sat down. She was wearing the clothes that she’d be wearing to his funeral.  

“So, first off, let me tell you. You are my first client.” 

“We’re even then...you’re the first person I've hired to attend my funeral.”  

Grace smiled. “So, what are you looking for?” 

“I want you to show up at my funeral and cry like you knew me intimately.” 

“Is there anything I should know about you or your life?” 

“My wife will be there. She spent years accusing me of having an affair. We separated and have been living apart for over a decade. I want you to be the lover she thought existed.” 

“Will there be exes there?” 

Bobby grinned. “Yes, but she won’t cry.” Bobby stared off into the past.  “She was incredible when we met. Now, she’s very different.” He shook himself. “She never liked my humor. So, make the outpouring of grief extreme.” Bobby sighed and arched his back. She’s a whopper of a woman.” 

November 2010 

Grace’s only funeral of the day was at noon in the Crestview Cemetery. Lance was late, but he always was.  This week, there were three appointments. One for her and two for him. 

She decided to double-check her makeup for this gig. Grace went into the bathroom. Her black dress looked fantastic. 

 She reapplied her makeup, knowing she would do it before the funeral. 

Then she went back out to the café.

Lance was there. Today, he was dressed as a star general. His name tag said General Hatfield. He was arriving with Henry and his limo. He smiled as Grace walked out.  

“You look fantastic, honey.” Lance smiled. 

“Thank you…” She leaned into his name tag. “General Hatfield.” They both hugged and headed over to the limo. Then she straightened up. “We’re late, Lance!! We’re late.” Lance knew she was giddy today. 

Henry was wearing a chauffeur’s outfit. He opened the door. They entered. 

The Crestview Cemetery was in The Fairfield. It was the rich section of the city. 

“So, who is today’s joker?” said Lance. 

“It’s an 84-year-old man named Kenny Conner. He has two children and three ex-wives.” 

“Will the ex-wives be there?” 

“No idea.” 

“And we’re just doing the regular?” 

“Yes, we are.” 

They were three blocks from the cemetery, and the limo pulled over.  

“Looks like this is my stop.” Said Grace. She reapplied her makeup, got out of the car, and watched the limo drive away. 

This time alone gave her time to get into character. 

Grace was born looking like a forties movie star. High cheekbones, jet black hair, and white skin. Lately, she had let her hair go salt and pepper gray. These looks were coupled with a deep love of film noir, specifically, and the 1940s.  

Her dress was black and long-sleeved. If anyone looked twice, they would realize that the dress (like Grace) was not from this era. But few ever did. 

As she approached the entrance to the cemetery, she pulled the veil gently over her face. 

She could see the black limo pulling around the corner. 

The limo slowly snaked up the windy road towards the funeral that was at the top of the hill. Meanwhile, Grace cut through the gravestones, and both arrived at the same time.  

The grave was at the top of the hill. The limo driver parked. Grace sat on a bench. 

She was trying to bring about depressing emotional memory. Grace made sure her grandmother’s handkerchief was bleached every week to keep it bright. It looked great against the black. 

Today, the tears weren’t coming. She thought about her mother but nothing happened.  

She watched the funeral from a distance. After a few minutes, Lance came up over the other side of the hill. He stood at the grave. He saluted. Then the two men walked back and left.  

As the crowd was distracted by Lance and Henry, Grace had time to get into the crowd. One minute, she wasn’t there. There was the flag hand-off, and then she was. She waited until everyone was quiet and then blew her nose loudly. “Oh, my poor sweet Keith…” She began to cry quietly. In her hand was a rose; she quietly placed the rose on the coffin. Her eye was dabbed. 

Everyone watched, and she began to walk towards the road. She felt the attention. 

As she got about ¾ of the way towards the road, she heard the roar of motorcycle engines entering the cemetery. She stopped and watched as Henry pulled over, so the motorcycle contingent came roaring by. 

As they passed her, she saw Melissa gripping onto the back of one of the motorcycles. She smiled a grin of revenge. 

Grace waited for them to pass and walked further down the hill. She got to the gate and turned around. The bikers had infiltrated the funeral. 

She shook her head and walked back to her predetermined meeting spot. Henry and Lance were already there. 

The men stood in silence.  

Finally, Henry broke the silence. “That was who I think it was on the bikes, right?” 

“Yeah…” Grace hung her head. “It was Melissa. That greedy bitch…she’s cutting into our territory.” 

There was another pause. Grace got into the car and sat on the edge of the seat. 

“Let me call you two tomorrow. I just need to be alone.” She looked at Henry.”Can you drop me off at Black’s?” 

Kenny’s reception was at his house. It was hosted by his daughter, Holly.  

Holly moved from group to group at the party. She was overtly asking people if they wanted more food and covertly seeing what they were discussing. After a few groups were visited, her father’s wife pulled her aside. 

Erica felt like everything was important. Holly felt like some things were, but those things were never topics that Erica discussed. 

“Holly, do you have any idea who that woman in black was?” 

“What woman in black?” 

“The attractive one crying, looking like she stepped out of 1948. I had no idea who she was. And those horrendous bikers. And that, general. ...Ken never knew anyone like that, my love.” 

“Well, apparently, he did. They were all there.” Holly smiled. It was just like her father’s life and the last twenty years of his life. The lies flowed freely. 

“But I knew everything he did.” Erica frowned. Holly wondered, after years of Erica hiding her emotions, if she had any real ones.  

“I guess not everything...or they wouldn’t have been there.” 

“Please tell me if you have any information. I need to know.” The mask had fallen off.  

“I don’t have any information.” Holly smiled.  

“Why are you smiling?” 

“How am I supposed to act?” 

“Act like you’re sad. YOU’RE AT YOUR FATHER’S FUNERAL...YOU BITCH!!!” 

Holly smiled. “You seem upset about something.” Holly put her hand on Erica’s shoulder. “Take ten minutes, relax, and get back to me. I have a memorial to host.” 

With that, she turned and walked back into the party. 

Holly continued floating from each group of people. 

Erica had stormed off to her bedroom upstairs. Like she always had. 

Twenty years ago, Holly would have cared. 

Today, the punch was more important.  

Eventually, everyone was fed and knew where everything was. Holly moved to the alcove in the kitchen. Her best friend, Jane, was there waiting. 

“So who were all those people at the funeral?” 

Holly smirked. “It’s a company you can hire to screw up this kind of party.” She waved her hand towards the living room. 

“No, seriously?” 

“Seriously, it’s called Make ‘Em Wonder. Dad loved the idea, and I arranged it. Erica had a meltdown and these people will be talking about this for decades. Father would love this.” 

“Jesus, you’re not kidding.” There was a pause. “Although Erica has a meltdown over bad coffee…soooo.” 

 Shit.” Holly grabbed Jane’s hand. “I hear there are other spin-offs. But I’m not sure what they provide.” 

Jane shared Holly’s smirk. “Kenny was a joker right up to the end.” 

 Grace stood outside Black’s. She looked up at the clouds. She could smell the deluge of rain coming in. She pushed the wooden door of Black’s open and was enveloped by the warm darkness of alcohol and broken dreams. 

The counter curved around the bar. There was a seat at the end of the bar right next to the wall.  

That was hers.  

The bartender came over. 

“Rage Raven...clean...please.” 

The bartender turned to make the drink. 

She thought about all the people who employed her. The women who wanted revenge on their husbands, the men who wanted to prank their family, the family members who wanted to leave their relatives wondering about them or with one last laugh. The family members hated each other and wanted their heads messed with until they were dead. Sometimes, she wondered where Mr. Powers was.  

Other people could answer this question.  

But they didn’t know.  

They acted like they did, though. 

Grace scrolled through her phone until she came to Melissa’s number. She pulled up her information.  

Her ID photo was taken when the two of them went to Malibu for the day. They bought beer early that day and spent the day at the beach. 

The photo was taken back at the car. 

An hour later…  

The aggressive part of her brain was fueled by two rage ravens, and three shots dialed. 

“I knew you’d call, Grace.” 

She could now feel the poison beneath the comfort. “Where’d you get the idea for bikers?” 

Melissa looked at the clock on the wall. It was 11:04 pm. “It just came to me.” 

“Where’d you get the bikers?” 

“People come to me. I go into the street, and they just arrive.” There was a pause. Melissa moved over to her couch and sat down. “You did that, Grace. You just appeared in a doorway one night, and it was on.” 

There was a long pause. Grace stuck her finger in her glass and moved the ice around. Then she stuck the finger in her mouth. The Rage Raven had been watered down enough to represent the beginning of the end of the evening. 

“What are you doing with yourself, Melissa?” 

“A little of this and a little of that. I’m doing what you do. What would you call it? Providing a postmortem service.” 

“Where have you been working?”  

“Mostly, the valley.  Lots of film fans out here who hate their friends and family.” 

“Do you want the valley?” 

 “Sure.” There was silence on the phone. “Do you want to meet sometime?” 

“Yeah, maybe…” 

Neither one said anything for a while. Finally, Melissa spoke up. “I heard a joke about someone starting one of these where they’re sending a circus act to an event.” 

Grace snickered. “A full-size one or just a few players?” 

“I have no idea…It’s just something I heard.” 

“Ok…well then, this idea is spreading.” 

“Good ideas usually do.” 

Grace could feel the rope between them begin to unravel. 

“Let’s meet at Guido’s on Saturday morning…” Melissa said. 

“I’ll see about that, but maybe…” 

Friday 

Grace pulled the collar of her coat and looked down to do so. She was getting ready to cry. When she looked up, she saw them. 

First, there was a man dressed as a jester. He did a few cartwheels down to the ceremony. The jingle of small bells on his hat made the mourners turn. As they turned, a clown on stilts came around the corner juggling, and after him came a three-foot mime. The entire mini circus was silent.  

Grace had forgotten she was acting and simply hung her mouth open. The sound of the jester's bells was accompanied by the sound of bouncing balls off the marble floors. The preacher stifled a smile and continued as the circus drew closer. 

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” Now, the circus players were mingling with the back of the crowd of mourners. The stilt clown pulled out a thin balloon. He looked at one the children who was attached to his mother's hand. The child was fascinated. The clown pulled on the balloon a few times. Then he blew it up. The tips of the clown smile pointed upwards in a sinister manner.  

He quickly twisted the balloon into a dog and handed it to the little boy. Then walked over to the other side of the crowd and pulled out another balloon. He tugged on it a few times and then it too was blown up. 

This balloon was turned into a cat and handed to a young woman. The woman looked into the clown’s eyes. She smiled and licked her tears that were already there. Then she took the cat into her hands like a baby and began to pet it. Then she burrowed into the balloon. 

Meanwhile, the mime midget was wandering through the crowd. He stood next to an older woman who was sobbing. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She pulled on it, and more and more handkerchiefs came out. The little person investigated the pocket, confused.   

Grace had no idea what to do. She simply sat and watched the madness unfold in front of her. 

June 5, 1979 

The man was standing on the other side of Beverly Down's coffin. Occasionally, he would glance down toward Grace. Then, he would smile and wave. Grace had seen him once at lunch with her mother. 

She would wave back, then look at her father. His head was down. He was shaking. She knew that meant he was very angry. 

Grace knew that later that night, the yelling would begin. She would go into her closet, close the door, and wrap the blankets around her head. 

After a few hours, her mother would come and coax her out. 

She knew that tonight would be like that. Reality had yet to sink in to Grace. 

At the reception, people gathered around her. The man from the restaurant came over to her. He shook her hand. Then he said he was sorry about her mother. She could feel her father’s fury. 

She had never seen her father that angry. 

Others came up to her and said how sorry they were about her mother. 

Eventually, Grace wound up at a table alone. She was eating chicken nuggets. From across the room, she saw her Aunt Dee comforting her father. She patted him on the shoulder. Then she leaned in close. Grace could tell that what she was saying was very serious. 

Her father nodded. 

Dee began walking over. When she got to Grace, she knelt on one knee. “Your daddy is going away for a while. He needs to talk to someone about what happened with your mom.” Grace nodded.  

“I’m going to be with you for a while, aren’t I?” Grace said, even as usual. 

Dee stopped and rocked back a little on her feet. Grace had more sense than her father, Harry. “Yes...you are.” 

Grace looked beyond Dee. She knew they’d have pizza tonight and go places this weekend. 

She saw the man in the suit come out of the viewing room.  

Dee stopped talking and looked to where Grace was looking. She was looking at Robert. 

Robert smiled. Dee knew Robert based on Beverly’s description.  

She stood up and walked over to Robert.  

“You’re Robert, right?” 

“Yes, I am.” Beverly was right; he did smell good. “I’m Dee.” 

“Aaaah, the famous Dee.” 

“Do you know everyone here?” 

Robert looked around. “I know enough.” 

“Do you have a card?” She paused. 

Robert handed her a card. “That’s my number. It’s a whopper of a number but mine.” Dee looked at the card. His number started with 666. “I’m not the devil despite what others here think.” He shifted his weight. “But I can understand their position.” 

Dee thought about how charming she’d heard Robert was. “I will be calling you. But right now, I have a six-year-old to distract.” 

“That’s fine...keep me updated when you can. Grace was very special to Beverly.” 

“And to me…” 

“Of course…” Robert grinned. “I should go. This isn’t my place.”

With that, he walked out of the ceremony and turned left.