Drop Dead Sexy

Gregg looked at Mark before he spoke. “We knew something was up when you and dad went on all those fishing trips. Alone.”

Ed straightened his shoulders as he looked around at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed faces. “Fine. It’s true. I loved Paul Brown for forty years, and he loved me. He certainly deserved better than his wife and sons making a scene at his funeral.”

“Oh shut up, Ed,” Gregg said.

Mr. Brown’s middle son, Wes, stepped into the fray. “It’s true. You two assholes should be ashamed of yourselves. But why am I surprised? I mean, it’s always been about you two. You practically sucked the life out of Dad. Gregg—the washed-up football god turned lush, and Mark—the sex and gambling addict.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Oh get bent, drama queen.”

Given what happened next, I guess Wes had been Jan Brady’d one too many times in his life because he just snapped. He jerked a pistol out from inside his suit pocket. At the sight of the gun, pandemonium broke out. People began screaming and scrambling away. Immediately, I dug my phone out of my suit pocket and dialed 911.

“What the hell are you doing, Wes?” Gregg demanded.

“If you two aren’t going to quit making a scene voluntarily, I’m going to make you.”

“Like waving a gun around isn’t making a scene, dumbass,” Mark replied.

“It’s probably not even loaded,” Gregg mused.

Wes narrowed his eyes at Gregg before firing off a shot at his feet. The screams and shouting rose up again as Gregg began moonwalking like he was in a Michael Jackson video. “Jesus Christ, are you crazy?”

“I couldn’t get you to listen to me,” Wes replied, his tone eerily calm.

When I tried to step forward, Wes swung his arm around to train the pistol on me. I skidded to a stop and quickly threw up my hands, sending my phone clattering to the pavement. “Wes, I understand that you’re hurt and angry with your brothers, but surely, we can resolve this without violence,” I suggested.

Wes cocked his head at me. “You’ve seen my family. What do you think?”

At that moment, Earl, one of our other attendants, appeared in the doorway with two stands of floral arrangements. From his horrified expression, I’m sure he had anticipated the flower van to be waiting on him, not a hostage situation.

The sight of the flowers put an idea in my head, and I didn’t stop to question it. “Don’t drop the casket!” I screeched.

With Wes and his brothers now distracted, I lunged over at Earl and snatched the tallest of the floral wreaths out of his hand. Using all the strength I had, I lobbed Wes in the back of the head with my floral weaponry. “What the—” he started to demand, but I whacked him in the face. As Wes sputtered and choked on a mouthful of football mums, I went for his crotch, making sure to bring the wire part of the arrangement against his dick.

As he screamed in agony, the gun fell from his hands. I dropped the wreath, grabbed the gun, and pointed it at Wes as he writhed back and forth in pain.

“What a *,” Mark muttered.

“Shut. Up,” Wes huffed through his clenched teeth.

“Way to go, Liv,” Todd mused.

With a wink, I replied, “All in a day’s work.”

Outwardly, I put on a fa?ade of fake bravado while inwardly, I was wondering if I didn’t need a clean pair of panties because I might’ve pissed myself from fear.



After the police came to arrest the Brown brothers for several misdemeanors, the small crowd that was left got in their cars for the procession to the cemetery. Amidst all the craziness, we still had to bury poor Mr. Brown. Thankfully, it went off without any more gun wielding drama.

By the time I arrived back at the funeral home from supervising the burial, I was emotionally and physically drained. When I entered my office, I found Allen sitting behind my desk with his feet propped up. He cradled the phone receiver between his shoulder and neck as he read from the folder in front of him. From the sound of it, he was calling in a claim on a life insurance policy.