Hot Sauce (Suncoast Society #26)(53)

There sat Carlo at the counter, in front of the urn, staring up at it intently, the way he usually did his Batman cookie jar.

Vanessa collapsed, sobbing, Reed and Lyle barely managing to keep her from hitting the floor.





The rest of the week passed in a blur. She called Stu and took off the next three days, knowing there was no way in hell she could function.

He didn’t even tell her he told her so.

“I’ll mark you as tentative for next week,” he’d said. “If you need more time, call me Sunday and let me know. It’s not a problem.”

Her men rallied everyone together. When they couldn’t be with her, Tilly, Eliza, Jenny, or someone was, at least one person, usually two.

The men spent every night with her, snuggled tightly together in her bed, holding her as she cried herself to sleep.

By Saturday, she was beyond grateful for them and all her friends’ love and support. Tilly had helped her with the pictures, getting them to the man coordinating the vanilla service. And Lyle, Reed, and a small contingent of her other new friends, who’d known Tony, were all in attendance. Kel and Mal were there as well, to videotape it for her parents and anyone else who couldn’t be in attendance.

She’d even brought Carlo, as much for her own comfort as everyone else’s. It didn’t matter if he’d be allowed in the park or not, she needed him and knew that everyone else would support her, under the circumstances.

And she’d brought Tony, his urn carefully clutched in her arms until it was placed on a picnic table under a shelter where she perched herself, sitting in front of it, protectively flanked by Lyle and Reed, and Tilly and Jenny and everyone else.

She had no idea how many people came. People got up to speak and eulogize him, people she didn’t know, had never met before.

Everyone had loved him, from their words. The guest book someone had provided was quickly filled to nearly three-quarters. People spoke to her, gave her their condolences, but her world had shrunk and she only nodded in acknowledgement, unable to process, much less speak.

Stu had even driven over, which greatly touched her. At one point, he leaned in to hug her and whispered in her ear, “If you come to work before Wednesday, I’ll call the store manager and have them force you back into your car. Understand? And if you need longer than that, call me.”

She nodded, no energy to argue with him.

There wasn’t any way she could work in this condition and she knew it.

She was barely aware of it when the men finally helped gather her up and trundled her back to the car some time later.

As they rode home, she asked, “Can I bring Carlo to the club tomorrow?”

He was riding quietly in the back seat, next to Reed.

“Yes,” Lyle said. “We can bring him. That won’t be a problem.”

“Okay. Thank you.”





Tony had pulled the men aside earlier the week before, Saturday night, and warned them to keep an eye out for certain signs as Vanessa went through her grief. Tilly and Eliza had both echoed those thoughts at various times.

Now, Lyle understood what they’d meant. No, she had not been processing things before now. Not really. Maybe in a superficial way, but her emotional numbness, the shock, had cushioned her at first.

Getting her brother’s cremains back had triggered her true grieving, a shattering of the bargaining and denial phases in an irrevocable way and forcing her farther along the path. The memorial services, held for people she didn’t feel a need to be strong for, had only cemented that loss.

Maybe after tomorrow’s service she could finally start rebuilding her life.

They obviously hadn’t been sexy with her or each other since Monday night, her state of mind and their own helpless sorrow on her behalf killing any thoughts in that direction for them both.

They just wanted to make her smile again. Wanted to bring forth the little bit of joy they’d glimpsed early on when she was trying to stay in denial.

And the next day, when they reached the club, she pretty much responded the same way she had the day before, withdrawn, barely responsive.

Hell, they’d hardly been able to get her to eat anything the past week. Tilly had brought a couple of cases of protein shakes in different flavors on Thursday, something they could coax Vanessa into at least sipping.

To the men’s knowledge, the last real meal Vanessa had eaten was her lunch on Tuesday.

After the service concluded and they declared lunch was served, Tilly showed up with a plate with a few pieces of cheese, a couple of finger sandwiches, and some crackers, as well as a bottle of water.

“Okay, missy,” Tilly gently said, setting the plate down in front of her. “I’m going friend on your ass. Don’t make me go nurse on you. I need to see you eat all of that.”

“I’m not hungry,” she protested.

Lyle still couldn’t get over how weak she sounded. Not just physically, but emotionally. Even the very first night they’d met her she hadn’t sounded so weak.

So broken.

Devastated.

“I didn’t ask you if you’re hungry,” Tilly said. “You will eat that.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “You will nibble on it until you finish it if we have to sit here all night. You can’t live on protein shakes. You’re going to get sick, and then what would Tony think of that, huh?”