Page 14 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

“Any place to hide?”

“In heaven?”

“On the path.”

“Why would anyone hide?”

She shrugs. “Were you alone?”

“The first time, yes, and about halfway through the second time. Then I saw other paths in the distance with lots of people. The golfer said those were crowded on account of a catastrophe.”

She motions toward the aquarium where Jesus is walking on water and the golfer is chatting with the rodeo girls. “The golfer is the man with the heinous mustache?”

I laugh. “That’s him.”

“What catastrophe?”

“A big earthquake and tsunami, and it’s gummed up the works, I guess.”

“Hmm…” She tilts her head to one side and looks off like she’s thinking about something real serious. “I bet a person could blend into a crowd of victims rushing heaven,” she says, more to herself than to me. “Would anyone notice that it’s you and not someone else?”

That’s a scary thought. I remember that Detroit’s supposed to wake from her coma soon. Maybe Valentina was wrong about that. “Are you afraid of dyin’?”

“No.”

We step into the Limbo Lounge and I wave to Valentina. “I was, but I’m not now. I guess ’cause I already kind of died twice. Third time will probably be the charm.”

She turns her attention to me. “How much longer until you die for the third time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess?” She grabs my arm. “It’s important.”

“I don’t know,” I repeat, pulling my arm away.

“Think. Do you feel any different in the moments prior to the lightning striking and the threshold opening between heaven and earth?”

For someone who’s not afraid of dying, she sure seems desperate to know all she can. “No, but there’s always that glittery stuff fallin’ from the ceilin’. That’s about all.” I give a little wave to Tommy. “Do you think he’s good-lookin’ for a skinny skater dude?”

“Who cares?” She grabs my arm again and pulls me to a small table like we’ve got something really important to talk about. We sit across from each other and she leans toward me. “If someone asked to take your place, would you do it?”

“What? In heaven?”

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“Yes. Hypothetically, would you change places with someone so you could live out the rest of your life?”

I’m not one to use my brainpower in hypothetical conversations. I’m one for shootin’ the shit and clever embellishment. The difference between the two is making up stuff for fun and games and making up stuff for no good reason. “You can’t mess with God’s plan.”

“What if you were compensated?”

“How? Money?”

She nods. “If you could name any price, how much is your path worth to you?”

I think about Momma’s van and play along hypothetically. If I could have anything, I’d buy Momma a new van with those captain’s chairs that swivel and a dashboard Jesus made of real gold. I’d buy Daddy a new truck with the biggest tires he could find. While I’m at it, I’d get a truck, too. A big one with leather seats.

“Got a figure in your head?”