The Search for The Crimson Shade 1

It was a chilly, wet October afternoon at Jackson’s Funeral Home. A very small crowd, consisting mostly of the young and irreverent, was gathered in a cramped chapel with a broken heater. In the center of the pulpit was a small urn, the final resting place of Edward Myers. There was weeping (all theatrical), people pretending to pay their respects as they walked by the urn (but actually condemning the ashes inside to hell), and then there was him.

The figure dressed in a neatly pressed, black suit, lavender shirt, and black tie was leaning against the far right wall of the room, running his fingers through his long, black hair. His signature facial expression (a cross between a frown and a smile) tugged at his lips. He was tall, thin, extremely handsome, and a rotten brat who could get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. A detached person by nature, he didn’t like many people. In fact, people aggravated him. Anyone who didn’t do as he asked the first time was fired immediately. Most of the “grieving souls” at the funeral were more concerned with impressing the young heir than actually saying their last goodbyes. No one could blame them. One look into his golden olive eyes could turn a straight man into a flaming homosexual. It could and it has more than once. No, no one could blame all of Jesse Myers’s fans. No one, at least, except the heir’s fiancée.

Amara Meredith scarcely let him and his own mother talk for long periods of time before stealing him away! Underneath her fierce demeanor, she was a gentle soul. Okay, maybe not gentle, but a truly nice person (although she never showed it to a large extent). She had a smile to kill and one to heal, each one was marvelous. Whichever one attacked you was based on who you were. People who won their way onto her bad side usually became petrified of her to the point that they would move away, never to be heard from again. Nothing she did was on a small scale. If she hated you, she had the unquenchable desire to kill you. If she loved you, she would protect you with her life. She earned her PhD in ancient and medieval torture methods of the world, making her a deadly beauty of supermodel status. Some called her demon spawn, even a fallen angel. She had always said that she wouldn’t doubt it if she was.

Finally growing weary of watching him flaunt that teasing smirk of his, she sped over from the punch bowl and stood beside him. She blinked her hazel eyes rapidly and cemented one hand on her curvy hip as if to say, “I have a concealed knife, so don’t make me use it.” The girls trickled away, cruelly reminded of her presence.

Jesse kissed Amara, draped an arm around her, and said, “What’s gotten into you?”

The woman’s gaze pierced through her light brown hair before she hurriedly pushed strands of it from her face. “What do you think, Jesse? Can you be any more flirtatious? I swear, sometimes it feels like I’ll have to tie you up!”

“You did that last night!” he chuckled softly. Her expression didn’t change and he had to reassure her yet again that she was the only one. Amara was about to lean on his shoulder, but he saw two old friends and took off, leaving her to crash into the wall. She cursed furiously under her breath; why did she have to be there? The one woman she could strangle without a bit of her conscience getting in the way had to be there. At times, she wondered if she even had a conscience when it came to her.

Kyleigh Maxwell’s short, black and blue dress was made with a bit of spandex, so it clung to her body a little. She had long, dark red hair with a white streak in the front on both sides, her dark brown lipstick accented her matching eyes, and she thought that she looked pretty darn good if she said so herself (even if she was too dark-skinned for her liking). In earlier days, she would always ask Jesse if he thought she looked pretty. She would be all dressed up and ready for a pleasing answer; the compliment never came. Only odd comparisons were all he ever said. One time, he even likened her to a bottle of Pepto-Bismol! He didn’t really mean it; you just had to know how to read him, she would say. She was wrapped around his finger like most of his biggest groupies, but she had something that the others didn’t – she actually cared about him and not his money. Whether it was for support during trying times or to deliver common sense by whacking him over the head with one of her oversized purses, she was always there like a pillow for him to fall into.

Next to her was Incense Elders, the only one so close to Jesse that they might as well have been related. She was tiny, feisty like a rabid squirrel, and could care less what people thought of her; self-assurance was her best characteristic. She was wearing a long, white lace skirt that covered her tiny feet and a black and white corset that she had picked out just hours before they arrived. She walked around barefoot because she couldn’t find any shoes to match her outfit. Her dark brown eyes and curly, sunset-colored hair gave her the disposition of one of those Troll dolls from the 90’s, adorable and cuddly yet somewhat untidy. It was thanks to her mixed heritage, she said. Seeing his smiling face and outstretched arms, Incense sometimes wondered why she and her best friend never became an item. In fact, their entire high school had wondered why. She could have awakened everyday in those arms of his, but the past was the past and she couldn’t go back no matter how many times she wanted to. Besides, he was like family and having kids with him would be rather disgusting.

“Oh, Jesse, I’m so sorry for your loss!” Kyleigh whispered softly as she embraced him. She held on a little too long for Amara’s comfort (she was watching from the vantage point of the back row of chairs). Pulling back, she asked, “Were you close to your great-grandfather? He took care of you for a long time.”

Jesse snickered and raked his hands through his hair. “Yeah, and the highlight of his day was drooling over Playboy bunnies!” And you weren’t like that a while back? his friends thought to themselves. He was even a regular guest at the Playboy mansion. “I’m actually glad that heap of cobwebs has finally kicked the bucket,” he finished with an air of satisfaction.

“At least we know that he isn’t going to have a mental breakdown! Right, Kyleigh?” Incense giggled.

“Of course not! He wants to see me have a mental breakdown! He told me so.”

“Incense! So nice of you to come,” Amara greeted from out of the blue. She could be as stealthy as a cat when she wanted to be. She didn’t even acknowledge me. Why does she hate me? Kyleigh wondered. “That’s a lovely ring!” she said genuinely, pointing to the gigantic token.

Amara smiled sweetly. “Thank you! I’m still shocked that we’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, you two! I must say, I’m very happy for you. Not to steal your thunder or anything, but…I have one, too!” Kyleigh extended her hand. “I don’t like white diamonds, so I asked for a black one instead. Do you like it?”

The future Mrs. Myers examined the four-karat rock on the woman’s cinnamon-stick-looking finger. It was set in platinum and had her name engraved inside. It was nice. “It certainly is different,” was all she could manage to say.

“I didn’t know you were engaged, you loser!” Incense said, giving her a pat on the back. How she had found a way to bring her friend out of that whole, He doesn’t love me, so I’ll never love again! disaster, she really didn’t know. What she did know was that she was glad it was over. The big baby almost decided to become a nun!

When the ceremony was over, Jesse invited Incense and Kyleigh to the reading of the will. It was going to take place at his house. Figuring that they wouldn’t see him for a while and since he carried both of them – one under each arm – they agreed to go.