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I wave my hand dismissively. “Relax, no need to be dramatic. I’m right here.” But when it seems as though he is about to run full force into me, he runs right through me.

Right.

Through.

Me.

Richard drops to the floor and starts screaming, “Help! I need some help over here!”

I look down at him and see myself—light brown eyes open, staring at nothingness. No way. This can’t be real. I glance down at my hands. I am solid. Not ghost-like. I look at Richard again and see him place his hands on my chest, applying pressure on the wound.

Damn.

My outfit looks fantastic on me. Obviously, it looked better without the pool of blood. My suit shapes my body well, showing off those curves that do not end. It really highlights my smooth brown skin. If I’m going to do an awful job, my outfit can’t be awful too. Gratefully, my dark brown curls cooperated with me today. It’s like they knew that I didn’t need the extra stress in my life.

An officer runs in and drops beside Richard. He takes two fingers, pressing it against my neck. The officer hangs his head down for a brief second then lifts it up and announces to the room, “There’s no pulse.”

Wow, I wonder who’s going to represent my client now, because it won’t be me. For obvious reasons.

Richard begins to argue with the officer when I hear someone call my name from behind me. I turn around and there’s a tall man wearing an all-black suit. Correction: a scrumptious tall man wearing an all-black suit.

“Joyce Parker. Thirty-year-old African American female. Time of death is 4 p.m. Sorry to inform you, but you are dead. You must come with me.”

Sorry to inform you.

He said that as if he was telling me that he got my pizza order wrong.

My mouth opens in shock. I ask, “Are you an angel?” Because I didn’t know they made ‘em like that. I would’ve died sooner if that’s the case.

He rolls his eyes and replies, “I’m a Grim Reaper, ma’am, and you need to come with me.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I question seriously, wondering if I can just jump back into my body. They do it in movies all the time.

He raises an eyebrow. “What about this situation suggests that you have a choice?”

He makes a solid point.

Despite that, I pretend as if I am walking towards him, then I turn and run for my life.

In every literal sense.

I am just about to reach the doors of the courtroom when he appears right in front of it. I crash into his solid, but surprisingly soft chest. He grabs my arms tightly and gives me a look of disappointment. As a response, I lean back in his arms, giving him a smile and wink.

He ignores me.

One minute we are in the courtroom where I died, and the next, we are in an office.

And that’s how I met the most aggravating man that I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with in my afterlife.

4

OVER MY (ALREADY) DEAD BODY

I shake my head in confusion, then narrow my eyes at the Grim Reaper sitting in front of me. I couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly. Dying must have killed off some of my brain cells.

I squint my eyes. “I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong. Can you repeat what you just said?”

“I need you to be my lawyer.”