That Tawny had no idea what she was doing there didn't bother her. She was used to living life on a whim, although being at Scott's funeral was distinctly odd, even for her. However, despite the sidelong glances toward her way, she didn't go into hysterics, or any of her usual dramatics. Rather, she was uncommonly subdued.
She was having her monthly brunch with her broker when she overheard that Scott was dead. She had already missed the viewing, not that she felt that staring at a dead body was particularly interesting; but she was a little irked that no one notified her. Just the same, she didn't plan on being here, and was just as surprised as everyone when she found herself standing in the mist of the lush green manicured lawn, staring at the shiny mahogany coffin being lowered into the ground.
Her soft lilac and sky blue suit contrasted with the mourners mostly dressed in black and gray. With the breeze, Tawny forgot where she was, and for a moment, tossed back her long honey blonde hair, before she remembered that she was at a funeral, and stopped. She wanted to walk to her car and drive away, back into the city, but then she saw Miranda in a severe dark dress, and she couldn’t make herself go.
As the reverend droned endlessly on about the goodness of Scott, Tawny wondered if anyone else there felt like laughing. Not that she was glad that Scott was gone, but there was…almost…a touch, a feeling that she had that Scott had be dead long before this funeral. Yes, she thought, there was something definitely dead about Scott, long before he actually died.
She glanced over at the sobbing family. His parents were putting on a good show, his mother crying hysterically into her handkerchief, and his father, unabashedly letting his tears roll down his face. Only Scott's sister, Miranda, was the odd one out. And people think I'm a drama queen, Tawny thought. Miranda just sat rock still in her chair, her dress the only other splash of color, a deep burgundy, that looked sadly more somber then the black, gazing at her family with unadorned hatred. My, my, she thought. I wonder what juicy family secrets are being buried today?
"What are you doing here?" whispered George, "Tawny dear, this is in extreme bad taste!"
"Why? What is wrong with me being here?"
"The divorce was less then amicable," George whispered sardonically, "did you even talk to him in the past three years?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," Tawny replied, "in the past year, we had become good friends again." Naturally, this was not strictly true. But the truth had never interfered with Tawny's perception of life, and she was sure that Christmas cards and the three or four phone calls they shared in the past few months counted as the rebirth of friendship. For a moment, Tawny felt the sadness of the lost of this friendship.
"Still…"
"Regardless, I still have a right to pay my last respects, don't I?"
George looked skeptical, but left her alone as he stepped back amongst his cronies to gossip.
Tawny ignored him. Although they were once in the same social circles, since Tawny's divorce from Scott, then her launch into acting, she was now in a new realm, although George's familiarity with her, made it obvious that he didn’t realize it. Well, she wouldn't make a scene. It was Scott's funeral after all.
They said that he fell asleep at the wheel and drove off the road, but one look at Miranda's tortured face, she knew that Scott probably killed himself. Although people credited Tawny with little tact, she was extremely prospective, although most of that startling intelligence was directed to worshipping herself. But she knew that something unsavory happened in that family. Scott married her for as much as she was so obviously perfect on his arm, as that she abhorred sex as much as he did.
For a while she wondered if he was gay, but soon realized that he did not tolerate any sort of physical contact. It didn't bother her much, since her marriage to Scott. However, once she did get out, she realized that she wasn't so immune to sex after all. Just not in the conventional sense.
She stared at Miranda's pale face, made even more translucent with the harshness her dress, all surrounded by black.
When I die, Tawny thought, everyone must wear bright white. It's such an unflattering color that they will look more dead then I will. Tawny smiled at the thought, but those around her frowned and self-satisfaction was replaced by an irritation that she let these boring duds influence her still.
When she was married to Scott, he left her pretty much alone. She went to parties and spent his money, and was extremely well satisfied with the arrangement. At first she felt twinges of self-doubt when Scott repeatedly refused her efforts, but after she realized that any contact froze him, she promptly forgot about it and went along her merry way. She would have been married to him still, if she didn't become so infatuated with Miranda.
One night over dinner, she casually mentioned that she would like to invite his sister to lunch. Normally Scott would have just nodded and told her to have fun, as he did with all her other lovers, but Scott gave her a cold look that she never seen before.
"Stay away from my sister."
"But darling," she cooed, wondering at his sudden anger, "I just want to have lunch. We've been married for two years now, and I really think that it's time that I got to know…"
"No Tawny."
"But…"
"I said, no."
Tawny saw his set look, and even as she murmured her apologies, her mind was churning. At the end, she misplayed her hand, and Miranda had Scott closed ranks. Not many people knew just how close those two are, she thought, they always acted like distant siblings, but they turned to each other with such fierce need that Tawny felt the stab that she could never join in a love so intense.
Not passion though, Tawny realized. Just a deep connection with each other, born of…what? Tawny stared at Miranda's pale and sculpted face and wondered if she would ever know.
As the sermon finished and the reverend made a motion for the family to drop the already wilting roses on the coffin. Scott's mother gave a loud wail, as his father held on to her, consoling her. Everyone murmured how hard it must be on her.
Miranda didn't even blink.
Without a word, she removed a small object from her purse. At first no one realized what it was, but then she slowly pointed it steadily at each of her family members. A collective gasp went through the crowd, both with terror and the excitement from such a melodramatic move. All that were present knew that they could dine out on this story for weeks to come. And they were the ones there.
Tawny almost sneered with superiority at the mercantile nature of these people. She kindly forgot that she too had the same instant reaction as they did, before she remembered that she was now a star, and her popularity overwhelmed a need for such pathetic behavior. Plebeians, she thought, and tossed her hair back.
Then, before anyone could muster up the bravery, or the stupidity to stop her, Miranda put the nozzle into her mouth.
It sounded so childish, as if it was just a firecracker popping. Tawny was disappointed. She expected something louder, something more exciting. This is nothing like on the sets, she almost pouted. She wondered what would Stephan, the special effects coordinator of her last film, would have said about this display.
Dispassionately she stared at her ex-sister-in-law, slumped like a broken doll on the chairs, as everyone around her screamed and wailed. She bent down and kissed Miranda on the cheek; the blood was hot and coppery metallic. She licked her lips and walked away amidst the chaos.
Well, she thought. That was rather unexpected. Yet…
Yet, like her feeling that Scott had been dead for a very long time, she felt that this was rather expected. Of course Miranda would do something like this, she thought, I should have expected it. She felt some undefined sorrow at what happened. It wasn't for either Scott or for Miranda, but for the obvious tragedy that tied them together.
If Tawny was piqued that she was so easily upstaged, she didn't show it as she drove to Le Chic for an intimate party of several hundred.