“Here.” He handed me two more cups of heavenly-smelling coffee and kept the third for himself. “The guy behind the counter said you were drinking the house special.”
“I was, but you didn’t have to buy me replacements. I should’ve bought you coffee with all the things I’ve destroyed, stained, or run over in the last six months.”
“Eh.” He shrugged and turned toward our apartment building, taking my elbow. “Thanks, Stephen, I’ll make sure she gets home without assaulting anyone else.”
“Faith?” Stephen asked warily. His protective instincts flared, the stench radiating along the street. Why was it men in a pissing contest over women always smelled like dirty gym socks?
“It’s cool, Stephen.” I waved my cup of coffee in his direction. “He’s my neighbor.”
“Uh-huh.” He scowled, turned, and walked back inside, letting the door slam.
“Pleasant, isn’t he?”
“Usually, he is.” I breathed in the rich scent of mocha, trying to rid myself of the lingering musty gym smell.
“Must be me.” Matt drank his coffee. His shoulders relaxed as the funky guy smell dissipated.
“Must be,” I said, and sipped my coffee. “It’s weird, though, I’ve never seen Stephen be anything but nice.”
“Jealous, then. He’s never acted like he had a problem with me before. He didn’t even act annoyed when I brought one of my out-of-town clients in to gawk at him.”
“Big Pens fan?”
“Huge Pens fan. Fanatical. I thought he would hump your friend’s leg.”
“He was probably just trying to be nice and not embarrass you by hosing your friend down with water. That doesn’t mean he likes you. Especially since he hates all the attention he gets in public. I think that’s why he gave up hockey.”
“I thought it was because of the shoulder injury he got during the playoffs his last year?”
“That was more of a handy excuse to bow out gracefully. When he volunteered to do the community hockey clinic the hospital sponsored, he still looked amazing on the ice.”
“I’m sure he did.” Matt took another long drink of his coffee and balled up the paper his Danish had been wrapped in, tossing it into an alley.
Hmm, someone seemed a little jealous of our neighborhood celebrity. I wondered what really happened in the coffee shop between them. Dear God, hopefully he was jealous over me and not over Stephen. That would be so humiliating. Not surprising, given my luck, but definitely embarrassing.
“So.” I decided to change the subject to save myself the ‘hey I’m gay and totally into the barista’ conversation. My ego couldn’t handle it today. “How did your work go last night?”
“Work?” He looked at me, his eyes questioning. “Oh, right, the case files I was catching up on. Sorry. It was fine. Really boring, but fine. I always get behind on my hourly billings, and the office manager goes all crazy because I don’t have everything filled out in triplicate. My desk is covered in cases, I’m doing my own legal research, and that harpy thinks I’ve got time to be an accountant, too.”
“That sucks.” I knew exactly how much paperwork sucked, and if no one was looking, I made Malachi do my charting while I grabbed a Snickers bar and a cup of coffee during my breaks. “You’d think they would have secretaries there to do all your paperwork for you. Surely you big shot lawyers are too busy defending wrongly accused murderers and cutting deals to do your own paperwork?”
“The criminal law department and real estate group are both fully staffed with administrative assistants and paralegals. But labor law? We’re lucky to get office supplies delivered.”
“Damn. You’d think working with the unions would get you some perks.”
“It does if you’re building a house. And you work on the union-related caseloads. But I’m too far down the ladder for those. Right now, I’m our go-to guy for equal employment and discrimination. So unless we get a class-action discrimination suit against one of the big factories or a sexual-harassment suit against one of the local politicians, I’m going to remain assistant-less.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky and a class-action discrimination suit will uncover major political scandal resulting from sexual harassment? Stranger things have happened.”
“I think I’d rather go without an assistant and avoid the cameras. Besides, I don’t believe in luck. Especially when it comes at the expense of others.”
“You don’t believe in luck?”
“Nope, luck is nothing more than someone being modest about how much work they put into something and how prepared they were for the right moment to strike.”
“So you’re saying luck favors the prepared?”
“No, I’m saying luck is made by being prepared. There’s a difference. You can’t just be prepared for something to happen. You’ve got to go out and make things happen for yourself. No one is going to hand you the things you want in life just because you asked. You’ve got to go out and get them for yourself.”
“Nothing beats ambition is what you’re saying?” We turned onto our street and I finished my coffee.
“No, I’m saying it’s important to go after what you want. No matter how unreachable it might seem. And you have to make sure it’s important enough to give up everything you’ve known to get it.” He let his finger trail down the length of my arm. “You know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” I licked my lips and slowed down slightly. At least I thought I knew what he was talking about. Because it seemed to me, he might be suggesting I stop fantasizing and start sampling. Which would be a horrible idea in the long term, but it definitely had its merits in the here and now.
“So,” he said when we reached the building’s front steps.
“So?”
“So, I was wondering if you’d like to maybe go—”
“Faith!” Tolliver stepped out of a black Lexus SUV that had driven up beside us. He left the door open and I watched an impossibly long leg descend.
“Surprise!” My impeccably dressed older sister threw her arms wide and beamed at me like she was my own specially ordered ray of demonic sunshine. Well, now I knew why Tolliver had set my alarm.
“Hope, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“She decided to surprise you with a visit. Isn’t that wonderful?” Tolliver stepped to the back of the SUV and popped the hatch.
She was decked out in a black, minimalist Stella McCartney dress, with a quilted red Chanel bag clutched over her arm and her sleek blonde hair pulled into a sophisticated twist.
I instantly felt dowdy.
Her husband, Boris, stepped out from the driver’s side and adjusted the jacket of his black Ermengeldo Zegna suit before absentmindedly nodding at me and walking inside.
“You.” Tolliver snapped his fingers, using his dark powers to compel Matt into blind obedience. It wouldn’t hurt him. Hell, he wouldn’t even remember it. But it was still a degrading thing to do to someone. Especially when Tolliver did it. Just ask the parking authority officer he once made cluck like a chicken as she did a striptease in Times Square. “Get these bags and take them inside.”
“Tolliver!” I snapped.
All three of them turned to look at me, surprised.
“What?” he said.
“Matt is our neighbor, not the doorman.”
“I can’t haul this luggage myself,” Hope said. “What do you take me for? A mortal?”
“Get Boris back down here to haul his own bags,” I said. “You know at least six of those suitcases are filled with his identical black suits and those silk shirts he’s so fond of.”
If I had to put up with my sister and her idiot husband for even a day—and I was in for a lot longer than a day by the size of her luggage pile—rules had to be in place. And the first rule was going to be No Enslaving the Neighbors. It was always a bitch to deal with later.
“Boris is simply well dressed. And you can’t expect an incubus of his stature to do something as menial as handli
ng his own bags,” Hope said, turning her gaze on Matt.
“He looks like he escaped from a disco lost in the Seventies,” I said.
“Shut up.” Her blue eyes flashed bright red before she returned her full attention to Matt. She slunk toward him, emitting a sound like a low purr, and ran her manicured red fingernail up his bicep. “Who are you?”
“I’m Matt.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“And how are you going to be useful to me?”
His gaze fixed on hers. She was enchanting him. His mouth fell open as he hung on her every word. If he was far enough under her spell, she’d be able to get him to do anything she asked without a second thought. He would kill his own mother without flinching if she told him to. “I have no idea. Is there someone you want me to sue?”
Hope twined herself around his chest and blew in his ear. “No, I don’t need the courts to handle the people who don’t treat me with the respect I deserve. Go get my bags. You used to be a lawyer, but now you’re my servant. You live to serve at my beck and call.”
“I live to serve,” Matt said, and took a step toward the back of the SUV.
I grabbed his arm. No way would I allow her to enslave the cute guy next door. I’d already put dibs on him if it came to that.
I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, breaking her spell, and stepped between them so she couldn’t try to exert dominance over him again. “Nope.”
“But it would be so convenient.”
“Shut it, Psycho Barbie, before I call Dad.”
“Is someone going to help me with these bags?” Tolliver asked.
I wanted to hit him with a bolt of hellfire. He wouldn’t feel it, but it would make me feel better.
“Yes, the pet will be there momentarily,” Hope said.
“No, he won’t. Haul them yourself,” I said.
Tolliver glared. “Well, how am I supposed to get them upstairs? I can barely pick up the small bag on my own. I mean really, Hope, how many pairs of shoes did you bring with you?”
“Don’t.” I faced off with Tolliver. “Throw them back in the car and take her to your place.”
“But—” Hope eyed me warily. She and I both knew Tolliver still lived with Dad, and the idea of another family reunion in Hell was more than either of us wanted to contemplate. It was the perfect go-to threat. “But I came to visit you!”
I raised my eyebrows in challenge, letting my usually moss-green eyes flare red like hers. “So, haul your own bags.”
Her eyes flashed again before she scowled and stomped to the SUV to retrieve her first Louis Vuitton suitcase, dragging the heavy leather bag onto the sidewalk.
“And no enchanting my neighbors. Or I’m calling Dad.”
“Tattletale.” She hauled her bag up the front stairs.
“Bitch.” I turned to where Matt still stood, staring into space. I snapped my fingers underneath his nose. She must have him under good if he was this unresponsive. “Matt?”
“Huh?” He blinked twice and looked down at me, stunned. If I weren’t so annoyed at my sister right now, I’d have been impressed at her technique. Putting someone under like she’d done to Matt took a lot of effort, and she’d managed it with barely a second thought.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I must have blanked there for a moment. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You said you were up late last night filling out your billing paperwork.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” The idea would take a moment to root in his head. It wouldn’t matter if he’d been in bed at 10:00 p.m. From now until the day he died, Matt would swear, completely convinced of his honesty, he had been up all night working. “So why don’t you take a nap? You must be exhausted.”
“Yeah.” His shoulders slumped as the suggestion took hold of his subconscious. “I just got the coffee because I was dragging so badly on my jog. Maybe I’ll spend the day in bed? Want to tuck me in?”
“Tempting, but not today. Not with the siblings here to visit. You were asking me something, though?”
“I was?”
“Something about going somewhere?” I’d kick Hope’s ass for enchanting him if she’d managed to wipe his last coherent thoughts from his head. That was always one of the downsides of enchantment spells.
His frown deepened. “It must not have been important, huh?”
“Are you sure?” We walked up the front steps, following my sister, who kept looking over her shoulder to shoot me glares that bordered on murderous.
“I’m sure.” He nodded and patted me on the shoulder. “If I remember I’ll come ask you later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Disappointed, I smiled when he opened the door and followed me upstairs. I stepped inside my apartment and scowled at my sister.
“What?” She stretched out on the loveseat, kicking her feet onto the coffee table.
“You’re such a bitch, you know that, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift.”
Chapter Four
“You made me haul baggage.” Tolliver’s eyes flared red in displeasure and he waved his hands, stalking around the room. “Like some sort of a baggage-handler person. A manual laborer. A common mortal.”
Instead of answering him, I put the bakery bag on the island and sat on one of the barstools. I should have ignored the alarm and slept in this morning. It would’ve been so much easier than dealing with this crap.
Lisa stumbled into the living room in her pajamas, scratching the side of her head. “What’s all the yelling for? Are you watching E! again? You know you’ll spend the whole week glued to the sofa if you start watching that stuff, and then you’ll complain about wasting your vacation… Hey, what’s everyone doing here? Are you having some sort of family reunion?”
“Why is your pet speaking to me?” Hope said. Her dislike of mortals and those beneath her on the demonic food chain was legendary.
“Lisa is not a pet. She’s my roommate.”
“And my succubus love,” Tolliver added. “Or she will be, once she quits making things explode every time we try to… You know what? Never mind.”
“Is there coffee?” Lisa ignored my crazy siblings. Not like I blamed her. I handed her the second, still-full cup of coffee before I threw my empty cup away. I grabbed the only remaining Danish and handed it to her as well. I thought about eating the pain de chocolate I’d bought on impulse, but decided to stash it in the fridge instead. There was no way I’d manage to eat it in peace, and I wasn’t in the mood to share with Hope and Tolliver. Ever. Especially not when it came to chocolate.
“Thanks.” She smiled and took a big bite of what should have been my Danish. “You’re the best.”
“The best,” Hope repeated. “My sister, high demon and youngest child of Satan, is the best? Running errands for a fourth-class succubus. Consorting with humans. Living in reduced circumstances. What would our father say about how you’re acting?”
“Actually, he liked the apartment.” I turned my back on Hope and started a pot of coffee. If my sister was in this sort of mood, I was going to need a lot of caffeine and possibly vodka just to make it through the day. “He gave me the blue vase on the windowsill as a housewarming gift.”
Hope barely acknowledged Boris when he strolled into the apartment, and fixed her rage on me. He must have been used to being ignored, though—he was married to Hope, after all—and instead of saying anything, he sat beside her on the couch and grabbed the remote. He flipped on Cartoon Network and acted like the rest of us weren’t there. “Our father gave you a housewarming gift?”
I kept silent and let her mull over the implications of that statement. Dad had never even gone to visit her in Idaho, claiming all that nature was too much for him, much less showed up with a housewarming gift.
“He gave us a couple,” Lisa said.
“A couple?” Tolliver asked. “A couple of vases?”
“No, silly.” She giggled, slapp
ing Tolliver on the shoulder, and took a sip of her coffee.
I let my head drop onto the counter. Shit. This wasn’t going to be good.
“He only bought us the blue vase,” she said. “How many vases do you really need?”
“So what else did he give you?”
“Oh, it’s not important,” I said. “Just a few other odds and ends I needed around the place.”
“Lisa.” Tolliver stared directly into her eyes. “What did my father give you and my sister?”
“Like she said, just a few odds and ends.”
I braced for a fight with my siblings about who daddy loved best. Boris hit the mute button and shifted so he could stare at me, too, obviously speculating about whether or not he’d tethered himself to the wrong bandwagon in his attempts to sleep his way to the top.
“What, specific, odds and ends?” Tolliver said.
Lisa glimpsed at me, helpless, and my shoulders slumped. He had asked her a direct question, and there was no way she could deny answering. As her maker, she had to follow any order he gave her without question unless my father intervened. “Some furniture, dishes, free cable, and he worked out an arrangement so we don’t have any utilities. Oh, and the building.”
“What building?” Hope asked.
“This building.”
Tolliver looked at me, horrified. “Our father bought your apartment building?”
“Dad thought it would be a good investment. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is, Daddy never bought me an apartment building,” Hope said with a sniff, playing hurt by her lack of real estate.
Poor pitiful baby, how could she survive after being deprived so? “No, he gave you a Satanic cult, armed to the teeth for Armageddon, to run. How very stingy of him.”
“True, but he made me earn my way up through the ranks. Do you know how difficult it was for me and Boris?” She waved toward him, casting him the nastiest scowl as he sat on the couch engrossed in a cartoon. Personally, I was sort of surprised—I’d have thought “Johnny Test” was above Boris’s mental abilities. “Acting like dumb sheep? Pretending to believe the drivel they spouted about past lives and celestial love so we could get closer to the power structure and take over?”
Luck of the Devil Page 4
