Eventually, of course, we made it out of the bathroom and down to the enormous kitchen, which faced out on an equally expansive backyard that featured a black-bottom pool and an artfully landscaped herb garden off to one side. Land was at a premium in this part of town (well, to be honest, it was at premium almost everywhere in Southern California), and I wondered how much this little piece of Tuscany in L.A. had cost. Five million? Six? But I guessed housing prices were just a number when you happened to be the Devil.
“How do you like your eggs?” Luke asked. “Oh, wait — scrambled well. Right?”
Again, there was no point in asking how he knew that. Instead, I inquired, “So do you actually cook?”
“Of course not. Eating, as with so many other mortal…activities, is an enjoyable occupation, but I’m afraid I don’t feel the same about cooking.”
He pointed to a smaller chamber that opened off the kitchen, sort of a sun room, but one which obviously had been intended as an adjunct eating area. Windows framed it on three sides, offering an excellent view of the herb garden, which probably would have looked more welcoming if the skies hadn’t turned gray and brooding again. People seem to think it’s always sunny in Los Angeles, and maybe we have more sun than a lot of other parts of the country, but January through March was our rainy season. This year in particular had been fairly wet, although the walkways outside looked dry for the moment.
Right after Luke gestured in that direction, breakfast just sort of...appeared. Plates of eggs and bacon steamed gently into the air, a rack of toast materialized in the center of the table, and a pot of coffee and a mug sprouted into existence next to each plate.
“Nice trick,” I said. “I should have you come over to help with my laundry.”
He didn’t bother to reply, but instead shook his head, then went to the table and sat down. I followed him and took a seat as well, unfolding my napkin and putting it in my lap before I helped myself to a bracing swallow of strong coffee.
Was it possible that I could still trade casual remarks with him as if last night’s intimacies had never happened? But I supposed that was the way things usually worked out; after all, we couldn’t spend the entire day mooning into each other’s eyes and having sex. Then again….
I could feel the familiar warm sensation grow in the pit of my stomach. Whether it was the afterglow from our shower escapades or a tactile memory of the way he had felt inside me the night before, I knew I was ready for him again, wanted him once more. Did he sense it? Did he feel the same way?
At that moment I didn’t think I could trust myself to look directly at him. I lifted a forkful of eggs to my mouth, tasted, and gave a nod of approval. “Just the way I like them,” I said. Of course.
Even though my eyes were cast down toward my plate, somehow I felt the weight of his gaze on me. “Good. You know I want only to please you.”
That comment finally made me look upward. How many women would kill to hear a man say those same words to them? Was I a horrible person for still wondering, even after the night we had spent together, what exactly his plans for me were?
The other thing that made me more than a little uneasy was the fact that I could sit here and try to second-guess him, yet still know I loved him. Oh, I couldn’t have said why, exactly. It was more than his good looks, the solicitous way he treated me, or even his sly sense of humor. Add to those the way the hair waved back from his brow, the sound of his voice, the million and one other things that made him uniquely Luke, and you might have a start. Maybe.
I guessed he was expecting a response, so I said, “Oh, you’ve definitely pleased me — no doubt about that.”
“And you’ve pleased me as well.” He smiled. “More than pleased me. Mankind’s obsession with the physical act of love makes much more sense to me now.”
Shocked, I said, “So you’d never — ”
Eyebrows lifted, he replied, “There’s not much opportunity for that sort of thing in Hell, I’m afraid.”
Well, damn. I set down my fork and stared at him. His face wore its usual half-amused expression, but something about the set of his mouth told me he didn’t want me asking a lot of questions. If I’d even known which questions to ask.
I figured it was better to leave it alone. If Luke wanted to confide in me at some later point, then he could. If there was one thing I’d learned in this life, it was to keep my mouth shut when it became obvious that my questions were unwelcome.
I said lightly, “You’re an awfully fast learner, then.”
Some of the tension seemed to go out of his jaw. “Thank you, Christa,” he replied.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “So what would you like to do today? I’d thought of perhaps going to the beach, or over to the Huntington Library in San Marino, but the weather doesn’t look as if it’s going to cooperate with outdoor activities, I’m afraid.”
I followed his gaze out the window and saw that it had in fact begun to rain again. It was the sort of day that made you just want to cocoon, to stay indoors and explore the offerings on Netflix, listen to music, or even randomly surf the cable TV stations to see if anything caught your fancy.
“No weather control?” I teased.
“That power lies with a greater authority even than mine,” he said gravely, although I guessed he was teasing me back…just a little.
“Well,” I said, after I had drained the last of my coffee and set down the mug, “I think I know of a few indoor activities that should keep us busy….”
I couldn’t see myself, of course, but I think for the first time the gleam in my own eyes matched the one in his.
As it turned out, I didn’t make it home until almost eight o’clock that night. Even then I had to plead exhaustion as well as a certain soreness — there are limits to how many times a woman can have sex in a twenty-four hour period, no matter what the porn industry might want people to believe. Luke finally relented and drove me home, my evening gown packed carefully in a little case he gave me that also contained my shoes and my cosmetics bag. I would have come home earlier, using my undone laundry as an excuse, but he’d only laughed and said it was taken care of.
And so it was — after he left, I went into my bedroom to stow the gown in my closet and saw that everything had already been washed and hung up, or folded and put away in my dresser. Talk about your modern conveniences; the Devil was obviously the ultimate labor-saving device.
At last I remembered to dig my cell phone out of my purse. The little alert icon for a missed call was showing on the home screen. It never failed. Holding back a sigh, I pushed the button to call voicemail.
“You have five new messages,” the machine voice intoned once I connected, and I winced. Why was it that no one ever called when I was actually sitting around and waiting for a call?
The first one was from my sister and time-stamped around seven-thirty the previous evening. “Christa, call me as soon as you can. I’ll try your email, too.”
The second call was from Jennifer. She said she knew I was probably out with him (her emphasis, not mine), but that we really needed to get moving on the whole bridesmaid dress thing, and when would I be available to come into Pasadena for a fitting?
Not any time soon, I thought, but I made a mental note to call her back.
The third call was once again Lisa, this time at around nine o’clock this morning. “I don’t know where you’ve gotten to,” she said, sounding increasingly waspish. “Did you forget to charge your cell phone again? Call me as soon as you can.”
Calls four and five also came from my sister, the last one clocking in only about twenty minutes before I got home. By the end she sounded as if she could have cheerfully twisted my head off at the neck. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you,” she snapped. “People have cell phones for a reason. Did you go out of town or something?”
True, I probably should have remembered to check my phone, but honestly, I’d gotten tired of the attitude peopl
e have where they think you should be reachable twenty-four/seven. I mean, how the hell did they think we all managed back when we only had — God forbid — land lines?
Deep cleansing breaths, I told myself. After all, she wouldn’t have called that many times if it weren’t important.
Still, I wasn’t looking forward to the scolding I knew I was going to get when I finally did call Lisa back.
I sighed, willed myself to remember what a fabulous evening (and morning, and afternoon) I’d spent with Luke, then picked up the handset and dialed my sister’s home number. It was a Sunday evening, so she should be in.
The words “hi, Lisa, it’s Christa” were barely out of my mouth before she went into full-blown attack.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling — ”
“Yeah, I know that,” I said. “I had a date.”
“All weekend?” she demanded.
“Well, actually, yes.”
A few seconds of silence as she digested that statement. Then she said, “Fine, but why didn’t you take your cell phone with you?”
“I did have it. I was just…busy.”
“Okay, whatever, but while you’ve been off playing footsie with Danny, I’ve been holding down the fort over here.”
“I wasn’t with Danny,” I said.
Another silence. “Fine, whatever, I don’t need to know the sordid details of your personal life. All I do know is that Traci’s in the hospital, and Dad’s a wreck, and you’ve been MIA the whole frigging weekend — ”
I cut in. “Traci’s in the hospital? What happened? Did she — ” And I paused, unsure as to the best way to phrase the question. Had she lost the baby? Was that why my father was a “wreck”?
“She slipped and fell on the patio Saturday afternoon, and then she started spotting. Dad took her over to Hoag, and they think they have everything stabilized, but there’s a very good chance she’s going to be spending the next five months off her feet.”
Ouch. Being a bum every once in a while and spending the day in bed or on the couch while you read or watched movies was one thing. Having to stay flat on your back for months at a stretch, especially for someone as active as Traci, would be a complete nightmare. “That’s awful,” I said at last.
“Yeah, it is, and I’ve been staying with Dad as much as possible, but I have about fifty gazillion phone calls I need to return. You sure picked a hell of a weekend to go AWOL.”
Nothing like a good old-fashioned scolding from your big sister, especially one served up with a side helping of extra guilt. “Look, I said I was sorry. What do you need me to do?”
“Visiting hours are over at nine. Dad’s still at the hospital, but he needs someone there with him, and I’ve already been there most of the weekend.” Lisa paused and said, “If you left right away you’d probably still make it in time. Earlier today the doctor said they might let Traci go home as soon as tomorrow afternoon, but that’s still iffy. I’ve got a home tour tomorrow morning that I just can’t miss, so I need you to stay down there.”
Which meant calling in sick to work. Not a huge deal — I hardly ever got sick, so I had a bunch of leave on the books. And luckily this issue of the magazine was mostly wrapped up. Still, the thought of having to babysit my father all day and act concerned about Traci to boot didn’t appeal very much. Maybe there was something just wrong with my moral makeup, but I hadn’t been thrilled about this baby in the first place. Frankly, I was more worried about my father’s reaction than anything else.
But Lisa had already done her duty, and it was time for me to take a shift. “All right,” I said. Luckily, I was already mostly packed, since I hadn’t yet put away any of my toiletries. I could just throw some clean underwear and a change of clothes in the little case Luke had given me and get out the door in less than five minutes. On a Sunday night the traffic should be fairly light, and if I didn’t hit any snags on the freeway, it was conceivable that I could make it to the hospital before nine. “I’ll be out of here in a couple of minutes.”
Lisa didn’t bother to say thank you. “I’ll let Dad know you’re on your way,” she replied, and hung up.
I’d just started to head down the hallway to my bedroom when the phone rang again. Great. I hoped it wasn’t Lisa with a fresh round of guilt. That sort of thing could really slow a person down.
I looked at my cell phone’s screen; it was my father on his cell. I snatched up the handset. “Dad?”
“I’m glad I caught you.” He sounded a little harried, but not too bad, considering.
“I’ll be on my way in just a minute — ”
“It’s really not necessary. I tried to tell Lisa that, but you know how she is when she gets the bit between her teeth.”
Did I ever. Once she had a notion lodged in her brain, it took dynamite to blast it out. Part of me thought uncharitably that she was probably just angry with me for being out of touch all weekend and wanted to send me running off down to Orange County even though there might not be a good reason for me to do so.
“Are you sure?” I asked. I tried very hard not to let any relief show in my tone. “I really don’t mind coming down to help out.”
“Traci’s tired and already asleep. I wouldn’t want to wake her up. And the hospital gave me a list of at-home care professionals. I’ve got someone meeting me at the house in an hour to get things prepared. I appreciate the offer, but there’s really no need for you to come down here. Maybe in a day or so, after Traci’s settled back at the house and ready for visitors.”
He sounded calm and plausible, just as he probably did when speaking to one of his patients. But he was there and of course had a much better idea of what Traci did and didn’t want. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d really appreciate a vaguely hostile stepdaughter seeing me if I were in her condition.
“All right,” I replied. “If that’s what you both want.”
“It is.” He paused, then said, “I know you were less than thrilled when you heard about the baby.”
I opened my mouth to utter some sort of denial but realized that was useless. My father wasn’t stupid, after all. “Well, it just seemed a little...strange,” I said, after stopping to wonder whether I should be honest or diplomatic. At that point, though, I was too tired to be diplomatic. “I mean, you’re going to be retirement age when the kid is just in elementary school.”
“Men my age become fathers every day.”
Somehow I doubted it, but I didn’t want to get into a raging argument on the subject. “Okay, maybe in Hollywood,” I admitted. “But we’re not exactly celebrities. Whatever. I know you can certainly afford to have a baby, and if Traci wanted one, then fine, I guess. It’s just...” I trailed off. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to be having this conversation. On the other hand, I didn’t know when I’d have the opportunity again to talk to him one on one. I decided the hell with it. “It’s just that it seems to me as if the family you had wasn’t enough. Like you wanted to try again so you could get something better.”
“You know that’s not true.”
No, I don’t, I thought. I mean, you dumped Mom so you could trade up for a better model, so why not do the same with your kids?
He went on, “I will always love you and Lisa and Jeff. Having another child isn’t going to change any of that. I’ve always done my best to be there for you, even with the divorce.”
I wanted to argue, but that much was true. Even though my graduation from college had come post-divorce, while he was courting Traci, my father had made it a point to attend the ceremony, and had handed me the keys to my car that very same day. At the time his generosity had floored me, although he’d laughingly dismissed my stammered protests that it was too much. “Just think of how much money you saved me by graduating in four years and not being on the six-year plan,” he’d said, and wouldn’t hear any more on the subject.
“I also want you to know that I appreciate your offer to come help,” he added. “I know you’re n
ot particularly fond of Traci.”
I would have done it for him, not her, but I didn’t bother to tell him that. “I’m really sorry about being out of contact,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Ah, that. Lisa was definitely beside herself. That must have been some date.”
Blood flooded my cheeks. Thank God my father couldn’t see my face. I managed to say, “Uh — yeah, it was.”
“I take it this is someone new?”
No hesitation with that reply, anyway. “Yes.”
“He must be pretty special.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know — you sound different More cheerful.” Still with that little bit of a laugh in his voice he asked, “You’re not pregnant, too, are you?”
“God, no!” A baby was definitely the last thing I needed, but I had pretty irrefutable biological proof that I wasn’t pregnant. “No — it’s just — he’s — well, yeah, he is amazing, actually.”
“Good,” my father said. “It’s about time someone showed up who was good enough for my daughter.”
And that, Alanis, I thought, is irony. I had a sudden urge to burst out laughing, but I only said, “He’s a great guy.”
The phone beeped in my ear, and he said, “I’m getting another call. Give me a call tomorrow afternoon, after I’ve gotten Traci settled. Plan?”
“Plan,” I replied, then took the phone into the dining room and set it on the side table so I could charge it.
As I headed back to my bedroom for the second time, a disquieting thought surfaced in my mind. Had Luke known that my sister had been desperately trying to get in touch with me for most of the weekend? I wasn’t sure how this whole omniscient thing worked. Obviously he possessed knowledge about everyone around me, even though for some reason he couldn’t get inside my head (thank God…literally). Did being the Devil mean that you were tuned into everyone’s lives at once? Or maybe his powers functioned more like satellite TV — the stations might be broadcasting all the time, but when they were accessed and for how long was in the control of the person with the remote.
Sympathy for the Devil Page 20
