3 Straight by the Rules

by Michelle Scott

  The final straw came when Mr. Pinkie Ring decided to boast on how hot he liked his Buffalo wings. When the younger man sitting on his right ordered a platter of wings with mild sauce, Mr. Pinkie Ring laughed. “Mild sauce? Wally, you are the biggest pussy.”

  Wally’s stricken expression spoke volumes. Almost immediately, the other men took Mr. Pinkie Ring’s cue and demanded that Wally try some ‘real man’ wings dressed with the ‘devil’s fire’ sauce. On the restaurant’s scale of heat, the devil’s fire was a ten. Wally, already sweating, retreated behind a wall of silence while the others continued to razz him.

  I suddenly remembered this group of men from the party. That night, Mr. Pinkie Ring had dared Wally to add extra wasabi to the California roll he’d plucked from my thigh. Then all of them had given thumbs up over my sushi-clad body while a waitress snapped a picture.

  I hated them.

  Helen was right. These men were only getting what they deserved. My brain buzzed as I made plans, and my succubus chimed in with a few ideas of her own. This time, I would be karma dressed in Dolce and Gabbana.

  When Mr. Pinkie Ring headed for the bathrooms, I left Hell and slipped into his empty seat. I turned on my demon’s charm, but carefully. I’d never seduced a group of men, and I didn’t know how much was too much. “Hello, gentlemen.”

  My allure combined with the slutty, office-drone fantasy outfit worked like magic. I instantly had their attention. “That pal of yours is a real jerk,” I told them.

  “Do you mean Derrick? He’s not so bad.” This came from a thin, balding man sitting across from me. He seemed the most decent one of the bunch.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. The men shifted uncomfortably, and avoided my eyes. None of them was ready to throw Derrick, aka Mr. Pinkie Ring, under the bus. Not yet.

  I amped up my allure. Immediately, someone began caressing my knee while another man’s foot slipped out of his shoe and rubbed the back of my calf. And did I mention that all of these men wore wedding rings? “Derrick has a strong sense of competition, doesn’t he? I bet he’s a riot to work with,” I said.

  They laughed uneasily, but no one offered any stories.

  Frustrated, I kicked at the wandering foot and slapped the hand that was moving rapidly up my thigh. Derrick was probably heading for the table right now, and unless these four worked together, my plan would be useless. For a moment, I was stymied, then my succubus came through for me. “Would you all buy a lady a drink?” she asked them. Immediately, Wally flagged down the waitress who asked me what I wanted.

  I made a ‘come hither’ gesture, and she crouched next to me. When I whispered my order in her ear, she frowned. “Are you serious?”

  I smiled. “Completely.”

  She shrugged. “It’s your freak show.”

  Very quickly, she returned with my drinks. All four of them. I smiled as I arranged the shot glasses in front of me. “These, gentleman,” I said, “are called ‘red silk panties’, and if you help me in a little wager against Derrick, I’ll let the winner of the competition drink these from between my breasts.”

  Finally, everyone was onboard.

  I turned to Wally. “How about if you challenge Derrick to a wing-eating competition? The one who can eat the most devil’s fire wings in five minutes wins.”

  Wally paled. “I have a duodenal ulcer,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t be eating wings period.”

  “Let me worry about that.” I winked at him. “Just challenge him.”

  The thin, balding man looked unconvinced. “What happens to the loser?”

  My smile widened. “I’ve got something in mind.”

  Wally and another man, a guy with enormous pouches under his bloodshot eyes, were both smiling now. However, the thin man remained worried. “Derrick isn’t known for his sense of humor.” He glanced at his companions. “Remember when he lost the office pool during March Madness?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Wally said. Once more, the men grew grim.

  Gritting my teeth with frustration, I sent the succubus up another notch. I pointed at Wally. “Didn’t Derrick just call you a pussy?” Wally frowned and nodded. I turned to the man with the droopy eyes. “And did he or did he not joke about sexting your wife?” The man looked away. I smiled. “Isn’t it time for a little payback?”

  Finally, all four were smiling. When Derrick returned from the bathroom, the men eagerly filled him in on the details of the bet. Seeing me and the line of drinks, Derrick quickly agreed. Putting his meaty hand on the back of my neck, he said, “I’m going to have to come to this restaurant more often.”

  Shivering with revulsion, I excused myself and went over to the waitress who was wiping down tables. She’d been keeping an eye on us the entire time, her upper lip lifted in disgust. She was in her early twenties, but acted like she’d had a lot of experience fending off drunken customers. “Why do you want to hang out with those idiots?” she asked.

  “Call it a payback,” I said. And when I told her what I had planned, hers was the biggest smile of all.

  At that point, I could have left because, technically, my job was finished. I’d gotten four men to take revenge which was exactly what Helen ordered. However, I didn’t want to miss the fun. The waitress brought over the plates of wings. Then she and I stood next to each other while Wally and Derrick faced off.

  Each man rolled up his shirt sleeves and tucked a paper napkin under his chin. Pitchers of ice water sat within reach. The thin man kept his eyes on his wrist watch and held his arm over his head while he watched the seconds tick by. “Ready, set…” Wally flexed his fingers. “Go!”

  As Wally tucked into his first wing, Derrick grabbed two and shoved them into his mouth. Sauce dripped from his lips. Seeing that Derrick with the pinkie ring was already ahead, Wally tore the meat off of his wing and reached for two more. Derrick, not to be outdone, threw his bones on the floor and grabbed another pair.

  “How long before the sauce takes him out?” I whispered to the waitress.

  Her eyes shone. “I’ve never met a customer who could eat more than five of them in a row.”

  Wally didn’t even pretend his wings were spicy. He stuffed them into his craw without hesitation, his jaws working like pistons. Derrick, on the other hand, began feeling the heat. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his face turned as red as the sauce on the wings. When he shoved another one into his mouth, his eyes bulged.

  Wally kept eating.

  Their three companions were getting into the spirit of things. “Go, go, go,” they shouted in unison. Other patrons, noticing the race, chimed in until the entire restaurant resounded with the cries, “Go, go, go!!”

  Three minutes in, Wally had polished off nearly a dozen wings while Derrick lagged behind. Finally, Derrick couldn’t take it any longer and reached for the water pitcher with both hands.

  I was alarmed. “Do you think he’ll drown himself?”

  “We can only hope,” the waitress said.

  “Time!” The thin man dropped his hand. Wally leaned back in his chair with an enormous burp and put his hand to his stomach. Derrick, his face green, lowered the water pitcher.

  There had been three-dozen wings on each platter. Wally had finished all but ten of his, but Derrick’s platter still held over two dozen.

  “He’s going to be shitting fire from now ‘til Sunday,” the waitress murmured, smiling.

  Like the other men predicted, Derrick was a poor loser. “The contest was rigged,” he said, furious. “There’s no way the little pissant out-ate me!” He grabbed a remaining wing from Wally’s platter and took a bite. Instantly, he spit it back out.

  I smiled at the waitress. I’d alerted Wally that we’d be coating a few of his mild wings with devil’s fire in the event of such an emergency.

  Wally, grinning, said, “It’s time to pay up Derrick. What’s the penalty?” he asked me.

  I nodded at the sound equipment next to the table. “Ever hear of pants-off karaoke?” I figured weird crazes
like nyotaimori had to start somewhere. Besides, pants-off karaoke was an apt payback for the nearly-naked sushi modeling.

  “Pants-off karaoke!” the thin man shouted. This, too, turned into a chant. “Pants-off kar-a-oke…pants-off kar-a-oke…!”

  “Time to pay up, sugar,” I said to Derrick.

  The waitress turned on the karaoke machine. “Name your poison.”

  I thought Derrick might resist, but the other patrons had formed a ring around the table, blocking his exit. Seeing there was no escape, Derrick muttered, “Walking on Sunshine” and loosened the buckle of his belt. A moment later, he stood in front of the crowd wearing nothing but a shirt stained with hot wings sauce and a pair of striped boxers.

  The waitress gave me a wicked smile as she took her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m predicting the next viral video,” she said.

  As Derrick began an off-key rendition of ‘Walking on Sunshine’, Wally waved to me and pointed to the four unclaimed drinks on the table. “I’m ready for my prize,” he said.

  I waved back and, while he looked on in astonishment, disappeared through the closest otherworld doorway. I’d gotten both the name of the drink and the instructions on how to drink them from Jasmine. But unlike my stepsister, I wasn’t ready to let a complete stranger motorboat my boobs.

  William waited for me in the hallway with his arms folded over his chest. “Red silk panties?”

  “Don’t start with me,” I warned him.

  “Why in such a bad mood, Lil? You certainly seemed to be having fun out there.”

  I glared at him. “I was not having fun.”

  “Oh? Then you’re a much better actress than I gave you credit for. Even your mother didn’t enjoy her assignments as much.” His eyes smoldered. “When Delilah told me you were tempting four men at once, I got worried, but I guess I shouldn’t have. You handled yourself very well.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “Nothing, except that you’re very good at your job.” He leaned closer to me so that we now stood nose to nose. “You might pretend differently, but face it – you loved the attention. You’re a demon. A succubus who lures men into giving you their hearts and then laughs while she stomps them to pieces.” Once again, he was on the verge of going into full demon mode. “I was right about you,” he said. “You’re a cold-hearted, she-demon bitch.”

  I slapped him.

  He stepped backwards and gaped at me as he rubbed his cheek. His smoldering expression was replaced by a look of cool indifference, as if we were meeting for the first time, and all the history between us had suddenly disappeared.

  “Good day, Ms. Straight,” he said stiffly and walked away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cursing William, I stormed back into my apartment, stripped off my slutty secretary disguise, and stood under the spray of a punishingly hot shower. How dare he say that I’d enjoyed that assignment! Using my body to entice those men had left me feeling dirty and degraded. No matter how many times I washed, I couldn’t erase the feeling of the hand creeping up my thigh.

  I emerged from the shower as red as a lobster, wiped steam from the mirror, and met my own miserable eyes. Like me, William was a tempter, so why couldn’t he recognize an assignment when he saw one? He had to know I didn’t want to play up to those men. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. Don’t you dare cry over him, I told myself. He isn’t worth it.

  Unfortunately, the tears kept coming.

  After I dressed, I wanted a bottle of wine or three to calm my shattered nerves, but unfortunately, I also needed to keep my head on straight. Instead of the chardonnay, I would have to make do with coffee.

  Going into the kitchen, I found a bouquet of blood-red lilies waiting for me on the counter. On the card, Helen had written, “Well done, Lilith! I always knew you had an aptitude for this job.”

  Outraged, I ripped the card in half and threw it and the flowers into the trash. I hated making people bleed for Helen’s entertainment.

  Along with the flowers and card was a section from the Detroit News. Printed on one side was an advertisement for a fertility clinic which was located near my house. On the other was a picture of a thuggish-looking man who, according to the article, had attacked several women who also lived near my house. The double meaning of the newspaper was clear. Helen might have loved my work, but she still expected me to do her bidding. Or else.

  Harmony had promised to help me out, but who knew how long it would take for Heaven to do something? The picture of the thug glowered up at me. If I wanted to keep myself and my family safe, I couldn’t wait for my ‘prayer’ to be answered. I had to take action.

  My plan was simple: get into Heaven, grab the book ends, and get out. Yet, what was the best way to do it? Despite the stunts I’d pulled back when I’d first gotten my succubus, I wasn’t really a thief. I didn’t have the instincts for it. Luckily, for the past seven months, I’d been living with the best possible teacher. Ariel hadn’t stolen in quite a while, but I remembered a lot of her tricks. I had to think like my niece.

  Step one: get into Heaven. Doing this undetected would be impossible since every time a demon entered that holy space, the angels went crazy. And although my demon could move quickly, the angels were fast as well. They’d pin me down and throw me out before I made it six feet from the doorway. I needed a diversion.

  What would Ari do if she wanted access to someplace well guarded? Probably pull the fire alarm. No, better yet, start a fire! A small fire.

  Nearly everything I needed was in the kitchen trash. I took the newspaper Helen had left me along with the foil packets of Hot Gel© that Jas had thrown away. Then, feeling inspired, I also grabbed the dominatrix outfit from the living room, hoping the nylon material was as flammable as the body gel. Getting a holy icon from Heaven was worth the price of a cheesy costume.

  As I shoved a disposable lighter into my pocket, a small, inner voice spoke up. It wanted to know if I was truly about to steal from Heaven. Damn straight, I told it. Wouldn’t waiting for Harmony’s help be better? it asked. I glanced at Helen’s red lilies which I’d shoved back into the trash. No, waiting was not an option

  The little voice continued to argue, but I ignored it. Instead, I grabbed a cloth tote bag, and went to nab a pair of hideous bookends.

  The closest portal to Heaven stood behind the garage. Before I stepped through, I checked my demon to see if she agreed with my plan. Not only was she onboard, she cracked her knuckles in evil delight. I was glad for her enthusiasm, but still a little anxious. Since my supernatural GPS didn’t work in the Heaven, I could get lost. And because the rarified atmosphere was lethal to my succubus, I’d be stranded if she died.

  My succubus still wasn’t worried. She reminded me that we’d made it in and out of Heaven before. Three times, in fact.

  I moistened my lips as I stuffed the newspaper inside the cheap costume and squeezed the contents of the Hot Gel© packets onto the synthetic material. Then, at my demon’s nod of encouragement, I steeled myself and stepped through the doorway.

  Heaven appeared exactly as I’d remembered. Unlike the sterile hallways of Hell, this place resembled a dim, quiet forest of immense, smooth-barked trees. Shafts of sunlight fell sporadically. From faraway came a single, clear note of birdsong.

  Near me, a pair of trees grew at such canted angles they formed an arch. Beyond that natural doorway lay my prize. I jogged a short distance away, and dropped the oil-saturated costume to the ground. My hands shook as I ignited the lighter and touched the flame to the material. The bundle immediately caught on fire, and an impressive amount of black smoke billowed from the ground.

  I stuck my head through the nearby doorway and screamed, “Fire! Fire in the hallway!” Immediately, four angels thundered out of the room. Seeing the smoke, they shouted in alarm. A moment later, they were joined by clusters of other angels. With everyone distracted, I ducked into the room.

  Unfortunately, it was the wrong
room. I had not entered the place with the blazing hearth and the hideous bookends, but some sort of game room with a ping pong table, an air hockey table, and a dart board. Tacked to the walls were posters of frolicking kittens and puppies with slogans like, “Hang in There!” and “Friends are Fur-ever.” Light rock played over speakers mounted to the walls.

  Shit! In my haste, I’d forgotten one, major detail. The last time I’d entered the Alpine room, I’d started from a bowling alley north of Detroit. If I’d wanted those book ends, I should have first returned to the bowling alley. Damn and double damn!

  Why couldn’t I do anything right? I’d blown my one chance. After this stunt, Heaven would be on lockdown, and I could kiss my plan to bribe Helen goodbye.

  Furious, I stomped on the ping pong ball which, in the angels’ haste, had fallen to the floor. I wanted to rip the inane posters from the walls and smash the speakers. I even longed to overturn the air hockey table.

  Before I could admit defeat, however, something caught my eye. On an end table stood a hideous lamp with a very heavy, brass base. The shape of the lamp base was very familiar. I gaped at it. Take away the shade, the light bulb and the cord…

  Was this…?

  Could it be…?

  The holy grail. I’d found the holy grail!

  I knew enough about Christian mythology to understand that the grail was the very cup Jesus had drank from at the Last Supper. Surely, of all the treasures in Heaven, Helen would value this one the most.

  The grail had been formed from beaten brass, and its cup shape was slightly out of alignment. A hole had been drilled in the bottom so that an electrical cord could be threaded through. Still, as long as Helen didn’t try to drink tea from it, all would be good.

  At the sound of angelic voices, I froze. I’d been so deep in my reverie I’d forgotten to make a quick escape. Two angels entered the game room. “What a stupid prank,” said the first. “Who would do something like that?”