by ERIN BEDFORD
Like the pain in the butt he was, Lucifer shrugged. Just shrugged. Like that answered everything.
“What was that?” I gestured at him, irritation coloring my voice.
“What?” He cocked his head to the side.
Disbelieving and a bit hysterical, I gestured at him. “That. That shrug.” I mimed his shrug back. “When someone asks about their chances of being tortured horribly for the rest of eternity, you don’t answer it with a ... with a Goddamn, motherfucking shrug!”
A devilish grin covered his lips. Hands still in his pockets, Lucifer closed the distance between us. Leaning down, I almost thought he would try to kiss me. My eyelids fluttered in preparation, but his mouth bypassed my lips and brushed against my ear.
“The only one being tortured here is me.” After his mystifying words, Lucifer stepped back from me and nodded. “Good night, Jane.”
My mouth dropped open like a dog begging for a treat as I stared at the place the angel once stood. What the hell did that mean? He was the one being tortured. Why? Because he couldn’t get any? Well, it was a two-way street. I wasn’t getting any either!
“Of all the ridiculous …” My voice trailed off as I shook my head. I jerked off my work clothes and pulled on my bedclothes, the entire time thinking of all the different ways I wanted to torture the Devil. Not sexually. No, I meant pulling toenails. Boiling his balls in hot oil. Giving him an at-home perm.
The options were endless.
When I finally dove beneath my covers, I spent the next five minutes muttering to myself and readjusting my pillow. I couldn’t get comfortable now. My mind was raging and wouldn’t quiet down.
I forced my eyes closed, intent on getting that good night’s sleep like I had planned from the start. Every time I closed my eyes, the flash of Lucifer’s concerned expression and the way his lips felt against my skin, even just that tingling buzz, came to mind.
10
The next morning, I didn’t wake to the smell of coffee and donuts or a sexy angel just waiting to taunt me into a blabbering ball of need. No, for once my apartment was as it should be.
Empty.
Quiet.
I contemplated going back to sleep, making it a lazy day since it was my day off, but then my phone rang.
Of fucking course.
Growling at my utter bad luck, I leaned over the bed and searched the floor for last night’s pants. When I didn’t find my phone in there, I shoved back the covers and dug through the never-ending pile of clothes. Wasn’t there either. The incessant ringing kept going, and I wondered when the hell my voicemail would kick in.
Finally, I stomped across my tiny apartment to where I still had bags of groceries. Suddenly, panic filled me. My ringing phone pushed to the back of my mind, I dug through the bags of chips and dip. I tossed a box of toothpaste onto the floor, and then when I found what I was looking for, I let out a cry of relief.
My ice cream wasn’t in the bags! Thank God! I’d still have my chunky strawberry cream cheese ice cream to eat while I binge watched TV today.
While I turned to my freezer just to make double sure my ice cream had made it safely inside despite my distraction with the Devil and his porn star body, my phone had the audacity to start ringing again. This time the sound was closer but kind of muffled. Realization dawned on me.
I whipped the freezer open and found it there sitting on the shelf next to my ice cream. Grabbing the phone off the shelf, I didn’t look at the caller I.D. as I swiped it on.
“If you’re not the ice cream fairy telling me I can have ice cream for breakfast because I’m an adult and I can make my own damned decisions, you can go screw yourself.” I snapped into the receiver.
“I’m sorry, Miss Mehr, but I don’t think adults are supposed to have ice cream for breakfast,” Captain Welling’s voice came through the phone, and I instantly felt embarrassed. “But I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, captain.” I mumbled, rubbing my hand over my face. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He chuckled. “I have a wife. I know not to come between a woman and her ice cream.”
“Uh, yeah.” I chuckled nervously. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Did you need something, captain?”
“Ah, yes.” A thudding noise came through the phone like the captain had tapped some papers on the table. Did people still do that? Shaking the random thought from my head, I focused on the captain’s words. “I was calling to see if you would head down to the civic center. O’Connor and Stevenson are already down there.”
“Okay?” I drew out. “What am I doing there?”
“The missing girl went to a therapy group there, and while we already talked to the group we thought —”
“That I could get a read on them,” I finished for him. “Sure, but I don’t see how that’s going to help. I already told Detective Stevenson that she ran away. Didn’t she give you a report?”
The captain coughed and then said, “Of course, of course, but we really should cover all our bases. It couldn’t hurt, and if you are right, then we have no reason to worry that she’s in any danger.”
Dragging a hand through my hair, I stifled a groan. Sure, it’d been fun and would net me some extra money, but I’d thought I’d finished it yesterday.
Unfortunately, as much as my ice cream called to me, I couldn’t back out when I’d already agreed to help. Not if I wanted them to think of me for future work, anyway.
Forcing myself to smile so I sounded happier than I felt about it, I said, “I’d be more than happy to make sure we’ve covered all our bases, captain. I’ll head down to the civic center now.”
“Thank you, Miss Mehr, I am happy to have you on our team.” From the sound of his voice, I believed he actually meant what he said. I didn’t think anyone had ever been happy to have me around on their team or not. Not unless there was vodka involved.
I said my goodbyes and started getting ready for what promised to be an even more eventful day. I wasn’t sure what to expect at the civic center, but I found I was actually excited to find out.
Throwing on some clothes, a t-shirt with a band logo from my college days, and a pair of jeans - no rips or stains for once! - I was ready to go.
Since I hadn’t seen delectable hide nor hair of my angels, I had to assume they’d show up when they were ready to. Until then, I just hoped whatever they needed me for was something I could fake on my own.
Detective O’Connor was waiting outside the civic center when I arrived, looking every bit like he’d swallowed something foul. I searched the area for Mandy but didn’t see a lock of her golden head of hair, the traitorous twat. Worse, O’Connor had already seen me so I couldn’t hide in my car until she arrived.
Oh, God. He was coming over.
I grabbed the bag of fast food on the passenger seat and pretended to be intrigued with my breakfast burrito. Just as I shoved a big bite into my mouth, Detective O’Connor knocked a knuckle on the window.
Still chomping on my burrito, I lowered my window. “Yes, detective?” I said through a mouthful of food. The look of disgust on his face really warmed my soul.
“Come now, Mehr.” Detective O’Connor shook his head. “How old are you?”
Swallowing hard, I smirked. “Well, my birth certificate claims I’m twenty-five, but I feel more of a round number like five.”
“Five’s not a round number.” O’Connor put his hands on his hips, showing off his badge and gun. Oh, detective, what a big gun you have! I kept my comment to myself though. See, I was mature.
“Where’s Mandy?” I asked instead, searching the area behind him, hoping God heard my prayers and sent her in to save me.
“Detective Stevenson,” O’Connor corrected me with a raise of his thick eyebrows. Really the man needed a wax, those things were lethal. Could poke someone’s eye out! Obviously oblivious to the signals his eyebrows were sending me, O’Connor continued, “Stevenson is inside finding out when the meet
ing ends. The real question is what are you doing here?”
With a smug grin on my lips, I asked, “The captain didn’t tell you?”
The unfriendly look on O’Connor’s face answered that. Of course, he didn’t. I wouldn’t tell this dick anything either. Who wants to hear someone bitch at every command given? Not me.
“We don’t need you,” O’Connor informed me.
“Well, I don’t want to be here either, detective,” I shook my head with a wry smile. “But sometimes we all have to lay back and think of England.”
“What does that even mean?” O’Connor scoffed.
Discarding my burrito, I opened my door, forcing the detective to step back. I clapped him on the arm making him flinch. “It means we are stuck together. So, deal.” O’Connor opened his mouth, probably to object when Mandy stepped out of the building and came toward us. Squeezing O’Connor’s bicep, I did my best cheerleader impression. “Oh my god, your biceps are huge! You must work out a lot.” I nodded my head and hummed my approval. “I can really appreciate a man who takes time to work on his guns.”
“Jane,” Mandy warned, but she was a day late and a dollar short.
O’Connor jerked his arm from me and stomped past Mandy. “I’m getting a coffee.”
Staring after her partner with an exasperated expression, Mandy then set her eyes on me and raised a curious eyebrow. “What did you do now?”
Shrugging, I said, “Nothing. Just being myself.”
Mandy smirked. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What can I say?” I held my hands open innocently. “He’s an easy target.”
My bestie started to say something else but thought better of it. “The meeting Clarissa usually goes to doesn’t end for another hour. So, we have some time to kill.”
“Sounds good to me. I have a breakfast burrito calling my name.” I reached for my car, but Mandy’s hand stopped me.
“I have a different idea.” The wicked gleam in her eye told me I wasn’t going to like whatever she had in mind.
“Whatever it is, no. I woke up hella early on my day off to help you guys. I’m not being subjected to whatever nonsense is going on in your head.” I waved a finger at her face.
Grabbing my finger, she dragged me toward the civic center. “Come on. It will be fun. I promise.”
Mandy pulled me through the center and down a hallway full of doors. The gray carpet beneath our feet was doing nothing for the beige walls. It was like they wanted to make this place as depressing as possible.
We came to an abrupt halt in front of one of the doors. I tried to read the little piece of paper taped on the wall next to it, but Mandy shoved me inside before I could read it. The carpet and wall coloring followed us into the room. A table sat alone one side of the room with coffee and donuts which I tried to make a beeline for, but Mandy’s vice-like grip on my arm kept me in check.
Nails biting into my arm, she led me over to a circle of chairs where a variety of characters had already taken a seat. Mandy sat us down in two of the empty chairs and nodded to a woman across the way.
The woman brushed her strawberry blonde braid over her shoulder and smiled, the freckles on her face making me have a serious urge to play connect the dots. Smoothing her hands over her jeans and too nice of a shirt for this meeting, I knew immediately what she was. “Thank you all for coming. My name is Rosalie, and this is our Imaginary Friends Support Group.”
Fuck me.
I glared over at Mandy who kept her eyes forward. She shifted in her seat, proving my laser death eyes were affecting her. That’s right, bitch, squirm.
During my internal monologue, Rosalie kept talking, recapping on previous meetings. Watching her, I bet fifty bucks that her name ended with Ph.D. I’d dealt with my fair share of therapists, and if Rosalie wasn’t one, I’d eat my underwear.
“We have a visitor today,” Rosalie announced, and everyone looked around, me included until her gaze fell on me. Shit. “Please, stand and tell us what brings you here today.” She gestured at me as if she could use the Force to make me stand.
Gritting my teeth, I had every intention of staying put just to spite Mandy, but then the sneaky whore reached out lightning fast and pinched me.
“Ow!” I cried out, jumping to my feet. Spinning around, I realized I’d done exactly what I had planned not to do.
Now everyone’s eyes were on me like some alien life form of conjoined eyeballs and faces. The sudden imagery of the big blob of a person made me shudder. Talk about too many butt holes.
“Go ahead. Start with your name.” Rosalie’s soothing voice only made me want to punch her in the vagina. I bet she practiced that voice at home.
“Hi,” I started, pausing for a moment to clear my throat, my hands twisting in front of me. “My name's Jane and I …” I glanced down at my soon-to-be ex-best friend Mandy. The traitor gave me an encouraging nod, and I sighed. Turning back to the room, I gritted out, “I have imaginary friends.”
Imaginary, my Aunt Fanny. Just because no one else could see the angels didn’t mean they were in my head. Mandy knew they weren’t either. So, either she was doing this because she thinks in some twisted way it will help, or she was trying to pay me back for something. What that was, I couldn’t put my finger on. I’ve done plenty of things warranting payback, but who's keeping count?
Mandy, apparently.
A chorus of greetings answered my introduction. Each and every one of them had an eager look on their face as if they were happy to see someone else was as fucked up as they were. Rosalie, the self-proclaimed leader of this bundle of fun, smiled at me like she wasn't already analyzing every word I say.
“Jane,” Rosalie shifted closer to the edge of her chair, her hands clasped in front of her. “Why don't you tell us about your friends? What do you think made them first appear?”
“My friends?” I cocked my head to the side as I tried to figure out how to explain my guys. They would be irate to be called just friends. I shot a grin at Mandy, and she tensed, no doubt knowing I was up to no good.
“Well, first off I wouldn't really call them imaginary. They're angels. Like literal angels. Though, they don’t have wings. I just assumed that part was something man added. Though I guess I could probably ask them about that, I never really got around to it.”
The raised brows and general murmurs around the group told me I was the first to make such a claim. Great. The crazies thought I was crazy. Might as well milk it for all it's worth.
“Also,” I kept going, knowing I had the room’s full attention. “I wouldn't call them just friends. Maybe friends with benefits. Or maybe even boink buddies. Though, that doesn't seem exactly right either.” I tapped my chin with a finger, pretending to think of a better word.
“Wait a second,” a guy with a receding hairline and glasses thick enough to be bulletproof held his hand up. “You actually have sex with them? With angels?”
“Of course, she doesn't.” A woman sitting next to him shook her head. She had mousy brown hair tied tightly on the top of her head.
“Oh yes, I do,” I assured her with a shit-eating grin. Actually, I hadn’t, not yet, but they didn’t know that. “Let me tell you, they may be angels, but they know their way around the bedroom.” I circled my finger in the air. Each of them seemed to lean closer, on the edge of their seats. I hadn’t had this much attention since I had been caught making out with Jimmy Blake behind the common area at summer camp.
Overwhelmed with glee, I leaned in as if I were telling a secret, “Like Michael, he has such a filthy mouth, he could get me off just by talking.” I fanned myself with my hand, earning me a mixture of curious and horrified expressions.
Dear God, don’t let the guys show up now. Talk about embarrassing.
“She's just messing with us.” The woman from before glared at me with a sense of self-righteousness. Funny for someone who was currently sitting in group therapy.
I made a cross over my chest wi
th a smirk. “Swear to God.” Really, God had nothing to do with it. He'd probably actually smite me for tainting his precious angels. Though, I had a feeling that happened way before I ever got there.
“So, about these angels." Mr. Receding hairline seemed even more eager than before to hear my story. "There's more than one?"
“Oh yeah.” I nodded vigorously, more than happy to indulge him.
Mandy, on the other hand, did not find me as interesting. She grappled with my hand trying to get me to sit down, but I ignored her. Take that, traitor.
Thinking about my guys always made me hot and bothered, being in a room full of people didn't change that. So, the breathlessness in my voice with my next words wasn’t even faked. "For example, Gabriel is wicked hot with his mouth and don't even get me started on Lucifer. I can see why he was kicked out of Heaven. That guy would make any celestial being jealous.”
Mandy jumped to her feet. Her hands still gripped tight to my arm, she almost ripped it off as she tried to drag me out of the room.
“I’m really sorry about her. She’s off her meds,” Mandy apologized, her eyes going to Rosalie who had a curious look on her face.
Therapists. Tell them you see angels and they wanted to write a book about it.
Mandy might be almost a foot taller than me, but I was scrappy. I could hold my own when needed. Wiggling out of her grasp, I held my hands out in front of me with a loopy grin. “I'm talking huge!”
A chorus of gasps responded, but before I could give them an encore, Mandy grabbed the back of my shirt and jerked me out of the room.
Party pooper.
11
My face hurt from smiling so hard. Even Mandy’s incessant tapping of her foot couldn’t get me down.
“You are unbelievable, you know that?” Mandy scowled at me, but I could see the smile threatening to break out across her face. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as we waited for the group in the room next to us to finish.
