“I’ll go for a walk later, Jas. I promise,” Tommy said. Even though he’d returned to the land of the living, his injuries had been severe. In the past three weeks, he’d undergone two surgeries to repair the damage. Most days, he lay on the couch, too sore to do anything but draw tattoo designs in his sketchpad.
“Well, let’s at least change your dressing,” she said.
Tommy sat up carefully, cringing at the pain. “I can do this myself, you know.”
“I don’t mind.”
She lifted his t-shirt, exposing his belly. When she tried to lift it higher, he clamped the material tightly against his chest. Since he’d last lived with us, Tommy had become very modest. Carefully, Jas removed the stained dressing, revealing a badly mangled tattoo and healing sutures. A little something to remember the berserker by.
I set down the laundry basket and began clearing Jasmine’s latest drugstore purchases from the cluttered coffee table. In typical Jas fashion, she’d overbought on everything, and most of her purchases made no sense. In addition to gauze and adhesive, she’d gotten cough syrup, several types of allergy medicine, and children’s pain reliever. She’d also caved into Tommy’s insistence that he take herbal supplements and had purchased vitamins with enough letters to make up a Scrabble game. Depending on how you looked at it, Jasmine was either an overzealous nurse or a little girl eager to play doctor with her favorite doll.
When I picked up a bag of cotton balls that had fallen to the floor, I noticed a strange bubble of energy beside the couch. Like the doorways leading into Hell, the energy had an otherworldly shine. Curious, I poked a finger into it, feeling the same, subtle shift that I did whenever I crossed Hell’s threshold. This thing was a micro-door. Something so small that only a mouse-sized demon could have crawled through. Wondering if I could plug it, I shoved several cotton balls inside, but they disappeared as if the little door was a mouth, eager for whatever I fed it.
A knock on the front door interrupted my exploring. Corrine, our downstairs neighbor, bounded into the room like an overeager puppy. She ignored Jasmine and beamed at Tommy. “How’s our little patient today?” Corrine, an oncology nurse, was a great resource for Tommy’s post-operative care, but she was also a Miss Lonely-hearts of the worst kind. Although she flirted endlessly, desperation clung to her like a greasy film, and instead of attracting men, she drove them away. “Feeling any better?”
“I’m tired.” Tommy pulled his t-shirt over his clean dressing and stiffly lay back down on the couch. Jas kissed his forehead and went to throw away the stained bandages.
“Do you want some coffee?” I offered. Corrine nodded and followed me into the kitchen.
Ariel sat at the table. When she saw Corrine, my niece glared and fled the room taking along the double-decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’d been eating. Whenever they met, Corrine would try to convince Ariel to get a makeover. My neighbor meant well, but she didn’t understand that no amount of pestering would make my eleven-year-old niece exchange her dyed black hair, heavy makeup, and dark clothing for charm bracelets and Hollister hoodies.
I fixed the coffee and offered Corrine some cookies that I’d picked up at the bakery. She took four, then laughed uncertainly at her excess. “Since I don’t have a boyfriend, I might as well eat whatever I want.”
I smiled thinly, wondering if now would be a good time to have a talk about finding a hobby other than man hunting. I was pretty sure that once Corrine stopped chasing down every guy she saw, men would stop running away.
After munching her way through the third cookie, she said, “I’ve got great news!”
“Do tell,” I said.
She smiled even wider. “I’m starting a new job!”
“What happened to the old one?”
“Nothing. But now I’m also a sales representative for the Naughty Nancy company.”
I frowned. “You’re a what?”
“A new sales representative. For Naughty Nancy exotic toys and gifts.”
Exotic toys and gifts? I blanched. Corrine’s love obsession was worse than I’d thought. “Maybe you should stick to Tupperware,” I told her. “Or Mary Kay.” Picturing the puppyish Corrine selling adult novelties was like imagining Mr. Rogers in black leather and chains.
“Those markets are already saturated.” A competitive gleam lit up her eyes. “I heard all about it yesterday when my little sister’s bridesmaids threw her a Naughty Nancy party for her bridal shower.” She reached for another cookie. “Because Naughty Nancy is a new company, the customer base is wide open, allowing me to gain a foothold and build my business.”
I’d never suspected my rosy-cheeked neighbor to be such a cutthroat businesswoman. Well, if I couldn’t talk her out of it, I could at least be happy for her. “That’s just
wonderful
,” I said. At least she now had something to occupy her time.
“I know!” She grinned at me. “And I have a terrific opportunity for you, too. I wanted to give you the first chance at…”
Please don’t ask me to host a party, I begged her mentally. Please, oh please, don’t do that to me.
“…hosting a party!”
Shit. For a moment, I considered going into succubus mode. If I threw around enough of the Devil’s shine, I could make Corrine forget about the party nonsense. But the memory of William’s incubus preying on the young hiker haunted me. Although I had thoughtlessly used my demon against humans in the past, the succubus was like a loaded gun. I didn’t want to point it at anyone unless Helen ordered me to.
Still, that didn’t mean that I had to host a party. “Corrine, I’m not interested.”
“Don’t worry! It’s very easy. I’ll do most of the work. All you have to do is invite the guests, make the food, clean your house, send out reminder notes, follow up with a few phone calls…”
“Sorry, but no.”
“How about an open house instead of a party? That way, people can drop in whenever they want. Six hours on a Saturday afternoon ought to do it.”
I folded my arms over my chest and shook my head.
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, okay. I get it.” Her eyes misted over. Although she wore pink t-shirts with decals of big-eyed kittens, Corrine had the fighting instincts of a ninja. Seeing that I refused to budge, she unleashed her ultimate weapon: the lower lip quiver. Suddenly, I felt like I’d punted a baby like a football.
Still, I remained strong. After all, I’d already faced down one of the meanest demons in Hell that day, so my downstairs neighbor wasn’t much of a challenge. Lip quiver or no lip quiver. “No.”
“But it’ll be so much
fun
...”
“No!”
“Fine,” she huffed. Then she perked up again. “Okay, forget the party. How would you like to
sell
for us instead? Naughty Nancy is always scouting for sales reps!”
I put my hand to my head. Wasn’t it Dante who had written about the seven circles of Hell? If so, I’d happily add circle number eight – one designed especially for home party sales consultants.
After Corrine left, the alarm clock on Jasmine’s cell phone rang. “Time for your meds,” she told Tommy brightly. Now that Jas had made it her mission to take care of him, she lived by her alarm clock. In fact, his meals, appointments, and medications were so strictly scheduled it sometimes seemed like he was in prison. “Then after your meds, we’ll go on a walk.”
“Not today, Jas,” Tommy pleaded. “I’m not up for it.”
“He looks exhausted,” I said. “Let him take a nap.”
Ariel wandered in, a book under her arm. “I wanted to read to him.” Although she was eleven, Ari read at a third-grade level. Over the summer, Tommy had challenged her to improve, and to please him, she’d been painfully working her way through
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
. It could take her almost an hour to finish three pages, yet somehow, Tommy always listened to her without becoming impatient or falling asleep.
“You can read to him later.” Jasmine sat on the arm of the couch and kneaded his shoulders. “And he doesn’t need another nap. He needs exercise. Dr. Cantor said…”
I groaned. “Enough with Dr. Cantor, already!”
“
You
aren’t the boss of him.” Jasmine glared at me. “I said I’d take care of him, and I’m doing that.”
“He’s a grown man and not a little kid,” I said. “Let the poor guy rest if he’s tired.”
“I’ll read him to sleep,” Ari offered.
Jasmine marched over to me. “Listen! I’m only doing what the doctor told me to do, and you’re not helping. You’ve even been giving him coffee, haven’t you? Coffee, Lil? Really?”
“He asked for it so I made him a cup.”
“You shouldn’t have given in. This is for his own good!”
“Stop smothering him!”
“I’m not smothering him!”
“Ladies!” Tommy had gotten to his feet and stood next to the couch, leaning on it for support. We all fell silent. “Look, I can’t take all of this attention anymore. I’m starting to feel like your pet boy.”
I wanted to argue that he wasn’t our pet, but thinking about how we fed and watered and coddled Drinking Tea, my cat, made me realize we’d been treating Tommy exactly the same way.
Jasmine, chagrined, carefully put her arms around his waist. “I only want you to get better.”
“I know. And you’ve been doing a really good job of taking care of me, but I need some space. That’s why I’m moving in with Neil for a while. He’s picking me up tonight.”
I’d met Tommy’s best friend Neil a few times at the hospital. He owned a tattoo and piercing parlor called Midtown Ink.
“You can’t stay there!” Jasmine protested. “Where are you going to sleep?”
Neil was married and had three kids. His family lived in a tiny, two-bedroom house near Midtown.
“There’s a couch in Neil’s office. I can crash there,” Tommy said.
“You’ve only been out of the hospital for a few weeks,” Jasmine argued.
“Yes, but I’m going crazy here. No offense, but all of this sacral energy is getting on my nerves. I need some time to rebalance my chakras.”
I didn’t understand the spiritual gibberish, but the bottom line was clear. He was suffering from estrogen overload.
“You hate us,” Ariel said. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
He touched her shoulder. “Of course I don’t.”
Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest. “If you live at Midtown, you’ll be tempted to get another tattoo. I just know it.”
He avoided her eyes. “I won’t.”
“You will! You’ve been drawing in your sketchpad again, and I know what you’re thinking. But you heard what Dr. Cantor said: no more tattoos or piercings until you’re fully healed.” She touched his arm. “Please, you need to get well first.”
“She’s right,” I said. “Let your body heal one thing at a time.”
He held up his hand Boy Scout-style. “I swear to you I won’t get another tattoo until I’m fully healed.”
I wanted to believe him, but even when he crossed his heart with his index finger, his eyes wandered to his sketchpad.
That afternoon, while Tommy napped, and Jasmine and Ariel watched an old horror movie on TV, I retreated into my bedroom. From my nightstand, I took out a small notebook that Grace had given to me. On the cover was a picture of a tiny kitten meowing in the face of an immense German shepherd. Written below were the words: “Don’t Let Nobody Stand in Your Way!” An appropriate message since I was using the notebook to map my way out of Hell.