Page 85 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“Absolutely.”

“How have you stayed single for this long?” I sniffed the wine and took a careful sip of it, finding it to be a little sweet and complex in its underlying flavors. “You’re right. This is a good wine.”

“I’m always right.”

“Are you going to try to sell me the Golden Gate next?”

“Do you want it?”

“No. What would I do with a bridge?”

“Fling men like Gallo off the side, I suspect.”

“I don’t need to own the bridge to do that. Can I change my mind about keeping that fucking asshole alive? He pisses me off. Just knowing he’s behind me, plotting to turn me into his pet, really, really pisses me off.”

“Smooth your fur, kitty. He’s not going to do anything to you. I’ll see to that.”

“I don’t want you to see to that. I want to beat him to death with my chair. He was going to do what to my brother?”

“Use him to lure you out and then kill him,” the Devil replied.

“Giving a long and pretty life in my tanks is too good of a fate for that fucker.”

“I see your brother was not exaggerating over your mood when you become hungry. Please don’t venture into the crying portion of your hunger. I’m sure our appetizers will be here soon. I’m now concerned we didn’t order enough.”

I considered how much I’d eaten in the limousine, which boiled down to the entire damned tray with only a few tidbits going to the Devil, which I’d fed to him by hand. “I’m a little hungry.”

“A little?”

My stomach complained, and I sighed. “Maybe a lot hungry.”

“You’re definitely starving. If you really want to kill him, I won’t stop you. After all, it’s not really a party until the bodies start hitting the floor, and a dead man can’t come back to bother you later.”

I found the way the Devil phrased his statement to be rather amusing. “Not haunt?”

“Ghosts are serious business, and they’re as persistent as they are annoying. I try not to deal with ghosts unless it’s absolutely necessary. While some of them are harmless, others are not. Ghosts happen for a reason, and the last thing you want is an angry ghost haunting you. They’re typically stuck, and any sensible being will be cranky about that. Souls are typically shepherded to their next destination quickly. That’s why I created unicorns, to help make certain that process was not interrupted. There are other shepherds, of course, but I’m particularly fond of my unicorns.”

“Why do I have the feeling your unicorns are not sunshine and rainbows like the legends claim?”

“Well, where would be the fun in that?”

“You are the reason you fell,” I informed him.

He laughed and shrugged. “What can I say? He made me this way for a reason.”

Something about the Devil’s words bothered me, but before I could think long on it, the waiter brought our appetizers, and I focused on what was important: filling my hungering stomach and keeping a close eye on Lucifer so he—and his perfect chest—couldn’t escape me.

Lucifer regaled me with ancient stories of love-sick men and the women doomed to put up with them. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard, especially after he waxed on and on about one of his misadventures, where he’d done his best to seduce a tribeswoman to be met with utter failure. Having his heart ripped out of his chest hadn’t been enough to deter him, but since the first time hadn’t been enough to teach him a lesson, she’d sacrificed him ten more times before he’d gotten the message and returned to his many hells to sulk.

“What happened to her?”

“Well, I tried to claim her soul, but one of my brothers slapped my wrist and told me no. I have been complaining ever since. She told me no!”

I smiled at that. “I tell you no frequently, too.”

“She really meant it. You just like telling me no because it riles me up. Then you get me to tell you yes, so you get to do whatever you want with me. It’s disgusting, really. I’ve been brought low by you and your wretchedly perfect spots.”

The Devil, I decided, thoroughly represented modern men. “How traumatic for you, lusting for spots you don’t have permission to play with yet.”