Page 24 of Just One Little Bargain

My chosen mortal name comes easily, while the one I was born with stays buried where it belongs. A demon’s true name can become a means of control in the wrong hands. We learn young that names are currency, and giving one away is like handing someone the key to a cage you’re already standing in.

I found Milo in a storybook years ago. A boy who stumbled into adventure. Who was gentle and curious and brave, even when everything went sideways. I liked the name enough to keep it. Maybe part of me hoped wearing it in the mortal realm would let me be someone other than what I was.

“What can I get you?” Maddie’s already reaching for a glass.

I’ve prepared for this moment. Years of research into human culture and etiquette have taught me that drink orders are tiny social declarations. They communicate refinement, taste, and personality.

I know exactly what to order.

“I’ll have a Cosmopolitan.”

Her hand freezes mid-reach and she pivots back, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. “A Cosmo?”

“Yes.” I straighten my shoulders. “Vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and fresh lime juice. Shaken, not stirred. Served in a martini glass. With a twist.” I’ve done my research. This should demonstrate cultural competence.

“Oh, I know how to make it.” A grin splits across her face. “I’m just surprised. Most guys who walk in here order beer or whiskey, not . . .” She gestures vaguely at me. “That.”

I may have miscalculated here.

“I heard it’s good,” I manage, fighting the urge to avert my gaze.

“It’s fantastic.” She’s already pulling bottles, movements quick and sure. “You’re just going to be the first guy to order one here. Possibly ever.” She chuckles while measuring vodka. “I respect the confidence, though.”

“Should I order something else?”

“Absolutely not. I’m making you the best Cosmo of your life.”

She shakes the metal container, its rhythmic rattle folding into the bar’s ambient noise. When she pours it into the martini glass, the liquid is aggressively pink.

“Welcome to Brindlewood.” Maddie slides it across the polished wood, garnished with a lime twist. “First drink’s on the house.”

I take a tentative sip. Tartness hits my tongue, then sweetness, then a cold so sharp it splinters through my teeth. The sensation is so novel that I go back for more, chasing the experience.

“So.” Maddie plants her elbows on the bar, chin settling into her palms. “You’re new, brave enough to order a pink drink in a dive bar, and you look like someone scraped you off the bottom of an awful night.” Her eyes glint. “What’s the story?”

“I’m here on business.”

“What kind?”

Evie’s face flashes through my mind. Green eyes flecked with gold before fear widened them. I wonder what they’d look like without panic in the way. She’d been pretty, even while yelling at me. Which seems like a strange thing to notice about someone who was actively trying to make you leave, but my brain doesn’t care about context.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t been this close to a human in years, or because there’s something about her that draws me in despite the circumstances. I sip my cocktail instead of answering.

“Local business,” Maddie says, watching my expression with narrowed eyes. “And based on how red you just turned, it involves someone specific.”

The Cosmopolitan tries to exit through my nose. “What?”

“You heard me.” Her grin sharpens. “Let me guess. You did something dumb, she’s furious, and now you’re sitting at my bar this late, drinking pink vodka, and spiraling about damage control.”

The accuracy borders on supernatural.

Is this normal? Are all humans this perceptive, or is it a job-specific skill? I should have researched this more thoroughly.

“That’s . . . perceptive.”

“I’m a bartender in a small town. Reading people is literally the job.” She moves away to refill someone’s beer, the golden liquid flowing smoothly from tap to glass. When she returns, she picks up where she left off. “So. How bad is it?”

“I appeared in her house without warning. She thought I’d broken in. I’m relatively certain I triggered a panic attack.”