Demon's Plaything (5 page)

Her hands roamed his back and chest, her breath, what she could find through the kiss, now harsh little pants. He needed to touch her, feel her skin beneath his hands, mold her—

“Shay? You out here?”

The voice was like a cannon and instantly, Demon was on the defensive, pulling Shayla closer and looking around for the source of the noise. The glance revealed her companion—Demon recognized him by sight but had been too distracted by the doctor to dig too deep into the guy’s background beyond learning his name, and that he had little regard for his sister—standing in the still-open doorway, haloed by the harsh neon lights of the warehouse.

“Who are you with?” he said sharply, and when he stepped out of the doorway, the softer light of the alley revealed his disapproving expression.

“Um…um,” Shayla stammered a moment and then recovered. “Do you—Do you need me?”

Ian didn’t respond, gaze bouncing from Demon to Shayla and back. Demon set his face in a grim line, not attempting to hide or shrink away from Ian and not responding to Shayla’s attempt to put space between them.

After a moment, Ian broke his gaze, and Demon relented, reluctantly dropping his arms from Shayla’s waist. Disappointment filled him when she instantly stepped away.

“Guy needs a couple of stitches,” Ian finally said. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure. Of course,” Shayla said.

She didn’t look at Demon, not once, as she walked away, so when she reached the door, he said, voice husky and full of undisguised suggestion, “See you around.”

“Hope not,” she responded as she had after their first meeting, but this time, the words were harsh, sounded like she really meant them.

But then she looked at him, and the heat in her eyes told a different story. Despite what she may have said, the good doctor definitely wanted to see him again, and Demon would happily oblige.

The next day, Shayla spotted Ian’s car, or rather, the car that Ian had been driving, as she pulled up to Nana’s house. It seemed to Shayla that this was a very long test drive, but a car was really the least of her concerns when it came to Ian. She pushed those thoughts away as she got out of her vehicle. She had been looking forward to this breakfast for a couple days, and knew Nana had been too since she’d mentioned it during every conversation they’d had recently. She’d considered canceling, unsure whether she was up to seeing Ian at the moment. But she didn’t want to disrupt the meal, and some small voice in the back of her mind whispered that this could be one of the last they would all share, at least with Nana in reasonably good health. She tried to be optimistic, hated to be anything else, but the illness wasn’t going anywhere, and she knew better than to take the time with Nana for granted.

“Nana,” she called as she unlocked the door with the key she’d had since childhood.

There was no response, but she heard Ian’s baritone laugh and Nana’s throaty, reedy imitation of a laugh and she smiled and headed toward the kitchen.

“The bottoms were so burned, I had to throw away the pots!” Nana said, her voice sounding stronger, despite the earlier weakness, warming Shayla’s heart.

“It wasn’t that bad, Nana,” Shayla said as she walked into the kitchen and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, baby. And yes it was.”

“It was, Shay. That’s why I had to cook and you had to do the dishes,” Ian added as he stood over the stove.

He turned, revealing the “Kiss the Cook” apron that was wrapped around his waist and showcasing the muscular physique girls had gone gaga over since his last years in high school. His face was covered by a bright, languid smile, and she found herself relaxing, retreating into the warmth of her family, imagining that this healthy Nana, this fun, happy Ian weren’t mirages that she knew would soon be ripped away. But the insanity of yesterday, of the days before, of what she knew was to come hovered at the back of her mind. Still, she refocused her thoughts, tried to seize this moment, as fleeting as it was.

“I got better, ya’ll,” Shayla said as she settled at the kitchen table, her back to the window, facing in as she always did. “And I’m a damn good cook. When I have time.”

“But you can’t touch me, sis.”

Ian spun with a flourish and produced a sizzling frying pan off the stove. “Whole-wheat pancake,” he said as he slid one out of the pan.

Then he retrieved the serving dish.

“Fried egg whites with a hint of butter, and the best turkey bacon you’ve ever had. Your mama, or your grandma”—he winked at Nana—“couldn’t make it better.”

“Watch out now, son. Don’t forget I taught you everything you know.”

Nana smiled and then laughed out loud when Ian kissed her on the cheek.

“And I’ll tell you this,” Nana said, “ain’t no way I’d serve
turkey
bacon to people I love.”

“It’s good, Nana, and it’s good for you.” Ian grabbed her hand. “We gotta keep you around, old girl. I still gotta teach you how to make pork chops.”

“Oh hush, boy.” Nana smacked his hand away, her smile so brilliant, eyes so bright that the disease ravaging her seemed to have receded until only the Nana that she knew, loved, and had missed, remained.

God! Why couldn’t this last? Why couldn’t Nana be well? Why couldn’t this loving, attentive Ian, and not the one who asked so much and gave so little, be the real him?

“Sit down, Ian. And bless the food, Shayla.”

Ian complied and Shayla began her absolute favorite prayer. “Good bread, good meat—”

“Shayla, you’re so silly. I’ll do it. Lord,” Nana started, “I thank you for the food we are about to receive, and I want to thank you for bringing my grands here today. May we enjoy many more good times together in fellowship and may the bonds that have held them and this family together through thick and thin stay strong no matter what any one of us may face.”

After a collective “Amen,” they began eating.

“How’s work going, Shayla?” Nana asked.

“Oh you know, never a dull moment.”

“Any new crazy stories?” Ian asked eagerly.

Nana’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, those are the best.”

“Hmm…” Shayla considered a moment but nothing came to mind. “Sorry to disappoint, guys. Everything’s been pretty calm, but there’s a full moon around the corner, so I’m sure that’ll soon change.”

She cleared her throat. “Speaking of the hospital…”

Nana, who, despite her illness, still had the same sharp mind that had thwarted a thousand of Shayla’s and Ian’s childhood—and adult—machinations, picked up the direction of the conversation immediately, and the brightness in her eyes dimmed considerably, the light replaced with suspicion.

“What of it?” she asked, narrowing her gaze on Shayla.

“Well, we know you don’t want us at the appointment, but can we meet later? I’ll be there, and maybe we can get together after.”

Nana began to protest, but before she could get started, Shayla quickly interjected.

“No pressure,” she said, raising her hands.

“Yeah, Nana,” Ian added, “we just want to be there for you if you need us, like you have always been for us.”

Nana’s expression softened, and she relented. “Okay.”

A wave of relief washed over Shayla, but with it came a pang of envy. She and Ian had planned this, but it still stung. It was petty, she knew, but Nana’s immediate acquiescence to Ian was a jab; it made her feel inadequate. Then she looked at Nana, remembered what this was about, and felt incrementally better.

“What do you think about the bacon, Nana?” Ian asked, guiding the conversation.

“I don’t know if we should call this bacon, son,” Nana said to laughs all around.

The tense moment broken, they finished the meal in peace. Later, after Nana had lain down to rest, Shayla stood at the sink washing dishes as she had a thousand times before. Ian sat at the kitchen table, and when she finished, she sat next to him, trying to hold at least some of the harmony they’d shared during breakfast.

“Good work today,” she said on an exhale.

“Thanks, Shay. I just hope everything works out. Can’t lose her yet,” he said, the apprehension and fear on his face no doubt mirrored on her own.

“Nope. Not yet,” she said, sounding as afraid as she felt.

“So…” Ian began tentatively.

The other shoe had dropped, dissipating the peace of the morning in an instant. Shayla glanced toward the bedroom and with silent agreement, they stood and walked to the porch.

“I don’t like it, Ian. I can’t be a part of it,” Shayla said without preamble, hoping that she could make her stand before Ian even stated his request, though she was certain that Ian would not be so easily deterred.

“Just for a while longer. Pretty soon, we’re going to be all we have. I need you, Shay.”

Shayla saw the earnestness and sincerity in his eyes, along with the imploring request underneath, and wanted to give in, fix the problem, fix Ian.

But she knew she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Ian. I can’t,” she said quietly, still looking up at him.

The disappointment, anger, maybe even hate in his eyes burned bright for an instant but then faded.

“Fine, but remember that you’re leaving me to the less than tender mercies of people like Elah Avakian,” he said and went back into the kitchen.

••••

The whirl of machines greeted Demon as he pulled up to the metal-recycling plant and parked. The trucks usually began rolling in around seven in the morning and kept coming well into the evening. The small crew of employees was charged with weighing, sorting, and paying for the metal, as well as evaluating the people who brought it in. It wasn’t uncommon for stolen goods to show up, particularly when drug addicts or people who just desperately needed money stripped houses, their own sometimes, but most often those of others, of valuable metal and tried to resell it. The owner of the plant was vehemently opposed to those transactions, and Demon had seen many would-be partners turned away. A lot of money was left on the table because those sellers were notorious for ridiculously underpricing the goods, but Demon appreciated the policy. He didn’t consider himself particularly moral, but preying on people who were desperate or benefiting from the robbery of innocents didn’t sit well with him.

He headed across the yard and building and back to his office, sparing a moment to consider how the place just wasn’t the same without Devil. But at least his informal role at the facility gave him something to do every day. Otherwise, he’d be completely at loose ends. He settled behind the desk he’d claimed as his own and began reading the facility’s input and output reports, comparing them to the previous month’s. Things were looking good. Productivity was up and after the implementation of some of the operational modifications he’d suggested, the facility was running fifteen percent more efficiently than it had the previous year, and profits were up as.

“Something of interest you’d like to share?”

Demon recognized the voice instantaneously and looked up to acknowledge the speaker.

“Elah, hello. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Didn’t know I needed an invitation to visit my own property.”

“Of course not,” Demon said. “I just would have cleaned up the place a bit. Have a seat.”

Demon gestured to one of the vacant chairs, but Elah shook his head.

“You seem to be a lot more involved in the plant than I’d anticipated.”

Demon took a moment to consider the unspoken question. Elah Avakian owned the facility and half of the commercial and residential real estate in the city if stories were to be believed. Those same stories alleged he was a mastermind who single-handedly managed the city’s underworld, from the lowest petty street crime to the highest reaches of organized crime. But there were other stories that claimed Elah was an upstanding citizen, one who looked out for the common man and never forgot his own humble beginnings. Demon hadn’t been able to separate fact from rumor, hadn’t really tried very hard, either. So long as Devil had had a place to train and he had a place to use as an office, it hadn’t made a difference to him. But he did know Elah was not a man to be trifled with, so Demon made sure to stay on his good side.

“I don’t mean to intrude. I just find it interesting.”

Elah looked at him, stony expression revealing nothing. After a pause, he finally said, “No intrusion. Curiosity can be an admirable trait.”

Demon nodded and waited. Elah hadn’t just dropped in for a social visit.

“The fights have restarted.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been in attendance.”

Another statement.

“Yes.”

“How are they going?”

“Fine. I mean, with the main attraction gone, it’s a little stale, but people seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“And everyone is getting paid?”

“I haven’t heard anything, but there’d be hell if they weren’t.”

“True. If you find yourself at another event, keep your eyes open. I may have further questions. And you have the run of this place, so look at whatever you’d like.” Elah looked at his watch. “I have another engagement. You’ll contact me if anything comes up,” he said.