One Handsome Devil (28 page)

"Right. It's my fault. I was stupid. What else do you want me to say?"

"I'll go and change.” He stepped past her careful not to touch her with his extended wingspan.

"Good idea."

Once he'd left, she threw up again, washed out her mouth, then took a long cold shower to wash away the sensation of Jack on her body, in her body, in her mind.

It didn't work at all.

The suite had fancy terrycloth bathrobes and she wrapped one around her before she left the bathroom. As she touched the door, the phone rang.

"Sara, it's me, Katra."

She reached back and grabbed her watch from the bathroom counter. What had happened to the hours? “Katra, are you crazy? It's two in the morning."

"I heard the T.V. though the wall between our suites so I knew you weren't asleep."

"Well, you should be. Tomorrow is a big day."

"It isn't for me. I'm just the audience."

"Well, then I should be sleeping."

"Maybe you should, but you're not. I'm coming over."

Two minutes later, Katra sat down on the side of the tub. “What happened?"

Sara tried to think of a graceful way of telling her friend, then just blurted it out. “Jack possessed me."

Katra didn't look as shocked as Sara anticipated. “Really?"

"You think I'd lie about something like that. There's a gap in my memory. One second I was in the bathtub, the next, I was out and a couple of hours had vanished."

"Want to tell me what the two of you were doing in the bathtub?"

"You know what we were doing."

Katra nodded patiently, as she thought Sara were just a little slow. “Hasn't that ever happened to you before?"

Sara wasn't sure she was tracking. “Of course not. If Jack had possessed me before, he would have been out of here on his tail."

Katra's eyes widened. “Does he really have a tail. Now that raises all sorts of interesting ideas."

It did, but Sara repressed them as hard as she could. “He doesn't have a tail."

"Pity. But I was talking about these crazy little gaps in your memory. Haven't you ever experienced them?"

"I don't believe in amnesia. It's a plot device for cheap novels."

"It's not amnesia, exactly. You know we joke about how a man only have enough blood for his brain or his dick but not both. Well, even women can have that problem. If your orgasm is intense enough, you can lose control, lose awareness."

She'd been betrayed by her lover and now her best friend was condescending to her. “Don't talk to me like I'm a baby. Jack told me he possessed me."

"And I'm sure you asked him exactly what that meant."

"I know what it means. You thought I overreacted when Jack messed with my car. Well, now he's been messing with my brain. I suppose you think I'm still overreacting."

Katra shifted her weight between her feet, obviously hunting for an answer that would keep Sara from jumping down her throat. “I have no idea whether you're overreacting or not.” She yawned. “I'm sorry but I'm getting really sleepy so I'm going back to my room now."

"All right."

Katra opened the hallway door then stopped. “There's one thing that's funny about this, though."

"I could use a laugh. Tell me."

Katra gave an exasperated sigh. “Not that kind of funny. But if Jack possessed you, how come I'm talking to you? How come he gave you up? I heard you had to get an exorcist to get rid of a demon. Well, we left the Reverend Bob back in Dallas."

Sara felt a headache coming on. Her life was falling apart. She'd lost her job, had a fight with her best girlfriend, been possessed by her boyfriend, and was now going to mess up on her chance to make some serious money in bar trivia because she had a migraine headache that wouldn't stop.

"I have no idea. I don't have a lot of experience with demons but somehow I can't think that watching a bunch of second-rate horror movies makes you that much of an expert either."

Katra shook her head. “If you keep acting like this, maybe you'll convince me that you're possessed after all. You're supposed to be the one who's so logical. Well, logic it out.” She closed the door behind her leaving Sara in the dimly lit hotel room, alone except for a demon sleeping on the couch.

New York's mass of human suffering could sustain and hide a host of demonic visitors. Probably because of the trauma of the previous evening, Jack found it difficult to draw on even a small fraction of the energy that swirled around him like crows around a carcass.

After Katra had left, Sara had headed for the bedroom, returned with a blanket and pillow which she'd thrown at him, and then disappeared again.

Not that Jack blamed her. Possession is a demon's shortcut. A way of avoiding the centuries required to convert energy into enough physical mass to make the transition to the human plane. It was also the most complete violation of trust Jack could imagine.

He turned on the television and watched the flickering pictures tell the story of suffering across the world. It didn't matter. There was no energy there for him to draw upon, no matter how many hours of it he endured.

Sara emerged from the bedroom at seven, already dressed but with her hair still in curlers. “Let's go."

If he'd been in doubt about how Sara felt about him, the curlers ended it.

"I'm ready."

"You don't have to shower?"

He'd taken a bath the previous night but didn't think this was the time to remind her of that. “No."

"Were you planning on wearing those jeans?"

He looked down at his clothes. “What's wrong with them?"

"You're going on TV. Everyone in this part of the world already thinks Texans are a bunch of hicks, and we don't need you to spread that impression."

He shrugged. “They go with the cowboy hat."

"Yeah? Well, I think they make us Texans look like hicks."

He wasn't going to win this argument so he gave it up. “Do you have a suggestion?"

Sara seemed slightly mollified by his question. “I brought you something.” She stepped back into the bedroom and returned with two boxes which she extended toward him.

Whatever it was, it was a gift she'd bought for him earlier, before he had betrayed her. He knew how short Sara's money situation was. For her to be buying presents was not fiscally wise.

He couldn't win. Refusing her gift would be a slap in the face. Accepting it would compound his betrayal. He reached for the boxes. “Thank you."

"You get dressed and I'll finish my makeup.” Sara turned and vanished back into the bedroom.

Jack opened the boxes and removed the starched white shirt, tie, and charcoal-gray suit.

He was wrestling with the tie when Sara emerged, without curlers and looking beautiful. “You aren't ready yet?"

"I'm having trouble with the tie. Last time I was in the human plane, they hadn't been invented. In Dallas, it never came up."

"Oh, I'll do it.” She reached for him, tugging the tie into place, her soft fingers brushing against his skin and against the cool crispness of his shirt.

"Thank you,” he told her.

Sara shook herself. “You didn't do it again, did you?"

"Possess you? Of course not."

"Then what just happened?"

What had happened was that Sara's brain was treating him like the demon he was, but her body was still relating to him as a male, just as his was reacting to her. He decided it would be better to keep his mouth shut.

She glared at him for a long moment, then realized one hand was still resting on his cheek. “Oh."

"Perhaps we had better check on Katra and your grandmother."

"I called. They should be ready."

Katra and Maura weren't ready. Katra trotted out every dress she owned, fortunately not that large a number or they would have been really late for the show, before finally deciding on a low-cut number that showed her figure to perfect effect. She'd have the cameramen drooling if nothing else. Maura had gone with an Old World look, rosary beads hanging from her shapeless black dress. Both wore cowboy hats to match Jack's.

"What is that about?” Sara demanded.

"Jack's got to wear his hat,” Katra explained. “So we figured we'd do the whole Texas thing."

"But I don't—"

"I bought you a hat before we left,” Maura said. “You'll look darling."

Sara looked at the three of them, and nodded. “All right."

From then on, it was pure rush.

Sara rushed Katra along, complimented her grandmother on the beautiful hat, sent Jack down for coffee from the hotel lobby, and managed to get the entire party downstairs in half an hour.

Jack had to admire Sara's motivational and organizational skills—from afar. She barely spoke to him at all and then in simple commands like “get coffee, now."

The hotel clerk had helped Jack carry up the coffee. Now, he stood sweating behind the counter. “Please don't worry about the checkout time. You can check out any time you like."

"But you can never leave,” Sara concluded.

Jack thought the look of confusion on Maura's face probably matched his own.

"It's an old song,” Katra said with a giggle. “Sara was always the expert."

The clerk paled, turned bright red, then took the best course and put on a hesitant smile. “Good luck on your show. Break a leg."

The network had sent a car and driver. The three women sat in the back, chatting and giggling, while Jack sat next to the driver.

"Enjoy it while you can, losers,” the driver muttered speaking in Russian.

"Pardon?” Jack answered in the same language.

"I'm sorry. I was speaking to myself."

"But I'm interested in what you have to say.” Besides, no one in the back seat seemed interested in sharing any thoughts with him.

"That's the gossip going around the studio. They've brought in a team of professors from New York City University who've been playing bar trivia for years. Your team is supposed to look like a bunch of rubes."

"How are we doing?"

"With all those cowboy hats, you'll fit perfectly. They may want you to wear a kerchief, though. Trust me, they'll fix you up good in wardrobe."

"Get along little doggie.” Jack switched back to English for that expression.

"Everyone says that one night you scored perfectly was a fluke. The professors have won hundreds of times over the past years and your bartender said you play all the time but you're normally losers."

Jack didn't mention that he'd only played once. “Is there a betting pool?"

"There would be, except nobody wants to bet against the professors."

"Want some advice?"

"You saying you think you have a chance?"

"I'd say if you find a hundred dollars with our name on it, you could go home with a bit more."

"You don't seriously expect me to bet my money based on your word, do you?"

Jack resisted the temptation to rip the poor man's heart out. “That is your choice, of course."

"Not just losers, idiots too,” the driver muttered to himself.

"Just drive us there."

"Hey, nobody asked you. I wasn't even talking in English, for God's sake."

The familiar electrical jerk struck Jack leaving him gasping for breath. Fortunately for him, any angels wandering nearby must have been distracted by the millions of other calls for divine intervention, curses, even the occasional blessing.

"What were you and the driver talking about?” Katra asked him as they headed for the studio.

"He told me that our competition is a bunch of ringers from the local university. They're supposed to win and we're supposed to be the chumps. The cowboy hats were brilliant. They'll probably play us for Texas hicks."

"Think it'll work out that way?"

"It's their contest. They're smart enough to rig it to come out however they want."

Katra looked confused. “It's all a matter of knowing the stuff. I would think the smartest people would win."

He gave her an evil grin. “Then we'd lose."

Katra threw a punch at his shoulder. “You know what I meant. And even if you are a demon, you are a person too. Just not a human person."

He was saved from having to comment when the program directors descended on them.

"The jean skirt and cowboy hat are fabulous. Let's just get you cowboy boots to go with it and you'll be ready, Sara."

"I'm Katra. Sara's friend."

"Oh.” A brief pause. “Well, we're going to have to get you into the picture. You're a classic."

"Told you,” Jack murmured into Katra's ear.

"If you win, it'll backfire."

The producers showed the three women to a makeup area. She looked at Jack, then smiled. “I don't think we need any makeup for you."

Even without his empathic skills, Jack would have been able to see the motivation here. Television lights are hot. Without makeup, a man would sweat. He'd look like he just stepped off the ranch.

Jack merely nodded. It would take more than a few television lights to bother him, and he didn't think they'd let him keep his hat on in makeup anyway. Explaining his horns to a makeup artist didn't sound like fun.

The minute they'd handed Katra and Maura little Texas flags, Sara knew that Jack had been telling the truth. This wasn't just a bar trivia television show. It was east against the west, north against south, and everyone in the country against Texas.

Well, ever since the Alamo, Texans had proven they wouldn't step away from a fight, and Sara didn't plan to step away from this one. She grimaced at the analogy, though. There were fights that it would be better to walk away from.

"I'll wear cowboy boots too,” she said. She unbuttoned another button on her blouse. She didn't have much to show but if she was going to be stuck playing the Texas role, she intended to do it proud.

Katra gave her a nod. “You go, girl."

"I think the fake six shooters are a little over the top,” Maura commented.

"They're ridiculous,” Sara agreed. “So you think I should leave them."

"Wear-em,” Katra urged. “Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess."

Sara strapped them on.

"Five minutes,” the makeup artist said.

"Come on.” Sara led her friend and grandmother out of the makeup room scattering the small crew that seemed intent on turning them into even more complete caricatures of the big-haired, loud-mouthed, super-hick Texas women east-coasters seemed to think populated the Texas prairies. “Let's kick some Yankee butt."