The Devil's Luck

by W E DeVore

  “Yes, Derek?” she said.

  Derek heaved a sigh into her ear and replied, “God damn, I miss that voice. It’s like honey, angel.”

  “Fuck you. How’s Germany?” she asked.

  “German. Lots of bread and beer and women who could crush me with their thighs.” He paused. “One actually tried; that was an interesting evening.”

  “Did you need something, or did you just call to tell me you got laid?”

  “I always need something when I call, angel. You should know that by now,” he purred into her ear.

  Q tried not to be charmed. “A mental health professional? Lithium?”

  Derek laughed. “Probably both, but not why I called. I need you Saturday. I’m taking you out for a massive steak dinner. And before you even try, your contract starts Friday, so you can’t say ‘no.’”

  “I wasn’t going to,” she said.

  “Wait. What?” he asked. “Are you feeling ok, angel? That was much too easy.”

  “You want I should make you work for it?” she replied, knowing that he probably did. “Alright then. You’ll have to give me a second, though. I got arrested this morning and I’m all out of fight right now. You’re catching me at a weak moment.”

  Derek howled like a wolf and said, “God damn, I am so glad I called you. I was about to die of boredom in this fucking grey hotel room. Why is everything so grey here? Please tell me it was a public sex act. It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Shut up, Derek,” she said.

  “Just say ‘yes,’ angel. I’ll fill in the rest with my imagination.”

  “Good-bye, Derek.”

  “Please. Look, I’ll be back Tuesday and I’m going to sleep for three days solid. Give me some sweet dreams. I’ll be your best friend,” he sing-songed.

  “I’m already your only friend,” she sing-songed back.

  “Please. Just one little word…”

  “Yes, Derek. Yes, it was,” she replied in a husky voice, trying not to laugh.

  He dropped all his casual charm and said, “You are the sexiest woman alive. You know that, right?”

  “Good-bye, Derek.”

  “Call me Cincinnati,” he whined.

  “Good-bye, asshole. I’m hanging up now.”

  She tapped the off button before he responded, and her phone immediately dinged with a single symbol:

  Cincinnati: <3

  Q shook her head and considered her options. The idea of spending the evening home alone was intolerable, but she didn’t see many other options in her near future. The door opened behind her and she admired the tall, lean man that strode in wearing a grey suit. His cufflinks were sparkling against the crisp, white shirt underneath. His long, blond hair was pulled into a neat ponytail and he stood at least a head taller than every person in the room.

  My god, you are a beautiful man.

  She didn’t know how her husband had found her, but she really didn’t care, and immediately hopped off her barstool to run to him.

  He picked her up in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground until her face was even with his. “Aaron called. Said you might want some distracting.”

  “Just what did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Got a raging funk band with two drummers playing tonight. Want to come dancing?” he asked.

  “With you?”

  “With me.”

  She happily nodded, and he held her more tightly and said, “Well, come on then.”

  ◆◆◆

  Q blinked bleary-eyed at the incessant beeping from the alarm on Ben’s phone. She fumbled with it, trying to turn it off. Ben yawned and stretched, pulling her to him.

  “Why did you set the alarm? It’s Sunday,” she moaned.

  “I told Aaron we’d pick him up,” he mumbled.

  She sank back into her exhaustion. “Pick him up for what?”

  “Sunday dinner,” Ben said. “Ma’s on me to get him to come. I’m tired of hearing about it. She made me promise to bring him as soon as you were feeling better and you know how she is.”

  “Well, does he know that? He didn’t mention it yesterday.”

  “He’s probably going to try to get out of it.” He yawned.

  “He’s probably naked in bed with your sister right now, Ben. Leave the poor man be.” Q stretched and lay back down.

  “Doubt it,” he said, holding her to him. “Yvie has a strict three date rule.”

  “Ben, they went on at least four dates last year already. Ten will get you twenty that Aaron’s six-date rule willed out. You and Yvie got what you wanted. Don’t fuck it up.”

  He rolled over and smiled down at her. “It would be so great to have a brother in the family. Wouldn’t it?”

  “You’re ridiculous. They’ve barely started dating, stop trying to rush things.” She yawned and closed her eyes, determined to glean as much sleep as possible before it was time to leave for Ben’s parents’ house and the obligatory Sunday dinner with his large family.

  Ben’s phone rang, and she saw Sanger’s name on the ID. She picked it up and said, “Ok, settle a bet for me, cowboy. Is Yvonne in your bed or are you in hers? Measure you next words carefully. You and your little flirtation with casual sex owe me a win.”

  Sanger laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you. I just dropped her off at home.”

  “Ha!” she exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at Ben. “As long as you woke up next to a gorgeous shiksa related to my husband this morning, I am taking the win.”

  “Yeah, you can take the win,” he said.

  Ben grinned and winked at her as she did several vengeful fist bumps in the air above his head.

  “I guess I’m supposed to go to dinner with y’all today,” Sanger said. “But I’m wondering if it’s a good idea. I don’t want to rush things with Yvie…”

  Q handed the phone to Ben. “You’re right. He’s trying to get out of dinner, you take over. I’m going to go mainline some caffeine.”

  She picked up Ben’s discarded shirt off the floor and pulled it on, buttoning it as she walked downstairs to the kitchen to make some coffee.

  Ben joined her a few minutes later while she sat on the counter impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew. He ran his fingers up her thighs and kissed her.

  “I miss you,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she said. “Just a few more days. Besides the last few weeks, I’m trying to think of a time we went this long without having sex when we were in the same city and am failing miserably.”

  “When I had the flu last Christmas.”

  “Nope, that was five days. As soon as I’m cleared from the bench, you’re taking the week off.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to go back out on the road.”

  “Derek will be home from tour next week and rehearsals are going start soon, so I’ll be home for the next two months, at least.”

  Ben scowled at her.

  Derek Sharp. Two words that could almost guarantee to spin up Ben into a quick and easy domestic quarrel. The fact that Derek was a middle-aged rock star pushing fifty who crept under Q’s skin like an insect bite didn’t seem to factor into Ben’s unwarranted jealousy. For a while, the two men had played nice. For a while, it seemed as though Ben actually enjoyed Derek’s company, much to Q’s aggravation. But then Derek had overreached. And like most things he did, when Derek crossed a line, he crossed it, walked backwards over it, did a touchdown dance on it and then called you twice to let you know that he thought the line was stupid in the first place.

  This particular line was obliterated during an interview in the New York Times about the concept album Q had helped him to write and record. Q had played the role of the Archangel in his dark vision that had become the Scarification album, which told the story of a child’s hellacious nightmare of being carved open with shards of glass to let the magic inside of him bleed out.

  The New York Times reporter had asked a seemingly innocuous question. What was it about Clementine
‘Q’ Toledano that had inspired him to select a relatively unknown musician to feature so prominently on his album?

  He could have said her voice. He could have said her stage presence. He could have said several dozen banal clichés. Instead, he’d said that she had become his raven-haired muse, that she was a woman who haunted his nights, and that since he’d met her, all he’d dreamt of was lying next to her in a big, white bed.

  In Derek’s defense, he had followed it up with what Q thought was a pretty good joke, saying, “Unfortunately for me, she’s married to a man who’s a direct descendant of some Norse deity or other. So, I have to be satisfied with just recording albums with her and listening to that fabulous voice.”

  Ben hadn’t been amused.

  “How do you know he’ll be back from tour next week?” he asked, pulling away from Q and retrieving two coffee mugs from the cupboard.

  “He called me yesterday before you showed up at Manny’s,” she said.

  “What else did you talk about?” he asked, glancing sideways.

  She hopped off the counter to grab some milk and replied, “Oh, you know, the usual. Tour is boring. He almost got crushed by a German groupie. Goddamn, he likes me, blah, blah, blah.”

  His expression softened. “I suppose he wants to see you as soon as he gets home.”

  “No, he wants to come home, sleep for three days solid, then take me out for a nice steak dinner next Saturday night.”

  “Fucking great.” He poured her a cup of coffee. “You tell him that if that hand of his wanders up to the crotch of your jeans again, he won’t be playing guitar no more.”

  During one of several failed attempts to convince Q to sleep with him soon after they’d met, Derek had made an overt and aggressive pass that had resulted in Q fleeing the restaurant as quickly as possible, but not before telling Derek to stay the hell away from her; which had clearly done little to dissuade him.

  “Why do you think I picked a steakhouse? Easy access to knives.” She raised her eyebrows at him and Ben laughed out loud.

  “God damn, I like you,” Ben said, pulling her to him.

  “See, when you say it, it’s just not creepy.” She put her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, happy that her joke had diffused his wariness.

  “Must be because you like me, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

  “Must be, sweet husband, must be.”

  ◆◆◆

  Two hours later, Ben pulled into his parents’ driveway. Sanger sat in the backseat, protesting most of the way from uptown to Metairie that he was not in the habit of meeting a woman’s parents this early into dating her. Frankly, Q was on his side in the matter, but her husband steadfastly insisted that it was time Sanger got to know Ben’s family since he already knew Q’s so well.

  “But Clementine’s family is only three people, Ben,” Sanger argued. “And one of them was my partner.”

  “He’s right,” Q agreed. “He wouldn’t have met Constance or Mavis at all if he hadn’t been Ernst’s partner and he’s never met Daddy.”

  Ben glared at her. “He’s over at your grandmother’s house more than you.”

  “That’s not true,” Sanger insisted. “I just take her to shul sometimes is all. Clementine’s not going to do it.”

  “Watch it, rabbi,” Q chided, scowling at him over her shoulder. “Or I’ll start siding with the goy.”

  Ben turned in his seat to look at his friend. “You’re not getting out of this, brother, so you may as well stop arguing now. You saved my life. You saved Q’s life. You’re our best friend. My parents want to get to know you better.”

  Q opened the door. “Sorry, cowboy. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

  “Alright then. You’d better tell me your sisters’ names again,” Sanger said to Ben as they got out of the Audi. “It’s been at least eight months. I don’t remember anybody.”

  She held up her hand to stop Ben. “I got this. It’s taken me three years, but I’ve got this.”

  She turned to Sanger and said, “Anita is the oldest. She’s three and a half years older than Ben. She has a son named Benjamin. We all call him B3 because he’s the third Ben Bordelon. Next is Danielle. She’s eighteen months younger than Anita, so two years older than Ben. Her wife is Emmy, who you will hear referred to by Big Ben - that’s Ben’s dad - as his third daughter because she is six months younger than Danielle, so Danny became fourth daughter after she married Emmy.”

  When Sanger gave her a horrified look, she held up her hand. “Don’t ask. I know, I know, it’s weird, but there you go. Once you marry in, you’re in, unless you cheat on Nita while she’s eight months pregnant with your son. Then, you’re frozen out and lucky to still be breathing.”

  Sanger laughed, and Q continued, “Emmy and Danny have a beautiful daughter named Abigail, who screams if I get within three feet of her, so she’s not hard to pick out. Then there’s Ben, who you know. Yvonne, who you now know even better, is just shy of eleven months younger than him and a year older than me...I was promoted to fifth daughter after I married Ben. And last is Grace, who is three years younger than Yvie and two years and two months to the day younger than me.”

  “Booyah!” Ben exclaimed giving Q a high five. They swung their arms in a circle to complete a low five.

  Sanger shook his head. “I hate it when you do that. Ok. Anita, Danielle, Emmy, Grace. Got it.”

  He started to walk towards the house and Q caught his arm. “Not so fast. Then there are the cousins Annabelle and Audrey, who you will recognize by the moniker I gave them: ‘the playboy Twins’ - try not to stare this time. Audrey is now engaged to Dennis who is an orthodontist ...”

  “Orthopedist,” Ben corrected.

  “What he said,” she continued. “Annabelle is dating Nick. Who’s a crazed evangelical and has made it his mission, I’m guessing, to convert at least one Jew during his lifetime because he won’t let it drop.”

  “...it’s not that,” Ben interrupted. “He has a crush on Q. Also, Anna is dumping him any day now if she hasn’t already. So, don’t get too attached.”

  “Ben’s father is Daddy or Big Ben once you know him, but it’s probably best if you just refer to him as ‘sir,’ seeing as how you fucked his fourth daughter last night.” Sanger scowled at her and she ignored him. “Ben’s mother is Ma to Ben, Mama, Mama B or Ms. Lila to everyone else, probably the latter for you, also because you fucked her daughter last night.”

  “Say it a little louder, Clementine,” Sanger rebuked. “I don’t think the neighbors on the next block heard you.”

  She winked at him and continued, “Don’t worry about the rest of the aunts and uncles and cousins and in-laws. I still don’t know most of their names, and they haven’t figured that out...”

  “Except Aunt Marianne,” Ben amended. “She knows Q has absolutely no idea who she is.”

  “Which one is she?” she asked.

  “Daddy’s older sister,” he said.

  “The one with the red hair?” Q asked, struggling to place to which aunt Ben was referring.

  “No, that Ma’s older sister, Nancy. Audrey and Annabelle’s mom.”

  Sanger held up his hands. “Enough. I get it. It’s a big family of mostly women.”

  They walked up the steps to the long front porch and in through the front door. As they entered the kitchen, they heard laughing, boisterous voices and found Ben’s mother and all four of his sisters preparing dinner. Danny’s wife, Emmy, sat at the long table near the back windows, nursing her daughter.

  “You’re late,” Ben’s mother, Lila, scolded.

  When Yvie looked up from the mustard greens she was rinsing and saw Sanger, she blushed and quickly turned away.

  Q elbowed Sanger and said, “Y’all, you remember our friend, Aaron.”

  Ben’s oldest sister, Anita, dried her hands and pushed Yvie away from the sink and towards Sanger. “Some of us better than others. Right, Yvie?”

  Ben stepped forward and t
ook over for his younger sister. “Sissie, you’re making a mess of those greens. Let me do it. Go get Aaron a drink and take him around to introduce him. Q still gets the Aunties’ names mixed up.”