Hell On Heels

by Robyn Peterman

  “Ooo,” Stella squealed as she clapped her hands gleefully. “She nailed the shrink?”

  “Yep.” I grinned as I examined several pairs of jeans, wondering which ones Hayden would like the best.

  “I always liked Myrtle. Do you want your old furniture back?” she asked as she ran her hands over the super-sized black lacquered Asian-style coffee table. Not only was it shiny, but painted right in the center was a large bloody fire-breathing dragon destroying a village of unsuspecting mortals. The stuff of which nightmares are made.

  “I can’t get my old stuff back.” I sighed. “They demolished it. Besides, I don’t have the time or the energy to redecorate my entire house. I leave for Earth soon. I’ll get around to it eventually.”

  “But,” Stella interjected. “If you could have it back in its original form. . .would you?”

  What was she talking about? “Of course I would, but that’s impossible.”

  Stella’s excitement was palpable. “Watch this,” she sang with delight.

  She threw her arms into the air and lightening struck inside my small bungalow. I shrieked in terror while Stella cackled like a crazy woman. Every time she flailed her arms a new bolt of lightning struck and thunder roared through the house. The walls trembled and the floor buckled. Sparks flew and bounced off the walls like a meteor shower. I continued to scream until I realized with each crash of lightning the ugly furniture was being replaced with my beautiful old furniture. How in Satan’s name was she doing that?

  The violent storm lasted about twenty minutes. When it ended, my home was perfect again. Stella flopped down on my chocolate velvet cushy couch and promptly passed out.

  “Dude,” I gasped and poked her. “Are you asleep or dead?”

  “Neither.” She refused to open her eyes. “Just exhausted. Did it work?”

  “Yes, it worked,” I said as I moved around the room and touched all my stuff. No more scary plaids and florals. No more highly lacquered tables with scenes depicting death and destruction. It was elegant and comfortable.

  A thick Persian rug covered the hardwood floors. Chocolate velvet mixed quietly with pale rose silks and creamy coffee linens. Dark hardwoods complemented rich brown leather. It was peaceful. It was mine again.

  “How did you do it?” I eased her over and sat down next to her. She was wiped out. I gently pushed her hair back from her face and gave her an arm tickle.

  “Ooo.” She happily sighed. “That feels good.”

  We’d been giving each other arm and back tickles since first grade. Oftentimes we made it a contest. If you moved, flinched or giggled, you lost. The loser had to tickle the other person. Right now, it was purely for comfort.

  “How,” I repeated, “did you do that?” I stared at my wiped out insane best friend.

  She pried her eyes open and gave me an exhausted grin. “You like?”

  “I like.” I grinned back. “Now explain.”

  Stella slowly sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “I got really mad at my dresser drawers the other day. You know, the one that’s three hundred years old. Literally.” Stella’s mom was an antiques freak. “Anyway, the stupid thing sticks and my underwear drawer wouldn’t open.” I nodded and waited. “I simply wished I had a new one and BAM—lightning struck and I got my wish.”

  “What did your parents do?”

  “They weren’t home.” She grinned evilly. “So I took the opportunity to redecorate the entire house.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Didn’t work. Stella’s home was a grand mansion filled with antiques dating back thousands of years. I feared touching anything when I was over. It was very formal and quite honestly, cold. “What happened when they got back?”

  “Dad was proud that my powers had arrived and Mom was pissed. Royally and spectacularly pissed. Apparently I got rid of some priceless antiques. Her head practically flew off.”

  “Holy Hell.” I laughed and fell back on the couch.

  Amusement flickered in her eyes as she continued, “After a showdown and a lot of threats, I re-conjured her icky old antiques, but not the dresser drawers.”

  I popped back up and grabbed her hands. “What else can you do?”

  A sinking feeling of jealousy reared its ugly little head inside me. I tamped it down quickly. I didn’t begrudge her magic, I just wanted some of my own. Stella was my best friend and I loved her. I was proud of her powers even if I was still power-free.

  “That’s it so far,” she replied as she squeezed my hands reassuringly. “Dixie, don’t worry, your magic will come. Mine’s just a freakin’ parlor trick. Someday soon you will be a real power, just like the rest of your family.”

  I hugged her tight. There were many reasons she was my best friend and always would be. She was beautiful inside and out.

  “That’s a little more than just a parlor trick, my friend. You scared the living Hell out of me.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself so I punched her in the arm. “Have you done anything else?”

  Stella’s laugh was infectious. I began laughing with her before I even knew what she was going to say.

  “I changed the color of my mom’s car while she was getting her nails done,” she squealed. “It took her an hour in the parking lot to figure it out. She called the Demon Police and everything!”

  She laughed with sheer joy and triumph. I joined her, but sobered as I realized I would have to leave her soon.

  “Dixie, you are so lucky you get to live on your own.”

  “Yeah, it’s great.” I smiled and lied.

  Satan believed all his daughters should be independent. At sixteen I received many gifts, the bungalow being one of them. As lovely as it was to have my own space, I was lonely. The Dark Palace had been a wonderful place to grow up, but it was always so busy and filled with hundreds of Demons I didn’t know. As I got older I began to notice some of the murky and horrible things that often took place in the palace. We were in Hell after all. I was fairly sure my dad thought I’d be safer and happier in my little home. The truth was I longed for a family. A traditional family, even one as uptight as Stella’s.

  “Sooo,” Stella said as she knocked me out of my pity party. "What hot sexy outfit are you going to wear tonight?”

  “I was thinking about jeans,” I replied, moving toward the pile of clothes I laid out.

  “Jeans?” She groaned in dismay as her eyes went wide with concern. “I was thinking more along the line of Prada or Gucci.”

  “Nope.” I smiled. A warm glow settled in my chest as I thought about Hayden. “It sounds pretty casual. I don’t want to overdress.”

  There was no way I was going to tell Stella he wanted me to wear flying clothes. Hell, I didn’t even know what that meant. I’d never told anyone about my desire to fly except Hayden and Blanche.

  “You don’t think he’s going to take you cliff diving, do you?” Stella began to sort through the pile, discarding what she didn’t like.

  “Lucifer, I hope not.” I prayed that wasn’t his idea of flying. Nevertheless, I was definitely wearing jeans.

  Stella pulled a rockin’ pair of dark brown Doc Maarten combat boots, a pair of True Religion jeans, a sleeveless, sheer pale mocha flowing top with a lacy chocolate camisole for underneath. Kind of delicate, feminine biker chick.

  “You will be totally hot in this,” she decided. “He’ll be on his knees. Your boobs and ass will be amazing.”

  “Maybe I should wear something else.”

  “Nope.” Stella laid down the law. “It’s this or you go naked.”

  “Fine.” It was absolutely no use to go against Stella once she had her mind made up. With her new powers she could probably dress me however she desired. Furthermore, she had a great fashion sense and I liked what she picked out.

  “Go take a shower,” she commanded. “Use that lemony grapefruity shampoo.” She plopped back down on my couch and grabbed the remote. “I’m going to watch me some South Park. I love those gu
ys.”

  I rolled my eyes and left her to her program.

  ***

  An hour later I was ready. Clean, dressed and nervous as Hell. I never wore much makeup, but Stella insisted on mascara, a little blush and some pale pink sparkly lip gloss. I glanced in the mirror and liked what I saw. Stella was a genius and she wasn’t afraid to remind me repeatedly. She repaired my chipped black nail polish with some quick dry stuff she had in her purse. We agreed to let my hair fall loose and wild. I did feel pretty and was grateful she was here.

  I let myself go to that bad place for a moment realizing Stella was doing all the things a mother should be doing. Motherless children often ached for a maternal figure, I had read. I needed to get over it and buck up and be grateful for what I did have. . .and I was grateful. Not everyone had a father who loved them, a ton of sisters that they adored for the most part and the greatest best friend in the universe.

  “Damn girl, you are so pretty it makes my teeth hurt.” Stella admired her handiwork.

  “Shut up,” I groaned. The reality of what I was about to do hit me. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

  I sat down on one of the dining room chairs and put my head between my knees. Stella rubbed my back and made tsking noises.

  “I believe I told you to shut up,” I mumbled from between my legs. “I can’t do this. I need to call him and tell him not to come.” I shot up and searched for my cell phone.

  I spotted it on the coffee table. As I went to grab it, lightning struck and it turned into a banana.

  “Stella!” I screamed. “Turn it back. Are you trying to ruin my life?”

  “Nope,” she informed me unsympathetically. “I’m trying to help you get a life.”

  “You suck.” I sat down on the coffee table with the banana and pouted.

  “You suck,” she retorted as she unsuccessfully tried to suppress her laughter.

  "It’s not funny,” I yelled, attempting to bite back the smile that was threatening to split my face.

  "You need to stop dating BOB."

  "Bob?" Who was she talking about? I wasn't dating anyone named Bob. . .

  "Your battery operated boyfriend," she replied with an evil grin.

  I blushed from head to toe. "I like BOB," I muttered.

  “Dixie, do you like Hayden?” Stella’s voice grew very serious.

  I ran my hands through my wild mass of hair and sighed. “Yes, I like him. I’m afraid I like him too much. Every time he touches me I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me and I’m terrified I’m going to say something mortifying.”

  “There’s a good chance you’ll say something dumb,” Stella agreed.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I laid back on the coffee table and peeled the banana. “Is this edible?”

  “Totally,” she assured me. “Look, if you’re worried about being stupid, just let him do most of the talking. Ask him questions about himself. Guys love to talk about themselves. By the way, Little Missy, this is not just about if he likes you. You are also free to figure out if you really like him,” she said with authority.

  “Where’d you learn all that?”

  “Cosmo.”

  “Does that apply to Demons? That’s a mortal magazine,” I said with a mouth full of banana.

  “A guy is a guy is a guy. Mortal, Demon, Angel, whatever.”

  Stella stood up to leave. She walked over to my landline and ripped it out of the wall. I groaned.

  “I’m simply saving you from yourself,” she smugly informed me. “Your cell phone and land line will be fixed by the time you get home so you can call me and thank me for making you go.” She curtsied and walked to the front door.

  “Hey Stella,” I called.

  “Yep?”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled and left.

  Chapter 6

  I knew he was here. No sound, no purr of an engine, no beep of a horn. . .I felt it. It was if I was connected to him on some bizarre level. It completely freaked me out. My heart beat faster and I was short of breath. I wondered for a brief moment if I was having a panic attack, but the feeling of perfect calm amidst the storm in my mind made me realize I wasn’t panicked at all. I couldn’t name what I was feeling. I’d never felt it before.

  Holy Hell, if I was this much of a mess before I saw him I was worried I’d self-combust in his actual presence.

  The soft knock at the door jerked me back to reality. Adrenalin shot through my veins. I jumped up and ran to the front door, took two deep breaths and opened it.

  Hayden stood in the doorway, hands in his jean pockets wearing a faded green t-shirt that made his eyes appear more emerald than the jewel. His beauty stole my breath and I was grateful I had the door to hold me up.

  “Hi Dixie." He smiled and I melted. “You look beautiful.”

  My voice decided to take a vacation. I stood there and mutely stared at him.

  He chuckled and extended his hand. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. Hades, I sounded like a baby. I cleared my throat. "Yes, I’m ready. Do you think I’ll need a jacket?” I asked, trying to behave like a rational, mature twenty-one year old woman.

  “I’ve got one in the truck if you get cold.” He nodded to his big black pickup truck.

  Dang, I love pickup trucks. Was there anything I was going to discover about this guy I didn’t like? I somehow doubted it. He took my hand and a tingle shot up my arm.

  “Did you feel that?” I gasped.

  “Yep.” He held my hand tighter so I couldn’t pull away.

  “What was that?”

  “Not sure, but I like it a lot.” He grinned and pulled me along.

  I giggled and followed him to the truck.

  The interior was black, buttery custom leather and the truck smelled like him. I took a deep breath to commit his scent to memory. If I kept acting like an ass, I feared this would be my one and only date with him. I needed to remember every detail.

  He got in the truck. I kept my eyes glued straight ahead, afraid if I glanced at him I would say something stupid like “I love you.” I waited for the engine to rev up, but nothing happened. I felt his gaze on me. It made me both happy and uncomfortable.

  I peeked over at him. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yep,” he replied.

  “Is the truck. . .um, broken?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He continued to stare.

  Did he change his mind about the date? I felt sick. Should I get out and go back inside? Should I say thank you and shake his hand before I get out? Stella would know what to do. Maybe I should ask him questions about himself. I was a little unsure about putting my dating skills into the hands of Cosmo magazine, but I certainly wasn't doing well with my own skill set. I didn’t have any freakin’ skills. Questions. I’d ask him questions.

  I plastered a smile on my face and turned my body toward his to start my interrogation. I opened my mouth to speak, but the intensity of his stare rendered me speechless.

  “I love looking at you.” His voice was smokey and my heart lurched.

  “You do?” The dreaded heat began to crawl up my neck.

  “I do,” he said. “You make me feel happy and strange and nervous and excited.”

  My wildly beating heart was the only thing I could hear. This could go one of two ways—I could laugh and act like he made a great joke or I could be honest.

  “You make me feel all those things too,” I said softly. My eyes dropped to his mouth.

  “You scare the Hell out of me, Dixie, in the best way possible.”

  His breath smelled delicious and it took everything I had not to slam him against the door to taste him. “You scare me too, so we’re even.”

  He exhaled an overly dramatic sigh. “Well, now that we got that out of the way, we can relax and have a great time. Okay?” His eyes were full of amusement as they searched mine.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Where
are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  ***

  The drive took about forty-five minutes down winding roads I’d never traveled before. My voice came back with a vengeance. Thankfully it was mutual. I kept forgetting how handsome he was because he was so smart and funny. We talked about movies, books, music, school, drunk teachers and how the Underworld was the greatest place in the universe.

  I told him how Ernest Hemingway scared the Hell out of me when I was five by describing bullfighting in graphic bloody detail. Of course Hemingway resided in Heaven but was quite fond of the atmosphere in Hell. Satan and Hemingway were known to go at each other with gusto and pitcher after pitcher of mojitos with the occasional Cuban cigar thrown in. Hayden sheepishly informed me that Gone With the Wind was one of his all time favorites, so I let him off the hook by professing my love for Barry Manilow.

  We argued theology and laughed about the mortals’ obsession with Vampyres. I giggled so hard I snorted when he imitated movie scenes depicting Demons. Rosemary’s Baby and The Exorcist were the best. My snort made him laugh so hard he had to pull over. I felt my face grow hot, but my embarrassment disappeared as he swore to me it was cute and begged me to do it again. I refused, called him an asswipe and punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder.

  Cosmo magazine was full of it. I didn’t need to grill him about himself. I just need to be me. I only stopped breathing a couple of times when I caught him staring with something in his eyes that looked like wonder.

  “We’re here,” he said, his excitement was contagious.

  “Where’s here?” I peered out the window.

  We were parked at the edge of a monster field of wildflowers. There was no moon, but the stars were out and bathed the scene before me with a soft glittery glow. It was exquisite.

  “Is there a restaurant here?”

  “I brought the restaurant with us." He gave me an irresistible grin.

  “Okay.” I was confused.

  “Come on.” He got out of the truck and went around to the back.

  He handed me a soft blanket and pulled out a large cooler. “Follow me,” he instructed.