"Okay. So, these guys start horning in on Alana while I'm talking to Michel. They didn't like it when I came back and kicked them out of my seat."
"Two girls at a strip club probably sounded like a wet dream come true."
"But they didn't understand the word no."
He nodded, sadly. "Most guys don't. You should see some of the calls we get."
"I can imagine." I patted his hand, not liking the sad look in his eye. Grendel had seen some shit. "So, anyway, I kick them to the curb, literally, and the nastier one of the two tried to slice me open with a knife. I knocked it out of his hand and karate chopped him in the throat."
"Stabbed him in the chin."
"I'm telling the story."
"What did you use?"
We were venturing into dangerous waters. If I said a weapon, I was admitting to a crime. If I told him I used my fingers, he might call the local insane asylum and have me committed. "My nail. I just meant to jab him in the gullet, but my acrylics split his pasty neck sack like a haggis."
"Haggis?"
"Scottish dish involving beef and stomach. Kinda gross. Smells worse."
"So, you shoved your finger into his neck. Then what happened?" Even though he sounded sincere, he still gave me a dubious look.
"All hell broke loose. Their lieutenant, who is much uglier than you and smells like beans and whiskey, thought I shanked him with something and accused me of being a prostitute."
"Clive Owens. He's a dick."
"A demoted dick."
Grendel's eyes widened in surprise. "How did that happen?"
"The knife actually hit the Chief of Police's kid in the leg. Junior told daddy what really happened, and I got roughed up by Clive. Things did not end well for him."
"Wait, did you say you were attacked by the bandit?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion as my previous words suddenly registered.
"Yep. Twice. Well, me once and then my kids another time. Meant to tell you about that after our conversation at the hospital, but I forgot."
"That's kind of important. Were you hurt? Why didn't I see your name on any of the police reports?"
"Because…uh…I didn't call you guys when I got attacked. But you might have seen Brady Drake and my kids on the other."
"Why the fuck didn't you call?"
"My date scared him away."
"Your date?" He laughed out loud, not bothering to hide the fact he was calling bullshit on my tale.
"Yes. Daniel can be very growly and snarly when someone attacks me with a knife."
Grendel paused, kind of stared off into neverland, and sipped his still too hot coffee. "Well. One thing is for certain."
"What?"
"You are most definitely trouble."
"No. It just follows me around like a lost puppy. Or a cop."
Chapter 21
"That was good, right?"
Karen rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head, clearly exasperated with my lack of soccer knowledge. "No, Kara. That was not good. It means the opposing team gets a penalty kick."
"But Karl already kicked that boy with the ball. Wouldn't getting kicked again be too much of a penalty?"
She growled in frustration. "Your kids have been playing soccer for how long? Don't you know what a penalty kick is?"
"Maaaybe."
"Your son kicked the other player instead of the ball. It was an accident, but it's still a penalty. The boy he hit gets to take a penalty kick. That means he gets to try and make a goal."
"Well, it's a good thing that kid sucks."
Karen stared at me like I had grown an extra head.
"What?"
"We don't say other peoples' kids suck."
"Even when they do?"
"Especially then."
"This game is weird."
Karen patted me on the leg and joined the other parents in the communal boo.
"I can't say they suck, but we can boo?"
"We're not booing the player. We're booing the shit call. Karl didn't do it on purpose, but he still made contact with the player."
"Like I said, this game is weird. I'm going to get a drink." Lifting myself off the lawn chair, I adjusted my sunglasses before slipping between the couple standing behind us and heading for the concession stand. I'd finished my water bottle filled with vodka, and the hour we'd spent sitting in the sun had left my mouth feeling like the floor of the seventh level of hell. I was parched.
And of course, there was a line. Forty-two people long. All waiting to get hot dogs, popcorn, and pretzels. Unfortunately, the soccer field was set in the middle of one of the less posh residential neighborhoods. There wasn't a convenience store in sight. Steeling my nerves, I got at the back of the line and silently vowed to bring a cooler with me to the next game.
"Yeah. I don't know what she did to my son. I'm assuming the little tramp drugged his drink or something. She looks exactly like her mother, and probably figured that would be the only way Jason would kiss her."
I recognized the voice before I recognized the boy's name and realized she was talking about my daughter. Marissa was five people ahead of me in line and talking to two of her cronies, not caring in the slightest who overheard her. She must not have realized I was behind her. Just as I hadn't realized her kids were friends with mine. Or that the bitch lived that close to me.
"The whore is just lucky I don't press charges for her daughter assaulting my son."
If I had an ounce of power left to my name, I would have breathed a cloud of lust in front of me and gotten the four people between us to scamper off in the nearby woods to bang their brains out. I could picture Marissa's face as I stepped up behind her. Unfortunately, my tanks were bone dry.
"Did you hear? Connie saw her and the girls' soccer coach sucking face at a restaurant. I knew she was a carpet muncher. You can just tell by looking at her. She's probably only banging Daniel for his money." I didn't recognize either of the two women standing beside Marissa, but I'd remember their faces in the future. They just ended up on the shit list. When that list was in the possession of a demon, things had a tendency to not go so well.
"What a whore," Marissa chimed in. "But then again, she's probably got to get it when and where she can. Beggars can't be choosers. Coach Drake isn't exactly the poster child of feminine beauty. She looks like her brother with tits."
Enough was enough. She had insulted me. I could live with that. She had somewhat insulted my daughter by saying she looked like me. I had refrained from gutting her like the pig that she was. But then she had gone and attacked one of the sweetest, most generous people I had ever met. I was about to rain down the fires of hell upon her.
Unfortunately, I couldn't get caught. So, I seethed. I seethed in demonic fury as I pictured pushing the four people between us out of the way and ripping out her throat. And I stayed that way. Even when they got their food and turned around, I quickly pulled a miasma of misdirection around me. They walked past me without batting an eyelash.
I debated following them, but my thirst outweighed my need for revenge. If I let it stew, it would be all that much sweeter anyway. I settled for ordering two Sprites, chugging the first, and taking the second back to my seat. I made it hallway there when I saw my arch-nemesis break away from the crowd and slip into one of the two blue and teal portable latrines. The indicator on the door slid from vacant to occupied, and my frown turned into a smile. The gods of luck had descended to earth and kissed me gently and lovingly, wrapping me in the arms of fortune.
Dropping my Sprite into a nearby trash can, I circled around the latrines looking for witnesses. Everybody was concentrating on the second half of the game. A cheer rose up, and even the people at the concession stand moved to the field to see what had transpired. I prayed Karl had redeemed his earlier indiscretion and scored another point for our team as I put my back against the dusty plastic.
"This one's occupied," Marissa's annoyed voice sounded from inside, muffled through the vents by the roof.
>
"Oh, so sorry," I said a few octaves higher than I usually spoke, disguising my voice as I circled around to the front. Letting her escape wasn't an option. I called a flame to my hand, and it sputtered with my depleted power, but hopefully I could get it hot enough to melt a little bit of plastic.
"What's that smell?" Her voice didn't sound panicked, yet. Merely worried.
"I had Taco Bell. Sorry."
"Ew. Gross."
Staring at the flame, I poured what little I had left into it until it burned blue, almost white, and shoved my palm against the seam between the door and wall, fusing them together in a ripple of molten plastic.
"What the fuck is burning?" We had officially entered panic mode. She hit the door full force, panties probably still around her ankles.
I didn't have much time until her muffled screams drew the attention of the rest of the field. With every ounce of strength I possessed, I pushed the port-a-potty over. Giggling maniacally, I ran as it fell onto its back. Only when I reached the relative safety of a copse of pine trees by the parking lot, did I turn to survey my handy work.
My mouth fell open in shock. The blue water had exploded out of the only opening, the one Marissa had been sitting on, and pushed her through the plastic white roof, completely separating it from the rest of the structure. Lying there in an azure pool, Marissa screamed and sputtered, desperately trying to pull her panties and leggings up as she fervently struggled to breathe. Then she rolled over on her knees and vomited. Not that I blamed her, I probably would have, too. I hightailed it back to my seat.
"What took you so long?" Karen turned an gave me a suspicious look as I dropped into the seat next to her.
"Huge line."
"I thought you were getting a drink."
"I did. Chugged it before I got back here."
"Why do you look nervous?"
"I was worried about the score. Are we still winning?"
"Yep. Karl got another goal just a few minutes ago. Is that screaming?" She sat up straight in her seat and looked behind us. In fact, most of the other parents were doing the same.
"Sounds like it," I answered, and turned to look while I plastered a look of concern on my face. "Coming from the parking lot?" I even got out of my chair and started walking in that direction, a masterful performance on my part.
"Sounds like it's coming from by the concession stands." Karen hurried past me, a throng of parents in our wake.
And so the mob bore witness to my handiwork, arriving just in time to see Marissa Smurf finally drag her leggings over her ample ass and stare at us in anger and horror.
"Marissa?" I made her voice a question. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Her eyes locked on to me, seething in hatred. "As if you don't know, you fucking cunt."
A few of the parents gasped and covered the ears of the children that were present.
Marissa didn't care.
Marissa was pissed.
"You don't think I did this? How the hell am I going to push an entire latrine over by myself?"
A few of the parents nodded in agreement. It was simple physics.
"Especially with you in it. I mean, come on. Let's be reasonable."
Her eyes narrowed even more. Which was quite comical with her blue-dyed eyelids. "I don't know how you did it, but I know you did it."
"Well, I was with Karen the whole time. You must be mistaken. Plus, why would I have a reason to do something like this to you? I mean it's not like you were insulting my daughter or Coach Drake, right?"
The crowd had seemed a little skeptical. But that quickly shifted to disbelief. Everybody loved the Drakes. Some more than others. Not as much as I did, or with as much tongue, but they were beloved. "What?"
"I mean, I might have done something like this if I heard you call her a carpet muncher, or something equally as derogatory. But luckily, I was nowhere near you when you were spouting off at the pie hole. Things could have gotten ugly. And red instead of blue."
The crowd might have missed my thinly veiled threat, but Marissa didn't. She quietly stood up, calmly wiped as much liquid from her face and arms as she could, and stormed off in the direction of her SUV.
"Please tell me you didn't do it," Karen whispered in my ear.
I just patted her arm and headed back to the game to grab my chair. I'd wait out the rest of the game in my vehicle. There was no way I was giving the Bitch of Bickering another chance to slash my tires.
∞ ∞ ∞
It is done. The demiurge's thought flittered through my brain like a gentle caress much later in the morning than I was expecting. The damage must have been more extensive than he thought. He'd given me the impression that it would have been completed overnight. The connection between us tore apart with a gasp of pain from me, and then my hand started hurting where he had driven the dagger through our flesh.
"You okay?" Daniel reached over the kitchen counter and rubbed my hand worriedly.
"Yeah. The studio just finished. Feel like getting a coffee?"
He smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."
I walked over to the stairs. "Sage!"
She leaned over the banister. "What?"
"Meet us at the studio."
"Huh?"
"It's fixed."
"No fucking way." She wasn't excited, she was skeptical.
"I told you the contractor I hired was magical." If she only knew I'd meant it literally.
"I'll meet you there!" Excitement had finally surpassed her skepticism.
"You want the coffee?"
"Please!"
"Come on, Daniel." I gave him a smile and reached for his hand.
We got in the car and headed downtown. After the game, I had run home and taken a shower to wash the sweat off. He had shown up shortly after. It was nice spending some time with him alone. Lately, he and Brady had been attached at the hip. I snickered at the thought.
Daniel whistled as we passed the studio on the way to Dunkin’. "Holy shit. You can't even tell there was ever a fire. It looks exactly the same."
"Yeah. He turned back time on the building itself."
"Well, shit. I'll just hire him to fix the house next time something breaks."
"Yeah. You wouldn't be able to pay for his services."
Daniel frowned at me, and I realized how it sounded. Shaking my head, I put my hand on his knee. "Demons like that have no need for human currency. I had to give him more than half of my accumulated power."
"Lust?"
"For lack of a better word. I eat lust, I can use lust, but inside me, it is just raw unadulterated power. I gave him all I had in me and half of what I had in…storage? The bank?"
"Power banks?"
"Something like that. I can stash it in Hell."
"Wait. Hell is real?" he asked at the exact moment the girl working at Dunkin’ asked our order over the static filled speaker.
"Three coffees. One black, and two with cream and sugar."
She gave our total, and we pulled up to the window. I paid and got our coffees, and then pulled away before I started answering. "It's real, but not like you imagine. You don't just end up there when you die, no matter how much of a bastard you were in life."
"Oh, thank God."
That earned him a laugh. "Yeah. Cuz you're a total asshole." I rolled my eyes.
"Hey. I was raised Catholic. Divorce and premarital sex are sins."
I coughed and laughed at the same time. Thankfully, I hadn't been taking a sip of coffee. "Not to mention what we've got going on."
"Yeah. That, too." He grinned.
We pulled up to the studio and parked right in front. It was my turn to whistle. The demiurge had gone above and beyond. Through the window, I could tell the studio was back to normal. The outside of the building, however, looked thirty years younger. The brick wasn't clean, it was perfect. There were no gouges, cracks, or missing bits of mortar. Even the corners were crisp and straight. Hopefully, nobody would notice.
"It loo
ks amazing."
"Yeah," I answered a little nervously, taking a gulp of coffee and wishing I'd had the sense to bring something stronger to put into it.
Unlocking the front door, we went inside. The same overachievement on the outside was present inside, too. I just hadn't been able to see it through the glass. The wood floor was immaculate, the patches in the walls were gone, and the poles were gleaming. It was beautiful.
"What's wrong?"
"He did too good of a job. Everything looks new."
"That's a good thing, Kara."
"How?"
"Contractors. Everything is supposed to be new. It was a replacement, not a repair."
"Which would work inside, but not the outside. The stone and brick look new. There's no way I'm going to pass that off as a nighttime of work."
"Sweetie, there isn't a contractor on earth that could have repaired this in a night. My suggestion is that you hang up some tarps in the window and stay closed for a week or two."
I nodded. Daniel was pretty fucking smart. "Good idea. Is there a hardware store close?"
"There's one three blocks down on Olive," a voice answered from behind us. A voice I recognized in an instant.
Fuuuck.
"Hey, Grendel," I said and turned slowly, schooling the panic off my face.
"Mrs. Dell," he answered, and let the door close behind him as he walked around the studio, checking out the repairs.
"What brings you to my humble studio?"
"I'd be lying if I said this was a social call." He didn't turn to answer me, just kept studying the walls, windows, and floor. He even ran his fingers over several of the surfaces.
"Well, do I pass my building inspection?"
He sighed and stopped by the counter, leaning against it while crossing his arms and staring at the two of us. He pointed at the window. "See the sub shop across the street?"
I leaned back to get a better view. There was indeed, a sub shop across the street. Rosetti's Subs. I hadn't noticed until he pointed it out. "Yep. You hungry?"
"Nah. See the second floor of the building?"
I had to bend over and tilt my head to see it, but it was there. Most of the older buildings in the original part of downtown had second floors. Just like the studio. Some of them were offices, and some were apartments. "Yep. I see it."
Succubus Soccer Mom: A Reverse Harem Tale Page 20