Straight to Heaven

by Michelle Scott

  The angel’s features hardened. “I know all about you and your situation, Lilith Straight!” She pointed to a piece of paper that had been tacked to the smooth, silvery trunk of one of the trees. It looked like an old-time wanted poster. There was a sepia-toned picture of me, and beneath it the words, ‘Wanted for Deceiving an Innocent Soul.’

  I ripped the poster from the tree. “This doesn’t even look like me!” My eyes were half-shut, and my mouth gaped. It was as unflattering as my driver’s license picture.

  “You’re on our ten most wanted list,” the angel said. “I’ve heard how devious you are. I know what you did to Tommy Lefevre!”

  My cheeks burned. Having everyone in Heaven knowing about what I’d done to Tommy was worse than doing the walk of shame down the runway during New York fashion week.

  She was full of self-righteous wrath. “You tempters are pure evil.”

  I bowed my head. “Maybe so. But my daughter isn’t, and I’m only doing this for her.”

  “ ‘The Devil made me do it’ is no excuse!”

  So the pity card wouldn’t work. The angel was as determined to do her job as I was to do mine. It was time to send a different message. I raised my eyes to meet hers. “Fine. But just so we understand each other, I will do whatever it takes to finish this job. And I mean whatever it takes.”

  Her blue eyes blazed. “Like making a child choke on a piece of candy?”

  “I had nothing to do with that! That was a random accident!”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Of all the things I’d been accused of, this was the worst. “I would never hurt a child,” I argued.

  “Not even to save your daughter?”

  It was a question I couldn’t answer. “I’m just warning you, that’s all,” I said. I was losing steam. I hated being in this creepy wooded place.

  My demon fluttered against the insides of my mind, reminding me that we needed to get out of there. When I turned to find the doorway back to the bowling alley, I noticed two other wanted posters. One showed two figures in trench coats and fedoras. The other was of William. Unlike me, he looked spectacular in his picture. It figured. Beneath his smiling face was written ‘Wanted: for the Seduction of Angels’.

  I nearly laughed. His claim hadn’t been empty bragging after all.

  As I was about to step through the doorway, the angel said, “You know better than to trust Helen, right? She’s very good at making things work her way.”

  I left without replying. The very last thing I needed was advice from an angel.

  Chapter Eight

  When I got home, I went upstairs, filled the bathtub with hot water and added my favorite scented bubble bath. Then I slipped into the fragrant water, closed my eyes and tried to soak off the uneasy feeling I’d gotten from being inside Heaven.

  “Hello, Lilith.”

  My eyes popped open to see William perched on my toilet.

  “Out! Right now!” I glared at him and sank down under the bubbles, crossing my arms over my chest. Since becoming entangled with the otherworld, I’d started to feel like the poor gerbil Grace used to keep in an aquarium in her room. Not only was everyone always watching me, they also thought it was okay to interrupt me whenever they wanted to. The otherworld had no understanding of boundaries.

  I expected William to take advantage of the situation by asking to join me in the tub, but to my surprise, he barely gave me a glance. In fact, from the way his shoulders drooped, he was in as much of a funk as I was. His glamour was gone, and he was entirely human. With the shine off him, it was possible to notice that his eyes were not quite symmetrical, and there was a thin, white line of an old scar in the corner of his forehead.

  He looked at his hands. “I want to apologize for acting like a cad earlier.”

  William apologizing?! I’d been furious with him earlier, but his humility touched me. It must have taken a lot for him to admit that he had been wrong. “It’s okay. Forget about it.” Now, if only I could get him to stop barging into my home whenever he felt like it. “What about the deal I made with Miss Spry? Are you still mad about that?”

  His eyes gleamed briefly. “Don’t worry. I’ve made my peace with Helen.”

  “Really?” I wished I could have been a fly on the wall during that conversation.

  Despite his apology, William still looked distraught.

  “What else is wrong?” I asked. “Tough assignment?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Tough decision.” He finally looked at me. “Very tough decision.”

  I knew all about those, of course. I also knew how they could tear a person in two. “Tell me about it.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to burden you with my troubles.”

  “William, I’ve been burdening you with my troubles since we met. Go ahead. Tell me.”

  He sighed. “There’s something that I want very badly. Something that I’ve wanted since before I became an incubus, but in order to get it, I’d have to go against my better nature.”

  “You have a better nature?”

  He gave me a sour look.

  “I’m sorry, but a few hours ago, you were trying to get me to trade sex for information. That’s hardly the action of a man with a ‘better nature’.” When he continued to look annoyed, I said, “Okay, what is it that you want?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “A chance at forgiveness.”

  That stirred something deep inside me. Since speaking to Tommy and Jasmine, it had been harder and harder to ignore my guilty conscience. And while I wasn’t sure how wanting forgiveness could be at odds with anyone’s better nature, William did have a demon’s way of looking at things. By ‘better nature’ he most likely meant qualities like being seductive and arrogant.

  “You should go for it,” I said.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He groaned. “Oh Lilith, you have no idea how difficult you’re making this for me! I never should have come here.”

  “Feel free to leave any time,” I said dryly. The bubbles in the tub were rapidly thinning, leaving me more and more exposed.

  As if he’d finally reached his decision, he straightened up and slapped his knees. “I will, but before I do, I have some instructions for you.”

  I perked up. “Instructions? Do you mean that I have a new assignment?” Snaps to Mr. Clerk! “So when are Craig and I meeting?”

  “Your assignment is for tomorrow, but you’re not meeting Craig. This is with some man named Leo.”

  Did this mean that I’d finally completed my assignment with Craig after all? My heart leapt at the thought. “So what happened this afternoon at the bowling alley…”

  “…was a failure,” William finished flatly. “You didn’t tempt your man. You let the angel get in the way. Again.”

  Frustrated, I sank further beneath the water.

  “You better be careful,” William said. “Helen’s been very patient, but it won’t last.”

  As if I needed him to tell me that.

  “If I haven’t tempted Craig, why am I being given another assignment?” I sat up a little straighter, but was still careful to keep my important parts below the bubbles. “I thought that I wouldn’t be getting any more until I finished with Craig.”

  “Who told you that? I’ve taken on three, sometimes four, assignments at once.”

  Four assignments at once? I shuddered at the thought. Still, something didn’t add up. Miss Spry had been so adamant that I finish the job before I moved on. “I need to talk to Mr. Clerk. Where is he? He should have delivered this message himself.”

  “He’s probably sleeping,” William said. “Helen’s been working him to death.”

  At least he was finally getting some rest. “So what’s the assignment?”

  William was quiet for a long time. Then, very reluctantly, he said, “You’re to meet your client tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp. He’s a silver-haired man with a dark tan, and y
our job is to convince him not to write his check.”

  “Silver hair, dark tan, no check. Got it.” Okay, so I was stuck with another assignment. At least the timing was good for once. Tomorrow was Sunday, and Grace would be at Ted’s until eight o’clock in the evening. I had the whole day to work. Plus, the job sounded like a piece of cake.

  “And I recommend that you wear comfortable shoes,” William added.

  He wouldn’t tell me how to get past an angel, but he’d give me shoe advice? No thanks. Besides the term ‘comfortable shoes’ was not in my lexicon.

  By now, the bath had cooled, and the soap bubbles were hardly a film on the water. “You better go,” I said.

  “Are you certain?” He smiled wickedly, his incubus back in control. “Don’t you have some delicate areas that you want me to soap up?” He picked up a loofah that had been sitting on the counter next to the sink. “I promise to be very gentle.”

  “OUT!!”

  He tossed me the loofah, then disappeared from the bathroom so quickly that the tiny flames in the candles fluttered as if swooning.

  That night, J.T. called me. “Are you free tomorrow? I’m hosting a barbeque in my backyard, and it would be great if you joined us.”

  Even though I was eager to continue working on the Craig front, I was glad to have an excuse not to see J.T. He was already strongly attracted to me, and I worried that too much exposure to my succubus would make him fall completely in love. I didn’t need another broken heart on my conscience.

  “I’d love to, but I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to go into work.”

  “Are you working on a story?” J.T. asked.

  For a moment, I was confused. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be a journalist. “Sort of. I have a meeting with my editor.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  Once again my poor lying skills had backed me into a corner. “She’s going in for surgery next week, and she wants to make sure I’m up to speed on everything. Last minute details and emergency plans in case there’s an important story to cover. Like a tidal wave or an earthquake or something.”

  “A tidal wave? In Detroit?” He sounded amused. “Even I wouldn’t bother to prepare for an emergency like that.”

  I laughed. “Seriously, I have to go to the meeting, but thank you for the offer.”

  “How about some other time?” he asked.

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to lead him on, but he was still my only inroad to Craig. “Sure,” I said. “That sounds good.”

  “Terrific!” He sounded so happy that I felt a stab of guilt. I hated that he was becoming collateral damage.

  Mr. Clerk, I thought, you better get me another assignment and quick. I didn’t need the job to become any messier than it already was.

  The next morning, I dressed for success. I’ve always felt more confident when I’m looking my best, and tempting clients required as much confidence as I could muster. Despite William’s warning to wear comfortable shoes, my insecurities made me grab the new pair of midnight-blue, cork-heeled sandals that I’d been dying to give a test walk down the runway. I also wore a silk tee with drawstring sleeves in the same shade of blue as the sandals. I added a silver pendant that I’d bought for myself as a post-divorce present, and a leather miniskirt that I’d picked up during an online shopping fest. Then I quickly worked on my hair – upswept, my makeup – natural with just a hint of drama, and added a splash of perfume. I checked myself out in the bedroom mirror, making sure that the deep V in the back of the blouse lined up perfectly with the base of my spine. Then, I headed down Hell’s corridors until I was at my destination.

  It wasn’t until I got there that I realized that I’d made a mistake.

  A big, big mistake.

  When I arrived at my destination, I stood out like a bikini model on an Arctic expedition. “This can’t be the right place,” I muttered. But I knew it was.

  Golfing has never been my thing. My dad had tried to interest me in the sport and had even paid for lessons when I was in high school, but I’d never taken to it. Even when Ted and I were members of the country club, I eschewed golf clubs for a tennis racket. In fact, the only remotely interesting part about the game was the nineteenth hole which is where I hoped I would be meeting my client.

  At least I was doing my dirty work in a pretty place. The impeccably-groomed course nestled among rolling hills that, by Detroit standards, would be considered mountains. White paths ran from one immaculate green to another, and the fairways were hemmed in by borders of woods. It was certainly nicer than the post office where I’d first met Craig.

  Stretched over the clubhouse doorway was an enormous banner reading, “Welcome to the 15th Annual Leukemia Golf Outing.” The crowd by the sign-in table was mostly sixty-something couples with graying hair and dark tans. Nearly all of the men wore hats, khaki pants, and polo shirts, while the women opted for white visors, wide-strapped tank tops, and shorts. Absolutely no one was wearing strappy sandals or Marc Jacobs anything.

  Approaching the sign-in table, I drew stares. I even heard a snicker. I kept my head up, ignoring the looks. “Hi, I’m Lilith Straight,” I said.

  At least someone had done their homework, for my name was printed among the other registrants’. I was signed in by a sour-faced man whose gray mustache was so large and bushy that it looked like a dead opossum under his nose. “You can’t wear those on the course.” He pointed to my sandals.

  “But I don’t have anything else.” I gave a delicate laugh, trying to sound silly and inoffensive.

  He wasn’t fazed. “Then visit the pro shop.”

  With a sigh of resignation, I made my way to the pro shop where I was forced to listen to an overeager salesman pitch me the benefits of ugly, white shoes.

  When I finally left the store, someone said, “It’s a shame that those shoes don’t come in your color.”

  There he was, my latest assignment. My demon knew it immediately. Picking him out of the crowd was as easy as choosing a rotting apple from a basket of fruit.

  It was time to shine. “It’s my own fault, I’m afraid. I’ve never golfed before and, well, I didn’t know what to expect.”

  Of course, it was exactly the right thing to say. My assignment, Leo, was more than willing to tell me not only about the game, but about the course, the clubhouse, and the event. “It’s a four-player scramble,” he said. “We all tee off, and the ball closest to the hole is the one that’s used to mark where we hit from next.”

  For a man who was probably as old as my father, Leo was fairly good-looking. He had the same tan as the other players, and had been graced with a head of perfectly silver hair. He was a little too thin for my taste – his bony legs and knees stuck out like broomsticks from beneath his white shorts – but otherwise, he wasn’t bad.

  “I see your name is Lilith.” He brushed my nametag with his index finger, purposely grazing the top of my breast with the rest of his hand. What a letch. “We’re on the same team,” he said.

  I let my smile deepen. “What a coincidence,” I said. However, I was thinking that we were not on the same team. Not by a long shot.

  It took only two holes before I hated Leo as much as I’d ever hated anyone, and that included my ex-husband, my ex-mother-in-law, and Miss Spry.

  His frequent use of double entendres – “Let me put you down for a stroke” – made my skin crawl. Then there was his constant bragging about his new watch – a Rolex, his ocean-view condo – in St. Croix, and his boat – a who-gives-a-shit. Even I, someone who appreciated designer labels, was soon sick to death of his relentless name dropping. I also hated the way he made fun of our golfing partners: a sweet-tempered, pudgy pair named Babs and Henry who looked so much alike in their pressed pants and red shirts that they might have been matching salt-and-pepper shakers.

  Like Craig, Leo deserved a push in the wrong direction, and I was happy to do the shoving. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty when I considered the best way to lead him into t
emptation.

  By the time we reached the third hole, my phone had buzzed with several text messages. One was from Grace asking me if the DVR had taped her favorite show – it had – and the others were from Ari.

  I don’t feel good, she said.

  What’s wrong, I asked.

  I dunno. Stomach hurts.

  Ari wasn’t really a malingerer; however, the stomach issue had been a recurring problem since she’d been staying with me. I was pretty sure I knew the cause. When’s the last time you pooped? Believe me, that is something I never thought I’d be texting. I hoped that no one in Homeland Security was paying attention.

  Gross, she replied. Then, a few minutes later, she added, Maybe that’s it.

  “Lilith!” Leo shouted. “You’re up.”

  I slipped the phone into my pocket and approached the tee. “Sorry. It’s my niece. She’s not feeling well.”

  He harrumphed. “How is that your problem?”

  I picked a driver from my bag. “I’m her caregiver. Sort of.”

  “Cell phones do not belong on the course,” he said, “and kids should be locked up until they’re old enough to move out on their own.”

  Such a nice guy. It was hard to believe that Miss Spry needed any help with this one. I teed up the ball and took a practice swing. When I lined up to hit the ball for real, my phone buzzed again, throwing me off. I ended up tapping the ball so that it dribbled off the tee and rolled a few inches down the fairway.

  Leo crowed, “I told you so! See what happens when you take your phone on the links?”

  So he was a poor winner as well. He kept getting better and better.

  When we teed off at the fourth hole, my drive was perfect, and my ball was the closest to the hole. Leo grudgingly told me, “Nice job,” but then added, “Beginner’s luck.”

  On the fifth hole, my tiny, dimpled ball once more flew down the fairway, eclipsing everyone else’s. Babs and Henry both congratulated me, but Leo looked like he wanted to break his driver over his knee. “I thought you said you’d never played before.”

  I was all wide-eyed innocence. “I played once in high school.” Having an inner demon, however, did wonders for my golf game.