He scrawled it on a scrap of paper, and we walked off in separate directions. A few minutes later, I became invisible and caught up to him, following him back to the hotel. I let him go into the room first, waited several minutes, then walked inside in my usual form.
“Hey,” I said, smiling. He was on the bed, watching some kind of improv comedy show.
“You’re still awake.”
He smiled back. “Crazy night?”
I rolled my eyes and flounced onto the bed beside him. “You have no idea. What’d you do today?”
His eyes flicked back to the TV. “Wrote. Ate dinner.”
Flirted shamelessly with another woman, I supplied.
“Same old, same old,” I said instead. “Doesn’t it ever get boring?”
He ran his fingers along my arm. “You’re enough excitement for both of us.”
I snuggled against him, and we watched TV in silence. When, after a little while, I made a few amorous suggestions, he again refused.
“No…it’s not you. I’m just not up for it.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I teased. “I do all the work.”
“I know, I know. It just doesn’t…doesn’t hold much appeal at the moment.”
“Me naked and getting off doesn’t hold much appeal?”
He held up his hands in innocence. “It’s nothing personal, I swear. It’s just well…it’s not the same as sex, as that union, you know? Don’t get me wrong…I like it, and I’m not saying I don’t ever want to do it again. But…I mean, it’s icing. You and me…our connection is what matters. We know the physical doesn’t really enter into it.” His hand found mine. “It’s just enough to be with you.”
I sighed and hoped he was right.
I didn’t bother asking Seth where he was going to work the next morning. I kind of wanted to forget last night; it had been stupid of me. Nothing I should repeat. I hoped he’d take
“Beth’s” advice and just go somewhere else. If he planned on going back to the diner, I didn’t want to think about it and the ensuing complications when they checked their stories against each other’s.
Besides, I had other complications to occupy me. That f**king jury. Until this deliberation process started, I’d been pretty sure there could be no professional experience more painful than the time my bookstore boss made us attend a seminar entitled How to Turn a Minimum Wage Job Into Maximum Fun. I’d left that class wanting to drill a hole in my head to end the pain. Suddenly, though, I could have sat through that whole god-awful workshop again rather than face my “jury of peers” once more.
To my surprise, I was the last juror to arrive. I glanced at the time, wondering if I’d miscalculated and was late. Nope. I was a couple minutes early—which meant the others had arrived earlier still. Casual conversation sparkled around the room, but I saw a few sets of eyes turn toward me as I entered and sought out my corner from yesterday.
Once I was settled, the demoness with magenta lips who’d envied Jerome’s brilliant proxy idea immediately started business. Everyone fell silent and paid attention. My apprehension grew.
“So,” she said briskly, “let’s get this over with, shall we? Who has thoughts to share on the case?”
My peanut butter friend spoke up right away. “Well, it seems pretty obvious to me. There’s no way Kurtis could have done this. He wouldn’t want to screw with his review, and besides, he doesn’t live anywhere near here.” I wanted to point out that a demon could transport from Belgium to L.A. in a heartbeat, but the others were nodding along eagerly, like his reasoning made perfect sense. “And anyway, it’s been a long time. I think he’s given up the grudge. I mean, Hell, if that whole thing he did to Anthony with the boars and cannibals wasn’t enough revenge for him, I don’t think obliteration would be much of an improvement.”
The others laughed appreciatively.
“You’re totally right,” someone piped up. “He had nothing to do with this.”
“Agreed,” said another.
From around the room, more confirmations of Kurtis’s innocence followed. After several minutes of this, Magenta Lips moved us on to the next stage. I could only stare, wide-eyed, astonished at this brilliant show of order.
“Right then,” she said. “What else do we think?”
The demon with the weak chin jumped in this time. “Well, Starla seems like the logical choice to me.”
Starla honestly seemed like the least logical choice to me. Uneasily, I remembered her words about how she made an easy target. She had the least to offer in the way of bribes. I mustered the courage to protest her guilt but was cut off when the discussion took an even more bizarre turn.
“I agree,” said a demon across the room. He put a lit cigarette to his lips, despite the little sign on the end table politely asking him not to smoke. “Of course, we all know she couldn’t have actually done it herself. Which leaves only one explanation.”
“Right,” agreed Weak Chin. “Clyde.”
“It is the only reasonable explanation,” mused Magenta Lips. “Starla decides to kill Anthony, figures out the logistics, then gets Clyde to do it.” Anthony had been incinerated. I didn’t really know how much logistical planning that took.
“And we all know Clyde wanted to do it anyway,” added Peanut Butter. “He probably didn’t even need her provocation.”
I looked from face to face, suddenly feeling terribly out of the loop. I felt like I was the understudy in a play. Everyone already had their lines down, and I was desperately unprepared.
Just as with Kurtis’ acquittal, everyone in the room concurred with this theory. Immediately, twelve sets of eyes turned on me, their gazes smoldering—and not in a sexual way.
“What about you?” asked Weak Chin. “What do you think?”
“I…” I swallowed. “I think we don’t entirely have enough proof to say for sure that Clyde and Starla worked together.”
Peanut Butter scoffed. “Who needs proof? We have deductive reasoning.”
“We need a unanimous vote,” said the presiding demoness warningly. “We’re all in agreement. You’re the only one who isn’t.”
The faces that I’d hitherto seen bored and playful were suddenly hard and cold. Menacing. They watched me with angry expressions, daring me to disagree.
Something had happened last night, clearly. While I’d been out being psycho stalker girlfriend, Kurtis had apparently done some serious lobbying to get the jury to agree with this theory. The quality of the bribes had to be off the charts. It was funny, though, that he hadn’t come to me. Of course, considering the deal he’d already offered, he probably figured there was no greater reward he could give me. He was right. He also probably figured there was no point in swaying me because I wouldn’t be able to stand against all these angry demons.
And for a moment, I thought he was right on that too. This group was scary as f**k. It would be so easy to agree with them, so easy to cast my vote for this unsubstantiated theory. I didn’t want to have twelve servants of Hell hating me. I wanted to go home and end this insanity. I wanted to take Seth away from waitresses who might lead him into temptation.
And so, I think it was a surprise to everyone—including me—when the next words out of my mouth were, “I…don’t think that explanation is right.”
The following hours were horrible.
They yelled at me. They raged at me. They threatened me. None of them actually hurt me—the rules of this whole operation forbid it—but they came close. And sometimes, mental abuse can be worse than the physical kind anyway. I heard more creative options than Kurtis had come up with for Anthony.
I was almost in tears when salvation came in the form of Luis. He stuck his head in the room, having expected such a lazy jury to have recessed earlier. Seeing the demons gathered around me so threateningly, he arched an eyebrow and said, “Why don’t we call it quits for the day?”
He escorted me downstairs, holding on to my arm. It was only when we walked into the bar that I realized I was shaking. We sat down, and he ordered me a vodka gimlet.
“You okay?” he asked, not unkindly.