Page 32 of Client from Hell

“You could teleport it,” I reminded him. “Surely teleporting a car isn’t beyond you.”

“You just don’t teleport a car that fine. She could be damaged.”

Goodness. Had Lucifer hit his head? Had Darlene finally beaten him so hard his brain had gotten rattled in his skull? Had Kanika finally figured out how to strangle him, resulting in irreversible brain damage? “Are you feeling all right, Lucifer?”

“Cute, Sandra. Very cute. I’m feeling fine, thank you for asking.”

I chuckled. “Are you sure? Because to me, it sounds like you’re spouting nonsense again.”

Jonas grinned, and we inched through traffic. While he hadn’t seemed like the patient type, he waited without complaint while every driver in the area moved at a snail’s pace. With a little luck, we’d be able to escape Atlanta with ease; the cars on the other side of the median zipped along without a care in the damned world.

“Fine. I had buyer’s remorse, and the other car I bought wasn’t good enough. I had Diana pick that one up, and she’s going to drop it off at your parents’ house after I figure out how to irrevocably damage their vehicle without being too suspicious.”

For fuck’s sake. Was Lucifer a child? “Why did you have buyer’s remorse?”

I would have been happy with any car that worked, I could afford to maintain, and would take me around without running the risk of falling apart.

“I had bought a Honda Civic because it was a little sporty, reliable, and seemed like something you would be comfortable with.”

At a loss for words, I checked the screen to make certain I had called the right number. The phone reported I talked to the Devil. I replied, “You’re not wrong, but why would you think it wasn’t good enough? How old is it?”

“It’s brand new.”

I blinked. “And you think a new car isn’t good enough? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m ridiculous, my standards are too high, and if I know what’s good for me, I’ll beg you to forgive me, and I’ll use other filthy words to appease my wife.”

Ah. Darlene had to be listening in on the conversation. “Please bear with me a moment, but what filthy words?”

Lucifer sighed. Jonas burst into laughter.

Obviously, the Devil wanted me as an intern to serve as a bastion of sanity in a hell gone mad. Or hells gone mad. “Lucifer?”

“Please don’t get upset for my standards, which my wife has informed me are unreasonable. She hit me with the whip while telling me this, convinced I will upset you with my vehicle of choice. I am hoping you will forgive me in exchange for giving the Civic to your parents after their other car has an unfortunate incident.” The Devil growled. “She made me use filthy words again, damn it.”

“Don’t trash that poor car. Give it to some other poor family. Check the houses down the street from my parents’ place. I’m sure you’ll find somebody who needs a working car given about thirty seconds. Miss Martha might be able to use it, although she’ll bless your sweet heart until you’re blue in the face because you can’t scold a little old lady for being thankful, try to pawn off pecan pie, and make you cornbread while you wait because she’s got nobody and misses having family about.”

Lucifer heaved another sigh. “Kanika, take Malcolm, go kidnap the fillies and their parents, and go invade on some lady named Miss Martha, who lives near Sandra’s parents. Take over some eggs or something, and say you got too many. Go play nice with the pecan pie lady, and save Darlene and me a slice. We’ll take some cornbread, too.”

Apparently, Lucifer was having a family meeting, as Kanika said, “You just want pie.”

Judging from the clarity of her voice, the Devil had me on speaker.

“You better fucking believe I want pie.”

What had I gotten myself into? Well aware the pair would fight for the fun of it, I said, “Before you argue about pie, if you start doing that, you’ll find out everybody in our neighborhood isn’t really all that well off. That’s just the way it is.”

Those who could afford to move did, and those who couldn’t afford to leave did their best with what they had.

“There, Kanika. You have a new project to keep you busy for ten minutes, and since it benefits Sandra, you can plunder my bank account without shame. I’ll have Diana go on a stroll with me, and we’ll select a gem to toss out into the world and cause some mayhem for a filthy amount of money, which you can then use to help those in the neighborhood. But I need some pecan pie, Kanika. I need it.”

“So go to a grocery store,” Kanika suggested.

The Devil gasped, and having lived in Georgia all my life, I couldn’t even blame him for his reaction. “Watch the filth coming out of your mouth, young lady. You do not buy pecan pie from a grocery store. Pecan pie needs to be made at home with love, else it just doesn’t taste right.”

“For fuck’s sake. You’re sending me to Georgia to get you pie?”

“Well, I’m actually sending you to Georgia to give that little old lady some company and keep an eye on Sandra’s parents and take over the Civic, but I figured since I’m sending you to Georgia anyway, you may as well try to acquire some pie for us. Just tell Sandra’s parents the car is part of Sandra’s hiring bonus, but she won’t need it for a while, so she is loaning it to them. Then I can make their car have an accident and gradually ease them into ownership of the Civic.”