One Hell Of A Wingman

“It’s Danyelle.  With a Y,” the stunning brunette informed me as she passed my phone back to me.  “Now take a quickie so you can use it as my contact pic.”

I was utterly confused by what she had just said, and with the fact that she had given me her number.

“She wants you to take her picture,” The Devil leaned in and said just loud enough to be heard over the din at the crowded bar.

Duh.  That would explain why she had been sitting there across from me with a perfect smile on her face.

“Say cheese,” I told her because I’m a freaking idiot.

She complied because, for some unexplained reason, she seemed totally into me.  “Make sure you call, handsome,” she purred in my ear before kissing me on the lips like we’d known each other for more than ten minutes.

As she walked off in her tall boots and tight jeans, I couldn’t help but admire the amazing assets with which Lucifer’s competition had blessed Danyelle with a Y.

Satan slapped me on the shoulder before sliding into the vacated seat.  As always, he was impeccably dressed.  With the glass of Scotch in his hand, he looked more like a model or an International Man of Mystery than he did The Prince of Darkness.

“What’s all this about your being horrible at dating?” he asked playfully as he finished his drink, and then held up his empty glass to signal that someone had better bring him another.

I just shook my head in disbelief as I sipped the same beer I’d been nursing all night and scrolled through the contacts on my phone.

“That’s seven new numbers tonight,” I gushed like the dating nerd I clearly was.  “I don’t understand what’s going on here, but I’m feeling a little better about my future.  Maybe I won’t die alone after all.”

A waitress appeared with another drink for The Devil, and he pointed at my half empty glass.  “Take that away and bring him a fresh one.  Maybe put it in a sippy cup since he drinks like a little baby.”

The waitress giggled, gave Lucifer a look that made it clear he could ride her down the Highway to Hell all night if he so desired, then snatched up my glass and disappeared into the throng of people.

“I’m not stupid,” I informed him as I put down my phone and finally looked at him.  “I know my success tonight has everything to do with your being my wingman.  Thank you.  I just hope you didn’t have to promise those women too much to show some interest in me.”

“I promised them nothing more than a chance to meet a romantic, witty, creative, handsome, gainfully employed man who is finally getting back out into the dating world after losing his true love,” Satan replied as he sipped his Scotch.  “If that makes me the best wingman since Goose, then so be it.”

“You really didn’t promise them anything?”  I pressed.  “Like maybe helping Danyelle to spell her name correctly.”

The Prince of Darkness chuckled and loosened his silk tie ever so slightly.  I always found it ironic when the heat appeared to get to him.

“I think you just needed a change of scenery,” he theorized as he turned to glance at the mass of people mingling behind us.  “You always hang out at that same Witch bar where all the single women are afraid to approach you because they are afraid Ti-Diana will turn them into a pillar of salt.”

“Did you just go all Biblical on me?” I asked as I raised my new glass of beer.

“I believe I did,” The Devil concurred as he lifted his glass.

We tapped in a silent toast.

“So should we call it a night?” I asked not wanting to push my luck.  “Seven is a very lucky number, and while eight is enough, I’m thinking seven is my limit.”

“It’s your call Maverick,” Lucifer quipped.

“Please don’t ever call me that again.”

Satan saluted.  “Yes, sir.  I wouldn’t want you to lose that loving feeling.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t say anything.  The Devil was one hell of a wingman, and he’d earned the right to say such things.

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