I had the laptop and was working on my novel. He was reading the Sunday paper and trying to look casual in his expensive Italian suit.
Why he could never dress down was beyond me. I mean, who was he trying to impress?
“I noticed one of the houses down the street is for sale,” Lucifer remarked as he took a sip of his Snapple.
Even though we were roughing it out on the porch in the June heat, we weren’t complete barbarians. The Snapple and the cooler had made the journey as well.
“I saw that, too,” I answered without looking up from my computer. “I wonder what he’s asking. It’s a nice little house with a great yard.”
“I have a call in to the realtor,” he casually responded and turned the page. “I’ll let you know the asking price after I’ve spoken to her.”
Okay. That comment has caused the alarms to go off inside my head, so I closed the laptop and gave The Prince of Darkness my full attention.
“Why are you calling the realtor?” I asked with the anxiety of a home owner who feared that property values might suddenly be dropping severely in the neighborhood.
A devilish grin danced on his lips. “I enjoy spending time around here, so I thought that I’d check into getting a place of my own. That way, the next time you get snippy and throw me out, I’d only have to walk across the street rather than going all the way to Hell.”
“First off,” I started like a man who had a major list that he intended to tick off in an angry, defensive voice, “when have I ever thrown you out of here?”
Satan shrugged and then immediately checked the shoulders of his impeccably tailored suit to make sure he hadn’t wrinkled them.
“Never,” he admitted and took a long sip of his Snapple. “That doesn’t mean it won’t happen. You do get impatient with me sometimes, Austin. You’re not going to win any awards with hosting skills like that.”
I glared at him, but held my tongue. It made absolutely no sense to get on the bad side of The Devil. I grabbed a Snapple out of the cooler instead.
“Let’s face it,” The Prince of Darkness continued since I had opted for silence and iced tea, “one of these days, your horrible track record and bad luck with women is bound to change, and you’ll want some alone time. I don’t want to bugger that up, mate.”
Wow. There were so many things in those comments that demanded my immediate attention that I didn’t even know where to begin.
“Thanks for noticing,” Lucifer answered with a proud smile. “Ever since I read how you’d given me a British accent in your novel, I’ve been curious to try it out.”
“And?” I asked because I was so stunned by his words that I could only manage to generate one of my own.
“I have to admit that you might be on to something, Toga Boy,” he quipped with a wink. “The ladies absolutely love it. Maybe you should try using a British accent on dates. I mean, things can’t get any worse on the dating front, can they?”
“Sure they could,” I snapped back. “You could move in down the block and start bringing over new friends you’d like me to meet.”
“Because I wouldn’t ever want to find out what Earthly reward you had to promise her just to get her to go out with me,” I sighed and took a long sip of my Snapple.
“Fair enough,” The Devil replied and went back to reading his newspaper.