Now Playing On The Jukebox In Hell Part 2

"If I'd been there last night, would you have taken a bubble bath?"

"Probably not. You hate them."

"So you got a break too, didn't you?"

Even in the half-dark, I could clearly see the nasty glitter in her eyes as she caught my drift. Just as she was winding up to have at me, the waiter came back with the wine. She sat back and folded her arms tight across her chest as I smiled at him. "Thank you," I said. "Perfect timing."

He didn't follow. "Pardon?"

"Never mind. Go ahead."

But he didn't -- and it dawned on me that he wasn't sure which of us to pour for. I surveyed the room. It was all boy-girl couples and a few tables of business dinners, which was what it probably always was. Just Friends didn't go to dinner at places like this. At least, not in Greenville. d.a.m.n Ca.s.sie anyway.

"She ordered it," I reminded him. "Why don't we let her try it?"

Relieved to have the decision made, he sprang into action. Ca.s.sie was still waiting, ominously, so I refused to meet her eye. Instead, I scanned the room again. It was my evil luck to look up when my junior copywriter walked in with whatever she was dating these days. Smiling brightly, she made straight for our table, pulling her date along in her wake.

"What?" Ca.s.sie asked.

"Heather."

She scowled at me as though it were my fault.

"Public place," I pointed out.

She weighed the pleasure of making a scene against the possibility of clients in the restaurant. Business won -- but she kicked me under the table to let me know it wasn't over.

There are many ways to get even. The way I chose was inviting Heather and her date to join us for dinner.

There was no conversation on the drive back to Ca.s.sie's house. Unnerved by the quiet, I grabbed the first CD that came to hand -- the "Drew Carey" soundtrack -- and stuck it in the player. I sang along with "Five O'Clock World" until the line about the long-haired girl who waits. Ca.s.sie gave me a look with so many sharp edges on it that I ejected the disc.

We proceeded in lethal silence for a few blocks. By the next red light, I couldn't stand it anymore. "I'd rather you yell, Ca.s.s."

"I bet you would."

Normally, I'd have followed up on that, but the stress of yet another in a string of long, weird days was catching up, and I didn't have the energy. The best thing was to drop her off, go home, and get some sleep; we'd have it out sooner or later, and there was no point in doing it tonight. That decided, I waited in silence for the light to change.

Out of habit, I checked the rearview mirror to see where the car behind me was. I'd learned the hard way that a driver who gets right on your back b.u.mper might drive into your back seat if you're a second too slow on green. I half-expected to see glittering red eyes in the mirror and was almost disappointed when I didn't.

Beside me, Ca.s.sie cleared her throat. "Green light."

I almost told her that I didn't need a co-pilot, but her tone made me think twice. Not worth getting into at this hour anyway; whatever was wrong with her, maybe a good night's sleep would cure it.

After we'd been parked in the driveway for a few minutes, I felt the need to speak. "This is it. We're here. You're home."

No answer. She just sat there as though she'd sat there for all eternity and planned to keep it up.

"You can get out any time."

Nothing.

"Ca.s.sie, sweetheart, I love you, I do, but you're making me crazy. Can we just say goodnight now so I can go home?"

"We were going to discuss rules," she said abruptly.

Fantastic. Now she felt like talking. But it was progress. To be a good sport, I switched off the engine.

"Then you invited them to have dinner with us."

"What could I do?" I protested. "They were standing right there."

Ca.s.sie seemed not to hear, or care. "That made it even worse. We were already having a bad date, and then Heather comes along on her bad date, and we all have a bad date together. When you knew I wanted to talk to you."

"I didn't know any such thing. You were in a bad mood. I figured you were just taking it out on me."

"Rule No. 1," she snapped. "No 'figuring.'"

"Fine. But what..."

"Rule No. 2. No interrupting during the rules."

"Should I be writing this down?" I asked, getting impatient.

"Rule No. 3. I want you to move in with me."

She was a real piece of work. "We keep having this conversation. Why is that? I keep telling you..."

"There'll be other rules, but these should do for a start. Are you coming in?"

There were a million reasons not to, not the least of which was that she'd been h.e.l.l on wheels most of the evening. But then she added one word: "Please?"

At long last, I got it. She was mad at me because she'd missed me.

Truth was, I'd missed her, too. No matter what my head said -- and it was talking VERY LOUDLY about payback -- my treacherous heart didn't want to be anywhere else.

Without comment, I opened the car door. Ca.s.sie got out her side. We met at the front b.u.mper and had a little make-up hug...which got out of hand almost right away, right there in the driveway. It seemed that we really had missed each other.

"One more rule," she murmured.

"What?"

"The car goes."

It wasn't like I could take it back to the dealership, was it? "I'll change the license plate, dammit. Now drop it. Are we going to stand out here all night, or what?"

Ca.s.sie opted for what. I'd had worse sleepless nights.

(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 3 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.

CHAPTER 3.

The little red demonmobile was still in Ca.s.sie's driveway the next morning, so I drove it to work, not that I had a choice. But first thing at the office, I was calling a car dealer. Maybe this particular temptation would stop if I broke down and bought my own Miata.

Ca.s.sie, of course, thought that was a fabulous idea. She thought a Volvo would be even more fabulous, but I reminded her whose decision it was -- and whose bank account .

"For now," she'd said.

Wincing at the memory of the conversation that had followed, I took one hand off the wheel to rub my aching head. She'd claimed that she was only joking, but I hadn't believed her. Still didn't. Whatever was wrong with her was getting worse, and if she made one more crack like that, I was going to lose my mind. After six years, how could she drive me this crazy in only a month?

A month. I practically broadsided a pickup as the awful truth dawned. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n. Half-watching traffic, I fumbled in my attache for the cell phone and speed-dialed.

Ca.s.sie answered on the second ring. "Devvy?"

I almost hit the pickup again. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Wait -- I've got to change lanes." A terrible squealing of tires came through, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "OK, I'm back. What's up?"

"That's what I want to know," I growled. "You've been all over my case all week. Does this have anything to do with a one-month anniversary that you think I'm going to forget?"

"What makes you say that?" she asked, all innocence.

Silence on the line for a few seconds.

"Ca.s.s?"

"Yes?"

"You know I think this sort of thing is stupid."

Her voice softened perceptibly. "I know."

"Exactly how stupid do you want to get about it? Is just the day OK, or do you want to get down to the actual hour?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to do this right," I said grimly.

Ca.s.sie laughed. "Wait a minute."

"What for?"

No answer, except for more tire-screeching. A little annoyed, I held the phone away again and waited.

Then a black BMW pulled up on my left, honking frantically. As soon as I looked over, Ca.s.sie rolled down her pa.s.senger window.

"You! In the little red car!" she shouted.

Furtively, I checked traffic. People were looking. I decided to pretend I didn't know her.

"Hey! Cutie! Sugarplum!"

I was going to kill her. "We have cell phones," I reminded her, over mine. "If you have something to say to me..."

She held hers up with an evil smile, punching at it with one finger, and the connection went dead. Not amused, I switched off my own phone, threw it on the floorboard, and rolled down the window.

"What?" I shouted.

"I love you!"

People were slowing down to get a better look, and most of them were laughing. I lasered everyone I could, given the need to watch the road once in a while.

"Pooooookie! I loooooove yoooooou!"

That did it. Checking traffic first, I leaned out the window as far as I realistically could. "I love you too! And you're fantastic in bed!"

The look on her face was worth the howls of laughter in the surrounding cars. Without even bothering to roll her window up, she hit the gas and got out of there as fast as she could -- which was really fast, the way she drove.

I'd make it up to her at some point. Probably. But G.o.d, that had been fun.

The fun didn't last, of course. As soon as I got off the elevator, Heather pounced on me -- literally, almost spilling my coffee.

"There's someone in your office," she reported.

What else was new? There was always someone in my office, usually when I didn't want to see them. "So?"

"But n.o.body's in there."

Frowning, I rubbed my temples again. This was already shaping up to be a beast of a day. "You can't have it both ways, Heather. Are you feeling all right?"

She tapped her foot impatiently, thinking. Then she grabbed my coat sleeve and yanked. "Come on -- I'll show you."

I shook her off but let her lead the way. When we reached my office, she threw open the door and jumped back, as though something might fly out and bite her.