LITMIR.BIZ

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her comment either. Then, to me, he said, “What can I get you?”

      Since I’d already spent much of the night drinking, I asked him for soda water with lime. He disappeared into the crowd.

      I reached across the table to shake hands. “My name’s Lilith. Nice to meet you.”

      The woman had one of those faces that had aged prematurely, and I bet she was a good fifteen years younger than she looked. Twin lines of blush, much too dark for her complexion, striped her cheeks, and her hair was dark at the roots where her bleach job had grown out. I might have felt sorry for her if not for the comment about my dancing. “I’m Darla,” she said, without bothering to shake my hand. “This is Craig.” My client nodded at me, his expression guarded.

      After our introductions, my client and his girlfriend sat in stony silence. I attempted small talk to break the ice. “So Craig, where do you work?”

      He glared at me. “I don’t.”

      “He got laid off today,” Darla said. “Permanently.”

      That explained his bad mood. “I’m sorry to hear it,” I said. “Where did you work?”

      “Packaging plant,” he said.

      “Did you like it?”

      “Not really.”

      For the next ten minutes, I did my best to draw them into conversation, asking if they came there a lot and if they liked to dance, too. They responded in monosyllables, and eventually stopped answering altogether. An uncomfortable silence settled while I waited for J.T. to return.

      When he finally did, he slid into the spot next to me and set a sweating glass of soda on the table. “You from around here?” He had to shout above the music in order to be heard.

      “No, I’m from Detroit.” The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. I winced inwardly, cursing myself for my mistake. Giving personal information on a job was not a good idea.

      “So what brings you to Orland?” J.T. asked.

      I may work for the Father of Lies, but personally, I suck at it. Plus, I was still a little bleary from all the wine I’d drunk earlier. To give myself a moment to think, I took a long swallow of my soda. Then I noticed that the roadhouse was decorated with an outdoorsy motif. There were old fishing poles and snowshoes mounted on the walls, and a moose head hung behind the bar. “I’m visiting up here because I like to fish,” I finally said. “And hunt.”

      J.T. laughed. “Well, I never would have guessed that.” Luckily for me, he was not only half in the bag, he was also under the allure of my demon. Unfortunately, Craig and his date were not buying my ridiculous lie. “You ever go out to the range?” J.T. asked.

      I had no idea what a range was, but I grinned. “All the time.”

      J.T. was lighting up more and more. He probably felt that he’d met his soul mate. “What do you shoot?”

      A shooting range! Okay, that made sense. At the same time, my spirits plunged. If I had been a pilot on board an airplane, the dashboard would have been covered with blinking lights all warning me that I was about to crash. It had never occurred to me to prepare an alibi because, until now, my assignments had all been short and to the point. However, I was starting to sense that Craig was going to be a much more difficult project. I needed a better story, and I needed it pronto.

      “Well, I’m also a journalist,” I hurriedly added. “I’m writing a piece on sportsmen.” Yes! It had taken a while, but my succubus had finally come to my rescue. “The story’s about how Michigan’s poor economy is taking a toll on tourism.” It was the perfect lie, offered up with an enormous serving of sangfroid. Grateful for my demon’s cunning, I gave her a mental high-five.

      At this news, Craig leaned over the table and grabbed my wrist. Hard. His flinty eyes were those of a convicted felon. “What are you really writing about?”

      “Sportsmen, like I said.” I locked stares with him. “I’m a journalist for The Detroit News doing a piece on hunters and fishermen.”

      “Ease up, man,” J.T. said, but he, too, looked wary.

      I smiled and attempted to send a charge of my demon’s allure at Craig, but my confidence was wavering, and as a result, the succubus’s power was limited.

      Craig gripped my wrist tighter. “If you’re only here to write an article, then why give us the bull crap story about being a hunter?”

      For a moment, I worried that Craig would drive me away from the table before I had a chance to tempt him, but at that moment, a waitress passed by with a tray of beers. “How about I buy the next round,” I offered. I waved the waitress over, and Craig finally let go of my wrist.

      Darla looked at her watch. “We can’t stay for another round.” She stood up. “C’mon Craig, let’s go.”

      The moment of temptation had finally arrived. It was time for action. “Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” I asked.

      Darla gave me a ‘none of your damn business’ look before turning to Craig. “Home by midnight. That’s what you promised.”

      Craig remained stubbornly seated. Maybe my job would be easier than I’d expected.

      “C’mon,” Darla insisted. “One of us has to work tomorrow.” She tugged on his hand.

      “If you need to leave now, I’m sure J.T. will drive Craig home,” I said. Then I glanced at the man sitting next to me, taking in his crooked smile. “Or maybe it would be better if Craig drove J.T. home.”

      “Good idea,” Craig said. He gave Darla an evasive look. “I should probably stay.”

      Darla glared at him. “You promised to be home by midnight.”

      Although Craig obviously did not want to argue with his girlfriend, an argument was just what I needed to drive her out the door and keep him in the bar. Plus, I felt that I owed Darla for the smart remark about my terrible dancing. So I said, “I never met a man so eager to have his girlfriend tell him what to do.”

      It worked like a charm. “You still haven’t,” Craig said. “I’m staying.”

      Darla put her hands on her hips. “Why do we go through this every week? If you don’t leave right now, it will be the last time you see me. I’m not kidding around.”

      “If you make me choose,” he said, “then you’re definitely going home alone.”

      As I was inwardly crowing over my triumph, my demon cried out a warning. But it was too late. A waitress carrying a large tray of beers walked past. She clipped the edge of our table which caused her to lose her balance. The tray tilted, and the beers tipped over, drenching Craig.

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