Bat Out of Hell Page 5

  “It’s the man or woman who has no idea what to buy, they understand they have no idea what they’re doing, and they ask for help. Not only do they ask for help, they listen to the advice offered. They tell you their budget, they let you dress them up so they look nice, and they buy what you suggest. They leave the store with good clothes for them, and everyone is happy with the transaction. That is the unicorn. I love unicorns.”

  “When was the last time you got a unicorn?”

  I slumped my shoulders and pouted. “It’s been a while. I usually get the demons.”

  “Why do you get the demons?”

  “My boss hates me and wishes for me to relocate my skinny ass to hell.”

  “Does your boss actually hate you?”

  “She keeps referring the demons to me. I am assigned clients, Jonas. Some of these demons call my manager, demand to know my schedule, and expect me to be there to cater to their every whim.”

  “Well, you do work in a high-end boutique. Some of those dresses cost thousands, right?”

  “It’s where I bought my Prada. For the record, there is no employee discount on dresses like this Prada.”

  “That’s just harsh.”

  “So was its price tag.”

  “I think we need to go to the entertainment room and kill zombies for the duration of this party. I’m not sure I want to see what happens if one of the demons you cater to happens to be at one of the parties. Also, I question why they call it going postal because your tone of voice implies you’re ready to go retail on some demon’s ass.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “The scorn in your voice over your lack of an employee discount on your dress sent the message loud and clear. Also, as part of my catering services as your gay friend, not only am I going to cut your hair, we are going shopping.”

  “With what money?”

  “Mine. Possibly my mother’s. If I’m in a mood, I’ll steal some of dad’s money. It’ll be an early Christmas present, and I refuse to take no for an answer. Also, we never discuss this happened. I will dress you up, and then my sister and the rest of my family can question where you got your spectacular new wardrobe.”

  I worried for Jonas. “Are you mentally impaired or drunk?”

  “No, I just recognize I’ve been that demonic asshole, and I wish to make it up to the only retail person I know personally.”

  Pride came before the fall, but who needed pride when I had my very own gay friend to take me shopping? “Will you make me pretty?”

  “You’re already pretty, but I’ll make you beautiful instead. How does that sound?”

  “Like you’re crazy, but let’s go murder some zombies. I feel a need to destroy something. In a game will do.”

  “I’ve never been more grateful zombies aren’t real, as your tone of voice implied you’d take the fight to real-life given a baseball bat and an opportunity.”

  “It’s been a long life.”

  “So it has. Let’s go teach those zombies a lesson.”

  Chapter Four

  I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn in the game we played, but I loved smashing zombies in the face with anything I could get my hands on. Jonas preferred to do his zombie hunting from a distance. While he slaughtered me on the survivability front, I’d beaten him in body count, leaving a trail of mutilated undead corpses in my wake.

  “Do me a favor, Lee.”

  I grunted as I’d spied my next victim, some businessman whose suit needed some major work. I tapped the button to sift through my weapon choices, and after a moment of thought, picked the machete. I hadn’t done nearly enough zombie killing with a machete, and the suit needed to be put out of its misery along with the undead. I hammered the buttons, huffing when I secured my brutal victory over yet another member of the scourge attempting to end the world. “Does the favor involve murder?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I went on a hunt for my next target. “I’m not sure I’m interested if the favor doesn’t involve murder.”

  “Could you save a few for me?”

  “If you’d stop trying to sneak up on a damned zombie so you can sniper them, you’d have more zombies to kill. I’m pretty sure I watched you walk by at least three crowbars. The crowbars are really satisfying, especially if it gets stuck in their face.”

  “I’ve never been so scared of a woman in my life.”

  “I’m not the reason you’re gay, Jonas.”

  “The reason I’m gay doesn’t involve terror of women, this is true. Men are more appealing.”

  “I never thought I’d say I agree with you on something like this, but yes, men are more appealing to me than women.”

  “I’m open to browsing photos of tastefully nude men and discussing their assets.”

  “His assets or his ass?”

  “Can the answer be both?”

  I didn’t have to think about that one for long. “Only if we can objectify men in kilts. I have a thing for men in kilts, Jonas.”

  “Only if the kilts are being worn properly.”

  I would never understand why people didn’t like gay men. Gay men made the best conversationalists. “For that, I am saving you a few zombies, but if one comes up behind me and eats my brains again, we will have words.”

  “You’ll have words. They’re curses. I’ll just laugh.”

  “There’s the asshole I know and love. Is it really all right for us to hide down here and play video games?”

  “He won’t mind.”

  “Does he have a name, or am I just going to have to think of him as the penthouse guy?”

  Jonas took his time thinking about that. “He likes his privacy, and he’s had issues with women in the past.”

  I understood; society had women trained to want the rich men who were ahead in life, no matter how poorly they behaved. Wealth and power meant more than happiness. I’d met enough rich, unhappy people to clue in money didn’t bring happiness, although stuff could make one happy for a little while. “Penthouse Guy it is. I don’t need to know his name, although now I’m feeling particularly awkward I’d locked lips with the Penthouse Guy without bothering to learn his name.”

  “Yeah. That did surprise me, although considering who was hassling you, I would’ve kissed some strange dude, too.”

  “And you being gay has nothing to do with that?”

  “Despite general appearances, I do have standards.”

  “Like asking him his name first?”

  Jonas sighed. “Yep.”

  “Does this get me labeled as a slut or a whore? I was never sure where the distinction was.”

  “Whores are paid, sluts aren’t. You didn’t take it far enough to earn either label, I’m afraid. You were only slightly naughty.”

  “Considering I’m generally a stick in the mud, I accept my new designation as a slightly naughty woman without complaint.”

  “I thought you were a stick in the mud because you got tired of men thinking with only their dicks?”

  “That, too.”

  “The Penthouse Guy is capable of rational thought that doesn’t involve his sexual parts.”

  Huh. Miracles could happen. “I question how he’s still single. Do you know how hard it is to find a half-decent man capable of thinking with his brain rather than his trouser trout?”

  “Did you just call penises trouser trout?”

  “Yes.” I hunted for another zombie and found a hillbilly with a broken beer bottle in his hand.

  Hmm. I wondered if the game counted a broken beer bottle as a weapon. Determined to find out, I selected my baseball bat and went hunting for my next toy. The hillbilly went down without getting a chance to swing at me.

  “I thought you were going to save me some.”

  “He had a broken beer bottle.” I checked the body, delighted to discover the bottle did count as a usable weapon. “It’s now my broken beer bottle, and I’m about to go shank a zombie with it.”

  “I think I need to take
you shopping for an upgraded television and a game console for Christmas. I had no idea you liked these games so much.”

  “Me, myself, and I had no idea killing zombies could be so damned enjoyable, Jonas.” It’d be too much to ask to just visit the Penthouse Guy and his paintings and play on his system. “Is a television and console and some of these games more expensive than my poor Prada?”

  “Substantially cheaper.”

  I thought about it. “And it’s not mooching if it’s a Christmas present?”

  “It’s not mooching if it’s a Christmas present, I promise. It’s not mooching at all, because you deserve nice things, too.”

  Since when? I’d have to put some thought into that later. “Let me kill a zombie with my beer bottle, then you can convince me if I need one of these with some other games. Don’t disappoint me, Jonas.”

  My best friend’s brother laughed. “How would you like to crash some cars we can never afford? You get bonus points for stylish crashes.”

  What had I been missing all of my life? “I want to drive the most expensive car in the game, and I want to go out in a blaze of glory.”

  “You got it, babe.” Jonas set his controller aside. “Get your beer bottle rampage out of your system, and I’ll introduce you to the real wonders of the console world.”

  “Seriously, Jonas?”

  I ignored the voice of the man I’d used to escape a creeper, all of my attention focused on crushing my best friend’s brother in our race. The bastard hated to lose and went out of his way to make me crash, and for the first time in the entire night, his headlights graced my rearview mirror.

  Jonas yelped, and while he crashed his car, I sped towards victory, hammering at the booster button to make my sporty beast of a vehicle go a little faster. When I crossed the finish line, I squealed and waved my controller in victory. “Suck that, Jonas!”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “I refuse to surrender my victory. Refuse. I would’ve beaten you anyway.”

  For once.

  “He distracted me.”

  “That’s not my fault, is it?” I set the controller down, groaned, and flopped on the couch. “I’m so tired.”

  “There’s a reason for that,” Manhattan’s best kisser replied. “It’s four in the morning.”

  Huh. I digested that news, wondered if I cared, and considered my work situation. Somehow, I’d have to hike back to Jersey, make it to the boutique for a half-day of work, and find some time to sleep around that. “Damn. My shift starts at nine. Well, I’m screwed.”

  Or not. Groaning, I grabbed the nearest cushion and covered my head with it. “It’s Jonas’s fault. He promised to show me the world of console games, and my beer bottle rampage took forever.”

  “You were killing zombies with broken beer bottles, weren’t you?”

  “The crowbar is pretty fun, too.”

  “I see. Did you have a good time?”

  “Please never tell anyone I had a good time; I will never live it down.”

  Jonas snickered. “She begged me for just one more race every time I beat her. I had all my turbos left, and if it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve beaten her again.”

  Bastard. “You’re evil.”

  “I’m just better at car racing games than you are. I even humored you and changed games how many times?”

  “I lost count.”

  “He has a few more car racing games.”

  Jonas’s stupidly rich friend sighed. “When I said you could play video games if the assholes came out in force, I didn’t mean until four in the morning, Jonas.”

  “Well, you should have specified that, then. Look, I even brought a nice girl home.”

  “You’re gay. You don’t want to bring a nice girl home. And you visit my home because I’m not gay but don’t give a shit who you’re dating. If you meant to bring a nice girl home for me, that requires me to be home when you do so.”

  I might consider ditching my ring policy for a night or six for the Penthouse Guy. He’d maintain his rank as Manhattan’s best kisser by default, as I had no intention of kissing anyone else or attend any parties where I might need to pull another dumbass stunt involving kissing a stranger.

  “While that’s true, have mercy. I almost got it right that time.”

  Jonas’s friend grunted. “You’re not supposed to get it right, idiot. You’re gay. Get out of my house.”

  “I would, but I’m so very tired, and someone has to take Lee back to Jersey.”

  I groaned at the thought of trying to make it back to Jersey at four in the morning. “This is going to suck so bad. This is all your fault, Jonas.”

  “Actually, it’s my sister’s fault. She made you come to the party in the first place. Then she showed up wearing an inflatable dinosaur costume. That’s pretty traumatizing.”

  Yes, it was. “It’s still your fault, and I have no idea how the hell I’m getting home.”

  “In good news for you, I have business in Delaware today, so detouring to Jersey won’t inconvenience me much. I will hold this over Jonas’s head for the rest of his life, however.”

  Damn. The nameless bachelor not only participated in random rescue missions against creeps, but he also seemed to be genuinely nice, too. Well, shit. “I was thinking I’d hold out my hand to my best friend’s idiot brother and make him pay me the ridiculous amount required to cab home so I can get ready for work.”

  “In that case, I’ll call a driver for you, and I’ll send Jonas the bill. I’ll also add interest and a requirement for general enslavement.”

  “You should make him style my hair extra pretty tonight.” I peeked out from under the cushion. “Extra pretty, Jonas.”

  “If you forgo the color, I’ll curl it. What time do you get off?”

  “I was supposed to be off today, but someone needed to come in three hours late, so I’m covering her shift. I’ll be done no later than one.” I should’ve been done no later than noon, but I doubted I’d make it out before one, not with the holiday hell season swiftly approaching. Then again, I counted myself lucky; I’d only gotten over thirty hours the past few weeks because of people needing to miss a few hours of their shift. If I got lucky, I’d go over forty hours, which would make my life a little easier. “I should’ve mentioned that before I asked if you were available tomorrow.”

  “It just means I get to sleep in.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Jonas’s friend announced. “Here. Put your address into the app, so the driver knows where to take you.”

  I emerged from beneath the cushion, took his phone, the kind of device I drooled over but could never own, and tapped in my address before handing it back to him. He touched the screen and nodded. “Fifteen minutes. Jonas, why don’t you escort her to the lobby? I’ll tell security you’re supposed to be here.”

  “They know I’m supposed to be here. They would’ve kicked me out otherwise.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told them to ignore you and your guest. A mistake on my part.”

  Without any sign of offense or shame, Jonas hopped to his feet and planted a kiss on his friend’s cheek. “You know you love me.”

  Damn. Not only was Jonas’s friend hot, considerate, and generally friendly, he showed zero evidence Jonas’s behavior bothered him. “I love tormenting you.”

  I kissed my heart goodbye, wished it well on its journey, and wondered if copious amounts of alcohol I couldn’t afford might erase my memories of the perfect man. As I doubted a bender would help, I scratched it off my to-do list and decided chocolate would do the trick instead. “I would say I’m sorry for him, but if I had to apologize for every dumbass stunt Jonas pulled, we’d be here for a few years.”

  “Isn’t that the honest truth? If you’re so inclined, Jonas rather abhors museums and classical art. You could request he style your hair to match a painting.”

  “No.” Jonas crossed his arms and glowered. “Absolutely not.”

  “I recommend ringlets wi
th a tiara, and if you were particularly keen on making him pay for his various misdeeds, he knows where to acquire period gowns.”

  I stared at Jonas. “Why do you know where to acquire period gowns?”

  “I have an actress for a mother and an insane sister who likes dressing up as weird things.”

  Poor Jonas. “Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have immediately realized that. I now feel guilty I haven’t rescued you from the insanity that is your life. Will you forgive me?”

  “I’ll think about it. If you don’t make me buy you a period gown.”

  “But I want to be as pretty as one of the ladies in a painting.”

  If looks could kill, Jonas would’ve had me in my grave in ten seconds flat. “You’re a terrible human being.”

  “But I want to be pretty. Make me pretty, Jonas.”

  “Fine. Revenge will be coming, and when it does, you only have yourself to blame.”

  I shrugged. “I already stirred the ire of a fashion designer tonight. Do your worst. It can’t be as bad as what that woman will do to me should she find out where I live or work.”

  “Pardon?” Jonas’s friend asked.

  “She cut up one of Prada’s perfect dresses, and Juliette Carter found out about it. I’ve been getting texts all night about it. Juliette performed a few death scenes from Hamlet over it. Lee’s now the talk of all three parties.”

  I was? “You had time to check your phone?”

  “You went to the bathroom three times tonight. I also peeked when you were trying to find a game you might beat me at.”

  Huh. “Now I’m really glad I didn’t stay for the actual parties. One close encounter of the creep kind is enough for me for one day. I would’ve hated if everyone wanted to have a talk with me before Juliette Carter gets her hands on me and finishes me off.”

  Jonas’s friend snickered. “Or worse, dresses you up.”

  I’d seen most of Carter’s clothes, and I would’ve given an arm and a leg to own a single piece. “I had no idea that could possibly count as a punishment.”

  “Just trust me on this one. That woman has little self-restraint and is on a mission to bring out the best in people.”