Due South
. II .
I met Lucifer much in the way most people did nowadays, at a diner after a night of shame and regret.
It was late Saturday morning and I'd dragged the still living pieces of myself out of bed and over to the greasy spoon a couple of blocks away. Attempting to chase away the remnants of an awful Friday night and a wicked hangover, I stole a seat in the darkest booth and buried my face in the breakfast menu, waiting for a waitress to notice me.
I'd just decided on golden pancakes and two orders of their juicy beef sausages, when Hello, my name is: Gina stepped up and asked, “Can I start y'all off with something to drink?”
Well, of course she could. Bottomless coffee for the boozy floozy over here, but y'all? Who the hell was y'all?
Begrudgingly, I peeped over the top of my laminated menu and into the eyes of my rather handsome, but still completely uninvited, interloper.
“Coffee, please,” I said to Gina, and to the man in the suit, “Who the hell are you?”
“Make that two, dear,” he corrected, and dismissed our waitress with a smile.
Pulling the hood of my sweater off my head and slipping my cheap shades to rest in my hair, I stared blurry eyed, hoping my bedraggled, morning-after look would be unappealing enough to scare him off. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he took me in. I tried to smile, dry lips cracking under just-about-worn-off matte lipstick. “Second thoughts?”
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be deterred. Instead, he introduced himself. “Lucifer Morningstar.”
Catching Gina's approach, two cups and saucers in hand, I simply inhaled an exasperated breath. “Yeah, okay.”
As it turns out, Lucifer Morningstar had owned the club I'd spent my ill-fated Friday night drinking in, and ill-fated Saturday morning throwing up in front of. He was also the guy offering to pay for my late brunch, and so, I didn't put up much resistance when he insisted on staying.
We'd placed our orders with Gina and then sat in silence – me, pretending to look at the menu; he, pretending he wasn't curiously staring – until our food was delivered. I had hoped, perhaps, the rest of the meal would continue on in the same way.
No such luck.
“Last night, you were with Angelina Motley, weren't you?” Tucking a napkin neatly into the front of his button-down, he looked to me with eyebrows raised.
I was, and so, I said as much. “You know Angie?”
I watched as Lucifer bit into his cheeseburger. Rare, he'd ordered it. Risky in a dingy place like this. When he placed it back on its plate, wiping at the wet corners of his mouth with another napkin, I could see the oozing red meat exposed where he'd taken a bite. I wondered if he'd get to witness a repeat of last night.
“Biblically.”
“Congratulations.” I tried my damnest to hold back an eyeroll. “So why is it you're having breakfast with me and not her?”
“Well, you're having breakfast,” he pointed out, “I'm working on lunch.”
I only nodded, rounding up pieces of pancake with pieces of sausage onto a fork and shoving it into my mouth.
“And,” he continued, “I have no idea where your friend is now. She was gone quite some time before morning – ”
“Neat-o.”
“ – and I'd like for you to return something to her – ”
“Sure.”
“ – I'd also like to extend an invitation to you both – ”
“Right.”
“ – VIP passes to the club tonight. You'll be my special guests, of course. Great DJ. Free drinks. Bottle service, if you'd like – ”
“I'll be sure to pass on the message.”
“Hm.” I could feel his gaze on me as I chewed another mouthful and rooted around in my pocket. “You're calling her now?”
“Texting.” I wiggled the phone a little, sliding my thumb across the screen to unlock it. “I'll let her know you're looking.”
At the ensuing silence, I looked up from my cell to be met with an empty seat. As I looked around the diner, I caught Lucifer's back as he exited out the front door. In his wake, tucked under the corner of his unfinished burger were a pair of golden wristbands and Angie's nameplate necklace. Under his drained coffee cup, a crisp fifty dollar bill.
I tucked the items into my pocket and sent out a quick message:
Why did your ONS follow me home?
It was late Saturday morning and I'd dragged the still living pieces of myself out of bed and over to the greasy spoon a couple of blocks away. Attempting to chase away the remnants of an awful Friday night and a wicked hangover, I stole a seat in the darkest booth and buried my face in the breakfast menu, waiting for a waitress to notice me.
I'd just decided on golden pancakes and two orders of their juicy beef sausages, when Hello, my name is: Gina stepped up and asked, “Can I start y'all off with something to drink?”
Well, of course she could. Bottomless coffee for the boozy floozy over here, but y'all? Who the hell was y'all?
Begrudgingly, I peeped over the top of my laminated menu and into the eyes of my rather handsome, but still completely uninvited, interloper.
“Coffee, please,” I said to Gina, and to the man in the suit, “Who the hell are you?”
“Make that two, dear,” he corrected, and dismissed our waitress with a smile.
Pulling the hood of my sweater off my head and slipping my cheap shades to rest in my hair, I stared blurry eyed, hoping my bedraggled, morning-after look would be unappealing enough to scare him off. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he took me in. I tried to smile, dry lips cracking under just-about-worn-off matte lipstick. “Second thoughts?”
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be deterred. Instead, he introduced himself. “Lucifer Morningstar.”
Catching Gina's approach, two cups and saucers in hand, I simply inhaled an exasperated breath. “Yeah, okay.”
As it turns out, Lucifer Morningstar had owned the club I'd spent my ill-fated Friday night drinking in, and ill-fated Saturday morning throwing up in front of. He was also the guy offering to pay for my late brunch, and so, I didn't put up much resistance when he insisted on staying.
We'd placed our orders with Gina and then sat in silence – me, pretending to look at the menu; he, pretending he wasn't curiously staring – until our food was delivered. I had hoped, perhaps, the rest of the meal would continue on in the same way.
No such luck.
“Last night, you were with Angelina Motley, weren't you?” Tucking a napkin neatly into the front of his button-down, he looked to me with eyebrows raised.
I was, and so, I said as much. “You know Angie?”
I watched as Lucifer bit into his cheeseburger. Rare, he'd ordered it. Risky in a dingy place like this. When he placed it back on its plate, wiping at the wet corners of his mouth with another napkin, I could see the oozing red meat exposed where he'd taken a bite. I wondered if he'd get to witness a repeat of last night.
“Biblically.”
“Congratulations.” I tried my damnest to hold back an eyeroll. “So why is it you're having breakfast with me and not her?”
“Well, you're having breakfast,” he pointed out, “I'm working on lunch.”
I only nodded, rounding up pieces of pancake with pieces of sausage onto a fork and shoving it into my mouth.
“And,” he continued, “I have no idea where your friend is now. She was gone quite some time before morning – ”
“Neat-o.”
“ – and I'd like for you to return something to her – ”
“Sure.”
“ – I'd also like to extend an invitation to you both – ”
“Right.”
“ – VIP passes to the club tonight. You'll be my special guests, of course. Great DJ. Free drinks. Bottle service, if you'd like – ”
“I'll be sure to pass on the message.”
“Hm.” I could feel his gaze on me as I chewed another mouthful and rooted around in my pocket. “You're calling her now?”
“Texting.” I wiggled the phone a little, sliding my thumb across the screen to unlock it. “I'll let her know you're looking.”
At the ensuing silence, I looked up from my cell to be met with an empty seat. As I looked around the diner, I caught Lucifer's back as he exited out the front door. In his wake, tucked under the corner of his unfinished burger were a pair of golden wristbands and Angie's nameplate necklace. Under his drained coffee cup, a crisp fifty dollar bill.
I tucked the items into my pocket and sent out a quick message:
Why did your ONS follow me home?
♠ ♠ ♠
There is actually going to be a plot here. Probably to be revealed in the next chapter. Which should come no later than tomorrow.