Page 70 of Heathens
I clench my jaw. “Therein lies the problem.”
And then I tell him everything. About Lily, Evelyn, Father Monsignor, Monaco...
By the time I’m finished confiding in my brother, his eyes are wide and glassy from the additional coffees he’s ordered us. And the shock, too. The ashtray is overflowing with cigarette butts. I offer to pay as he asks for the check, but he refuses, waving me away and muttering something about how I’ll always be his baby brother.
We get up to leave. “This requires alcohol,” he says seriously, still in a daze. “Jesus Christ.” He looks at me sheepishly, as if those two words are sacrilegious. “Sorry.”
* * *
A few minutes later, we settle into a noisy, smoke-filled bar down the road. After checking my phone for the seventeenth time—ensuring that Lily doesn’t need me for any reason—Felix orders us two double whiskeys. Shooting them back, he puts his face in his hands.
“I can see where the problem lies,” he says, his voice apologetic. “What a fucking prick.”
Felix and the rest of my family have met Auguste before, so I’m sure he’s just as shocked as I was.
“And Lily’s friend—Evelyn...” Felix trails off. “I know you want to help her, Salem, but I worry that this could be dangerous. For both of you. She and Lily may have been best friends, but going through that might’ve traumatized her. I’ve read the stories, little brother. Addiction, sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy... you have no idea what you’re walking into.” He gives me a weary smile. “Though I know you’re going to do it anyway.”
I return his smile. “For her, I will.”
He nods, looking resolved. “Well, let me know how I can help.“
Relief washes over me. “You’ve already helped with the dress,” I explain, grabbing his hand and squeezing tightly. “Thank you for that.”
Felix smiles and slaps some money down on the bar. “That dress was made for her. Red is her color.“
“Any color is her color,” I retort, grinning and slapping his arm.
Felix rolls his eyes and stands. “Oh dear. You really are smitten.”
Lucifer Himself
Lily
Present
I pace the front of the restaurant, chain smoking and nervously checking my watch. I didn’t explain myself to Benedict—I only asked him to meet me here at two-thirty. It’s now two-forty, and as I light my third cigarette, I see him half-walking, half-jogging from down the road. He’s carrying an umbrella. The metro had delays all morning because of the rain. Letting out a nervous breath, I plaster on a smile.
How do you explain to someone that their father is Lucifer himself?
“Hey, you,” he says, kissing me on the cheek and leading me into the restaurant by placing a hand on my lower back.
“Hi,” I reply, gnawing my lower lip as the waitress seats us in the back. Good. The back is good.
After we sit, he looks at me expectantly. “So, what’s new?”
It never would’ve worked with Benedict. Auguste or no, there is no chemistry. Now that I know what real chemistry feels like, I’ll never be able to settle for less.
“Um, nothing much,” I lie, putting my cigarette out in the ashtray. “You?” When I look up at him, he’s watching me raptly. “What?”
I giggle.
A game.
Technically, I’m still playing the game until he agrees to help us.
“You’re acting funny,” he says, frowning. “Are you okay?”
I give him a terse smile and reach out for his hands. It’s now or never. “Benedict...”
