Demons Like It Hot (Demons Unleashed #2)(115)

“Yeah, whatever, Frank.” Serah gave Frankie an over-dramatic glare. “You know you want me. When you gonna get back in the closet, big boy?”

“The apocalypse could come, and I’d still wave my rainbow flag. Sorry, toots,” Frankie smirked.

Mrs. Gunderson shook her edema-swollen cankle in front of Lucy’s face. “Can someone just dip my feet, please?”

Frankie sighed. “Right away, Mrs. Gunderson.” Glaring, he swiveled to face Lucy. With a point of his always manicured finger, he mouthed, “You owe me—big time.”

He assisted Mrs. Gunderson from the foot spa and led her to the private room where the paraffin bath was located. Poor Frankie. She did owe him. He could have tomorrow off. That always worked.

Serah shook her head. “Why are all the cool ones either gay or already married?”

“Because that’s life, toots.” Lucy ambled toward the shampoo bowls and reached up to the shelf where they kept the wax. “So do you want me to tame those wild bushes or what?”

Serah ran her fingers against her eyebrows. “Are they that bad?”

“Whoever said the Amazon was the biggest rainforest in the world hasn’t had the opportunity to explore the wild recesses of your brows.”

“Whatever!” With a roll of her eyes, Serah whacked Lucy’s arm. She plopped into the chair and leaned back. “Work your magic, girl.”

“Sit back,” Lucy said as she swirled the wooden spatula in the gooey mass of wax.

Taking the spatula, she spread a layer of wax in between Serah’s eyes. Those eyes always made her jealous, all sapphire and sparkling. Lucy’s hazels did nothing special at all. Smacking the wax strip down, Lucy smirked. With a firm grip, she ripped the strip off.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.” Gazing down at the strip, she inspected her handiwork. Success!

Serah chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

“Got me there.” Lucy lined her brow with another thin layer of wax. “So you got another dusty old antique for your collection, eh?” With the same gusto as before, she yanked the strip off.

Lucy’s friend yelped. “I should’ve had Frankie wax me.”

“Too bad he’s already got his hands dipped in wax elsewhere.”

Serah drew in a deep breath. “I swear you enjoy torturing him.” She leaned back more as Lucy prepared to deforest the other eyebrow. “As for the chest, it has an inscription carved in old Latin.”

Latin—Lucy’s least favorite subject in high school. Not because she failed, but because she was able to pronounce and read the language better than any of the nuns in Catholic school. And she wasn’t afraid to correct them either. Talk about getting your habit caught in a knot.

“So you want me to read it?”

“Yeah, remember how bad I was at Latin?”

How could she forget? Imagine that, someone of Italian descent who wasn’t able to decipher a lick of Latin. Lucy pulled off the strip, a little gentler this time. “It probably says, ‘When in Rome, get the hell out.’”

“Ha-ha! Funny.” Serah’s gaze searched hers. “Something about that chest draws me to it.” She heaved a sigh. “If only I could open it. It’s locked.”

Grabbing a pair of tweezers from the shelf, Lucy shook her head. “You got ripped off. A locked box with no key?”

“I bought it as a conversation piece, but when I got home I just had to look inside.” Serah winced as Lucy plucked the remaining hairs. “Are you almost done?”

“Yeah.” Lucy shoved a mirror at her. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. So you’ll look at it?”

Lucy arched a brow. Serah’s odd interest in this chest piqued hers. “Umm… if it’s locked, how will we open it?”

“I meant the inscription, you dork.” Serah thrust the mirror at her and bounced from the chair. “I think it will tell us how to open the chest.”

Taking a deep breath, Lucy nodded. “Yeah, okay. Meet me here at nine.”

“Thanks girl. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d just add another item to the long list of things Serah still owed her for.

***

After two hours of sweeping the floors and cleaning the stations, Lucy flopped down into the dryer seat. Taking a swig of warm Coke, she grimaced. Where was the Captain Morgan when she really needed it? She picked up the tabloid Frankie had been reading earlier and thumbed through the pages. So-and-so’s hidden baby bump, someone caught at the beach with someone else, the drunken socialite who went commando and bared all to the paparazzi, the professional bowler who had fifteen mistresses. Each week, everything was the same. Only the names had changed.

The soft rap on the back door broke Lucy’s thoughts. Glancing at the clock, she sighed. Punctual as always. Serah was never late. Throwing the tabloid trash on the stand next to the dryer, Lucy bounded from the seat and walked toward the door.

There stood Serah, her arms wrapped around a huge chest. It had to be at least three feet wide and just as tall. How she managed to lug the thing would remain a mystery to Lucy. She looked like she would tip over at any minute. She unlocked the door and let her friend in.

“Whoa! You carried that all the way from your car?”