Demons Prefer Blondes (Demons Unleashed #1)(6)

Lucy glanced down at the picture. She stared back from the photo, her eyes vacant and mouth wide in with surprise. Her dirty blonde hair hung limp around her head. It looked like she’d been picked up after a hard night of hitting the bottle. “What the hell?”

“Watch your language!” Mrs. Carlson admonished from beneath the dryer.

Ignoring the old bat, Lucy tossed the picture back at Gerardo. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” She grabbed up a bottle of water and took a swig.

“You’re beautiful. It shows your natural element! You should send it to the TV show.”

She choked and snorted, water flying out her nose. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. “So I’m supposed to send this photo in and say, ‘Hey, I want to be a model. Here’s my Nick Nolte?’ I don’t think so.”

Gerardo picked up the photo and shoved it back into the portfolio. “Whatever. I’ll just take another picture.”

“Let’s not and say we did, okay?” Modeling wasn’t her thing, anyway. “Enough with the pictures, Ger. Your haircut will be here any minute.”

Gerardo nodded and sauntered toward his station. “Where’s Frankie? He owes me fifty.”

“I gave him the day off.”

Gerardo rolled his eyes. “That’s nice of you.”

“It’s the least I could do, after Mrs. Gunderson’s paraffin foot bath.”

Gerardo’s eyes widened as he scanned the shop. “What happened to Suzie?”

“She called in again.” Lucy snorted. “Then Frankie called to say he ran into her at the tanner. So Suzie is no more.” Didn’t anyone ever warn her about the dangers of UV rays? Oh well, it wasn’t her skin Suzie pumped full of carcinogens. Got melanoma?

“Sucks to be Suzie,” Gerardo murmured. “You gonna hire someone to replace her?”

“We haven’t been that busy lately.” Then again, losing Suzie was probably a blessing. One less person to pay.

“What? Who’s going to take care of the pedicures?”

Lucy flashed a devious smile. “Why, you and Frankie, of course.”

He huffed. “Gee, thanks.” Pouting, he crossed his arms and turned his back. Can’t please them all.

Sucking in a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the chest. Although Gerardo said it was evil, even with its strange electromagnetic shield and bizarre etchings and carvings, Lucy didn’t get that vibe at all. Weird? Yeah. Mysterious? You bet. Evil? Nah. She usually had a good sixth sense about those things. She looked forward to Serah’s little escapade tonight—lunar eclipse and all.

Filled with an odd curiosity, Lucy wandered over to the chest. Running her fingers across the engravings and inscription, she allowed the tingles to travel up her fingers and into her body. She moved to the handprint in the center of the chest. Amazed at the perfect fit, she closed her eyes. It was as if the imprint molded to her hand. Warmth spread throughout her entire body, right to the pit of her stomach, then moving lower.

Oh dear.

The doorbells chimed, ending her semi-orgasmic encounter with Serah’s… erm… chest. Ripping her hand from the box, she turned toward the door.

Speak of the devil. In pranced Serah, holding two department store bags in each hand, while two others were stuffed under her arms. “Hey! Check out my new shoes!” She wiggled her red polka dot patent leather kitten-heeled slide as if she were Cinderella admiring her new glass slippers. How the hell could she wear shoes like that in the dead of winter?

Lucy raised her eyebrow in bemused wonder. Here, just the night before, she’d complained about destroying her most recent antique store purchase. Wasn’t there anything thing else she did besides shop? Not a discriminatory shopper either. Lucy turned a covert eye to her chest and back to the gaudy designer shoes. Old, new, weird, ugly. Serah would buy anything.

Red wasn’t her color, but it went well with Serah’s bouncy brunette curls. “Cute, if you like fire engine red polka dots.”

“Cool, because I bought you a pair… in purple.” She dropped all her bags, except the one in her left hand, on the floor. Rummaging inside the bag, she pulled out a shoebox and ripped it open. “Look!”

“You shouldn’t have,” Lucy said, taking the box from her. She really shouldn’t have. They’d come in handy, along with the other two hundred or so other pairs of shoes she’d bought Lucy over the years.

Gerardo attacked her other bags, oohing and ahhing at their contents. Some might think it odd, but Lucy wasn’t into the fashion and style thing. She’d much rather be stuck in a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers than some of those torture devices those divas try to pass off as shoes. For someone who was on her feet all day, some of those shoes made no sense. She didn’t want to end up with feet like Mrs. Gunderson, anyway.

Lucy turned a surreptitious gaze back to the chest. What was the deal with it? She grumbled beneath her breath. She was almost as excited as Serah—if not more. Maybe it was contagious? Whatever it was or whatever it held, it was now a distraction. And Serah had to take it with her.

“Hey, Serah. Gerardo’s scared of your box.” Lucy just couldn’t resist. “You need to take it with you when you leave.”

Serah rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Are we still on for tonight?” Her eyes twinkled with childish delight.