Page 36 of Client from Hell

I could see the prank standing a good chance of working if he’d been careful to never repeat himself. “I want to watch the fallout.”

“I’ll make sure to time it for your maximum enjoyment.”

Mr. Porter handed over a pair of pens, and heavy metal ones with our names on it. I had no idea how they’d gotten the pens on such short notice, although I supposed Lucifer could have taken his sweet time making the arrangements for the car’s sale.

Sneaky, sneaky Lucifer.

The next page held the payment details, confirmed the account, confirmed my allowed usage of the account, and stated the car’s purchase had been processed over a week ago. The price of the vehicle about killed me, as my new bastard of a boss had paid out almost three million dollars, after sales tax, for the forest green beauty of a car waiting outside for me to take it home.

Continuing the sexist theme, pink flags marked where I was supposed to sign, and I did before handing the sheet to Jonas and reviewing the next page, which informed me I had insurance under the Mephistopheles family account.

Yep, the Devil would pay for his crimes. I signed the paper and promised myself at least an hour while in a bubble bath fantasizing about my revenge. “He got us good.”

Jonas chuckled and took the paper. “It is one of his infuriating traits, his constant ability to blindside his targets. You won this round, though. He likes planning further in advance than a week, so you made him scramble.”

“Well, that’s something.”

According to the fine print, the Devil had already done his work protecting our souls, so we got to keep possession of them while we accepted two sets of keys. Lucifer had gotten to the dealership, as my key fobs had been custom made to be pink and sparkly. Jonas enjoyed a bronzed key fob, and his had a rather amusing amount of glitter imbued into the color. Armed with the folder containing our copy of the ownership papers and a huge giftbag each, heavy enough I wondered if someone had managed to stuff an entire tire into the damned thing, we went to make close acquaintances with the newest love of our lives.

It took Mr. Porter an entire hour to go over every button and feature of the Lamborghini, explain the maintenance schedule, certified mechanics if we were not in range of a dealership, and a thousand and one little details he understood we would forget and promised were in the owner’s manual, which was located in the vehicle’s glove box.

After an eternity of exchanging pleasantries, Jonas took the bow off the car, put it into the trunk, and handed over the keys to the rental, which Mr. Porter promised would be watched until the rental company came and retrieved it. One brief call to the rental company with the vehicle’s address later, and I slid behind the wheel of my new car and made myself comfortable.

Jonas grinned at me, buckled in, and adjusted his seat. “That asshole looked like he’d swallowed a fish when he really comprehended that you’re the owner of the car and I’m just the extra.”

I started the engine, and the car growled. “Do people like that end up going to hell, or do they get away with asking for forgiveness for their shitty ways just on the virtue of having asked for it?”

“He really doesn’t accept last-minute confessions and half-assed apologies at death as a way of entering the heavens, Sandra. That’s something the religious whackos created to make themselves feel better about their sins and their final destination. That said, there are plenty of sexist pigs and assholes who have done a lot of good deeds in their life, so they’ll end up going upstairs because their souls ultimately balanced the right way. Rapists never make it into the heavens, ever. It’s one of His rules. A single rape damns the soul to Lucifer’s tender care, and there’s usually no mercy for them. Nowadays, Lucifer either gives them to Darlene or Diana, and they take some of the succubi along for the ride to give those souls some major attitude adjustments. On the really rotten souls, he sends them both.”

“I take it they’re vicious in regards to rapists?”

“That doesn’t even begin to scratch at the surface. I could ask Lucifer about the salesman if you want, though. I’ll admit, I’m a little curious. That one seems to hate women in general, and he gives me a bad feeling. I also don’t appreciate how he was looking at you.”

“Seriously? I’m bald, I couldn’t get much more casually dressed if I tried, and I’m bald. That bears repeating.”

“He comes across to me as the kind to not care as long as the subject is female or appears to be female.” Jonas scowled, dug his phone out of his wallet, and fiddled with it. “Do you want to hit a boutique in Atlanta or do you want to head back to Athens?”

“Are there boutiques left in Atlanta?”

“A few, yeah. Malcolm’s work brought back a lot of shopping to the area, outside of the raze radius. Honestly, he basically owns Atlanta now along with Savannah and Augusta. The surviving owners sold, the deceased owners couldn’t sell, so their estates were liquidated if no next of kin were available, and he got the whole shebang for a pittance. Kanika still doesn’t get the ramifications of her actions—or how much her actions benefited her husband. Malcolm keeps trying to tell her, but she doesn’t believe him. It’s insanity.”

“Jonas, your brother-in-law is literally the Devil. Your entire life is insanity.” I eased the car out of its unconventional parking spot in front of the dealership, made use of the turn signal, and eased into traffic, as I wasn’t about to hit the gas without a thorough understanding of how my new baby handled. “A car this nice needs a name, and since we are co-owners of it, we should name her together. However, she is a lady, and you will accept her gender without complaint.”

“I don’t mind our car being a lady car. I do not usually assign genders to my vehicles, but I can’t fault your belief she should have her own name. Gendering the car seems very strange, however.”

“I need fortification in a sea of testosterone. Most attorneys are men.”

Jonas laughed. “An ally in your quest to take over the legal world? All right, I can’t blame you for that. If we name her Lucille, we can tell Lucifer we turned him into our bitch.”

“Lucille it is, named after your brother-in-law in our effort to crush him beneath our heels.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that. You are going to need it.”

Nine

Don’t monopoly laws exist?

To my delight, I handled driving Lucille better than I anticipated, and I got us to three boutiques before I threw in the towel and handed over the keys. I’d left enough room in the tiny trunk for some basic kitten supplies, which we’d acquired at the nearest pet store before aiming in the general direction of the kittens, which we would find on the outskirts of John’s Creek, a booming town-turned-city north of Atlanta.