“Yes. That’s what he claims.”
“The angel killed him in there, I think. Does that mean he’ll be back? He said if he died, he’d tell everyone in Hell about us and-”
Lorelei shook her head against Alex’s shoulder. “If destroyed on holy ground, a demon is gone forever. He will trouble us no more. I am so sorry you had to deal with this without me. I tried…I was hoping to shield you from this.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got more friends than just you. It’s okay.”
“You are so much more than my friend, Alex,” she whispered.
“I know. I know.”
Lorelei pulled back a bit. She looked up to Rachel. “Your time is short?”
“It is,” Rachel nodded. Alex looked to her, amazed to see them being so cordial.
“Talk to her,” Lorelei told him. “I’ll be here with your friends.”
Surprised, Alex nodded, kissed Lorelei lightly, and then reached out to take Rachel’s offered hand. The two walked back toward the church.
“Wish I had your problems,” Jason murmured with a wink as Alex passed.
“When did you two start getting along?” Alex asked Rachel.
“We don’t. But we talked when she walked out of the pool hall. That’s why I didn’t come to your rescue. Oh, Alex, this is twice now. I suck at this job.”
“You do not.”
“I do. I’m the suckiest guardian angel ever.”
“Stop. Why were you and Lorelei talking?”
“Because you asked us to bury the hatchet. We’re trying.”
Alex blinked. “Really? You’d…you’re doing that for me?”
Rachel just nodded. She turned to face him in front of the church, now holding both his hands. She was wet and disheveled and achingly beautiful. “Tell me what happened,” she said simply.
Alex relayed the evening for her, as detailed as he possibly could in light of the numerous sudden shocks and blows to the head he’d suffered. Her eyes widened as he spoke. “Gorge,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“And you saw all his contracts burn up inside.”
“Yes. The ones he had in the briefcase, anyway.”
She held his hands tightly. “Alex, you don’t know…you can’t have any idea of what a big deal this is,” Rachel breathed in awe.
“We kinda just didn’t all want to die,” Alex admitted.
“No, it’s-it’s more than that.” She looked like she had to choke back a tear. “You did way more than survive an attack from a piddling little temptation demon.”
Alex blinked. “That guy was piddling?”
Rachel nodded, then shrugged. “Hey, that’s a major accomplishment for four mortals with no preparation. These things don’t just happen every other decade. Alex, this is a big fucking deal.” She stepped closer to him. “You did a lot of good tonight.”
“Do you have to go?”
She nodded. “I do. There’ll be fallout from this. You’re kind of scandalous,” she winked, saying it as if she liked that. “I need to manage it. It might be a few days before you see me again, but when I can, I’ll find you. We need to spend more time together. Alex, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being a good guy,” she said as their lips came together.
Across the street, Lorelei and Alex’s friends watched. “Uh,” Wade stammered, not knowing what to say as Alex and Rachel kissed. “This is, uh. Wow. This is awkward.”
“No,” Lorelei said. Her mouth spread into a satisfied smile. “It’s beautiful.”
The guys looked to one another in shock. “That just makes it even more awkward,” Drew deadpanned.
Chapter 11:
Ahmed didn’t head down to his pool hall-well, not his anymore, of course-until after nine in the morning. He awoke late to tell his wife the great news from the night before, only to get into a screaming fight with her. Rather, he mostly kept a level tone, but Emina shouted. Ahmed tried to defend his decision, but soon sat at their kitchen table with his hands over his bowed head while Emina expounded, at length, about the diminutive size of his brain.
The price for the hall was more than fair. Mr. Gorge had offered enough to walk away with a significant profit. It wasn’t that Ahmed disliked his pool hall and wanted to sell. The hall did very well, except that even “very well” wasn’t good enough in light of his debts. When the economy tanked and refinancing opportunities were to be had, Ahmed had thought he could make better progress in eliminating his start-up debts. Instead, he was taken for a ride, and those refinanced loans crippled his profits. Ahmed jumped at this chance to get out from under it all.
Then he went home to Emina, who reminded him of how tenuous their retirement plans had become. How so much of their savings had been wiped out by the capriciousness of the market. How he was a little old to find a good new job in such a bad economy. And of how his profit margin on the sale, regardless of being quite favorable, was ultimately finite, while they were not yet ready to retire and their future needs were therefore effectively incalculable. She didn’t say this in English, of course. She rarely spoke English when she was upset. In Bosnian, though, his wife was quite eloquent, regardless of her moods.
She was also, even today, beautiful. Ahmed still loved his wife every bit as much as he had when he married her in their homeland against the wishes of his family and half a village of rival suitors. Even now when he looked at her, he saw that fiery young woman he’d married thirty years earlier, promising to fulfill her dreams to go to the United States and make their fortune. Even now, he wanted nothing more than her happiness.
And so it was with great trepidation that Ahmed returned to his-the-pool hall that morning hoping that the charming, affable Mr. Gorge might somehow reconsider the terms of his purchase. That was a foolish hope, of course, but for Emina, he had to try.
Things looked wrong, somehow, when Ahmed pulled up to the front of the hall. When he walked through the unlocked door he found debris and shattered furniture toward the back and center of the main room.
“Hello?” called a voice from behind the bar. Ahmed found a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in a crisp, flattering business suit reviewing the inventory binders.
“Ah. Hello,” Ahmed blinked. “Is Mr. Gorge here? I’m the owner-former owner,” he corrected.
She smiled. “You’re Mr. Kovac? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, stepping out from behind the bar to offer her hand. “Call me Lori. Mr. Gorge won’t be back. I’m here to take care of his interests.”
Ahmed shook her hand, feeling even more confused. “Where is he?”
“Oh, he has already moved on. You know how wealthy people are,” she said.
Ahmed nodded. He didn’t actually know any wealthy people. He’d made a few acquaintances in the local chamber of commerce, but on a personal level Ahmed was himself the most successful businessman he knew. “What…happened?” he asked, gesturing with his hand.
“Ah. Well. Mr. Gorge unfortunately took it upon himself to lock up after your bartender, Jim, left for the evening, but then forgot to do so. He left the door wide open. The register was bashed open and emptied, several bottles were stolen from behind the bar-a couple of them are smashed on the floor back there, too-and then there’s the table there.”
He looked around curiously, becoming stunned at the damage done to one particular pool table. It looked like someone had hacked at it with a meat cleaver. “Is that blood?!” he gasped.
“No, no,” Lori said in a calming tone. “I thought so, too, but it’s not. Too dark and thick. Mr. Gorge has taken an interest in much seedier establishments than this one before, so I’ve learned to tell the difference,” she added by way of explanation. “I couldn’t tell you what it actually is, and the security video tapes were stolen, too. But if it’s not blood and it’s not something flammable, I suppose it doesn’t matter what it is beyond general vandalism.”
“Huh,” Ahmed mumbled. He didn’t know if he believed her or not, but she sounded confident. He wanted to believe her. The last thing he wanted was to find out some terrible crime had taken place in his pool hall, regardless of whether or not he had just sold it.