Victoria Scott - The Liberator

Real men dont cross their legs.

In an emergency situation, like if you need to adjust your junk, a dude can place ankle to knee. But thats it. There shouldnt be any danglage. I shouldnt see one leg lying limply over the other, and I definitelydefinitelyshouldnt see you bounce your dangling foot.

The guy in front of me is breaking this Man Rule. And about a dozen others.

Hes wearing black-framed glasses Im sure he doesnt need and a Burberry scarf thats as phony as he is. Even worse, hes sipping champagne from a friggin crystal flute.

And hes talking to my girl, Charlie.

And making her laugh.

Music from the party throbs and echoes off the basement walls. Im not sure how I got here, and Im certain I dont know how Charlie ended up on the other side of the room with Guy In Touch With His Emotions. Raising a bottle to my lips, I watch as the guy uncrosses his long legs and recrosses them.

His tampon must be killing him.

I know perfectly well why this dude is moving in on Charlie. Shes completely beautiful. But I cant complain. Im the one who did this to her.

A month ago, I was given an assignment from Boss Man, aka, Lord of the Underworld, to collect Charlies soul. Like the champ I am, I pulled out all the stops to complete the job. Why wouldnt I? I was a collector from hell, after all, and there was a huge promotion on the line. So I offered Charlie something she couldnt refuse, something in exchange for her soulbeauty.

My past is working out real well for me right about now.

A girl struts by slowly, drinking in my appearance. I know, fancy face. Im effin hot. But youre blocking my view.

I raise a hand and flick my wrist, dismissing Ogling Girl. She rolls her eyes and clicks away in Payless heels.

When my eyes return to Charlie, they nearly pop from my head. Feminine Man has his arm around the back of her chair and is leaning in way too close. I take a moment to see how Charlie reacts. She isnt leaning into him, but shes not leaning away, either.

Time to break this crap up.

I try to stand but immediately stumble back into my chair. Oh, man, I think, Im plowed. Steadying myself, I try again to stand. This time Im successful. A guy near me holds his hand out, and I slap him a high five.

Then I cross the distance between Charlie and me. She looks up, and her mouth curves up in a cautious smile.

Hey, D-bag says. He looks at me like Im the one interrupting.

Oh, hey, I say. Did you want me to come back when youre done with my girlfriend?

Dante, Charlie says, sensing Im about to blow.

I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a gentle squeeze, but my eyes never leave his face.

The dude looks at Charlie, then up at me. Relax. We werent doing anything. His words are innocent, but theres an arrogant tilt to his chin that I want to crush.

Of course you werent, I say. Why dont you get yourself something to drink? I nod toward the other side of the room. Over there.

The guy stands up and steps in close, the smell of his cologne burning my nose. He nudges those black-rimmed glasses, and I consider jacking them, since Im having a hard time seeing straight.

D-bag looks down at Charlie and smiles wide. Hope I run into you again, Charlie, he says. We have a lot in common.

I rub my jaw to keep from breaking his. The old demon in me wants to crack his skull for even looking at Charlie, but I know itd cause a fight between me and her, and I wont risk that. Nothing is worth hurting her again.

Charlie stands and twines her arm around mine. Her lips brush my ear, and goose bumps rise on my skin. Careful, Dante. Im not your property. She pulls back and smiles, though I can tell shes still a little peeved. Her head falls to one side. Besides, you cant kill them all.

I turn my head, looking into her blue eyes. Theyre bright and alert and unlike my own, which Im sure are bloodshot as hell. I can try. I cup her cheeks and pull her mouth close.

She kisses me for a moment, then jerks backward. Her hand covers her lips. Youve been smoking.

Yeah, so?

I thought you were going to stop. She wraps her arms around herself, and my heart tugs at the distance between us.

Why would I stop? I ask. Im already dead. Its not like its going to hurt me.

But youre an angel now, she retorts.

Please, I say, but the gold cuff around my ankle reminds me shes right. Big Guy, aka Lord of the Heavens, gave me another chance after I died saving Charlie from hells collectors. He said I could be useful as a liberator on Team Heaven, but hes wrong there, cause I aint no angel.

I grab a bottle of tequila from the table and take a swig as a bunch of drunk chicks bump into me. At once, tequila races down my throat and the front of my shirt. I pull the bottle away and brush off my dark red jacket.

Damn it, I snarl.

Charlie shakes her head. Shes disappointed I didnt turn into Golden Boy following my rebirth as an angel. But I cant help it, because deep down, Im still a demon.

She pushes the jacket off my shoulders and folds it over her arm. The look in her eyes crushes me. It says that even though Im not behaving like an angel, she accepts me anyway. We should get out of here, she says.

Why? Because of that guy?

No, because

Because you think Im drunk. I nod like Ive nailed it. Girl, Im stone cold sober.

Charlie laughs and shakes her head. Then she reaches into my jacket pocket for the keys to Elizabeth Taylor, my candy applered Escalade. She jiggles them in front of my face. Come on, Im driving.

I pull her close and breathe warm air onto her neck. You saying you want to take me home?

She leans into me. Thats exactly what Im saying.

Then by all means, I bellow. Take me home and have your way with me.

Charlie shushes me as people stop and stare. I flip them off nice and hard and allow my girl to drag me outside.

Get in, she says, pointing to Elizabeth Taylor.

I bow like shes my queen and I her simple servant. Then I climb into the passenger seat and blast Rob Zombie as Charlie drives toward her grandmothers house. I glance over when I notice her going for the Skittles in her pocket, and sigh with pleasure that some things never change. For the first time, I wonder if theres a story behind those way-too-hard, way-too-brightly-colored candies.

Pulling into her driveway, she kills the music. The two-story white house is covered in red-and-white Christmas lights that I strung up, even though I insisted I dont do such things. Grams usually does the job but couldnt hack it this year. Shes has been sick for a while now, and though shes tried hard to hide it from Charlie, Im pretty sure her adopted child knows full well whats happening, even if she wont acknowledge it.