Barb's tech room looked like something from a TV show set on an alien planet in the future. Rows of monitors were positioned on desks and fastened to the walls. Her desk was U shaped with one pristine white computer chair right in the middle.
“Don’t touch anything,” she grouched, “or I'll cut your goddamn fingersoff and feed them to Jesus.” She then proceeded to sit in the chair like she was the queen of fucking England, with a sort of eloquence that parts of society thought should have been impossible for the swamps of New Orleans to produce.
Ignoring her threats about feeding me to my loved one, I said “You are a true oddity Barbara. Sociopathic female extraordinaire with an IQ of 150, a moral compass that is rivaled only by the devil himself, and mannerisms that would make God weep.”
Computer keys clacked as she opened various screens. She didn't deign to look at me as she answered, "Don't call me Barbara.”
The streets of St. Louis lit up on every screen. From traffic cams to personal home security cameras, Barb had access to it all.
I knew she was good, but I didn't know she wasthatgood.
“Alright. What and or who do you need to see?”
“Okay, so, don’t be mad…”
“Blessed Mother save me,” she sighed and rubbed her wrinkled temples.
“The funny thing about being a demon, Barb, is that she can't," I quipped.
“If I could wish for death, I would.”
“I don't think Luci would be willing to let you go at this point.”
She looked at me scandalized. "Do not call him that. He has a title, girl, and you should use it. Unless you're keen to lose what's left of your ashen soul.”
I dismissed her with a sarcastic wave of my hand. “Don’t worry about me, love bug. Satan and I have a special bond. A truce, really. He annoys the piss out of me and I call him whatever I want.”
“I don't know what sort of bond you have with the Devil but it's going to give you the final death one day.”
“Nothing has ever sounded better, Barb. When and if it happens, don't worry. I'll request that you be the one to end me.” I patted her on the shoulder and winced, hoping it was imperceptible. You can't show someone like Barb weakness.That was like cowering before a rabid predator. Or maybe I was just dramatic.
Too bad we would never know.
“So here’s the sitch,” I rounded back to the task at hand. “Once upon a time,a group of idiot boys decided that their trust fund no longer provided them with fun, and so they decided to explore more… Exotic forms of entertainment.”
“Mhmm,” she hummed.
“One night, they stumbled upon a super hot girl with a fat ass and the perkiest tits in town. She thought she was going on a romantic date. Instead, she was the abused piece of leather in their sport ball game.”
“Is there a point to this story? Or are you feeding me the most cliché frat boy party story in the history of white privilege?”
“Wow, Barb. That is truly a new low for you. Have you no empathy?"
“No,” she deadpanned.
“Fair enough,” I sighed, attempting to sideline my irritation. What felt like another story to her was the worst night of my life.
Whatever.
The devil was in the details and their importance wasn't hanging on her understanding.
“Long story short, a group of idiots fucking killed me and then I made a deal with Satan to return the favor.”
“Haven't you been dead for like a hundred years?”
My gaze whipped to hers and this time, the offense was not mock. “Uh, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, no, it's been more like thirty years. You and your Lancome wrinkle cream can kindly fuck off. I don't look a day over twenty-five.”
Barb’s mask of mild irritation morphed into some sort of horrid realization. “Have you not sealed your deal with King Lucifer?”
