It's Raining Men Read online

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  It’s Raining Men

  Slacker Demons 1

  Jennifer Stevenson

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  An imprint of

  Musa Publishing

  Copyright Information

  It’s Raining Men, Slacker Demons 1, Copyright © Jennifer Stevenson, 2012

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

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  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

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  Musa Publishing

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  Published by Musa Publishing, July 2012

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  This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

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  ISBN: 978-1-61937-300-6

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  Editor: Rory Olsen

  Cover Design: Kelly Shorten

  Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna

  Content Warning

  This e-Book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your e-Books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.

  Dedication

  For Rich

  Chapter One

  SATURDAY NIGHT CHLOE CAME into the bar about nine thirty, looking desperate. I poured her the usual. She didn’t glance around the room and scope the prospects, so I knew it would be a bartender-sympathy night. Luckily, most of the regulars had already arrived and fueled up.

  Chloe nursed her drink. “Hey, Archie.” She looked pouty and far too young for all the makeup and the sophisticated black bangs over her eyes.

  I poured myself some good Scotch. “Speak, angel face.”

  She didn’t even look up. “I’ve been dumped. Again.” She tossed off her Bombay and Pernod and shoved the glass at me. Her eyes were still on her glass. “Reynolds texted me today.”

  I put the next one in front of her. “So you’re getting trashed?”

  “That’s life in the Dumpster. Cheers.” Weepy eyes. Oh, heaven.

  “He’s not worthy,” I said. “Detailed whining, please.”

  “You’re always so sympathetic.” She twisted her pout into a smile. “All right. He’s a louse. Of course he’s a louse. They all are. I haven’t met a nice man in…oh…” She squinted.

  “Just over a year.” I ought to know. “You met him here, during the Proof Poir promotion, demonstrating how to make Frothy Coladas. His name was…” I snapped my fingers. “Dexter.”

  She toasted me. “Very good. Dexter.”

  “Dexter of the awesome abs and the sweet temper.”

  “And the wife in South Carolina.” She sighed again. “I haven’t met even a decent married man since Dexter.” I heard a sob come up in her throat. “Swear to God, Archie, it’s a conspiracy. Somebody decided to keep all the decent men away from me.”

  She looked so miserable, I couldn’t think of anything amusing to distract her.

  She started to sniffle.

  A bad weight settled in my chest. My ears burned and my fingers twitched. I felt suddenly sweaty. Was it a heart attack? That’d be a joke after all these centuries.

  Nope. The old ticker was still pounding away.

  I watched her mouth droop, and the bad feeling tightened. What the—

  It was…wait, wait…I was getting it.

  I felt guilty.

  Whoa.

  How could I blame myself for Chloe’s bad taste in men?

  How could I fix it?

  Well, there was one surefire way.

  So then I made a mistake. After two years, I made my move on Chloe. As usual when I make a move, I let my imagination and my sense of humor take over.

  “Funny you should say that.”

  She sniffled. I felt awful. Bless it, she was crying now. A big tear fell into her second Bombay and Pernod. My throat tightened.

  “What?” she croaked.

  I felt like ten kinds of a rat. I felt like a creep. I felt guilty.

  Fuck that. I hadn’t spent twelve hundred years working for the Regional Office to suffer from guilt.

  So instead of exploiting her properly, as I’d put off doing these past two years, I got clever.

  “You’re right. It is a conspiracy.”

  She stared at me, her pretty mouth dropping open.

  I said, “A conspiracy to keep all the decent men away from you. And every other girl in Ravenswood Manor. Twenty-square-block area. No nice men live here any more. No nice men work here. No nice men walk their dogs or drive through or take the El through or come to the gym or the restaurants or the vet. Certainly they don’t come to the bars.”

  She gave a hacking laugh. “Not funny.”

  “Not meant to be,” I said. It was really hard to meet her eyes. But for once in, sheesh, centuries, I felt hideously, painfully guilty.

  I put my elbows on the bar. “All right, here’s the deal. Me and one of my roommates—did I mention I’m a sex demon in the fourth circle of hell?” I said, rushing my fence. “I’m a sex demon in the fourth circle of hell. We had this brilliant idea. Chase all the good men out of an entire neighborhood. Then clean up.” At her confused expression, I explained, “Lots more women for us. We would look good compared to the available mortal dickheads.”

  She closed her mouth long enough to swallow. “Go on.”

  “It took six months to set up, and then we ran it for a year. You should know how well it worked,” I added gruffly. I took a swallow of Scotch courage.

  “And then?” She seemed a lot more cheerful.

  I shrugged. “And then the Regional Office and the Home Office had their big five-year accounts reconciliation, and some programs got cut and some assets got moved, and long story short, we got caught in the machinery.”

  Chloe squinted at me.

  Now I got it. She wasn’t swallowing a word of this. Thanking hell, I spun the bullshit faster. “And now I’m on work release.”

  She laughed delightedly. “Go on. This is fascinating.”

  “I’m glad you’re amused,” I said grumpily. “I should have known, of course, that you were liable to get snared in our net, but I guess I’d hoped you would wise up, or at least take a breather from your lifestyle of dating sons of bitches.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She flapped a hand. “Moving right along.”

  I shrugged. “So, yes, there’s a conspiracy, and it worked pretty well, but now it’s officially over.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Tell that to Reynolds. The putz.”

  “Reynolds is in the past.”

  She was smiling. I felt a little better now. More like the idiot I really am than the total bastard I pretend to be.

  So I spun some more. “The good news.”

  “There’s good news?”

  “Of course. The good news is, you’ve been selected for victims’ compensation.” Yeah, that sounded about right. The sort of thing those bureaucratic morons Above an
d Below would do. “As compensation for your suffering this past year and in recognition of the damage to your peace of mind, for a limited time only.” I smiled my snakiest smile. “For you, it’s gonna start raining men.”

  “You are so full of shit,” she said affectionately.

  “I’m glad you’re glad. You have every right to be pissed off.”

  “Are you—no. I’ll play along.” She’d started to laugh, then straightened her face. “This is the goofiest line I’ve ever heard you use. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use a line. You just raise your eyebrow and they go home with you.” She chuckled. “Yeah, that eyebrow.”

  I said, “I’m not kidding.” I didn’t put on my I’m-not-kidding face. She’d seen it too often. I just waited out the chuckles.

  “Go on,” she said. “Oh, is it my turn?” She stared at the pressed-tin ceiling tiles for a moment. “Okay. So you’re on work release for messing with my love life? And you’re in trouble with hell? Or heaven?”

  “Both.”

  “And you’re gonna make it rain nice men all over me?”

  I nodded.

  Build her confidence.

  That was what I did with all of them. Built their confidence and then fucked them until they glowed in the dark. The glow lasted long enough to attract men for miles around, and the confidence gave them enough discrimination to pick and choose for once. Hell didn’t ask me to make them miserable. I was just supposed to make them. Making them happy was my little act of rebellion, or boredom would have killed me a thousand years ago.

  She nailed me. “So why are you telling me this?”

  Good question. I couldn’t figure the angles fast enough, so I blurted out the truth. “Because you’re crying all over my bar again. It’s bad for the wood.”

  She laughed some more. I felt much better. She re-crossed her long legs. Two guys looked up at Chloe from their foosball table, and their mouths fell open.

  We were off to a good start.

  Then the men’s room door opened, and my roommate Lido walked out.

  My stomach clenched up. How long had he been here?

  “No, seriously, why are you admitting this?” She made “con me” eyes over the rim of her glass.

  I talked fast. “I’m telling you all this principally to mess with my friend’s head. The other sex demon on the project. We’ve each got women assigned to us through victims’ compensation. So, to make life easier, we’re padding out each other’s lists.” I shrugged defensively. “Hey! It’s not easy to organize a rain of decent men.”

  “So your friend will be, like, mixed in with these decent men you speak of. Like a bomb in a video game.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Yes.” As Lido ambled toward us, I lowered my voice and leaned toward her, to draw her closer. “It should be pretty easy for you to spot him.”

  “You can show me his mug shot.” She giggled and leaned toward me. “So I can give him a hard time.”

  “Only if you want to.”

  “So principally you’re telling me all this so I’ll mess him over. Your friend. This sex demon. This other sex demon.”

  “Shh! Right.”

  “And secondarily, why? Really? Seems to me it would all work more smoothly for you if you just left me in the dark.”

  I looked at my drink, embarrassed. “If you must know, I wouldn’t exactly wish him on a nice girl. I suppose he’s cute. In dim lighting. But, well.” I shrugged. “I like you. I’d hate to see you fall for that asshole when better candidates are on the way.”

  She threw her head back and roared. “I don’t believe this!” She crowed with glee, “You’re hitting on me!”

  At which moment Lido stepped up and went “Tsk” in her ear. The snaky Hungarian bastard. I wanted to bite his throat out and growl She’s mine! at his corpse.

  In the same moment, I realized what a disaster it would be if I took Chloe to bed.

  So Archie finally wanted to take me to bed!

  For two years, I’d been too chicken to try to date Archie. I’d watched him lift his eyebrow and walk out with too, too many girls.

  I’d also felt miffed, off and on, that of all the regulars at Cheaters, I was the only one he hadn’t lifted that eyebrow to. He’s one of those men who exudes. God, yes, he was a hunk.

  But so far he’d only played big brother to me. Which was a pity.

  Ignoring the truth, which was that my own terrible judgment about men has made me date jerk after jerk for years, I plunged into flirting with my best friend.

  I frowned at him. “Considering you’re the one who chased all the nice ones away, I’m shocked! Shocked, I tell you, at the hypocrisy of all your fine bartenderly sympathy this past year. You know what I’ve been through. Now it turns out it’s all your fault!”

  “Little girl, is this man bothering you?” said a voice in my ear, and I felt somebody’s body heat against my back.

  I flipped my hair and felt it smack the guy in the face. Like I would interrupt Archie when he was finally hitting on me. Him and his sex demon conspiracy! It was adorably lame, and I was charmed.

  “You’re right. It’s all my fault!” Archie threw his head back. I could feel heat coming off his naked throat. I wanted to kiss it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

  “Gosh, am I in the way?” said the voice behind me.

  I kicked back with one spike heel and connected. I heard a yelp.

  Red-faced, Archie glared past my shoulder.

  My back cooled off where the intruder had been leaning on it.

  Archie kept glaring, as if he were physically pushing the intruder out of the bar with his eyeballs. I was enchanted. Caveman Archie!

  “Out,” the caveman growled to the man behind me.

  “Touchy,” the man behind me said. “I was just bringing you your messages.”

  Archie blinked. “Bull.”

  “Seriously. I met her on the sidewalk outside, and she handed me this.” A tattooed hand stretched past my elbow and flipped a thick, square, cream-colored envelope onto the bar.

  I couldn’t resist looking. It had one word written on it in a foreign language—I twisted my head—Greek?

  Wedding invitation, by the look of it. Another one of Archie’s castoffs must have made good elsewhere, and now she was sending him the invitation to rub it in. I glanced up to see what effect it had on him.

  Archie had gone white. His lips were a tight line. He snatched the envelope out of my sight and stuffed it under the bar. “Fine. Now, beat it.”

  The man behind me laughed. “I’m gone.”

  I watched Archie’s color return. His glare faded. The other guy must have left.

  But now our moment had a big dent in it.

  Dammit! Would he remember where we left off? Who was that woman anyway, that he cared she was getting married?

  Don’t get distracted.

  I leaned forward and put one elbow on the bar, so that my suit jacket gapped open. “I know why you’re telling me all this. It’s because I’m irresistible.”

  “No. It’s because you’re a victim,” Archie said brutally. Clearly, his mood was ruined. “You’ve got a big ‘L’ stamped on your forehead. Which I foolishly forgot. The project seemed easy at the time, and I was probably high when I agreed to Lido’s suggestion, and I wasn’t thinking of you personally, and it honestly never occurred to me what a jerk magnet you are.”

  That didn’t feel nice at all. “Careful. Your charm is slipping.”

  “I’m not trying to get you into bed,” he said flatly.

  “Maybe,” I said, feeling a familiar and unwelcome thump of pain over my chest, “but you’re certainly faking well.”

  “Oh, angels.” He said it like a swearword. At least I had his full attention again. He sighed. “You’re going to make me prove it, aren’t you?”

  That sounded better. “Prove you’re a sex demon?” I said with a straight face. “Absolutely.”

  What Archie looked like: He looked maybe thirty-five
, maybe a bit younger, but with some hard miles. His dark hair was short and casual, as if he cut it himself, but I bet he paid real money for that cockatoo-do. He sometimes didn’t shave for a day or so. I’ve never been a big fan of that look. On baby-faced bank clerks it only makes them look fifteen. On him it looked dangerous and world-weary. His eyes crinkled more than thirty-five, but he had that incredible buffness you associate with a younger guy, a real workoutaholic.

  Nice arms. I’ve watched him at the gym. Holy mack. Push-ups for days, bench presses, chin-ups as if he weighed nothing. He liked bare-knuckle boxing. I used to get all runny, watching him wrap his hands.

  My God, just the thought that he was interested in me, finally. Finally. I squeezed my knees together and got a rush.

  That was the point where I needed to put on the brakes.

  It was okay to have a crush on someone you know is unattainable. That was where I tended to invest my crush money.

  But suddenly he had moved himself out of unattainable into available, into likes-me-maybe, into trying to seduce me with this ridiculous line of crap only a true loser would buy.

  Frankly, the women he slept with were mostly losers. Sometimes I thought he had some kind of personal charity program. Pick out the woman least likely to have someone go home with her, and go home with her.

  Funny thing, they didn’t often come back to the bar. Once in a while someone would drift in, looking forlorn, asking if “that bartender, Ben” still worked here. I was smart. I figured that “Ben” must be Archie’s bed-alias. Sometimes they had a man with them. As if to show off that they’d graduated from the Archie School of Self-Esteem.

  Crap, now I was sure he was doing it to me.

  Archie’s skin was weathered as if he’d spent his teenage years crab fishing with the Deadliest Catch crew. Oh, and he liked math. That was so geeky and not like a bare-knuckle boxer, I kind of adored it. Maybe that’s why I fell for him. Our first real conversation was about string theory.

  One time, I saw him at the gym getting his block knocked off by this truly enormous black dude. For some reason Archie hadn’t looked weak, getting hammered. It made me like him more. It was the way he stood there and took it, kept coming back, kept sailing in and popping the dude. At the end, his lip was split and his nose was bloody and he had bruises coming out all over his chest and stomach and I was totally smitten.