Satan, Line One Read online

  Satan, Line One

  The Devilish Divas Series, Book Four

  M.J. Schiller

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright 2018 by M.J. Schiller. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  Published by ePublishing Works!

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-947833-96-8

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Reader Invitation

  Pitchfork In The Road

  Purchase Pitchfork in the Road

  Also by M.J. Schiller

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Dani

  I didn’t remember mothering a newborn being this hard. I may be older and wiser this time around, but let’s face it, I’m also older and, well, older.

  I could hardly blame little Myles. He was probably sensing all the tension in the house. Stress does seem to build when someone shoots out your front windows, a family member is hit by a car, and another is both blackmailed and physically attacked. It wasn’t a good autumn for the McCords.

  I was lying on the couch with Myles finally asleep on my chest. He’d been awake practically all night, took about a five-minute break around seven a.m., then continued to cry until now, two o’clock in the afternoon. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, but I could only imagine what my poor little guy’s vocal chords and lungs felt like. He took tiny shuddering breaths, still coming down from the crying jag that ended moments ago. I lifted my head a tad, being careful not to move my body a fraction of a fraction. His face was rosy from all his exertion, his mouth open, lips quivering with each exhale. His binkie had fallen centimeters from his mouth, balanced on my chest like the cliché ball on a seal’s nose.

  I closed my eyes, bringing my arm up slowly to plop it across my forehead. Peace. Sweet peace. I swallowed a moan, fearing any noise might disturb Myles’ sleep.

  I need to rest…rest…rest.

  My ears were ringing. After all the concerts I’d been to, it was going to be a baby who gave me hearing problems? With each passing moment, my tense muscles gave way to the couch cushions, melting from exhaustion, seeming too tired to even support the skin covering them. I breathed in and out. The silence was deafening. In a good way. I drifted off, my thoughts becoming muddled.

  Oh. My. God. Sleep is glorious.

  The drool was beginning to pool in my mouth.

  Let it come. Sweet Lord, let it come.

  I was in the twilight before completely slipping under—neither awake nor asleep—when bombs exploded.

  Darren? My eyes snapped open. Light streamed in the newly replaced front windows.

  Oh, no. Not the nightmares again. Not when I need sleep the most.

  Everyone had a breaking point. Mine loomed larger with each minute spent in a conscious state.

  Bam.

  I jumped. Myles took up his wailing like he’d never stopped.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  I blinked. Oh. It wasn’t bombs. Someone was knocking at the door. Visitors? Not now. I had to look a mess.

  Bam.

  “What is so all-fired important?” I mumbled as I clutched Myles against me and struggled to a seated position. “I’m coming,” I tried to yell over the staccato screams of my newborn. Little lungs can’t hold a note long. I used to think it was cute. When it was other people’s babies.

  Bam.

  “Coming!” I screamed desperately, tears forming in my eyes, twinning with the ones in Myles’. I was losing it. I scrambled to my feet and lumbered to the foyer. “Coming. Coming.” I reached the entrance, fumbled with the lock, then yanked the door open.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here.” A shadow, along with the mass who created it, rushed past me. I squinted in the sunlight, with mole-like intensity, peering outside to make sure she was alone before closing the door.

  I jiggled the baby. “Sorry. He’s been a bit fussy.”

  “Sounds like it,” she responded irritably.

  I bristled. You have NO idea.

  Tara Devine had been my neighbor since the day I moved in, not all that long ago, and my husband Tucker’s for much longer. Though a trifle self-centered and given to preaching, she had a good heart. And occasionally, gems of wisdom were hidden in her monologues. She was ten years my senior and so was a good source when I was stumped about how to handle a situation with the kids, or even helpful with something as mundane as where to find a good dry cleaner. And she was a lunch lady, as I was pre-Myles, so we had that in common.

  She glanced around, and I scanned the room, too. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat on the coffee table, a Diet Pepsi keeping it company. Myles’ blue baby blankie was on the floor midway between the swinging kitchen door and the couch. When did I drop that? A beige comforter was mounded on the couch where my feet had been minutes before, as I drifted into blessed sleep.

  Oh, sleep….

  I shook myself. Tara had turned to look at me, hands fisted on her hips and a raised eyebrow chastising me for the chaos surrounding her.

  Oh. Please, don’t. I don’t want to go off on you, and I will if you say one critical word. I will. I swear it.

  Instead, she held out her hands and I gratefully passed Myles to her. The tiny traitor calmed in her arms, and as she rocked with him, I occasionally could see his eyes, wide and wet with tears, staring at her as if she was the creature from the deep lagoon.

  “Sh-sh-sh,” she cooed to Myles. “No need for all that carrying on, little mister.” He released a trembling exhale and continued giving her moon eyes. She raised her head to look at me. “You look like hell.”

  I clenched my teeth, ducking my head so she wouldn’t notice, and scooping the bowl and soda can from the table. “Gee, thanks.”

  She placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dani. I’m kind of out of sorts.”

  It would seem to be the day for that. “Why? What’s going on?” Tara followed me as I shuffled toward the kitchen.

  “You know…” she said in a suspiciously friendly manner,
ignoring my question. “With some extra money coming in, you could afford to hire a maid.”

  I slammed the bowl and can on the counter, gripping the edge and counting to ten in my head. I got to three before spinning around. “You know, Tara, I was up all night. So if you have something you wanted to say, now would be the time.”

  “Well,” she snapped back, handing me Myles, who started to wail again. “Obviously I came at a bad time.”

  She turned to leave, and I was so tempted to let her. But she was the only other person I’d seen all day, and I needed someone to talk to. “Wait,” I said a hair too loudly, and a lot too desperately. “I’m sorry, Tara. Please don’t go. It’s just…sleep deprivation is a really evil thing….”

  She whirled, her mouth opening, a comeback teetering on her lips, but she swallowed it and was uncharacteristically quiet. I could tell gears were turning in that head of hers. I imagined rusty gears, as I was still a tad grumpy. Tara smiled, and my heartrate accelerated. Whatever brought her to my door was now keeping her silent. It must be a powerful thing to keep her from prattling on. Myles must have sensed it, too, because he gave one final yell before falling to sleep on my chest. He was sweet when he slept. Tara walked past me to the sink, picking up the bowl I’d set on the counter and tipping it to dump the remains of the cereal down the drain.

  “You want to know why I’m here? Fair enough.” She started taking dirty dishes from the sink and setting them on the counter.

  “Thanks, Tara, but I can—” I reached toward the sink and she slapped my hand. Hard. “Ow!”

  “Oops. Sorry. I did that with more force than I intended.”

  I quirked my lips, looking at her sideways, wishing my other hand was free to rub the sting away. “Yeah. Sure you did.”

  She smiled, too. Her first genuine smile since crossing my threshold. “I am sorry,” she said contritely, turning on the tap to rinse a dish. She set it with the rest and filled the sink. Adding what I considered an exorbitant amount of Dawn to the water, she looked over at me. “Tanya told us today she’s pregnant.”

  “Really?” Tanya was her co-worker and also one of our neighbors. “That’s wonderful. I bet she and Robert are thrilled.”

  “Oh, they are. They are.” She added dishes to the water, watching one by one as they slid under the surface of the mounds of suds like a descending submarine. Again, I winced at the uncommon, unnerving quiet.

  I turned to rest my backside against the cabinets. “So why aren’t you happy for them?”

  “Oh, I am.” She plucked a plate from its watery grave and doused it with still more soap before wiping it with a dish towel that was far too big to be working well, but I bit my tongue. How about that? It was possible not to correct someone when they’re doing things wrong. Who knew? Tara tilted her head. “But…she’s spotting.”

  I inhaled sharply. “Tanya is?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s not good. How far along is she?”

  “Ten weeks. The doctor wants her on bedrest.” She shook her head as if our friend and her baby’s health problem was an annoyance to her.

  “Well, I think that’s wise, don’t you?”

  She acted as if considering that. “Yes. Probably. Being as it’s her first baby and all.”

  “Is she upset?”

  “She’s trying to act like she’s not, but she is. In fact, I think she’s scared shitless.” The first ounce of compassion peeked out from around Tara’s shield of prickliness.

  “Oh. That’s a shame. I’ll have to bring her dinner. Robert’s not much of a cook, is he?”

  Tara laughed. “No. Tanya said last night he made a roast…by boiling it.”

  “Ooh.” I chuckled. “I bet that was tough to get down.”

  “No. Get this.” She laid a soapy hand on my arm. “When his back was turned, she fed it to Ginny.” Their golden retriever. “When Robert took his first bite, he spit it out. He went out to get Tai food at that new place.”

  I grinned. “Yeah. I better bring them dinner as soon as possible.” I glanced at Myles. “As soon as I get more than forty-five minutes of consecutive sleep, that is.”

  “So….”

  I studied her profile. She approached her subject with the care of a lion trainer. “Dani. What do we have in common?”

  I smirked. “We both spend ungodly amounts of time trying to fit one more dish in the dishwasher?”

  “Well, yes. But what else?”

  “Hmm….” What could she be getting at? “Neither of us likes that female sports reporter on Channel 5.”

  “That’s true. She’s way too perky. Irks the heck out of me.”

  “No kidding.”

  “But…it’s not that, either.”

  I wracked my brain. “We both have a predilection for Zesto’s ice cream.”

  “Best thing that ever happened in this neighborhood is when your Zoe went to work there. But no. Think bigger picture.”

  “Tara.” I sighed. “My brain is a bit hazy from lack of sleep. Help me out here.”

  She carefully placed a dessert bowl on the towel she’d stretched out on my counter. I suddenly wondered why she wasn’t using the dishwasher, and why I hadn’t noticed that. “I may have a solution for that.”

  “I’m not giving him Benadryl.”

  “Dani,” she huffed. She moved her sudsy hands, gesturing from her chest to mine, dropping a mound between us. “We are both….” She spoke slowly, as if that would help me understand better.

  “Dark-haired? Aquarians? Mothers?”

  “Lunch ladies, Dani. We’re lunch ladies!” she screamed.

  Myles lifted his sleepy head at the racket, blinking, then laid the opposite cheek on me and fell back asleep.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “You are a lunch lady. I’m a former lunch lady, now a lady of leisure.” I had taken to calling myself that. It had a ring to it.

  She circled a finger in the air, scattering more poofs of soap. “I wouldn’t call this leisure.”

  “True. I work harder at home than I ever did at my job. Oh, shit.” I remembered I didn’t get chicken out to thaw for dinner. I crossed the kitchen to grab it out of the freezer.

  “That’s why I’m here to offer you a break.”

  “You want to take the kids for the weekend so Tucker and I can go to Hawaii?” I knew this wasn’t what she was suggesting, but I had to throw it out there on the odd chance.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right.”

  I plopped the bag of frozen chicken into the sink she wasn’t using. It clattered around like a piece of wood. We both stared at it.

  “You know that’s not going to thaw in time for dinner.”

  I turned to her. “I know,” I said flatly.

  “And you shouldn’t—”

  “Thaw food in the sink. Don’t give me that health department danger zone speech. I know the drill. This is not for a school-load of kids, it’s for my family.” I eyed it again. “They’ll survive.”

  She gave me a long, appraising look.

  “Come work for me at the school.”

  I gaped for a moment, before managing an, “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No. Wait. Hear me out.”

  “I’m listening. But your talk needs to get a lot more lucid.”

  “Mrs. McCovey said she’d take Myles free of charge so you could help me out.”

  Mrs. McCovey was our neighbor, too. “You talked to her?”

  “Yes. I had to put the pieces in place before I could approach you.”

  I opened my mouth to say something. Then closed it again. I could barely function as it was. She wanted me to take on a new job? I jerked my head toward the living room. “Come with me. I have to put him down.”

  She blew out a breath as we passed through the door. “Oh. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “No.” I bent over the bassinet to ease Myles away from me, his natural electric blanket. I held my breath as I separated from him.
He wiggled a miniature, shaking fist, but sighed and didn’t wake.

  I exhaled and smiled, rubbing my biceps. “My arms were turning into Jell-O.”

  “So you’ll consider it.”

  I stopped stroking my arm. “Did I say that?”

  “No, but I can see it in your eyes.”

  I rubbed them. “You’re misreading. They’re just bloodshot.”

  “It’ll give you a chance to get out of the house for a bit.” She ticked fingers off. “It’ll give Myles a chance to explore a new environment.” Finger two. “It’ll help Tanya out,” three “and it’ll help me out.” She stared at her thumb for a moment before adding, “And Mrs. McCovey is a very nice lady.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Myles will love it there.”

  I hesitated. I did miss having another life, outside of the home.

  She stuck her other hand up. “It’s only half a day, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Krissy Anne said she’d take on Tanya’s Tuesdays and Thursdays.” A finger on her other hand was raised. “You don’t work on holidays. You’ll bring in a little of your own cash. Could help with those college savings. You’ll get to be around kids. You know you love that. And…” Again she was stuck with the lone thumb. She searched around the room, licking her lips. “You can sometimes bring leftovers home.” She grinned, slapping her arms back to her sides and rocking from her toes to her heels, clearly proud of herself.

  I tilted my head. “Come on. We both know taking cafeteria leftovers home is not a plus.”

  “The cookies,” she pointed out.

  “Oh, yeah. The cookies.” I had fond memories of the cookies from my last school.