The Devil's Lover

Chapter 4: Deals In The Night

In all honesty, Jayce's life was kind of boring.

Besides the fact that he stripped and danced for a living, Jayce wouldn't be able to bring up any other interesting hobbies or interests he had. He rode a motorcycle, but he didn't have that much knowledge about motorcycles either. He did sketches and canvas paintings occasionally, though his art pieces were barely anything he felt he could brag about. On days when he wasn't working in Glorious G, Jayce could be found living in his sweatpants, watching whatever new movie he hasn't seen yet while eating take-out food because he didn't have much interest in cooking either.

Today, Jayce was spread out on his couch with a reheated Chipotle bowl while reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episodes played on the television. Frankly, he couldn't think of a better way to spend his day-off.

He preferred staying home if none of his other friends invited him to go anywhere. Mostly because it gave him time to rest his feet too.

Of course, everybody close to Jayce knew about his rest days, which was probably why Miles called him up to ask for a favor.

"Jayce! I think I found my passion in life."

"That's good," Jayce answered with his phone on speaker and his mouth chewing fried rice. "What is it?"

"There's open auditions for a soloist at this bistro Downtown and I'm hoping to get it. I'm about to sing in a few minutes, but Dolan just texted me saying they have an order to be delivered. The guy who I swap shifts with is currently out sick and I was hoping, since you don't have work today and you have a ride and all..."

"I don't want to run your errands, Miles."

A whine. "Please, Jayce? This is the only time I'm asking, I promise. The address isn't even that far! I'll buy you dinner at Pike, as a thank you." Miles paused, then he continued in a more somber tone. "I don't think I've ever wanted a job as much as I did this one."

Jayce groaned like he was in physical pain. "Goddamnit, Miles. You manipulative, piece of–" But Jayce was already standing up, placing his rice bowl back into the refrigerator.

He heard Miles' laughter from the other line. "Thank you, Jayce. I owe you. I'll thank you in my speech when I make it big in Hollywood," His best friend's tone was teasing. Jayce's frustration at getting his day-off interrupted washed away quickly at Miles' apparent joy at figuring out something he would love to do as a career.

Honestly, the things he'd do for his friends' happiness. "Why don't you buy me dinner first before you start planning Grammy speeches?"

Jayce then changed into a pair of jeans lying on his bedroom floor, grabbing his keys and not even bothering to put effort into his hair. Outside, the chilly wind was like a slap on the face, making Jayce pull at his leather jacket on the way to the garage, slipping his gloves on and securing his helmet before he started Pumpkin's engine.

Baby Dough's was a pizzeria tucked in a corner a few blocks away from Jayce's apartment. You'd really have to be looking for the place in order to see it. Many referred to Baby Dough's as Capitol Hill's hidden gem. On the weekends especially, there'd be a line of people waiting to be seated inside the small restaurant. This fact had led the store owners into deciding that they'd begin accepting delivery orders two years ago.

Jayce entered Baby Dough's and was greeted by the mouth-watering scent of freshly baked pizza being pulled out of the firewood ovens. The lunch rush had died down, leaving only a couple of customers enjoying their food. Beatriz, the cashier, spotted Jayce while she was ringing up a teenager's order. She called out to the side, "Dolan, Jayce is here!"

"Hey Beatriz," Jayce greeted the tanned, pink-haired girl as he approached the counter. "How are you and Tess?"

Beatriz tried to hide a smile. She handed the customer his change and pick-up number before she faced Jayce with a laughable attempt at a glare. "I'm sure she already tells you everything about us."

"Not really. She barely gets out a sentence before she's a blubbering, blushing mess." Teressa was great at annoying people into telling tales about their own lives, but when it came to her own relationship she was easily affected by her emotions. Beatriz raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips in another attempt to hide the shy smile on her face.

Jayce laughed as he's immediately reminded of Teressa's own flustered face. "Look at that, you two are perfect for each other."

Beatriz rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Terrell."

Dolan Mitchell was the owner, manager, and cook. The man came out of his office in a white shirt and a red apron, visibly relieved to see Jayce. "I didn't think Miles would actually call one of his friends to do his work for him, but I can't say that I'm too embarrassed to send you back home now that you're here to finish the job." The pizzeria owner had a higher voice than the average male. He was short and stout and had a smile that warmed you from the inside-out.

"Well, he usually saves my ass too. I guess it's only fair."

Beatriz weighed in on their conversation. "Tess mentioned that you and her do much more ass-saving than Miles does."

Jayce grinned, not bothering to deny the fact since there was a little bit of truth behind it. Miles easily fell in love and wore his heart out on his sleeve for the whole world to see—which has led to many interesting situations in which he's needed friends to come take him away from trouble.

Dolan moved around the kitchen, placing two pizzas into boxes that had Baby Dough's logo of a cartoon baby with a chef's hat holding two pizzas printed on them. "Jayce, d'you know when you started talking as a kid?" Dolan looked over his shoulder with his brows creased.

The sudden question would have been much more confusing if Jayce hadn't known about Dolan's family. "Why, which twin is talking?" Jayce asked.

Dolan placed the delivery backpack on the counter before he replied, "Stephen's saying dada and baba now. Meanwhile, the sitter says she can't get Stephanie to speak. That one obviously takes after her papa." There was fondness in Dolan's eyes, and Jayce found himself smiling at the softness of it all.

"How is Roy doing, by the way?" If Jayce had to think of a relationship he would want to experience similarly, Roy and Dolan's would take the cake. The husbands were so in love you could feel it when they were in the same room. Though they were never in other people's faces about it, one could tell even without knowing who the two of them were just based from their shared glances and soft touches. They adopted the twins, Stephen and Stephanie, after five years of marriage, and it's like their love for each other grew so much more to accommodate the growth of their family.

"He's been working late nights three days in a row. I threatened to exile him to the couch if he tries to work overtime again." Dolan's expression betrayed his words; the man wasn't actually capable of doing it.

Jayce shrugged on the delivery backpack and secured the buckle around his torso. It's lighter than he expected even with the pizza boxes inside. "If Stephanie takes after her other dad, I'm sure she'll grow up to be just as smart."

"And stubborn at that!" Dolan shook his head, laughing. He took a piece of paper and handed it over to Jayce. "There's the address. Keep Miles' tip, then you can head back to your apartment. Order's being paid online."

Jayce waved good-bye to both Dolan and Beatriz, hopping on Pumpkin and memorizing the address so he wouldn't need to keep checking it on the way. Miles was right, it wasn't that far. The trip feels even shorter since Jayce practically zoomed through the roads, Pumpkin smoothly turning when they reached intersections and speeding through green lights.

The address led him to a neighborhood a little ways past Downtown. It was the type of neighborhood meant to attract more upscale clients, the houses giving we're wealthy, but we're trying to be humble about it vibes. Jayce could imagine families growing up here, and there's a familiar ache in his chest at the memory of his own childhood home—one that could be considered the opposite of all these houses.

A few minutes of staring at house numbers, he finally came upon house #66 which was a two-story structure with a chic outside look and no gates, only a cemented pathway leading to the front door.

Jayce rang the doorbell.

A man with long dark hair and a full beard answered, wearing a shirt too big for his body and only boxers underneath. Jayce can't even judge the man for not putting on some pants before answering, because given this man's expression, he honestly could not care less as to the state of his appearance. There's barking from inside and the man quickly shushed the dog that was out of Jayce's view.

Jayce hoped he was convincing enough that the man wouldn't be able to tell that this was his first time delivering food to someone's house. He was using TV shows and movies as references to what he was supposed to say, since Miles didn't even think of giving him a run-through of how he usually did it. "Order for Atlas? One large margherita and one large four-cheese?"

The stranger grunted, puffing out smoke from the cigarette hanging from his lips. "I'm paying for this on the website, right?" Even his gruff voice matched his looks.

Jayce smiled, aiming for politeness. "Yes. You also get a free beverage, sir." Jayce handed the bottle of coke along with the pizza boxes. The stranger seemed happy to see his food, until he heard what Jayce said.

"Don't call me sir."

"My mistake," Jayce shook his head, understanding the tone behind the man's words. That was Jayce's fault for assuming.

Jayce had already zipped up the delivery backpack when the stranger, Atlas, spoke again. "Hey kid, you been here in Seattle long?"

"Been living in Capitol Hill for nearly three years now."

Atlas placed down their order somewhere inside the house and shooed away a dog which moved too fast for Jayce to get a clear view of. They leaned against the door frame, fingers coming up to take the cigarette before letting out another exhale of smoke. At least they had the decency to aim away from where Jayce stood. "What's a person to do around here when they're pissed off and lonely?"

That was the kind of question Jayce would not have thought to hear from someone who looked like Atlas. One, because Atlas was actually attractive despite not wearing proper pants and Jayce assumed he'd naturally have people offering to spend time, and two, because Atlas gave off a vibe that said I don't care about anything and I don't let emotions like loneliness affect me. Jayce expected a question about what other good places were there to eat at, or where one could find the actual best coffee in Seattle, but certainly not that.

"Most people go bar-hopping."

Atlas raised a thick eyebrow. "Think I haven't tried that yet?"

"I see you've also been to the aquarium." Jayce gave a pointed look at the navy blue shirt, the words SEATTLE AQUARIUM in fancy block letters.

Atlas ran a hand down his chest, not the least bit embarrassed about his shirt. "The fishes were cool. Didn't help much, either." They took another huff from a cigarette. "Come on, kid. What would you do if you were pissed-off with all of humanity and your boss was acting like an i***t?"

Jayce had to press his lips together to keep himself from laughing at just how serious Atlas looked when they asked that.

"Get ice cream."

Atlas blinked. "That's what you would do?"

Jayce nodded. "There's a dairy queen near Baby Dough's if you ever wind up around that area."

The stranger seemed just as amused as Jayce felt. Good, he wasn't the only one thinking how weird (but not entirely unpleasant) this conversation was. "You're kidding. Ice cream?"

"Works wonders." Jayce smiled much easier this time.

Atlas gave him a five-dollar tip and before Jayce could protest, they'd already closed the door.

-----

Lucifer might have been on Earth for a well-deserved break from things down in Hell, but that didn't mean he stopped making deals with mortals. Originally, he had planned to just lie low for the time being. But Atlas argued that the majority of demons and angels wouldn't go against his long stay on Earth if he had a reason to be there.

So, making deals it was.

He picked the closest one near him, still liking the novelty of Seattle and not ready to explore other cities just yet. Based on quick research, he found that South Park had the highest crime-rating in all of Seattle—it made sense that his client for tonight would be from here, though of course, he's made deals with all sorts of individuals in the past.

The cool night was dampened by the fact that he's close to South Park Marina. The odor coming from that place was enough to make one consider breathing through their mouth the entire time. Ten minutes past nine o'clock. Right here, right now, he was solely Lucifer, not Seuljin.

And Lucifer's client was late.

Three more minutes passed until he heard the sound of wheels over rubble. Headlights pointed to where he was. The beat-up Toyota Innova rolled to a stop a few feet away from Lucifer's Audi R8. He watched as a petite woman stepped out of the driver's seat, hugging her jacket close to her petite frame.

"Are you... Are you Lucifer?" Skeptical, like all his other clients were.

"Yes. And you're Camila?" Camila didn't immediately step closer to where Lucifer was, but she was near enough that he could see the bandage over her evidently broken nose, her busted lip, and the stitches crudely done which held together a gash by her right eyebrow.

Yes, this was his client.

"How do I know you're really Lucifer?"

"I'm here, aren't I? This is our agreed upon meet-up place." The woman did not seem convinced. Lucifer sighed, taking his hands out of the pockets of his coat and gesturing to their surroundings. This late, in a neighborhood like South Park, nobody would be out walking by themselves unless they were looking to be robbed or killed or both. "Do you see anyone else around?"

He had returned his gaze back to Camila just in time to see her pull out a handgun with a silencer from the inside of her jacket, shooting Lucifer right on his thigh.

Lucifer fell to his butt at the impact, gasping at the sharp pain on his right leg. "Motherfu–" He groaned, hands clamping his knee near where the bullet had sunk in. All the while Camila kept her gun up and aimed, ready in case Lucifer would take out his own and retaliate.

Lucifer did not do that, instead he gritted his teeth and breathed through the searing pain. He felt his body spit out the bullet a few deep breaths later, and then the flesh of his vessel's thigh was patching itself up from the innermost layers and out until his skin had repaired itself.

Camila's jaw dropped at the sight of Lucifer's fully healed wound.

"Are you satisfied now?!" Lucifer let his frustration be known with his words, pulling himself up as Camila stepped forward for a closer look, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Holy s**t, what the–" She clamped a hand over her mouth then ran it through her frizzy hair. "What Anna said was true? You're actually Lucifer?!"

Lucifer dusted off his jeans, grimacing at the hole and the drying blood. He liked these pants and they were completely ruined. To Camila, he said, "Your cousin Anna is now sipping mimosas in Manhattan with a young man who's paying for all her bills. Shoot me again and I'll make sure you end up at the other end of the spectrum, Camila."

Camila's eyes widened and she instantly put away the handgun, rapidly shaking her head. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Please, I can't..." The woman took a deep breath, licking at her chapped, wounded lip. "I have to get away from here. I can't take another second living in this shithole. This–" She gestured to her whole face, marred with wounds that looked brand new. "–is courtesy of my loving husband. He's a cop, and I'm an unemployed, middle-aged woman who has a history of drug abuse. Nobody would believe me if I told them the truth... It's why I came to you."

There it was, the desperation Lucifer was so familiar with. Only those in dire situations would actually go through the length of summoning Lucifer for the chance to make a deal with the devil which could grant them whatever it was they wanted.

Lucifer, despite being shot with a handgun, returned to being professional. This was still a job, and he's handled people far worse than this beaten-up woman. From his back pocket, Lucifer took out a slip of paper. Camila took it reluctantly. "Leave tonight, go to that address. A woman named Serena is already waiting for you. She'll make sure you get to Manhattan, and that you're reunited with Anna."

Camila looked at the address, then back to Lucifer. There's fear in her eyes. "What about my husband?"

Lucifer felt for this woman, he really did. Although killing her husband was not part of the contract, Lucifer would be lying if he said he hadn't considered it. "That piece of scum won't be able to get to you, trust me. After you shake hands with the devil, nothing's going to stop you until the deal's fulfilled." Lucifer took a step closer to make sure that Camila was listening intently. "Once you're with Anna, an attorney will take the divorce papers and the restraining order to your husband. He won't be allowed to set foot anywhere near you again."

"Did this attorney also make a deal with you before?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter as long as you're guaranteed freedom?"

A moment's hesitation on Camila's face showed, gone as fast as it came. She shook her head resolutely. "Fine. If I hadn't seen what you did for Anna, I wouldn't even believe this." There's years of exhaustion coating her next words. "But... I have nothing else to lose."

"Alright then. Shall we?" Lucifer took out a tacky key from his coat pocket. Camila stepped backwards once Lucifer exposed the blade that was hidden. He raised a hand. "Before you panic, it's for the deal. Keep in mind, when the time comes that I'll need a favor from you, you're bound by blood to fulfill that favor. Your soul, on the other hand, is already guaranteed to me." Lucifer cut his own palm, barely wincing at the pain. He sliced deep enough so that the wound wouldn't immediately heal.

Camila took the blade and, with a shaky breath, she cut her own palm.

They shook hands, and the deal was sealed.

Lucifer returned to his home that night and paused briefly at the sight of Atlas sprawled on the carpet still in the clothes the demon was wearing when Lucifer had left. Empty boxes of pizza and beer bottles were all over the living room, and Atlas was using Lucier's laptop, pausing whatever it was they were watching only when Lucifer made to remove his boots.

Sid leaped up from where he was flopped on his belly, running to circle around Lucifer's legs, jumping up as high as he possibly could. Lucifer bent so he could properly greet Sid, placing kisses on the top of the overly-excited terrier's head.

"How'd the deal go?"

"Fine. She shot me to prove that I was who I said I was." Lucifer straightened his posture to shrug off his coat. Sid let out a bark as Atlas laughed at the hole and the bloodstain on his jeans.

"I'm glad she thought of doing that. You deserve to get shot more often."

Lucifer ignored the demon's words, trudging towards the couch to join the demon. He had already sat down, Sid taking the place beside him, when Lucifer saw the small colorful pint in Atlas' hands. "Are you eating ice cream?"

"Shut up, it works wonders."