See, things were already off to a good start. Next, he simply had to catch a ride. Naked. In a demon body. How hard could it be?
“Humans are so rude! I will make them pay.” Around three in the afternoon, Zac arrived at the offices of Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. It had taken over four hours of walking naked until someone finally stopped. No highway patrol assistance. No Good Samaritans. Not even an encouraging honk from a horny, indiscriminate trucker.
I bet it would have taken ten seconds to catch a ride had I been in my real body. But nooo. Car after car swerved, giving him a wide berth. Finally, a senile old man stopped. From the thickness of his glasses, he was probably blind, too, which was why he kept calling Zac “Ricardo.”
“Ricardo, what are you doin’ out here naked in the desert? Ricardo, dontcha know you’re gonna get a sunburn on them ass cheeks? Ricardo, where is your parakeet?”
Zac made up some lame excuse about sleepwalking and not knowing how he’d lost his pajamas or his parakeet. Luckily, the man didn’t question Zac’s answers. He also happened to be heading to LA to stay with his sister, so he loaned Zac some clothes from his suitcase. A fine pair of brown polyester pants and a neon-orange golf shirt. Classy.
Then, when they stopped for fuel, Zac had to use the restroom because Hilbert’s demon body apparently came equipped with irritable bowel syndrome. I just want to know when Hilbert had time to eat a ten-pound bean burrito.
Zac was going to kill Maury when this was over.
When Zac finally came out of the restroom, the old man was gone. Probably forgot all about Zac. It took another four hours until some creepy guy offered Zac a ride the rest of the way.
Ugh. The man wouldn’t stop talking about his tomato garden as if each varietal were a different lover. He had heirloom, cherry, Roma, beefsteak, and green zebra. “Oh, that cherry. The way she pops in your mouth. And Roma, I could eat Roma all day.” No wonder the Universe was always pissed off. She had to listen to oddballs like him. And to think, I was created to protect them.
Zac cussed silently as he entered the fourteenth-floor office space situated in downtown LA. He hadn’t been here in a very long time, and it appeared no one else had either.
Dust covered the two desks in the middle of the wide-open floor. The corner office, which used to be occupied by Cimil, was dark and stuffy, the blinds drawn. The rest of the space, which was a field of gray carpet, with windows overlooking downtown, smelled like old socks.
So Tula hadn’t been here recently. If she had, she would have cleaned and sprayed some sort of cheery air freshener.
Where was she, then? Out looking for him? Maybe she’d gone back home to be with her parents on their Midwestern farm?
No, she would not give up on me, on us. I know she wouldn’t. Which meant she was out there somewhere in the world, searching for him.
Zac went to the phone on his desk to give her cell a try, but the landline was dead.
Great. He stood in the center of the massive space, chunky pig-haunch arms folded, thinking through his game plan. Time was of the essence, so he’d start with going to his penthouse, grabbing some money, and buying a burner phone to call Tula. He’d have to wing it from there.
Maybe I’ll swing by the tailor, too. Damien Greystone was the best. Could dress a pumpkin and make it look like a movie star. Which is great, because I definitely have a gourd vibe going. His current outfit was definitely not a winner. The brown polyester pants were much too long and rolled up at the ankles eight times. The orange shirt was way too small, so his demon beer belly was hanging out. No amount of fancy threads could make this body look sexy, but at the very least, he had to look presentable and clean.
Whatever Zac did, he could not allow Tula to see his noodle. No female in her right mind would have romantic thoughts after seeing it. It’s like one of those miniature corns one finds in chop suey.
He opened up the front of his pants and looked inside. Who am I kidding? I’d be thrilled to be as big as a baby corn. Definitely a step up. Dammit. I’d better win this challenge. The gods only knew what Maury had in store should Zac lose.
Zac headed for the shiny silver elevator doors, cringing at his reflection and the lumpy, flabby monster body. Gods damn, I’m ugly. He sniffed his armpits. Wow. That’s just…wow. Demon BO was toxic. Perhaps a hot shower was in order before he did anything else.
It was a thirty-minute walk to his place, which should have been left undisturbed during his absence. Before the big explosion, he’d purchased the building and took over the entire top floor for himself and Tula—meant to be a post-nuptial surprise. Some Realtor company was to manage the tenants and other apartments, mostly because Zac couldn’t be bothered, but also because he’d planned to leave town with Tula for several blissful months of honeymooning. When they returned, he’d wanted their love nest to be completely private.
Zac reached for the down-button to call the elevator just as the doors slid open on their own. Two women stepped out. One had a pair of wide blue eyes set in an angelic oval face with Cupid-bow lips.
“Tula?” His heart began to thump like a wild beast. His stomach tingled. His soul filled with joy and hummed with excitement. Without thinking, Zac rushed in and threw his arms around Tula’s, well, midsection. At five feet in height, she was nearly an entire foot taller than him now.
“Ewww! Get off me.” She swatted his head of thinning stringy hair.
“Hey, buddy. Don’t touch.” A fist extended, socking him in the shoulder. The hand was connected to a woman about eight feet tall. He’d never seen such a giant female. Or a homely one. She had a crooked mouth, fucked-up teeth, and the thickest glasses he’d ever seen. Her hair was long and blonde, braided neatly down the back, but it was greasy and dull.
Is that a boil festering on the end of her hook nose? The thing was oozing pus. Damn, girl. Get a paper bag, wouldja? No one should be forced to look upon a face like that. And her body? Yowzers. She was wearing an ankle-length, stretchy gray dress, and her feet were really long, making her entire body look like an old boot.
“Who are you?” he asked the giant.
“She’s Gola, my friend,” said Tula. “And who the hell are you?”
Strange. Tula never used to swear. She’d also never mentioned this Gola.
“I am, uh, Hilbert, a friend of Zac’s,” he replied.
Gola charged like a bull. “You’re friends with Zac? Have you seen him?”
He backed up, not wanting to be run over, but she followed.
“Tell me!” Gola pushed him. “Where is Zac!”
“Errr…I don’t know,” Zac lied. “I live in his building, but he hasn’t been around lately. I merely came by to see if I could hire him. He said he could hook me up sometime. With a nice human woman. Since I’m human. In need of matchmaking—a shocker, I know. All this manliness in such a divine package. I bet you’re wondering how I fight off the ladies.”
Instead of laughing at his humor, Tula sneered with disgust. It was so unlike her to judge a person by their looks. Tula was everything gracious and kind. Also worth noting were her clothes. Hiking boots, faded jeans, and a tight black sweater on her short, curvy frame. She didn’t appear to be wearing a bra.
What happened to his Tula in the enormous muumuus that reached the floor? Gods, those make me so hot. They said: Hello, handsome. I am in desperate need of some sinful fun.