The Devil and Danielle Webster Read online

  “Sign here,” the nondescript man said blandly, clipboard and gilt pen extended. Doug Morris Doug Morris Doug Morris Doug Morris floated hypnotically in my brain. I signed my name, Danielle Joy Webster, with a flourish. I pushed the contract back to him and said, “When?”

  “Oh, immediate delivery,” and with that he was gone, vanished, vamoosed. I stood there, head spinning.

  Chapter 2 – A Night of Passion

  When my dizziness subsided, I found myself back in my motel room. Gone was the deserted lobby and gone the nondescript man. I didn’t even have time to text Jill, who would have wanted dispatches every five minutes thereafter.

  The clock radio read 2 AM. A vaguely familiar middle-aged guy with a pronounced beer gut and receding hairline knelt in the middle of my bed, clutching the bedspread. He was wearing a white teeshirt and plaid boxers. His hair, a disordered mix of gold and silver, looked about three months overdue for a haircut. Silver was mixed in with his curly brown beard and chest hair, as well. The overall effect was grizzled. I caught a distasteful glimpse of thick toenails.

  “Gross!” I said, horrified. “This is a bait and switch!” The panicked look on this man’s face did not lead to visions of ardent lovemaking. In fact, the only emotion this man aroused was repulsion. What had I been thinking of? Why hadn’t I clarified with the nondescript man that my fantasy required my 23-year-old self?

  But the suave salesman with the sulfurous odor was no longer around to hear me. As I gazed upon my bed, a heavy piece of paper floated down, and I swear I heard some far-off laughter. It was my contract, signed not only by me, but also by a “Daemon Lucifer,” in a dashing and ornate style. Ha. So that was how the nondescript man styled himself. I grabbed it, thinking to rip it up, but native caution stopped me. Perhaps I should wait to see what advice Jill could give me first.

  “Where am I?” the stranger said, still hanging on to the motel bedspread. He appeared to be suffering from vertigo. “Where’s Tina?”

  Tina was the girl Doug Morris had dumped me for. “Hi, Doug,” I said, trying to hide my lack of enthusiasm. The decades had not been kind to him. I grabbed my cell and texted Jill. “I need a layer” “*lawyer” “OMG call me”

  “Who are—“ I could tell the exact second that recognition hit him. “Danielle?” his voice sounded incredulous, and none too happy. “Where the hell are we?”

  What could I say in such circumstances? The last time I ever saw him was the night before I moved four states away to avoid seeing him with his new love interest. He married her the very next year. I’d never met her, but I’d been told she wore the pants in the family.

  “Did you lose your nose ring, Doug?” I asked in a sympathetic voice. “Yes, we’re in hell. How did you guess?”

  Doug was acclimating to the room; he released the bedspread, shuffled over to a chair, and sat down heavily. “Why am I in hell? I’ve been good. I’ve been great, in fact. I’ve been to confession every week now for, geez, how long? The past 20 years, I’d say. Just ask Father Fritz, he’ll vouch for me.”

  I took the other chair and put my elbows on the table. “You and Tina never did anything you couldn’t tell to a priest, huh? Wow, sounds awfully tame. What happened to the Doug Morris I knew?”

  “We aren’t really in hell, are we?”

  “I was kidding. We’re not in hell, not yet anyway. We’re in Bullhead City, Arizona.”

  “I’d say that’s close enough.” He looked at me accusingly. “Danielle, is this your doing?”

  “I guess it is, but believe me, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. Ugh! When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

  “Who are you, my mother? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’s just that whenever I thought of your kisses over the years I reminded myself that by now you probably take your teeth out at night and keep them in a little glass of water by your bed.”

  “Very funny.”

  “So did I guess right? Are you wearing dentures yet?”

  “No, I am not, Danielle, and you are not a comedian.”

  “Well, we’re only in our forties. Give it another decade. Tina will have to get used to tongue-kissing your gums,” and despite my disappointment over wasting my soul for this beer-barreled guy with outdated long hair and too much plaque, I burst out laughing at the thought of a toothless Doug trying to put the moves on his wife.

  He waited with a sullen look on his face until I’d recovered from my fit of laughter. “How did this happen, Danielle? You owe me an explanation. It’s, what?—” he looked at his watch—“four in the morning—“

  “That’s Chicago time. It’s only 2 AM here—“

  “—and I have to get up and go to work in two hours. So you need to tell me what’s going on, and make it fast. I’ve got to get back home. God knows what Tina must be thinking!” He looked seriously alarmed at the thought. Heh heh, the rumors from my friend Cindy must have been correct.

  “Okay, here’s the fast version. I’m here at this motel in the middle of nowhere, I’ve got insomnia, I seem to have voiced a wish aloud to see you again, and someone who seems to be the Devil made it happen.”

  I was too embarrassed to give details of what I’d been wishing. How unfair could this Daemon Lucifer be? I wasn’t expecting this reunion and here I sat, without benefit of shower, make-up or flattering clothes. The passage of twenty years’ time hadn’t made any improvements in my appearance. Pregnancies had left me with extra pounds and breastfeeding had compounded the damages. I’d gamely nursed all three as long as they’d cooperated (2 months, 12 months, 8 months, for anyone wondering.) Carter, my baby, was now nine. I had felt relieved (guilty, but relieved) to wean him at eight months. He had a mouthful of gigantic baby teeth and liked to play steel-jaw leghold trap with my nipple, grinning up engagingly at me when I shrieked. My reward for motherly perseverance was a pair of droopy breasts featuring saucer-sized nipples. My most recent boyfriend had professed to find them attractive, which made me suspicious of all his other professions of regard. Those suspicions were confirmed when, shortly after, he stopped calling or texting me.

  Speaking of texting, Jill had not responded to my text. I wasn’t really too surprised, considering that it was 2 AM and she had a prescription for her insomnia. If she were awake, she’d have been all over that text. The woman had a certified texting addiction. I refused to ride with her, because she texted in rush-hour traffic. I got a text from her once when she was sitting in a restroom stall at El Pollo Loco, down the street from our office. End result of that text was that I had to drive over and deliver a tampon. A couple years back while waiting for novocaine to kick in, she’d texted in the right answer to a question about her favorite band to Good Morning Phoenix, and won tickets to their concert that night. She immediately sent out a blast text, “won backstage ass w green day!” After an onslaught of “huh” responses, she clarified, “*PASS” “sorry, getting root canal LOL” I think the dentist had had to threaten to take the phone away from her until he was done. Anyway, it looked as if I would have to wait until morning to pick her legal brain. The problem at hand was now over his vertigo and pacing the floor.

  “You wanted to see me, again,” Doug said slowly. “Why?”

  I could feel myself flushing. “I was actually, uh, kind of wanting to relive some of the old times. You know, I was just fantasizing about the past, reliving my misspent youth. I didn’t want you whisked out of your bed and dropped here from the sky, but, dang, that seems to be exactly what happened.”

  “You were fantasizing about me?”

  “Not that kind of fantasizing! Just being nostalgic for the past, for being 23 again, that kind of thing.”

  “You wanted to see me again to talk about old times? Excuse me if I don’t quite believe that. What else aren’t you telling me? And what do you mean about the Devil?”

  “Okay,” I said. I was really annoyed now. “I said that I’d like to have one night of passion with Doug Morris,
and this guy who looked like a salesman was suddenly there. I never thought of it, but sales is perfect.”

  “I’m in sales,” he pointed out. “Salesmen aren’t all bad.”

  “Oh, no? The ones I’ve known would sell their own grandmothers for enough money.”

  “Danielle, it’s four in the freakin’ morning—“

  “Chicago time,” I said. “It’s only 2 AM here—“

  “—and I have to get ready for work soon. Whatever you did, just undo it now, okay? I want to get a couple more hours of sleep.”

  “Doug. I didn’t do this and I have no idea how to undo it. Got that? But my guess is that this is happening in some sort of time freeze, sort of like Scrooge’s three nights with the ghosts of Christmas.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That’s right, you never did do any reading. Never mind. But when this is over, you’ll probably find yourself back in your bed. When Tina wakes you up in the morning, you’ll tell her, ‘Honey, you wouldn’t believe the wacky dream I had last night.’”

  “Oh, no, I won’t,” he said with assurance.

  “Ha. She’s the jealous type?”

  “Not of you.”

  “Oh, that was nice. Spoken as a true gentleman.”

  “Well, take a good look in the mirror, Danielle, and maybe you’ll stop laughing at my dental hygiene—“

  “—Lack of it—” I corrected helpfully.

  “For example, aren’t you a bit old for the teenage complexion?”

  “Aren’t you a bit old to be passing out middle school insults? What next, poop jokes?”

  “And geez, you’ve really piled the pounds on—“

  “I had three babies, what’s your excuse, Mr. All-American Beer Gut?”

  “And look at what you’re wearing. Not exactly seductive.”

  “Hey there, Pot, meet Kettle!”

  “I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone,” he said patiently.

  “That’s a shame. Poor Tina,” I commented.

  “I was fast asleep and it was FOUR IN THE MORNING. And I have to get up and go to work in TWO HOURS.”

  How could I have agreed to this deal? “I can’t believe I sold my soul for THIS,” I said venomously.

  He was aghast. “Are you kidding me? Danielle, what are you talking about?”

  “I signed a contract. It’s right over there, if you must know. Yeah, I’m really kicking myself now. But I’m not too worried. The salesman thought I was an atheist and said that if I don’t believe in souls, this is a freebee.”

  “He was messing with your mind, then. Hell is full of atheists.”

  “I had an idea he wasn’t entirely honest. But since he misrepresented his product, the contract may not be legal anyway. I’m waiting to talk with my boss about that.”

  “What product?”

  I looked at him patiently. “The product is YOU. I mean, it WAS you. I mean, it was supposed to be you from back 20 years ago.”

  “Did you discuss all this before signing it?”

  Damn, damn, damn. I was beginning to see that this would be horribly embarrassing, to say the very least. Doug shook his head.

  “Guess you were pretty hot to trot, huh, Danielle? What does the contract say? Maybe there’s a way out of it.”

  I fidgeted. “I don’t want to tell you. It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Embarrassing is nothing compared to an eternity in hell. For God sake, what did you sign?”

  “It says something about a night of passion with Doug Morris,” I mumbled, not looking at him. Picking up the contract, I read aloud, “A night of passion with Douglas Robert Morris for Danielle Joy Webster, to be delivered by Prince of Darkness Enterprises, in exchange for the soul of Ms. Webster, payment date to be determined later.”

  “Are you kidding me? Can’t you get any sex any other way?”

  “Shut up, Doug,” I said. “You make me sick. It was temporary insanity. I’ll bet the Devil could have made you sign a paper like that, too.”

  “No way,” he said in that arrogant tone I remembered. “No how. Besides, it’s four in the morning—”

  “—And you have to get up and go to work in two hours, I get it.” I had to restrain the impulse to stamp the floor. “I thought this would be time travel or something, not just you, middle-aged you, being dumped here in your smelly boxers! I thought I could choose a night, you know, late December back in ’93 or something.”

  “Haven’t you had any decent sex lately? I can’t believe you were immortalizing a few rolls in the sack this way!”

  “it was more than a few! We were together for more than four years, you know. Besides, for your information, I feel exactly the same way. No way. No how. I didn’t realize THIS is what the Devil meant to deliver! All those years of bad hygiene have really taken their toll now. All I can say is, Ewwwww.”

  He was nodding his head. “So we’re even now. Can we quit the juvenile comments and find a way out of this mess?”

  “Probably. I suppose Old Scratch will show up at daybreak or something.”

  “But I have to be at—“

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You have to be at work. I’m telling you, he’ll make sure this night was off the time grid. Hey, I’ve had to sacrifice my soul for this. The least we can do while waiting for the night to be over is talk about what happened and maybe get some closure.”

  “Your idea of closure is for me to apologize for wanting out of our relationship. I can’t do that.”

  “That’s not fair. That’s not what I want. I’m not nearly as unreasonable as you seem to think. I just want to understand why. What happened?”

  “Did it occur to you that sometimes people just aren’t right for each other?”

  “But I tried so hard. I gave you everything. You were completely bored.”

  “Danielle, you should be thanking me. If I hadn’t had the sense to break things off, we would have gone through a divorce by now. We had nothing in common.”

  “Sex.”

  “Yeah, I’ll grant you, that was good. Can you think of one other thing about our time together that was good?”

  I considered. “We both had strong feelings about religion…”

  “Yeah, I was Catholic and you weren’t, and you weren’t going to convert.”

  “I was Lutheran until I figured out that Sunday mornings are better without church.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted glumly.

  “So you’ve thought about leaving the church too!” I said triumphantly.

  “Not really. Tina—“

  “Tina makes you go to church!”

  “Well, I see her point. Besides, I’ve got the boys to think about. I have to be a good example.”

  “Otherwise they wouldn’t go, either,” I finished, laughing. “So Tina’s your resident Catholic.”

  “Father Fritz would say otherwise.”

  “He’ll vouch for you!” I said brightly.

  “Shut up, Danielle. Besides, I’m winning this argument. You can’t think of anything we had in common.”

  “Same ages, same music, same culture.”

  “I don’t think so! I hated that classical shit you tried to play on the piano.”

  “We both liked classic rock—“

  “—Yeah, us and three fourths of Chicagoland.”

  “We both disliked our parents—“

  “Speak for yourself, Danielle! The only thing I argued about with my parents was whether you were going to become Catholic!”

  “Really?” I asked, temporarily diverted. “I didn’t know you ever mentioned being that serious about me to them.”

  “It was after my dad almost walked in on us in the garage.”

  “Oh god! I thought he hadn’t seen anything!”

  “He didn’t really, but he could guess. So they started reminding me all about how Cousin Trish had to get married, and the guy wasn’t even a Catholic.”

  “See, you had arguments with your parents too. I knew it then, and y
ou’re just trying to forget.”

  “It wasn’t anything like Evil Eye Evie.”

  I burst out laughing. Then I got mad. “I’ll thank you to remember that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

  “That’s what you and Patty both called her!”

  “I have a right, I’m her daughter. Patty and I can call her whatever we want. You can’t. Besides, I haven’t called her that in years.” I couldn’t help but start chuckling again.

  “Did you ever tell her your nickname for her?”

  “Are you kidding me? She’d send arctic air masses my way for months if I did! I have to think of the kids now. They need their grandma, especially after the divorce.”

  “I heard about that. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Doug never could stop when he was ahead. “See, if it hadn’t been for me, you’d have two divorces by now, instead of just one.”

  “Okay, I get your point. We were hopelessly incompatible, and here we both tried so very hard. That’s sarcasm, by the way.”

  “People aren’t right for each other if they both have to try that hard right from the start,” Doug said.

  “Did you try hard right from the start?” I asked with affable curiosity. “Somehow I never picked up on that.”

  “I was 22. I didn’t feel I should have to try at all—“

  “—Tell me something I don’t already know,” I said, laughing mirthlessly.

  “Besides, you weren’t interested in any of the things I was interested in—”

  “—Well, god, Doug, think about your interests. Poker, hunting, fishing, throwing a Frisbee, watching stupid TV shows. What a redneck.”

  “You don’t have room to talk, Miss Uppity Snob. You were always trying to impress people with the books you’d read and your five syllable words. And all your piano playing, and you know what? You sucked at piano.”

  “I know that. You don’t need to keep telling me stuff I already know.”

  “So get over me, Danielle. How long do you need? Why not think about getting over your divorce, instead?”

  “I do think about the divorce. Josh was a nice enough guy until the kids came along. Well, boring and by-the-book,” I amended conscientiously, “but otherwise nice. But after the kids were born, he was annoyed with me nonstop for being exhausted. He still expected to be babied like before, and I didn’t have the stamina for it. All the nastiness that came out, just because I was tied up with three babies.”