More Than Fiends Read Online Free Page A

“I’m calling for Mr. Devlin Cole to confirm your appointment for this afternoon?”
    Damn it.
    I swallowed hard, straightened up and swung my hair out of my eyes like I was on a videophone—and, hey, thank God I wasn’t. How had I forgotten about this? Oh yeah. I remember. The Day of Disasters. That’s how.
    â€œHi, yes. Of course,” I said, slapping a smile on my face so it would hopefully come across in my voice. The old woman was staring at me, Leo was still cussing up a storm, and Sugar’s whining was starting to take on a panicked edge.
    â€œThen I can tell Mr. Cole you’ll be here at four?”
    â€œYou bet,” I assured her, glancing at the clock and nearly whimpering myself. It was already almost three, and I still had to shower and change. Oh, and get rid of Jasmine, Leo and my old washing machine. No problem. “I’ll see him then.”
    â€œWe must go over our strategies,” Jasmine (a fabulous name for a woman who looked more like a Myrtle) said.
    â€œNope,” I said, tossing the phone. “What we must do is get you outta here so I can shower and change and then impress the hell out of Devlin Cole so he’ll give my company the cleaning contract at his club.”
    â€œBut I must explain about the mixture.”
    I held the spray bottle in one hand and had a tight grip on her arm with the other. As I dragged her up and out of her chair, I nodded and said, “Shake and spray, right? Got it. Won’t forget.”
    Leo was just finishing up on the service porch, still muttering about the inequities of life, poor baby, when I hustled Grandma Ugly Purse out the back door. Ordinarily, I might have given her a lift back to the loony bin, but not today. Today I had to make that meeting if I wanted to get a contract that would keep my company floating and me and Thea eating. One thing we both really liked was eating.
    â€œSo, thanks for stopping by,” I told her, pushing Mr. Charm out behind her at the same time. “I’ll tell all my friends to watch out for those slippery ol’ demons.”
    â€œDemons?” Leo echoed, eyes wide, eyebrows arching up into what was left of his hairline.
    â€œSpray him!” Jasmine screeched.
    â€œI’m not spraying him,” I argued, still trying to get her scrawny yet surprisingly agile body out the back door. Leo had been easy in comparison. “God knows what you put in that stuff.”
    â€œI’ll show you!” she shouted and covered my hand with hers to squeeze the trigger on the bottle.
    â€œHey!” Leo shouted and leaped back.
    Too late.
    A stream of dirty brown liquid shot out in a wide arc. I watched as it hit the window, the wall, the door and, finally, the top of Leo’s head.
    He screamed and slapped both hands to the tiny plume of smoke already lifting off his scalp.
    â€œOhmigod!” Panicked, I peeled granny’s clawlike grip off my hand, grabbed a dish towel and tried to swipe at Leo. But he danced back out of reach, still rubbing at his head. And now his palms were smoking.
    I glanced at the spray bottle and then dropped it, fast. Holy Marc Jacobs leather tote! “What the hell did you put in there?” I shouted. “Acid?”
    Leo wasn’t listening. He took off like someone had shot him out of a cannon, and for a portly guy, he could really move. I was a couple steps behind him, shouting apologies and trying to convince him on the fly that going for a personal injury suit would only get him a pitiful IRA balance and a few good purses.
    He didn’t even slow down. He hit the driver’s side of his delivery truck, yanked it open and hopped inside. He had the truck in reverse and was barreling down the driveway before I could latch onto the grille and dig my heels into the concrete. Thank God, he’d already loaded up the old washer. I had a feeling I was never going to see Leo again.
    Even from a distance, I could