The Devil's Playground Read Online Free PDF Page A

notice that his halfhearted kiss stung me, but he pretended not to.
    “How about dinner tonight?” he asked. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll pick you up around seven, okay?”
    “Sure,” I said as my heart sank a little lower. Something told me a single afternoon wasn’t going to be enough time for Brian to sort things through, and our dinner tonight was going to be an awkward and uncomfortable affair. But I just didn’t have it in me to turn him down.

three
    W HEN I’M STRESSED OUT, I CLEAN. THESE LAST TWO months of relative peace had kept my stress level manageable, which meant my apartment was a pigsty. Worrying about what was going to happen with Brian was enough to galvanize me into action, so I got to work practically as soon as the door closed behind him.
    I quickly lost myself in the familiar rhythm, my thoughts focused on nothing except the task at hand. Some people meditate; I scrub toilets. What can I say?
    At around five, Brian called and told me his boss had suddenly ordered him back to work, so he’d have to take a rain check on dinner. My throat tightened with worry, though I tried not to show it. I gracefully accepted his apology and his offer of a rain check, then hung up the phone before I started to hyperventilate.
    It was true that in Brian’s line of work, it wouldn’t be that unusual for his boss to call him out of the blue at any hour of the day or night. Certainly it had happened before. But with this afternoon’s discussion looming large in my mind, I couldn’t help wondering if this had been a convenient excuse, rather than a genuine need to work.
    Just give him a little time
, Lugh said, and I snarled softly.
    “Easy for you to say when you’re the one who screwed me over in the first place!”
    Of course, he didn’t answer. I resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. There was no point in arguing with Lugh—his ability to rummage around in my head gives him an unfair advantage. But I was sick of cleaning house, and I didn’t think it would absorb my thoughts so effectively anymore. What I needed right now, I decided, was human contact. And what better human was there than someone who could understand
exactly
what Brian and I were going through?
        Dominic Castello is the former host of the demon Saul, Raphael’s son. But what made him singularly perfect as a confidant under the circumstances was that his boyfriend, Adam, was still possessed, making their relationship into a really weird ménage à trois very similar to my own situation.
    Among his other sterling qualities, Dominic is also a fantastic cook, and he’d finally taken the plunge and bought a restaurant. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was Adam who’d bought the restaurant, because Dominic didn’t have that kind of money, but Dominic was the official owner. The grand opening wasn’t for another week yet, but I knew Dom was in the process of training his staff right now, so I decided to take a gamble in hopes of combining a free meal with good company.
    Dominic’s restaurant was within walking distance,but when I stepped outside, I almost wished I’d called a cab. The air was like a wet, stifling blanket, and I was drenched with sweat by the time I got to the restaurant.
    A smile stretched my lips when I saw the newly installed sign over the front door. Apparently, the restaurant was going to be called “Dominic’s.” Simple, and to the point. And probably Adam’s idea, because Dom was way too modest to want to name the place after himself. A handwritten sign in the doorway said, “Opening soon,” but I could see shadows of movement behind the closed curtains.
    I rapped on the door a couple of times, and eventually one of those shadows moved in my direction. The door opened, and a rail-thin Italian woman with discreetly graying hair gave me the once-over before saying, “We’re not open yet. The grand opening is in one week.”
    She started closing the door before I had a chance to say