Mae

Staring at the newly transformed mailroom guy, I replayed the words he’d just said to me, confused. Then I let out a loud bark of laughter…because no matter what he said, there was nothing he could do for me. “Fuck off, mailroom guy.” I shut the door in his face and went back for my drink. I didn’t have time for his nonsense.

Still, I made a mental note to call building security and HR. “That guy’s ass is fired tomorrow.” I grinned and reached for my drink when I heard, “That wasn’t very kind.”

Screaming, I whipped around to find the man sitting on my sofa, one leg crossed over the other and one arm draped along the back, like he was waiting for a cocktail.

Unsure if I was more pissed or disbelieving, I snapped my head to the closed door and then back to mailroom Joe. How the hell is this possible when I just left him in the hallway?

When it hit me that how he got inside of my apartment was not as important as what he might do, I reached for the bottle of bourbon and held it up. “I don’t know how you got in here, or what is going on, but you better get the fuck out of here before I beat you over the head with this and then call the cops.”

With a slight head tilt, he held my gaze. When my eyes panned down to his mouth, I spotted one side of his mouth quirking up into a half grin. Not only was he unconcerned about my threats, but he seemed amused by my behavior.

“Have it your way,” I said, setting the bottle down. “But I’m not going to jail for you,” I mumbled under my breath as I grabbed my phone. I held it up, my finger poised over the screen. “Last chance, asshole. I’ll do it.” Why I was giving this psycho so many chances I couldn’t say.

Strangely, the man nodded. “Go ahead.”

Was he on drugs? Had poor ventilation in the mailroom caused him to lose his mind. Oh, God, maybe he’s a disgruntled worker coming for revenge.

“Whatever…” I pressed 9-1-1 and waited. “I don’t need this right now.” When the line rang another phone in the room rang, but I knew it wasn’t mine. I glanced over to mailroom Joe, who reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

Glancing back to my cell, I said, “What the hell. Answer!”

When I returned my attention to the felon on my couch, he held up a finger, as if signaling for me to wait while he answered his call.

I furrowed my brow at him and scoffed.

After a quick tap, he brought the phone to his ear and said, “Emergency Services, how may I help you?”

***

Hearing the man’s voice both in the room and through the speaker of my phone, I gasped and my heart shot right into my throat. It’s not possible… I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but every instinct in me was screaming at me to get away from this man—whose claim to being a devil I was beginning to find less far fetched.

My pulse pounded in my eardrums, and I dropped my phone. Spinning around, I eyed my options, then took off behind the couch, hoping—no, praying—I’d make it to the door before he tried to stop me. But I only made it two steps before a flash of colors and shapes took over my vision for a split second, and when I blinked it away, I was no longer in my apartment. I swiveled my head from side-to-side, noted the wind bringing instant goosebumps to my arms.

My God, I must be the one going insane. Or I was having the most vivid, realistic nightmare of my life. These were the only things that could explain running from my apartment to the rooftop in mere seconds. Because I was, in fact, staring out at Manhattan. Suddenly, I was flooded with the sights and sounds of the city but instead of it feeling like any other day, it assaulted my senses and filled me with dread.

I clasped my hands against my face, pushing back the scream trying to escape. I’m in my apartment. This isn’t real. For a fleeting moment, I thought of the board meeting, the stress of it all. Maybe suppressing my emotions all my life had finally gotten to me and I was having a nervous breakdown? That has to be it. Somehow, because my family and my company had turned against me, I just completely detached from reality.

“Okay, breathe,” I told myself. I closed my eyes and focused on breath after breath. “You’re in your apartment, and you’re fine.”

When I felt my breathing even out, I opened my eyes. But instead of being back home, I was still on the roof of my building, a skyscraper no less, and now the psycho mailroom guy was standing in front of me.

“What did you do to me?” My words came out breathy.

“Apologies for my…big magical gesture,” he said, signaling with his head, his hands resting casually inside his pockets. “But I didn’t think you were going to believe me, and we really don’t have time to waste on me trying to convince you I am who I say I am.”

“And who the hell is that?”

“Why, the devil of course.”

“You’re not the devil,” I barked out.

The man let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Technically I’m a devil. There are actually plenty of us around.” Stepping closer, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, and reached out with one of them. “Gum?”

I narrowed my gaze, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic offer, then I shook my head.

He shrugged one shoulder, then unwrapped the small stick and popped it into his mouth.

I glanced from side to side, certain there must be hidden cameras capturing this setup. It was just so far out of the realm of anything I’d ever experienced that I couldn’t believe it was real. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “So…are you here to kill me or something?”

The devil man laughed again, this time louder. “Oh, no…I like you too much for that, Mae.”

“Like me?” I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. “You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, I know you all right. You’ve heard of a guardian angel, right?”

“What?” That made no sense. About as much sense as me standing on a roof talking to the devil.

“I’m like a guardian angel…but the opposite.”

My brows met as I chewed on that. What would that even look like? “So, what…you’re like…my enemy devil?”

***

The man—no, the devil—shook his head, grinning ruefully. “No, sweetheart. The guardian part still stands.” He chewed on that piece of gum as we stared into each other’s eyes, almost as if he wanted me to ruminate on the infinite possibilities. Then he said, “I’m here to help you make wonderful, selfish decisions that will make your life better…” He held up a finger. “And the best part…bring harm to those who would hurt you, those who have hurt you.”

I took another hesitant step toward him. Not that I trusted this…person, but if what he was saying was true… Could I even entertain this? It wasn’t like there was a handbook, but if he was real, then the stories I’d heard in my life could be true too—and those stories always ended in pain for people who thought they could handle it.

The devil broke the silence between us, and with a knowing look, said, “I see you’re unconvinced. Let me help with that.” He winked, then snapped his fingers.

In an instant, we were somehow transported to a room, one that I recognized. “We’re in the FCA building,” I said more to myself. It was a private suite my father used to bring important clients to for entertainment. Only now it was full of board members—well, all the male ones—and our new president, Clinton. There were only two women on the board, which I’d hope to change.

I gasped, then flinched before turning to the devil with a questioning look.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see you,” he said in a soft voice right by my ear.

It appeared as though he were right. Not a single person was looking at me. Everyone there was currently laser-focused on three scantily clad women dancing on the tables. “It was like they’d created a makeshift strip club in my father’s building. “Those fucking bastards,” I whispered even though they couldn’t hear me.

Worst of all, Clinton was in the thick of it, a bottle of champagne in one hand, like some idiot frat boy. He was talking animatedly with Randall Philips, one of the votes I was sure I had locked in. Asshole told me he couldn’t wait to see what I did with the company.

I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought I had this position in the bag. Philips had an arm slung around Clinton’s shoulder. “So, glad we got you in, Clinton. Like we could hand the company over to a woman, for Christ’s sake… ”

Heat shot through me even as my jaw dropped in disbelief. I turned to the devil, letting the fire in my eyes run free. “They didn’t vote for me because I’m a woman?” I will ruin them.