Hell On Heels(12)

Stella slowly sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “I got really mad at my dresser drawers the other day. You know, the one that’s three hundred years old. Literally.” Stella’s mom was an antiques freak. “Anyway, the stupid thing sticks and my underwear drawer wouldn’t open.” I nodded and waited. “I simply wished I had a new one and BAM—lightning struck and I got my wish.”
“What did your parents do?”
“They weren’t home.” She grinned evilly. “So I took the opportunity to redecorate the entire house.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Didn’t work. Stella’s home was a grand mansion filled with antiques dating back thousands of years. I feared touching anything when I was over. It was very formal and quite honestly, cold. “What happened when they got back?”
“Dad was proud that my powers had arrived and Mom was pissed. Royally and spectacularly pissed. Apparently I got rid of some priceless antiques. Her head practically flew off.”
“Holy Hell.” I laughed and fell back on the couch.
Amusement flickered in her eyes as she continued, “After a showdown and a lot of threats, I re-conjured her icky old antiques, but not the dresser drawers.”
I popped back up and grabbed her hands. “What else can you do?”
A sinking feeling of jealousy reared its ugly little head inside me. I tamped it down quickly. I didn’t begrudge her magic, I just wanted some of my own. Stella was my best friend and I loved her. I was proud of her powers even if I was still power-free.
“That’s it so far,” she replied as she squeezed my hands reassuringly. “Dixie, don’t worry, your magic will come. Mine’s just a freakin’ parlor trick. Someday soon you will be a real power, just like the rest of your family.”
I hugged her tight. There were many reasons she was my best friend and always would be. She was beautiful inside and out.
“That’s a little more than just a parlor trick, my friend. You scared the living Hell out of me.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself so I punched her in the arm. “Have you done anything else?”
Stella’s laugh was infectious. I began laughing with her before I even knew what she was going to say.
“I changed the color of my mom’s car while she was getting her nails done,” she squealed. “It took her an hour in the parking lot to figure it out. She called the Demon Police and everything!”
She laughed with sheer joy and triumph. I joined her, but sobered as I realized I would have to leave her soon.
“Dixie, you are so lucky you get to live on your own.”
“Yeah, it’s great.” I smiled and lied.
Satan believed all his daughters should be independent. At sixteen I received many gifts, the bungalow being one of them. As lovely as it was to have my own space, I was lonely. The Dark Palace had been a wonderful place to grow up, but it was always so busy and filled with hundreds of Demons I didn’t know. As I got older I began to notice some of the murky and horrible things that often took place in the palace. We were in Hell after all. I was fairly sure my dad thought I’d be safer and happier in my little home. The truth was I longed for a family. A traditional family, even one as uptight as Stella’s.
“Sooo,” Stella said as she knocked me out of my pity party. "What hot sexy outfit are you going to wear tonight?”
“I was thinking about jeans,” I replied, moving toward the pile of clothes I laid out.
“Jeans?” She groaned in dismay as her eyes went wide with concern. “I was thinking more along the line of Prada or Gucci.”
“Nope.” I smiled. A warm glow settled in my chest as I thought about Hayden. “It sounds pretty casual. I don’t want to overdress.”
There was no way I was going to tell Stella he wanted me to wear flying clothes. Hell, I didn’t even know what that meant. I’d never told anyone about my desire to fly except Hayden and Blanche.#p#分页标题#e#
“You don’t think he’s going to take you cliff diving, do you?” Stella began to sort through the pile, discarding what she didn’t like.
“Lucifer, I hope not.” I prayed that wasn’t his idea of flying. Nevertheless, I was definitely wearing jeans.
Stella pulled a rockin’ pair of dark brown Doc Maarten combat boots, a pair of True Religion jeans, a sleeveless, sheer pale mocha flowing top with a lacy chocolate camisole for underneath. Kind of delicate, feminine biker chick.
“You will be totally hot in this,” she decided. “He’ll be on his knees. Your boobs and ass will be amazing.”