Page 4 of The War Revision
Until the prank war began.
It started small, when he unintentionally spilled his hot-as-hell tea on my groin. Or was it when he soaked me in dirty water driving by through a puddle? Or when he pulled aSquidwardand complained to Tessa about the loud noises coming from my shop?
Okay, I cannot remember exactly how the war began, but I’m a hundred percent sure he started it.
That reminds me, I need to go buy a welcome gift. For him. Because he’s moving to my building. Having his office here wasn’t enough.
I’m going to live under the same roof as the King of Hell. He came a couple of weeks ago to tell me in person. All proud and…hoity-toity. And since I accepted the task of buying the welcome gift before I knew the new tenant was Cole, I’m forced to do it.
Lost in my mid-morning Devil-cussing, the sudden swish noise behind me makes me jump.
I look over my shoulder to find an envelope on the floor near my entrance door. I reluctantly move to pick it up.
When I open it, a long string of curses—I even make up new ones—leaves my lips.
“Fucking Antichrist!” I swear two hours later, tapping my fingers aggressively over the keyboard of the laptop in the reception area of Ink Me, my tattoo shop.
I’m so fucking pissed. How, after a year, that evil man still has the ability to screw with me is baffling. I raise my eyes from the screen where I’m checking today’s clients, and there he is. The bane of my existence, outside crossing the street. I must have thought about him too many times today and summoned him Beetlejuice-style.
The Prince of Darkness looks unfazed, wearing an expensive blue three-piece suit, brown leather shoes, and mirrored Ray-Bans. His wavy, messy but somehow perfectly styled hair, scruffy beard, and confident strides make heads turn all around him.
“If the next car passing is blue, Cole climbed up to earth to torment me. Weren’t you, Satan?” I ask his approaching figure. His head is down, eyes on his phone. A line has formed between his eyebrows.
Right then a blue car moves past my shop.
“I knew it!” I yell. His gaze finds mine through the shopping window. The frown disappears from his face, and before moving out of sight, he throws an evil smirk my way.
“Satan!” I make a cross with my fingers and lift them up, even though he’s already gone.
“You are both certifiable.” Mel comes out of Daniel’s room. Daniel is another tattoo artist working for me. Not at the moment, though. He went away on holiday with Pete, for three long weeks. Wanted to spend some time alone. Their friendship turned intolurveright in front of my eyes a few months back. I’m happy for them. God, and I know how much they both deserve it. But they are so saccharinely lovey-dovey.
Cue the gag.
I turn to Mel, my pocket-sized friend. His short stature is well compensated by his massive sassiness and colorful attire. Today, he opted for Minion-yellow capri pants, a striped white and blue shirt, and green and orange New Balance sneakers. A rainbow hair band secures his forever-tousled hair.
He’s Jordie’s best friend and my ex-roommate. And unfortunately, he graces me with his presence from time to time.
“He fucking rented the apartment across from mine,” I’m barely able to say through my gritted teeth.
“Uhhh, you knew he was moving in the building.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know he rented the apartment I wanted for myself. The contract is three fucking years long. Three years!” I lift three fingers up, just to be sure Mel gets the number.
“I’m surprised Tessa rented him the place. She adores you.” Mel sways his round tushy till he over-cautiously sits on the white couch in the waiting area.
“Been bribing her with donuts for two fucking months before Beelzebub came and swept my dream right from under my ass.”
“Are you going to his housewarming party, tomorrow?”
I grunt long and loudly. “Have to. Need to hand him the tenants’ welcome gift.”
His invitation is still on the floor where I dropped it near the front door in my apartment—andaccidentallystomp on it every time I pass by. He fucking had the audacity to invite me. Obviously only to gloat and rub it in my face. Evil one.
“Cole is the only one who can get you all worked up. I wonder why.” Mel taps his finger on his chin while pursing his lips.
“Of course he can! He’s the King of Hell,” I huff.
“Stop with the crazy act.” Mel accompanies the petulant words with a roll of his eyes.
