and I are up for an adventure. Aren’t we?” She looked at Doo for confirmation.
There was little chance that his masculine pride would allow him to say what he was thinking, which was that he’d had just about as many demonic adventures as he wanted for the time being. So he lied and said, “Sure.”
Shivaun chuckled because she knew he’d lied, but didn’t think it was her job to expose Doo’s innermost thoughts. People were entitled to project the image they chose for themselves.
Once in the limo Lyric had hired, Shivaun said to Doo, “So how did you sleep your first night in the new life?”
The question was more than polite chitchat. She’d had the experience of being picked up and dropped in an alien world in the not-too-distant past.
He inhaled deeply. “That mattress definitely wasn’t built by Sleep Number. But I’ll get used to it. Clean sheets.” Doo sneaked a smirk at Lyric before saying, “The beautiful demon saw to that.”
Lyric was amused that Doo hadn’t the first idea of basic differences between humans and demons. For starters, a demon male couldn’t be embarrassed by being called beautiful. He’d take the compliment and not think it deserved a polite expression of gratitude because it was a simple statement of the obvious.
“You’d do well to be called beautiful by such a creature as Shivaun O’Malley, Mr. Darby. Perhaps one day you might be a fraction as fortunate as I for the experience.”
“Not a problem,” Doo said. “Babes are into me.”
Lyric instructed the driver to raise the soundproof divider before quizzing Doo. “Are women called babes in 1967?”
“No?” Doo ventured.
“That’s right. The correct answer is no. What is the correct slang that generalizes and objectifies the young segment of the female gender in 1967?”
“Ah. Chicks?”
“Right again. It’s inane, but it will have staying power, as you well know. Get your money for nothin’. Get your chicks for free.”
Doo grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“Yes. Well. So did every guy who ever bought a guitar. What’s the difference between you and them?”
Doo hesitated. Shivaun thought she sensed that the kid was emotionally invested in Lyric’s approval. Was it possible he saw a father figure in Lyric? If so, she needed to head that off at the pass. Where humans are concerned, a creature who can’t love is a clock set on a countdown to the heartbreak detonator. “I’ve got the right stuff?”
“You do indeed. What’s left to be determined is what you do with it. The stage has been set. The hour is here. Now you will force fate to surrender to you and play your pants off.”
“You know, demon, you have a gift for turnin’ a phrase.” The appreciation in Shivaun’s voice was unmistakable.
“They don’t call me Lyric for nothin’,’ he deadpanned.
Lyric noted there’d been two declarations of admiration from the lovely demoness in a short space of time. Perhaps he would have liked to not wonder if there was an ulterior motive, but he was a demon and couldn’t help it. He was also intelligent enough to connect dots hanging in the air in front of his eyes. So he wondered if the slathering of praise had anything to do with the secret surprise that was in his near future.
“So where are we goin’?” Shivaun asked as they approached the ferry to Sausalito.
“Place called the Trident. Owned by the Kingston Trio.” He turned to Doo. “You know their music?” Doo shook his head. “No? Well. In a few years they’re gonna know about you.”
Shivaun kept the dinner conversation lively with pertinent questions for Doo.
“Have you met any girls?”
“I couldn’t not meet girls if I was tryin’. There are more girls on the sidewalk of my block than in the whole town of Wimberley.”
“I suppose what I meant to say is, are ye datin’ any girls?”
Doo laughed out loud. “I’ve been here for one day.”
“I’m thinkin’ that means no,” she said.
“Yeah. It means no. Girls are on my list, but my priority is findin’ people to play with.”
Shivaun could feel a quickening of Lyric’s energy when Doo mentioned music.
“Does that mean you have a plan?” Lyric was intensely curious about that, but also pleasantly surprised by Doo’s initiative. He’d been thinking Doo would expect him to do all the heavy lifting, as was the m.o. of Lyric’s usual proteges.
“Maybe calling it a plan is overrating. But I thought I’d check all the bulletin boards I can find, ask around if there are any bands looking for a guitar, or a