It was a bright early afternoon when Sarah picked up her reservation for two in a cozy marina restaurant. Her boss was late, so she nursed a virgin cocktail, watching the patrons on the outside patio.
The place was so unassuming it became a ridiculous pastiche at this point. She could spot several known kingpins drinking lemonade at the folding wooden tables, each surrounded by a court of equally oblivious-looking henchmen. Like an Italian diner in the 80's New York, Queen's Bay in LA became a popular underground meeting spot of its lack of cameras and discreet employees, paired with an amazing ocean view and affordable seafood. She should kill Peter for recommending it.
Mr. Morningstar arrived with his usual flair, charming the waitress into a double whisky on the house, jovially joining Sarah's table as if he intended to draw attention at a place everyone deliberately selected for being out of the way. It seemed almost provocative as he tipped more than three drinks' worth, dividing his attention between the strangers and acquaintances alike.
Sarah coughed politely, presenting revenue statements still warm from her house printer. Lucifer pressed them down the table with his glass as if she handed him a napkin instead of a financial disaster.
Before she opened her mouth, he greeted her with a teeth-filled smile, unbothered by the paperwork in a manner that knotted her accountant stomach.
"How's my favorite damned soul?", he grinned, comfortable on the thread-thin mogul tightrope Sarah could only dream of walking.
"Is that how you see me?", she retorted, moving his drink away from the statements with a forced nonchalance he didn't seem to notice.
"How you see yourself is the only perspective that matters, at least according to my Father." Lucifer took off his sunglasses and she mirrored his gesture, her movement stiff with professional tension. "Now, is there anything I need to know about?"
She straightened her light linen jacket to compose herself. "Have you read the last report I sent you? Heat's picking up. Your lawyer wants another raise and Mr. Berkovich got grilled by your girlfriend."
"Which one?" Three years on the job and she still got caught off guard with another joke-that-isn't-a-joke.
"Stop beaming", she snapped sharply, only to be rewarded with a coy glance. "Your nightclub staff demands premium health care plans after the last incident. Apparently they got the idea from your head bartender. And before you ask how is that a problem, this is something we cannot put through the renting agency front, it has to be legit."
"Meaning..?" How someone so wealthy could be so disinterested in making money was beyond her comprehension. And why did she always feel underdressed in his presence, even when they were surrounded by unassuming goons in t-shirts?
"Higher taxes. Hospitals screen their cases like federal offenses and the insurance companies shame the CIA in their diligence. Keeping it profitable means you either make your dancers unhappy or find a new relief I haven't thought of before."
He shifted in his seat, gesturing to the overeager waitress for another drink. "You cannot honestly think this is an issue calling for my immediate attention, Sarah. I've seen your marvelous work and let me tell you, it always looks best when I admire it from afar."
She winced at his offhand comment, swallowing the offense. This was not the time to get emotional. "With all due-"
"Not needed." Lucifer glanced around, already distracted, as if her livelihood didn't depend on this conversation.
"Mr. Morningstar, I wouldn't call you here for an approving nod", she snarked, catching his eyes again. "With Ms. Smith gone, it's proven difficult to keep the hounds off our tracks."
"Maze, right." Lucifer sat up, finally engaged. "I admit her absence left a... void of sorts. One wouldn't realize how much work she did for the amount of attitude that went with it, wouldn't you say?"
Wait out the word games and breathe through the stress. This is not a trial, she is not being discarded for lack of creative problem-solving like a low-tier corporate manager.
She is being scrutinized for not being criminal enough instead.
Lucifer continued. "Frankly, Sarah, I can't be bothered with all that at the moment. The detective and I have a fascinating case on our hands, a zookeeper mauled by a Bengal with suspicious amounts of THC in his system, would you believe it?"
She only went ahead with it because it was her job. "The zookeeper... was high?"
"No, the tiger was. Anyways, I'll make a few calls, see which operations can be scaled up to cover the new expenses", he carried on off-handily. "Did the staff request dental as well?"
"Now that you mention it..."
"Well, who wouldn't. Tell Mr. Slonzky to start answering calls from unknown numbers, please." Sarah made a quick note in her personal calendar. "And introduce charges for bondage parties at the rentals, it should suffice short-term before we pick up the slack in Las Vegas."
She did the math in her head before speaking. "Should we cut back on Terry's imports as well?"
Her boss smiled, reaching inside his designer jacked for a cigarette case. "Sarah dear, no need to compromise on quality. Life wouldn't be worth living without a little Dalmore, especially now that I'm one of you mortals, would it?"
Her children's tuition. Her children's future. "Yes, sir."
She took the pills an hour ago, they should be working by now. Her hands shouldn't tremble, her eyes shouldn't water as she fixated on her overly sweet drink, her boss' stare drilling into her like a mean middle-school English teacher.
"Darling, what's wrong? No need to get weepy over a quarterly. Is there something else bothering you?"
This is false, she repeated in her head. His faux British compassion was not real.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morningstar. It must be the weather, with all the pollen in the air. My allergies..."
"It certainly wouldn't be a ploy to capitalize on my meek resolve, now would it?"
Layer after layer Sarah found it within herself to be bold, to be stern in the face of the self-proclaimed Devil. Now or never, so her sons wouldn't have to.
"Had your game face decided to retire, Sarah, I'm sure you're more than aware of our terms. I'm also sure you know I wouldn't hold it against you."
A dead horse's head couldn't be more literal.
"Anything else I should hear out while we're here?"
She had an odd feeling of getting an advantage, even though she couldn't specify what exactly had she gained. "Um..." Count your winnings and retreat. "Your brother called the agency, asking if Sally could service his apartment given she recently quit working the penthouse."
Lucifer was already mindlessly glancing around, as if she didn't fall into pieces in front of him a second ago. "Michael?"
"Amenadiel, sir."
"Yes, of course." Did he know she knew about the gray feathers? Did he care? "Make sure she's aware his spawn is worse than a feral hellhound now that it mastered crawling. If that was all, dear, I do have a double coffee date to get to."
"How exciting for you", Sarah muttered, gathering the unaddressed reports from the table. It was impossible to tell whether he caught on her sarcasm.
"The detective suggested it! Give my best to David, I greatly enjoyed his latest exhibition." That you paid for.
They both stood up at the same time and when he fixed his handcuffs, Sarah caught herself mimicking the gesture. The waitress nodded at her from across the deck, letting her know the bill was already taken care of. "Should I still inquire with Chance about the tutoring..?"
Lucifer was texting with unhidden glee and barely heed her words. "No need. Chloe's offspring is apparently splendid at existing, given her age. May I offer you a ride?"
Sarah looked down before recalling the polite gesture would not be acknowledged. "I'm parked nearby, thank you." Her boss broke out of the daze for a second and she abandoned courtesies to reassure him. "By which I mean three blocks away, as agreed." She cleared her throat, getting ready to leave. "I'm fine."
"I am sure Mr. Slonzky will keep you posted." Lucifer shook her hand for a bit longer than she found comfortable. "Until another time, Sarah."
We are all sinners, she thought, careful not to get sand inside her leather heels as she left.
"Don't forget your wings", Lucifer whispered after her, fingers drumming on the wooden folding table.