Red's Wolf

Proposition

Liliana

I dragged my ass into work, wondering what Satan had planned for me today. Will it be the million cups of coffee I fetch, or will it be the dismissive tone I receive?  I'm sure it will be both.

I walked into the office, set my bag down, getting to work.

"Liliana!"  Satan bellowed.

I spoke too soon. Wow, a whole five minutes before I heard Satan's obnoxious screech. I'm sure he raised from the depths of hell to torment everyone or only me.

I walked to his office and stood in the doorway.

"You screeched," I said.

Satan rolled his eyes at me.

"Will, you for one minute stop acting like a pain in the ass?" Satan asked.

"I'm sure HR will send another memo on sexual harassment with you speaking to me like that," I reminded him.

"I'm the boss," Satan reminded me.

"And an evil one at that, but that doesn't put you above the law. My ass shouldn't discuss at any time," I informed Satan, smiling.

Satan frowned.

"Come in and sit down," he ordered me.

"No, I'm good standing here. Bark your orders, so I can get back to work," I remarked.

Satan looked at me, expressionless.

"Fine, I need you to attend a business function with me. I will pay you generously, and then we can return to your insolent behavior," Satan informed me.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "And if I refuse?"  I asked with a look.

"You won't," Satan said.

"I will," I countered.

He stood up and walked over to me. "Look, I need you to attend with me. I don't want to argue with you. For the love of God, agree," Satan huffed.

"You're a sad man, begging someone to agree to your request," I retorted.

"Christ!  Why must you be difficult?"  Satan snapped.

"Why must you be an ass?  These are questions the universe refuses to answer, but here we are," I remarked.

"If you agree, I will get my coffee, myself," Satan offered.

I thought about it. "No, you can do better," I reasoned.

"Okay, I get my coffee, stop interrupting your work, and will promote you to my assistant," Satan offered.

I looked at him unenthused.

"I'm already your assistant, which is a glorified term for secretary and maid," I answered with annoyance.

"Find, you can be my right-hand woman," Satan agreed reluctantly. I smiled.

"Now, we're talking. What're the terms?"  I asked.

"I will pay triple your salary for one week. You do what I say and pretend to be in love with me," Satan said.

I looked at him, confused. "What business trip means that I pretend to love you?" I questioned.

"A wedding," Satan groaned.

I thought about it. This trip could work in my favor. For all the times Satan treated me like the trash on the bottom of his shoe, I could get even with him. He's desperate, and I want to show him the error of his ways, in other words, revenge, an act of sweet revenge to be exact.

"Fine, I'll attend this so-called wedding with you, but we need ground rules. There are no holding hands, kissing, lovey-dovey crap, or touching," I told Satan.

"How am I supposed to show my family that I'm engaged?" Satan asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Whoa, wait. Who says anything about an engagement?" I asked, annoyed.

"That's why I need you to attend. I told my mom that I'm engaged," Satan told me.

"Are you some stupid?" I asked, pointing at Satan.

Satan looked at me with irritation. "Considering It's the wedding of my ex-girlfriend, no," Satan replied.

Well, now this is getting interesting. I didn't know Satan had a girlfriend. I assumed he's gay, hiding his boy toy somewhere.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

"I thought you were gay," I answered.

Satan did a double-take.

"Oops, my bad," I added.

"I'm not gay," Satan informed me.

"Are you sure?"  I asked with a look.

He looked at me, annoyed.

"Well, you're asking me to pretend to be your fiancé. Most guys who do that are living in the closet, waiting to jump out announcing their love for all things men," I responded. It's a reasonable assumption.

"I'm not gay, nor have I ever been gay. I resent the fact that you mention that I am," Satan told me.

"I resent the fact that you have an issue with gay people," I replied. That earned a glare.

"You're getting off track," Satan told me.

"Okay, you need a fake fiancé so that you can make an ex jealous, please Mommy and Daddy while paying me. You make me sound like a hooker," I said.

"A hooker sleeps with you. I don't want sex. I want a fake fiancé," Satan said.

"The same thing," I countered. Satan pouted. Geez, he's such a big baby. "Fine, I will fake my undying love for you. It's not like people have faked things with you before. I'm sure women faked an orgasm with you many times."

That pushed Satan's buttons as he pushed me out of his office, slamming the door behind me. Damn, for a desperate man, he's ungrateful.

I return to work. All-day, I didn't hear any screeching from Satan. Finally, I can do my work in peace. I worked all day; then, around five o'clock, Satan emerged from his office. He walked over to my desk, set a piece of paper down along with an envelope.

"What's this?" I asked.

"That's the itinerary and check for this upcoming week. We leave on Friday," Satan said, walking away. I looked at the paper and read all the information. Who the hell celebrates a wedding for a week?

I sighed, opening the envelope, pulling out a check, then my eyes popped out of my head. That's a lot of zeros. I pulled out my phone and figured out my salary for the week, then tripled it. I looked at the calculator, then at the check. My eyes widened. That wasn't three times my weekly salary; it was three times my yearly salary.

Why in the hell would Satan pay me three times my yearly salary? I scratched my head, thinking about Satan's reasoning. It's not like he can't get a date since he is attractive. His personality needs work. He could ask Slutty Susan from receiving to attend with him to this wedding.

Yes, we had that employee at work who nailed any dick that she came into contact with around her. I'm sure Susan is the poster child for a walking STD.

"Liliana, can you give Dimitri this report?" Susan asked.

I looked at Susan and smiled. "Sure," I answered. Susan looked at me strangely. Don't let Susan's appearance fool you. She wore glasses, her hair in a bun, and form-fitting clothes. Susan might seem innocent, but she isn't. Susan walked away, and I placed the envelope and paperwork in my bag.

I think for a week, I can pretend to be Satan's love of his life. What can go wrong?