Kathy Love - Demon Cant Help It

Erika nodded.

Maggie sighed. "I really shouldn't have said anything to Maksim. I just figured given he had more access to daywalkers than we do, he might know someone. I know he's a dem—" Maggie's mouth snapped shut as she noticed Jo standing behind Erika. Erika must have seen the direction of Maggie's gaze, because she turned to glance over her shoulder.

"Hi," Jo said, not hiding her curiosity over the subject. "Who are we talking about?"

Jo waited for her friends to explain, finding the small bit she'd overheard quite—peculiar—to say the least.

"We're talking about Maksim," Erika stated. "Maggie told him that you were looking for volunteers at the center, and I just didn't think that was a good idea. I don't trust him, Jo."

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Maggie said, although she didn't sound defensive, just contrite. As if she agreed that perhaps he wasn't terribly trustworthy.

Jo sat back down and gave her friends a comforting smile. "I don't think you have to worry about sharing that info with him. He doesn't strike me as the Good Samaritan type anyway."

He didn't strike her as the good anything. She fought the urge to look in his direction. Except maybe good in bed, and she knew where that type of guy got a gal.

"That's true," Erika agreed, and Maggie nodded.

They all fell quiet as the Impalers started another song, "I Want You To Want Me."

"So is that what you call us boring people with normal day jobs?" Jo asked suddenly over the chorus.

"Huh?" Maggie asked, and Erika raised an eyebrow in question.

"Daywalkers? Is that musician lingo for us boring people with nine-to-five jobs and regular sleep hours?" Jo said.

"Oh." Maggie laughed. "Yeah. That's just a private joke among the band members."

Jo nodded, then said after a few moments, "And you started to say that Maksim was a deem…A deem what?"

"Oh," Maggie said, looking decidedly awkward. She glanced over to Erika.

Again with the shared looks, although this time, it almost looked as if they were silently discussing their answer.

"He's a de—de—" Maggie gave Erika another pained look.

"A demon," Erika announced. "You know, with the women." She winced when she was done.

Jo glanced back to the bar, where Maksim stood, hands braced on the countertop, watching her. She wondered why her friends seemed so reluctant to say that.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. I have no doubt."

"Girl, this is cracked. Totally cracked."

Jo finished entering in the last numbers into the community center's expense database. Then she blinked trying to focus on her daycare director, but impressions of small rows of numbers scrolling down her computer screen still blurred her vision. Even after several more blinks, she still couldn't see what her daycare director was talking about.

"What's broken now, Cherise?"

The woman placed a hand on her ample hip and rolled her dark eyes at Jo. "Nothing's broken! Except this whole teacher situation. Which is cracked!"

Jo sighed, realizing now what had Cherise all worked up. Cherise was the only full-time employee she had, and she was a darned good one, with the energy and patience of three women, but she wasn't three women, and she needed help.

"I got twenty-eight kids out there, and I can't do it alone."

Jo nodded, knowing full well that was the truth. She was amazed Cherise could do as well as she had been.

"I'll be right out to help," Jo said, sliding her glasses up and turning back to her computer to save her latest entries. Entries that revealed they were further away from getting another full-time daycare teacher than she'd hoped.

She clicked Save, and the ancient computer hummed and rattled and did this pausing thing that 50 percent of the time resulted in a total freeze-up.

"Mmm, girl, you can't take on director of this place and my assistant. That's two full-time jobs, and this place isn't ever gonna get ahead without you trying to get us some funding and finding volunteers and setting up better programs." Cherise raised an eyebrow after she was finished, as if daring Jo to deny those facts.

"I know," Jo agreed with a sigh. "But for now, we have to do what we have to do." She rose, a wave of lightheadedness making her catch herself on the edge of the desk.

"You all right?" Cherise took a step toward her, but Jo raised a hand to stop her.

"I'm fine. Just not getting enough sleep."

Cherise crossed her arms across her plentiful bosom and made a tsking sound. "Not eatin' enough, either, if you ask me."

Jo laughed. "I eat."

Cherise raised that dark eyebrow that spoke as loudly as the woman herself.

"But I'll eat more," Jo said dutifully.

She followed Cherise to the large room they used as the daycare "classroom." The walls were decorated with flowers and butterflies and bees that Cherise had made herself, probably three or four years ago. The edges were curled, the colors faded, but they were better than nothing. And Jo chose to see the curling as more of a 3-D effect than the signs of age.

She grimaced. Well, she tried to see it that way.

At several worn wooden tables, kids between the ages of two and five sat eating their snacks. Well, «sat» made the state of affairs sound orderly and peaceful, when in fact most of the kids squirmed and pushed and chattered away. Very little snack eating seemed to be involved.

Lettie, a woman who had to be eighty-five if she was a day and who was nearly totally deaf stood sentry over the wild scene. Occasionally she'd point to one of the children with a long, bony finger and gesture for them to sit down. The child would obey, for about a half a second, then he or she would be again wiggling off the bench, giggling and ignoring the old lady. Which, half the time, Lettie didn't notice anyway, because she was darned near blind, too.

But she showed up almost every day, and beggars couldn't be choosers. Which Jo repeated yet again to Cherise, when her full-time teacher muttered, "Damned, Lettie. The old bat is practically a mummy."

"Can't even leave to use the bathroom without all hell breakin' loose," Cherise said, then headed toward the two tables, clapping her hands loudly as she approached the kids. "Everyone find your places!"

As their drill sergeant had returned, the children found their seats and snacks, although there was still plenty of fidgeting and giggling.

Jo moved forward to pitch in. She wrestled with a couple juice boxes and drink straws. She opened a yogurt. She wiped a runny nose or two. As she moved around helping where she could, frustration replaced any sense of satisfaction in giving her assistance.

All Cherise managed to do with these kids was glorified babysitting. She just didn't have the time or the help to do projects with them. They colored and played in the courtyard. They had some puzzles and some games, but these kids needed and deserved a daycare that would get them ready for school.

Jo set the yogurt she'd just opened down in front of Damon, a particularly cheeky little four-year-old.

"I can't eat that," he informed her adamantly.

"Yes, you can," Jo said. She knew that Damon's mother was alone and every cent she had was precious to her. No food could go wasted, just because Damon was feeling contrary. She pushed the yogurt toward him and waited while he reluctantly picked up his spoon and dipped the very tip into the pink custard, then put it in his mouth with a horrendous twist of his face.

"Jo?"

Jo straightened, her heart grinding to a complete stop as she recognized the voice, even as she told herself she couldn't. Slowly she turned.

Maksim stood in the midst of the curled, faded flowers and bees, sporting designer slacks and a perfectly tailored shirt that showed off his flawless physique to a tee.