She kicked off her black pumps, picked them up, and carried them back to her bedroom. After arranging them neatly at the foot of her bed, she shimmied out of her heather grey jacket and skirt. Slip and pantyhose soon joined the other clothes on the edge of her coverlet.
She inspected herself for a moment in front of her mirror and then stretched. Starting at the base of her neck, at the four visible scales, her skin rippled outwards, bringing fleshy plates to the surface. When her transformation finished its slow cascade down her arms and legs, the petite Rinjal demon sighed in relief. Hiding her true form was tiring, but even the most open minded of clients tended to freeze up if she flashed a plated wrist at them in the office.
Powder blue sweats joined the powder blue shell that had completed her work ensemble. After sweeping her bottle blond hair into a high pony tail and donning a white pair of sneakers, it was time to go. She returned to the foyer of her tiny apartment, and sifted through her cluttered purse to make sure she had everything she needed. Car keys? Check. Extra air freshener for her aging Suburban? Check. Rubber gloves? Check.
On her way out the door, Chloe flipped the switch on her coffee maker. Thursdays were always long nights.
The whirring hum of the washers droned under the canned music in the laundry room. Chloe hummed along to Bryan Adams as her red pen bled across the court request that was balanced precariously on her knees.
Most of the other tenants who lived in the complex had learned that while there were always a few open dryers late on a Thursday, the odors that accompanied the Rinjal demon’s bags of dirty clothes could be fairly appalling. After the founding of Chloe’s unofficial demonic laundromat, the flow of other tenants had trickled to a halt. At first, some of them had complained to the landlord, a fat Vesvu named Charlie, but since he was already one of her clients, he had fabricated a suitably horrifying story about Chloe’s nephews, leprosy, and a charity rugby team. It was amazing how quickly the complaints had stopped after that. She had never managed to wheedle all of the details out of the smug Vesvu, but she also never really complained. Pity points from her neighbors had been traded into parking spot deference and peaceful solitude on Thursday nights.
One of the washers buzzed. Chloe pulled her propped feet down off the table and grabbed a few more bags of laundry. Apparently one of them was torn, because a trail of purplish liquid marked her path to the washers. She would have to mop that up before she left.
Wet clothes, dryer sheets, and a handful of quarters got things rolling with the first round of clothes, and Chloe made sure to transfer all of her little, yellow Post-It notes from each washer to its corresponding dryer. Maybe it wasn’t very scientific, but each tag held a name, and she hadn’t managed to bungle an order yet.
The first bag was pretty small. Chloe pulled the envelope off and read the name: Elsa. The folded check inside made its way into her pocket, and a little sticky note was soon affixed to the lid. The demoness shook out the diaphanous tunics and checked the garments, especially the six sleeves, for spots. She ran a stain stick over the lone mark, probably taco sauce from the smell, and tossed the shirt in with the rest of the load.
Some of the bags came from regulars: Yorlan, Robert, Neelah, Jessica. One in particular earned an amused smile. Knowing without looking what the contents would be, Chloe simply pocketed her money, wrote out her Post-It, and upended the bag into the washer. Black on black jeans, socks, and t-shirts tumbled into the tub. No need to check those for stains, basic black did have its benefits.
Some of the newer names were unfamiliar.
For a while, Chloe had considered changing her drop off points. The slayer had started taking an interest in her customers, but just as suddenly, she had stopped patrolling the Ensloe Street Cemetery on Thursday and Friday nights. With the seeming amnesty, Chloe’s little business had started to grow. New names such as Maxine, Gloreden, Russell, Betty, and X’lorch, started appearing on the bags of laundry.
And then there was Antonio.
Antonio’s bag typically contained things like silk sheets and skimpy men’s underwear, all with crisp folds still intact. Chloe rolled her eyes and dumped this week’s charade into the washer. Antonio’s version of clever and charming was unique to say the least.
After setting the washer to cold/delicate and dropping the requisite coins into the machine, she retreated to her table with Antonio’s envelope in hand. His check joined the growing stack of money in her pocket, but she was more concerned with the folded paper that had been sharing space with her payment. She unfolded the letter and winced after reading the first few lines.
Beauteous Chloressa,
My love for you grows by the day. Would that I could feel your scales under my talons. Your eyes are as green as Tarkan blood and your ears are shapely and pleasing…
Yuck.
The letter went on to describe her hair, which apparently resembled hay, her nose, which was pert and button-like, and her fangs (Rinjals didn’t have any), which were as sharp as finishing nails.
Antonio meant well, but he just wasn’t Chloe’s type. Granted, she had yet to really figure out what her type was, but she was pretty sure it included deodorant and a steady job that didn’t involve ritualistic sacrifice.
She had met him at one of the local demon bars. Not that dive, Willy’s, but the higher class and lower profile Corazon. She was young and, except for the barely noticeable asymmetry of her shoulder scales, reasonably attractive. But like many young professionals, her private life had long taken a rear seat to her career. At eighty-five, she was hardly an old maid, but working among humans for so many years was making her restless. She wanted a mate and a brood of her own.
Unfortunately, all she seemed to have on her radar at the moment was Antonio.
Chloe had gone on a few dates with some of the demons she had met at Corazon, but so many of them wanted a partner in some silly scheme or another, everything from get-rich-quick schemes involving underground liver trading to full scale apocalypses. She just wanted a nice, steady guy who was decently good looking and wouldn’t get arrested, deported, or slain within weeks of making her acquaintance.
Antonio had started hanging around her at Corazon a few weeks ago. Not to be put off by her polite refusals, he had started making a real nuisance of himself: schmoozing around, chasing off more likely prospects with his attentions and various odors, and generally acting like a love struck puppy. With tentacles. And a fondness for human hair.
She tossed the letter aside. The dating scene on the Hellmouth was sketchy enough, but things were getting really disheartening. Maybe she should get that scale buffing Suzy had been raving about. After all, her best friend never seemed to be at a loss for handsome demons, or humans for that matter, at her beck and call.
She had proofread another three files and folded one round of dry clothes when the thumping started. The sound was incredibly annoying, and Chloe started poking around the dryers until she found the guilty party. Considering the name on the sticky note, there was no telling what she might find under the pile of black clothes, but Charlie wouldn’t be happy with another broken machine. That whole fiasco with the Dreklar slime had been bad enough.
The demoness marshalled her courage and opened the offending appliance. It didn’t take her long to find the source of the racket: a wooden stake, a little worse for wear after its tumbling. She rolled her eyes in relief, but right before she closed the door again, she spotted something else unusual.
A purple scrap of lace was peeking out of the pocket of one of the pairs of jeans.
Never one to pass up a juicy piece of gossip, especially about a client who was stirring up the demonic community with his war on the human military institution that had been causing trouble lately as well as the more mayhem-oriented demons in the area, she tugged the wispy bit of fabric out of the machine.
It was a skimpy, frilly thong, the kind that Chloe hadn’t had the courage to wear since her early sixties. She glanced around the room to make absolutely sure that she was alone. Satisfied, the Rinjal demon brought the garment to her nose. When the traces of pheromones and energy hit the extra sensory organ that took the place of sinuses in her species, her carefully made-up eyes opened wide.
She could see hazel eyes and blond hair laced with the taste of power and human mortality.
“Get out!”
Chloe tossed the wisp of lace back in the dryer and scampered back to her table. After digging through the stacks of files, piles of folded and sorted laundry, and her latest cup of black coffee, she finally remembered that she had left her cell phone in the car.
The demoness pursed her lips in irritation. There had been rumors of course, but now she had solid proof. Suzy would just die when she heard the news.
Logic finally reinstated Chloe’s common sense, so she dropped unceremoniously back into her seat. Suzy was probably still dancing at The Pagoda or holding court at Corazon anyway, and the Rinjal didn’t want to leave her customers’ laundry unattended while she dug around in her huge SUV in the dark. Suzy, and through her the rest of Sunnydale, could wait one more day.
Chloe went back to her proofreading, but it was hard to concentrate when a wide grin kept threatening to surface. Okay, yeah, the situation had its squicky sides, they were supposed to be mortal enemies after all, but it was kind of romantic too. Sunnydale’s own Romeo and Juliet.
The potential for gossip was staggering.
When she packed up the loads of clean laundry many hours later, Chloe made sure to neatly arrange the thong and stake on the top of their stack with another Post-It note.
William,
Congratulations!
Chloe
And yes, she was teasing the vampire a little, but part of her was perfectly sincere. If that pair could work it out against all odds, then maybe things would turn out okay for Chloe too.
As soon as she figured out how to get rid of Antonio.