Divine Evil

straight out, I won't take him on. I'm not going to end up like Biff.” He raised a hand in greeting as someone honked a horn. “You do what you want about him-” He nodded toward Less. “And the Kimball girl. I'm not having any part of it. Far as I can see, things're fine.” He swallowed a little ball of unease. “I got work to do.”
    Less grinned and slapped his companion on the shoulder. “You go ahead and go for the top spot, buddy. I'm with you.”
    He smiled to himself as they parted. The way Less figured it, if the two of them battled it out, they would leave a nice clean spot for him to step into. As high priest, he'd have his pick of the whores.
    After a quick trip to the market, Clare pulled up in her drive. Ernie was sitting on the low stone wall beside the garage. She waved, reached for the trunk release, andpressed the automatic seat-belt adjustment instead. After a brief struggle, she found the right switch.
    “Hi, Ernie.” She walked around the back to heft out two bags of groceries. He sauntered over and took one from her. “Thanks.”
    “You left your keys in the car,” he told her.
    She blew the hair out of her eyes. “Right.” After leaning in the window and pulling them out, she smiled at him. “I'm always doing that.” He let her lead the way inside so he could watch her hips sway.
    “You said you wanted to work in clay,” he said when she began pulling out groceries.
    “What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do.” She pulled out a bag of Oreos and offered it, but he shook his head. “Have you been waiting for me?”
    “I thought I'd hang around.”
    “I appreciate it, but I'm not going to be able to work today. I'm tied up. Want a soda?”
    He was annoyed but hid it with a careless shrug. He took the opened bottle she passed him and watched her search for a pan.
    “I know I bought one, damn it. Oh, here we go.” She set a dented pot, another prize from the flea market, on the stove. “You're not working today?”
    “Not until six.”
    Listening with half an ear, she opened a jar of Ragu. It was the only sensible way she knew to make spaghetti. “Is it hard, juggling that with your schoolwork?”
    “I get by.” He moved a little closer, letting his eyes drop to where her tank top drooped over her breasts. “I'll be out of school in a few weeks.”
    “Hmmm.” She set the burner on low. “You must have a prom coming up.”
    “I'm not into that.”
    “No?” Her hair fell over her face as she bent down to root out another pan for the pasta. “I remember my senior prom. I went with Robert Knight-you know, the family that runs the market? I just saw him a few minutes ago. He's got a bald spot as big as a dinner plate.” She chuckled as she filled the pan with water. “I have to say, it made me feel old.”
    “You're not old.” He lifted a hand to touch her hair but snatched it away when she turned to grin at him. “Thanks.”
    He stepped toward her, and the look in his eyes surprised her more than a little. He didn't seem as much of a boy as he had a few minutes before when she'd seen him leaning on her stone wall, sulking. “Ah …” she began, wondering how to handle it without crushing his ego.
    “Hey, Slim.” Cam stepped into the kitchen doorway. He'd just seen the last maneuver and wasn't sure if he should be amused or annoyed.
    “Cam.” On a little breath of relief, she picked up a package of pasta. “Right on time.”
    “I like to be prompt when I'm offered a free meal. Hi. Ernie, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Cam was as surprised by the vicious flash of hate from the boy's eyes as Clare had been by the glimpse of mature desire. Then it was gone, and Ernie was only a sullen teenage boy again, dressed in a Slayer T-shirt and torn jeans.
    “I gotta go,” he muttered and bolted for the door.
    “Ernie.” Clare rushed after him, certain now that she'd misread that unnerving moment. “Look, thanks for helping me with the bags.” She laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I should be able to start in clay tomorrow, if you have a chance to come by again.”
    “Maybe.” He looked past her to where Cam poked a spoon into the sauce on the stove. “You making him dinner?”
    “More or less. I'd better get back before I burn it. See you later.”
    His hands fisted hard in his pockets, he stalked off. He would take care of Cameron Rafferty, he promised himself. One way or the other.
    “Hope I didn't-interrupt,” Cam commented when Clare stepped back into the