The Book of Joby (125 page)

Gabe felt a total fool. “I should have known, My Lord. I apologize for—”

Before he could finish, the Creator had His hat off and was slapping Gabe on the head with it. “Now cut that out!” his Master growled. “Just when you finally start showin’ a little spirit? What you wanna start apologizin’ for?” He donned His hat again, grinning at Gabe’s amazed expression. “I’m gettin’ us another beer,” he said. “Oh look. The game is . . . Awww hell,” he groaned, gazing toward the door. “Look who’s here.”

Gabe turned to see Lucifer all duded up like an oil baron on some TV show.

“What’s he want now?” Gabe asked unhappily. He looked at the Creator and said, “You don’t think . . .”

“Hell, no.” The Creator frowned. “He’d never try again this soon. It’s prob’ly just the weather brought him down here. Hot as hell out there today.”

“Yeah, but why
this
bar?” said Gabe. “He has to know we’re here.”

“Good thinkin’, Gabe.” The Creator frowned again. “Could be right. Let’s skedaddle.”

“Where to?” Gabe asked as they stood up to go.

“How ’bout Seattle? Lucy hates the weather there. We could get some coffee, and still catch the game.”

“Yes,” Gabe said, still hesitant to question his Lord’s suggestions, “but if it is us he’s looking for, and not just the weather, will that be far enough?”

“Damn.” The Creator grinned. “Got yourself another point, Gabe.” He dropped way too much money on the table and tugged His hat down real low to hide His face. “Remember that little discotheque in Prague?” He smiled. “That might be far enough. Let’s just go. The team I’m rootin’ for is gonna lose this game anyway.”