The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew this was going to suck. Worse than I'd previously thought.

-Logan Winslow, a club bartender.

Though a club performer would have been a more accurate descriptor.

He stood in the middle of the brilliant plexiglass bar, the iridescent strobe lights dancing over his white shirt. From my vantage point on the stairs near the entrance, I watched him juggle several bottles of liquor to the delight of his customers. After mixing the drink, he would let it slide across the polished, glassy surface of the counter right to the person who'd ordered it. The phosphorescent liquid inside the plexiglass gave off the illusion that the drink was floating on water.

"Jesus' own holy martini!" I heard one of the customers proclaim, just as a song ended. I began drawing closer.

-Then I guess Logan must be God since he made the thing.

Okay, I was exaggerating, but I couldn't deny that he looked... saintly. The faint blue glow of his fading life force definitely gave him some angelic points.

From the moment I'd read his name in my Ledger, I tried picturing what he would be like (I did that will all my reaps. Because I was an idiot). However, each image I conjured up ended up being an evil and bitter monstrosity of a man who deserved to die.

God, I hoped he was an evil monstrosity. Then at least, my job would've been a great deal easier. But, of course, that wasn't the case.

He was sweet. The picture of loveliness. I knew he was young, 22 as my Ledger stated. But seeing it in person was different than reading it on paper. He looked like he could be the older brother of some random high school friend of mine. Someone I could have known and secretly admired from a distance.

I could see myself  drooling over his short, styled hair, sharp cheekbones, and bright blue eyes, glowing neon in the bar light. They were like a pair of beacons made brighter by the synthetic lights shining down on him, drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But no matter how lovely they were, it was his smile that captured the most attention.

God, his smile.

It was like caramel poured over velvet, silky and smooth. The kind of smile that invites you to keep it company and cares for you when you're feeling down. It made him look like the poster child for the hardworking and decent young man trying to put himself through college. The sweet and caring boyfriend any girl would die to have.

He was perfect. A real saint. I wanted to punch him in the face.

No, scratch that, I wanted to punch the asshole George, who was standing behind him, waiting for his time to run out. As if that was going to do anything. Logan's name had appeared in the Ledger. He was done for.

-I can't do anything.

I had to repeat that about ten times to actually convince myself.

Shaking my head, I decided to get this over with as quickly as I could. Elbowing my way past the staff and the people drunkenly stumbling about, I ended up near the crowded bar. I forced myself to ignore the drunken compliments and attempts to talk to me while fishing for an empty stool near Logan Winslow's vicinity. When a seat did open up, I had to run to take it and viciously elbow a very drunk girl in the process. It was worth it. The moment I sat down, I found myself staring right into my reap's stunning blue eyes.

As if some higher power wanted to make this even more convenient, the music abruptly cut off.

-Oh crap.

"Whoa, guess the party's over," Logan remarked with an effortless smile, friendliness radiating off him like fragrance. His eyes held mine hostage, and digging my nails into my skin was all I could do not to scream. "Hey, what's up?"

I almost blurted 'ceiling' but thankfully stopped myself in time. "Hi yourself."

"Do you know what you want me to get you? Or would you like me to guess?"

-And he's gonna try and make small talk with me.

Not good.

"Guess? Why guess?"

"It's a game I like to play with the customers. I like to guess what people drink based on how they look and act," He said, leaning against the bar with effortless confidence.

-Damn it, why does he have to be so cute?!

Was it too much to ask for a child molester or a serial rapist for a reap? So far, I've only had what appeared to be decent, innocent and hardworking people. It's like whoever was in charge liked being a sadistic monster.

-No, stop it. Focus.

I needed to end this conversation. Right now. George was hovering above this guy, sucking on his life force like a lollipop. He was going to end him soon. I couldn't make small talk with him. That would be weird.

-Just order a tequila, tie the knot and walk away.

Instead, I said, "that's a bit shallow, don't you think?"

I mentally face-palmed so hard, I almost gave myself a concussion.

-You masochistic idiot.

Where was the loud, conversation-stopping music when you needed it?

He wiggled his brows. "What, afraid I'll figure out too much?"

As if things hadn't gone too far already, an unholy, girlish giggle escaped my lips.

"Okay fine then, Mr. Soul Reader. Guess away."

He gave me a long, hard look. The intensity of it had me convinced that he could see exactly what I was and what I was going to do.

That or he'd figured out I looked way too young to be in here, much less order a drink. I silently hoped the pounds of makeup Lillian had piled on my face would be enough to age me up.

"Nothing," he muttered after a few seconds. "You're completely static."

-Probably because I'm dead.

"Damn, I'm usually pretty good at this."

"Lost your mojo?"

"Pretty girls do have that effect on me."

-And he's flirting with me.

Incredibly tragic.

In an effort to reach new levels of stupidity, I crossed my arms on my chest and smirked again.

"Maybe I'm just too smart for you to figure out."

"Mmm, always liked me a good mystery."

"A Poirot, are you?"

"Yep, the best detective out there. But even the best need a clue to work with. Wanna help me out, tell me more about yourself?"

Twirling my hair, like a complete cliché, I giggled.

"Well, since you asked so nicely. Okay, let's see... I don't know, I like... pecan pie? Alright, that's stupid and it doesn't really help."

Logan smiled and shrugged. "No, actually now I know what food to buy you when we go out."

-Good luck with that.

To my knowledge, they didn't have pies, pecan or any other kind in the afterlife. Yet, despite the fact the date would never happen, I still blushed furiously, suddenly forgetting the art of speaking.

"Wow, okay, that was terrible," he blew a breath upwards. It sent a stray lock of hair flying out of his eyes.

"Just a tad too much cheese."

"Yeah. And very presumptuous of me. I mean, I haven't even introduced myself," he exhaled. "I'm Logan. Logan Winslow."

-I know. I've been practically singing your name for two days straight.

I smiled back, hating, no, viciously despising the smoky shadow floating above the bar, nipping at Logan like a starving parasite.

"Violet."

"Nice to meet you, Violet," He did an adorable half bow stunt which nearly made me scream, stuff him in my bag and run.

"And for the record, your line wasn't that terrible."

"Yeah?"

"No, not at all. Anyone who offers to buy me pie automatically becomes number one on my awesome list."

"Logan!" the high-pitched shriek coming from the back room, quickly wiped the dazed grin off his face. "Are you gonna spend the whole night sitting there and flirting or are you gonna get off your ass and do your job?!"

"Coming, Kelly!" Logan yelled back at the redhead with dark burgundy lipstick before turning to me.

"Sorry, duty calls."

I waved him away. "That's okay, I understand. I should probably go and find my friends."

"Tell you what," he grabbed a champagne flute and a shaker before pouring me a red drink. "I will buy you this lovely strawberry mimosa, with the hope that you will come back when the crowd simmers down so that we can discuss that amazing pecan pie I'm going to buy you. Deal?"

I stared into his lovely, azure irises, sparkling like storm clouds before lightning hits. Emotions poured out of them in steady streams, making my blood hum in unison with my undead heartbeat. Oh, yes, his eyes were divine. They were filled with so much life that for a split second, I thought they were capable of rewriting his destiny.

"Deal. See you later." I said, mesmerized by the cadence of his voice.

For no matter how brightly his flame burned, I knew that the dark shadow soaking up his seeping life-force could snuff it out with one icy breath.

With a quick brush of my hand against his, I sent a wave of energy at him, tying his soul to my own essence. The knot sent heat waves rippling across my skin, and my heart leapt, immediately picking up the pace. I tried telling myself that it was the energy making me feel so flustered, not my own regret.

-You're too early.

The knot was something I was meant to tie when my reaps neared their final moments. But postponing it would only make things that much worse. Not to mention give me the opportunity to chicken out and drag Logan out before my boss could French kiss those lovely lips. Despite the fact the glow was weak, the knot formed successfully, and Saint Logan Winslow left me with a charming, heart-melting smile that made me feel like even more of an asshole.

The loud music started again, and I nearly banged my head against the bar. Whichever god was in charge must've had a wicked sense of humor.

Lifting my gaze up, I grinned and shot the unholy pile of smoke floating above me a murderous glare.

-There, you won. Happy?

George kept hovering, as still as a grave. His shadowy form seemed to soak up all the artificial light around him, like a black hole. I wondered if he could read my thoughts, sense all the hatred I had in my heart. For him, my job and this tragedy he and his ilk were about to cause.

If he did, he obviously didn't care. Quivering slightly, he floated off further into the club, signaling me to follow. Back to business again. Like nothing ever happened.

I exhaled and downed my strawberry mimosa. It was time for round 2.