I don’t how long she had been there, but it couldn’t have been long. She turned as we approached and smiled. She was wearing short denim shorts, sandals, and a skintight shirt with a deep V-cut that left very little to the imagination.

  “Hey,” she said with a wave. “I was just looking for you.”

  “Yeah?” Orson replied. “What’s up?”

  “Not you,” she said, pointing at me. “Him.”

  For just a moment, the glint of her black eyes made my heart jump. Maybe it was my complete lack of relationship experience. Maybe it was the attention. Either way, it made me feel… special.

  “Me?” I asked, clutching my collar like some eighteen-hundreds, plantation-owning, corset-wearing, high-society white lady who’d come down with a bad case of the vapors. I still don’t know what vapors are.

  “Yeah,” she said as I walked past her and up to the door. Orson grumpily phased through it. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”

  “I’m not sure what I’d be good for,” I said, unlocking the door, “but I can try. This isn’t a suck-my-soul-out-through-my-penis situation, is it?”

  She laughed. “No. Nothing like that. I just need a hand.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “Still, I need to wash this shit off me first. You can come in and wait.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Just come over when you’re ready.”

  “Right.” I started to close the door, then stopped. “Uh—where do you live?”

  “Oh, just across the parking lot,” she said, pointing to her trailer. “Right there.”

  “Got it. See you soon.”

  Once she was gone, I showered, changed, and immediately threw my clothes in the washer. I did not want my place smelling like sh— mimic guts.

  When I got to Calista’s place, I could smell a hint of sulfur. Not overwhelming. Just… farty.

  Honestly, if she tried bringing guys back here regularly, she’d starve.

  I didn’t even knock. She opened the door before I could. She’d changed into a loose T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. Her tail poked out through a hole just below the elastic.

  “There you are.” She waved me in. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  “Alright,” I said, walking past her and into the living room. Her trailer was the same layout as mine, just flipped. And lived in. Furniture. Decorations. Personality.

  You wouldn’t peg it as the lair of an alluring succubus, not because it was decorated so nicely, but rather, so oddly.

  Motivational cat posters lined the walls. Four of them. “Hang in there.” “You’re purrfect.” A couple of others I don’t remember.

  That alone wasn’t strange.

  It was the taxidermied bats.

  Each sat beneath a tall glass dome. Not different species—just bats in different outfits, doing human things.

  A business bat in a suit, talking on the phone in a cubicle.

  An old-lady bat sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons.

  My favorite: three bats dressed in black, standing by an open grave as a tiny bat-sized coffin was lowered.

  Just bats. Living ordinary lives. Not a single exciting scene among them.

  “Nice… collection,” I said, sitting on the couch.

  “Oh! Thanks!” she said brightly. “I make them myself. Thought about selling them, but I never can.”

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  This was nothing like Lobby Calista. She wasn’t sultry or seductive.

  I was confused.

  Also… attracted?

  “Well,” she said, noticing my confusion, “since demon magic can’t seduce you, I dropped the act. It’s exhausting.”

  “What—being hot?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, “I’m always hot. It’s the acting. Men, especially dumb men, expect a woman to act a certain way. Since dumb men are usually easier to pick up, I act in a way they would find attractive. It’s pretty easy, but it takes a lot of energy to be someone you aren’t.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I replied.

  “I know,” she said. “That’s what I like about you. You really don’t seem to care. I feel like I don’t have to be someone else around you.”

  “What about Dante?” I asked, “He seems not to give a shit.”

  “He doesn’t care out of anger,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t care out of nature.”

  I nodded like I understood. I did not.

  “So,” I said, “what did you actually need my help with?”

  She sat next to me. “I lied. I didn’t need help. I was lonely.”

  “Then why lie?”

  “I didn’t want Orson to come. I like him. He’s just… not alive.”

  At that point, I was feeling a little suspicious that she WAS going to suck out my soul through my penis. Between her acting completely normal and my sudden attraction, it was hard not to think this was some clever ploy to swallow my soul.

  “What about other demons?” I asked. “Don’t you have demon friends?”

  “They’re all the same. ‘War on Heaven’ this. ‘Conquer Earth’ that. Very one-note,” she explained. “You’re the first living person I’ve met that wasn’t mesmerized by me and wasn’t rotten by anger or spite.”

  “Thanks?” I replied.

  “I mean it,” she smiled. “Want food?”

  “Sure. I’m starving,” I said, then asked because it seemed odd she would have any actual food at all. “Wait, you eat normal human food?”

  “No, I don’t, but I bought some for today because I was planning on having you over.” She got up and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ve got Pop-Tarts, soda, bread, chocolate, ice cream, and potato chips. Well, I think they are potato chips. They’re called Doritos.”

  “Nacho or Cool Ranch?” I asked.

  “One sec, let me check. She disappeared behind the kitchen wall then called out, “Cool Ranch.”

  “Cool, Doritos and soda work.” Cool Ranch is the superior Dorito.

  I will die on that hill.

  She came back with the goods and a bounce in her step. She seemed genuinely happy to have me over. It was a strange feeling.

  If it didn’t smell faintly like farts, she’d be perfect. Tail, horns, pink skin and all.

  Well, not all.

  I’m not sure I’m using my soul, but I certainly don’t want it sucked out through my penis. It has occurred to me I’ve said penis too many times, so I’ll stop talking about my soul being sucked out through my penis now.

  Penis.

  Okay, last time.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” she said as she sat beside me. “Who is Amir?”

  I cracked a Coke—thank God—and opened the Doritos. “Just a guy who sees things he shouldn’t. That’s about it.”

  “No,” she said. “I mean—childhood. Parents. Pets.”

  “My parents are basically movie zombies,” I said. “Not real ones. And I’ve got a ghost dog. Haven’t seen him in weeks.”

  Calista waited for a minute, probably for me to say more, but I just kept on snacking.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t have much experience with conversation,” I said. “Your turn. Were you always a demon? What were you like as a girl? Do demons even start out as kids, or are they just spawned into existence?”

  “Good questions,” she said, nodding. “I used to be a human woman. I don’t remember when I was or who I was, but I know I was.”

  “How do you know that if you don’t remember?”

  “No one really knows this. At least, I’ve never heard any humans mention it, but demons aren’t born demons.” She explained, “They start out human, but the pain and torment of Hell leaves them scarred, scabbed, and bloodied. The scars and scabs eventually form a sort of chrysalis. And-”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there. What’s a chrysalis?” I asked. I genuinely did not know, sue me.

  “It’s like a cocoon.” She explained.

  “Oh, okay, continue.”

  “It’s from this pulsating cocoon that a demon emerges, fully grown.”

  “I see,” I said. “So, do certain people make certain demons? Or is it random?”

  “I think it’s random, but I never cared enough to find out.” She leaned back with me. Together we both stared at the wall.

  It was at this point the heat of the summer was making me sweat again. Even at night and inside, it was very warm.

  “Do you have a working A/C?” I asked, “It’s hot in here.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry. I closed the windows so it would be cooler, and you would be more comfortable.” She stood up then gestured to her outfit. “Hence the sweatpants. Let me get a hoodie and turn on the A/C.”

  She walked into her room. I yelled, “Do all demons like the heat? Is that why so many live in Arizona?”

  She returned wearing a beat-up Black Sabbath hoodie, horns poking through the hood. The A/C kicked on and blasted me with glorious cold air.

  “Demons have preferences. Just like people. Which makes sense because we were people,” she said as she sat back down. “Some like the cold. Hell does freeze over in certain places every year. But I like it here because the summers are a perfect room temperature in Hell. There’s hotter places on earth, but one-o-five, one fifteen? That’s the sweet spot if you ask me. The winters aren’t too bad, plus I blend in because most of the people here are hypersensitive to the cold. I can wear a hoodie even when it’s seventy, or even eighty, and no one thinks it’s odd. However, I have noticed more demons moving here. It’s kind of nice seeing familiar faces, but I left Hell because I wanted something different. So, it’s a little bittersweet.”

  Now, I won’t bore you with the rest of the night. You’ve got the gist. It was just nice to have an actual conversation. Never thought I’d like it as much as I did.

  At this point, you’re probably thinking that this chapter was a waste of time. But why don’t you let me tell my story the way I want, and when you tell a story, I’ll let you tell it the way you want.

  Deal?

  It isn’t.