Since I had a car, I figured I’d go for a food run. That way, I could snag some gas money from Dante. As usual, he was in his trailer. Not as usual, it was unusually warm and smelled like farts.

  “Yo, you blowin’ it up in here?” I asked as I entered.

  Dante shot me a nervous glance. “What? No, um, Calista was just here.”

  “Uh, huh. Sure bud,” I said, smiling like a dumbass. “Why’s it so warm in here? A/C on the fritz?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Dante looked at the window unit. It was humming along. “Just got it working again.”

  “I see. Hey, I’ve got a car now, and I was gonna run out for some stuff. I can bring back more than just food. You’ve got all that money. I could get you a better TV, some new video games. Oh! A fridge to keep your soda cold? Kinda messed up they didn’t give you one.”

  Dante’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes! Can you bring me a Nintendo 64? I had one when I was a kid. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to play. Also, you never got me that last season of Friends.”

  “Oh crap, forgot—sorry. Also, hate to tell you this, but they don’t make N64s anymore.” He looked defeated, so of course I explained. “They have way better stuff now. Five hundred should cover it.”

  “Oh, cool. And a fridge?” He looked absurdly excited.

  “Yeah. Mini fridge. Another two hundred.”

  “Wait,” he said, confused, “not that it matters, because I’ve got a lifetime’s worth of money piled up, but video games cost more than refrigerators?”

  “Uh, the good consoles cost more than a mini fridge.”

  “Oh man, it’s been way too long. I wish I could go with you. Let me grab some money.” He went into his room. I could hear bills sliding everywhere as he gathered them up. He shouted back, “How much for a new TV? Like, a big one. Though I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

  “They’re flat now. A couple hundred, I think.”

  More rustling. Then he came back with a stack of cash and held it out.

  “Here. Twelve hundred. That should be enough, right? With a little extra for your trouble.”

  “Sounds doable,” I said, taking it.

  “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it,” Dante said, looking sad for some reason.

  “Yeah, dude,” I said. “Anytime.”

  Then I headed downtown.

  Now, you’re probably wondering what it’s like driving in and out of a parallel pocket dimension. It’s a little scary. Case in point: after leaving Dante’s, I pulled out of the trailer park and straight into traffic. I had to floor it to avoid getting hit. Even then, I barely made it because my crap car was crap. It was mine, and I loved it, but it was crap.

  After my near collision, I drove to the nearest—let’s just say—big box store. Last thing I want is to get sued for anything I’m about to imply here. Even though it was true at the time, I’d never be able to prove it.

  Normally those places are freezing, but this one was warm. Maybe even hot. I was going to ask an employee why, but I couldn’t find a human. It was just like the grocery store. Demons everywhere.

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  Then I spotted a ghost in the kitchen wares aisle. It was shopping, which isn’t uncommon. I walked up and pretended to browse.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, “do you know if all the employees are demons, or are some of them actually human?”

  He looked at me. I looked back and gave my eyebrows a quick pump, then winked. Even if he didn’t know he was a ghost, he had to know the difference between a human and a demon pretending to be one, right?

  Apparently not. He just stared at me with a mix of disdain and confusion, then walked away.

  “Well screw you too, buddy,” I said out loud.

  Unfortunately, a living woman and her kid were walking by at that exact moment. She gave me the same look the ghost had. Not everyone could see this crap, which was endlessly annoying.

  I wandered to the back, looking at TVs, when I noticed doors marked Employees Only. That reminded me of the grocery store. I glanced around, didn’t see any demons, and thought, Screw it.

  The break room was normal. Fridge. Microwave. Posters about workers’ rights. Sink.

  And then—

  HOLY CRAP, WHAT IS THAT?!

  Yes, I shouted it. Out loud.

  Where there should’ve been vending machines, there was a portal. Nearly a perfect circle rising out of the linoleum. The ring looked like obsidian, lined with jagged spikes pointing inward. Their tips glowed orange, and the air around them was doing that weird bendy thing hot stuff does. More important was that it reminded me of a b-hole. It looked like a giant, Flamming Hot Cheetos burnt b-hole!

  More importantly, it reminded me of a b-hole.

  A giant, evil, Flaming Hot Cheetos–burnt b-hole.

  I’d never seen a portal before, so I couldn’t be totally sure. But it was round, hot, and Hell was clearly on the other side, so I made an educated guess.

  “Hey, what are you doing back here?”

  I turned to find a demon. I smiled, super casual. “Uh, just checking out your portal. It’s looking sweet.”

  Deadpan: “Those are vending machines.”

  I looked at the very obvious portal, then back at him. “Come on, dude. That’s a portal.”

  “It’s two vending machines. I know, because I eat out of them every day. Now leave the break room before I call security.”

  “Dude, I can see it. It’s fine. We can talk about it. I’m cool. I was just wondering how long it’s been here.”

  “Leave.”

  “Fine,” I said, turning to go.

  Another demon walked in.

  “Hey,” she said, “you don’t work here, do you?”

  “I was just checking out your portal,” I said, pointing. “It’s pretty sweet.”

  “Um… okay,” she said, giving me a look like I was messing with her.

  “The portal. Right there?”

  She glanced at the other demon, then back at me. “Those are vending machines.”

  “God, you guys are good,” I said. “Sorry for bothering you.”

  I grabbed my cart and went back to shopping, trying to forget about it. Like I always do.

  The rest of the trip went about as expected: too much walking, too many people, and a bunch of demons glaring at me. The demon part wasn’t expected, but whatever. I got back with the goods.

  Dante was thrilled.

  I helped set up the TV, the Switch 2, and the DVD player.

  “What’s this?” he asked, picking up season one of The Office.

  “I figured you’d blow through Friends pretty quick, so I grabbed that too.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Most people do.”

  Then he picked up Iron Man.

  “Iron Man?! I loved him! They made a movie? Is it good?”

  “Not just one. Three. Plus a bunch of other movies that all connect. If you like it, I can grab the rest.”

  “Hell yeah,” he said, kicking his old TV. “All I ever got on this piece of crap was black-and-white sitcoms.”

  “I’ll swing by next time I’m out,” I said. Then, noticing he wasn’t as skinny as when we met, I added, “Maybe grab some healthier snacks too. Don’t need you dying on me.”

  He went quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean— I just don’t want to be the guy who gave you diabetes or heart disease.”

  “It’s not that,” he said.

  “Then what?”

  “You’re a good dude, Amir. Like, real good.” He smiled, in a sad sort of way. “Maybe not the brightest, but good.”

  “You know what, I’ll take it,” I said. “But I’m heading home. It’s hot outside, the store was hot, my car’s hot—I’m hot.”

  “Hey,” Dante said, stopping me. “You wanna come hang out sometime? Play some games?”

  “Sure,” I said, not really thinking about it. I didn’t plan to follow through—not until rent was covered, at least.

  Then I asked what Orson definitely would’ve. “Say, not to take advantage, but any chance we could not pay rent in exchange for my services?”

  “Wish I could,” Dante said. “But the devil’s got my hands tied. Anyone occupying a trailer has to pay. Inked in blood.”

  “Worth a shot.” I shrugged.

  I left him to his fun and went home. I flopped onto the couch and I fell asleep under the cool breeze of the window A/C.

  It refracted the light in waves. He claimed “refracted wasn’t a word, and that I was thinking of “reflection, like what a mirror does.