Darla didn’t know exactly what she had expected a demon to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. “Ah shit,” the seven-foot-tall man muttered, taking in his surroundings. With the piña colada in his hand and his unbuttoned floral shirt, he looked like he belonged in Hawaii, not the Underworld, and definitely not in her living room. His skin was a sun-kissed bronze. He had a pink and yellow lei draped around his horns, for heaven’s sake! Darla threw a look at the ancient book on her coffee table, _thanks a lot_. He wore flip-flops on his hooves, which logistically made no sense but was the least of her worries at the moment.  The demon stepped out of the ring of candles circling him and took a long, noisy sip from his drink before thrusting it into Darla’s hands.  “Hold this, will ya?”  She took it wordlessly, too shocked by this whole ordeal to form a sentence out loud. “I need to make a phone call,” he said, patting down the pockets of his swim trunks. “Need to remind these fuckers that I don’t do this anymore.” Her mind kicked into gear by the first ring. “Wait! I really need your help.” He rolled his coal-black eyes. “Let me guess, want me to kill someone? Torture them?” He motioned to his beach getup. “Not my style anymore.” “No. None of that. At least, not yet. I think I’m cursed.” He raised one eyebrow, mildly interested.  “I think it’s a generational curse of sorts.” Hanging up the phone, he said, “Go on.” Those words ignited a small flame of hope inside her chest. She smoothed the front of her T-shirt. “No one in my family has ever been able to fall in love and stay in love. It’s like we’re cursed to keep marrying the wrong people.” The demon snorted, promptly snuffing that flame. “You summoned me all the way from Oahu to your beige, suburban living room because,” he eyed the pictures of Darla and her kids lining the walls, “you’re a divorcee?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How was he able to make it sound so trivial? “Well, when you put it like that—” “There isn’t any other way to put it. You shoulda called Cupid,” he said, and stormed off toward the backdoor. She replaced the piña colada in her hand with that stupid book and followed him, having to speed walk to keep up with his long strides. The book’s weathered pages glowed green. A cyclops eye was embedded in its cover, blinking up at her mockingly. “Well, I’m sorry. I obviously didn’t _mean_ to summon a retired demon, but my Bellsybabble is more than a little rusty. I can barely understand a word of what’s in this thing.” The demon spun around and snatched the book from her grasp. “Alright, let’s see. Here it says: All demons beware of a certain divorced soccer mom with freckles, she’s crazier than you are,” he pretended to read. He was right about the soccer mom part, her sneakers, leggings and curly hair tied into a ponytail must have helped give her away. But she was not crazy. Her chest heaved, “I’m just desperate.” She had to strain her neck to look him in the eye. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up surrounded by miserable, abusive relationships your whole life? And to be convinced that you’re destined for the same fate? Either I’m cursed or I’m just too fucking unlovable.” She pushed past him and slammed the door in his face.  Out on the back porch, she sat on the stoop, staring at the yard. It was a little overgrown with a few weeds, which she could never seem to make time to tend to. Two bicycles, one pink and one purple, with tangled streamers on the handlebars, laid temporarily abandoned on the grass. As soon as the twins got back from school, they’d be glued to the bikes again and begging for Darla to take the training wheels off because they were “big girls” now. It both broke her heart and made her incredibly proud. The door creaked open behind her, jolting her out of her thoughts. She turned her head, and her eyes widened. Before, he seemed to be half human, now he stood there, showing her his complete demon form. A haze of smoke swirled all around him, but through it, she could still see his square jaw and broad shoulders. His horns had doubled in size, threatening to scrape the roof if he tilted his head too high. His skin was red like blood.  “What could be more unlovable than this?” He asked, his eyes glossy.  She took in every part of him, all that was sharp and terrifying and supposedly sinister.  “I’m sure there’s someone out there with a demon kink,” she deadpanned. He let out a hearty laugh— it made her insides feel warm and a smile creep onto her face.  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Darla shrugged. “Can I sit next to you?” “Aren’t I too crazy?” His face fell slightly. “I’m really sorry I said that.”  She liked him better like this; genuine, with no walls up. It was more than she could say about the majority of people in her neighborhood.  She happened to glance at her watch, then shot up like a bullet when she realized what time it was. “Holy crap, I’m gonna be late for the PTA meeting!” She raced back into the house at the same time that the demon’s phone started ringing. As she threw on a jacket, she could just barely make out snippets of the conversation. “Returning your call,” a deep voice said from the other end of the line. She couldn’t hear anything for a few seconds before he said, “Nothing, just wanted to let you know I might got one more job in me before officially retiring.” In a frenzy driven by neighborhood politics despising latecomers, Darla’s eyes darted around the living room and foyer. “Keys, keys, keys. Where are you?” The demon stepped beside her, twirling her key ring around his finger. “Let’s see if any of these PTA moms have motives for wanting to curse ya,” he said.