Atlantic City was known for many things, mostly unsavory. One of the more family-friendly attractions was Kismet, a two-story wooden camel situated in the shadow of the boardwalk. Before the big casinos and the bigger bankruptcies, a local carnival owner commissioned the brightly painted folly as advertising for his sideshow. The Alhambra Show of Shows had gone the way of the flesh but Kismet, known to the locals as Kissy, still reigned. Sadly Kissy had contracted a nasty infestation of troublesome poltergeists. Cue Olde City Ghost Fitters, the best ghost exterminators in the tri-state area.

Inside and out, Porter and Marnie inspected the Victorian building. The sun-faded exterior revealed its original red oak finish. Porter set up the standard salt wards while Marnie conducted the sage cleansing. The pair worked slowly to give the Historical Society representatives who hired them a good show. Most ghosts were polite enough to not hang around where they were not wanted, but burnt sage discouraged even the most truculent bogeymen. Smoke billowed up the boardwalk scattering the historians. Coughing, the ghost exterminators headed inside the structure.

“I think the coast is clear, and I just got a text that we did enough to snag the Mayfair Hotel project. I can’t wait to get my hands on some robber baron ghosties,” Marnie said peeking out of a narrow window in Kismet’s hump.

Porter gave a distracted grunt and unpacked his backpack. Marnie was amazed to see her partner pulling all of her favorite snacks from his knapsack onto a battered desk. Kismet had lived several lives on the beach after its failed tenure as a sideshow advert, a knife-sharpening shop, bike rentals, a real estate agent. Marnie pretended to study the old Schwinn posters as she got a read on Porter. He’s been off the whole assignment. Porter cracked up a canned margarita and handed it to her. Sipping, Marnie thought about how to wheedle an answer out of her partner to uncover his moodiness. Porter chugged his own margarita and nearly gagged. Marnie clapped him on the back.

“What’s your major malfunction, Sparky? You and tequila don’t mix,” Marnie asked.

She handed him a butterscotch Krimpet and settled onto a stool for his story.

“Well as you know. The business has really taken off since you were hired. You have really stepped up regarding marketing. Our partnership has been beneficial on many levels. I just don’t know how to—“ Porter took a gulp of margarita, shaking his head like a wet dog..

Marnie laughed, setting her boots up on the desk. She peeled the wrapper of a Chocolate Junior.

“Just spit it out, Port. We’ve been through disembodied heads and cursed chamberpots. You worried about this latest deal because we can handle a couple of rock-throwing dead carnies in a wooden camel, easy-peasy.”

“I want to ask you out on a date.”

Falling backward, Marnie tipped off the stool and rolled into a dusty carton of old flyers. Porter pulled her to her feet and helped her pick cobwebs from her hair.

“Wait you’re serious. When did these feelings start?”

Porter flushed red and rubbed at his neck.

“Since like forever. I wanted to grow on you. I’m hard to take, you know.”

Porter pried chocolate icing off Marnie’s shoulder. Then he dug a spreadsheet out of his backpack.

“So I created a table of our overlapping compatibilities for your review,” Porter said, handing her another Tastykake. “No hurry.”

“Ohh, footnotes. Let’s go topside to review the data”

Hiding a smile, Marnie led Porter up the camel’s spiral staircase to Kissy’s c

uppola to watch the sunset on the water.