Brigits_Flame March Entry 01 - The Devil's in the Details
“No, sir,” I said into the phone. “It’s not going to be a problem. Not in the very slightest.”
The receiver hissed with smoke, and a thin trickle of sulfur dioxide - that is to say, brimstone - snaked out of the handset and into my nose.
“It won’t be a problem, Andrealphus,” my boss intoned, “because we do not have problems. Fix it before it gets worse.” He hung up. Absent his voice, my phone fell limp; I returned the receiver to its cradle.
I’m Alfie. I’m a signing agent for The Devil. And we were having a bad day Downstairs.
I picked up my Magic Six-Ball and gave it a good hard shake. “Okay, Six-Ball. I got serious contract issues with a mortal. Gimme the scoop.”
I turned the ball over. “Go see Mona,” it read.
“I don’t want to see Mona,” I said, shaking the ball again. “Don’t I have other options?”
I turned it over once more. “Mona’s your best bet, kid. Don’t look a gift horse.”
“Sheesh.” I grabbed my asbestos-lined cloak from off the coathanger. “If you say so.” I left the office, jamming a hat onto my head and picking up my briefcase. And my bumbershoot. It’s always raining in Hell.
The weather could have been worse: it was a light storm of flaming hail, as opposed to the scorching boulders the weatherman had been predicting. The weather service is always wrong until it isn’t out here. I am given to understand that’s how it works on Earth, too. I made my way west on Abaddon until it crossed with 37th, and hooked a right.
You do stupid things for power. Some people betray their loved ones. Some sacrifice their ideals. Some, if I’m lucky, sell me their souls. I mean, I’m in the game too, same as anyone. If I rack up enough souls, I can get out of my practice on 34th and Bleaker, buy myself a seat in the Peerage, and maybe, one day, become a Duke of Hell. See? Stupid things, I thought; stupid things for power. I kicked a can. This was a chump’s game.
Desdemona runs an accounting firm on 37th Street. I needed her advice, unfortunately. She keeps her office very, very warm. I entered her corner office, and my hat caught fire. Blessit.
Mona was slim, impossibly slim like a cigarette holder - long, hard, thin and full of smoke. I beat the fire out of my hat and stuffed it into my briefcase.
She breathed hello.
“Alfie,” said Mona. “Haven’t seen your cute little face around here in a dog’s age. How’s it blowin’?”
“Slouchin’ towards Babylon, Mona. Same as ever. God’s teat, do you keep it hot in here.”
She snapped a finger and the flames receded to the fireplace. “Sorry, sweetpea,” she said, leaning in. “I forgot you didn’t like it hot.”
I felt myself growing embarrassed and angry. “Mona, I need your help. Now is not the time to -”
“To rekindle old flames?” said Mona, arching a perfect eyebrow.
“Yes. That. But not,” I said. I pulled The Contract out of my briefcase and slapped it on her desk. “Here is my problem.”
Mona peered at it. “Looks airtight.”
“Yes,” I cried. “And we are suffocating! Look at it!”
“I’m looking! What am I looking for?”
“I let her modify the contract! I let her take it home with her for the long weekend!”
Her tone was icy. “Alfie, I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a dumb shit.”
“I know! Help me fix it. As it stands, she hasn’t promised us anything. Unlimited access to fame, money, talent, and sex, and all she promises us in return is…”
Mona scanned it again. “Her soul - asterisk - album that she intends to produce sometime in the foreseeable future HOW DID YOU NOT SEE THE ASTERISK?”
“I didn’t see the asterisk! I cannot be expected to re-scrutinize the fine print!”
“You goddamned schmuck! We ARE the fine print!”
“What do I do?” I said, pulling at my tail. I do this when I am anxious.
“You have to hold to the contract. That shit’s binding.”
“I can’t just give her money and fame! When’s the last time you gave something that good away for free?”
Mona gave me a very significant look. From within my suitcase, my hat caught fire again.
We looked at each other for a very long time. My hat went out.
“Alfie,” she said. “I have an idea.”
“Wonderful!” I said. “What’s the catch?”
“You are taking me out to dinner tonight,” she said. “I’ll tell you then. Fair?”
“Fair.”
“See you tonight, then,” said Mona. “Sweetpea.” She disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Women.
(To be continued.)