Oliver wondered where they were going. They were no longer in Not-Nantucket, nor anywhere that resembled the eastern coast of the United States, and still the rain continued to pour and flood the highways. But as suddenly as it began, the rain stopped abruptly, and the two-lane highway expanded to a roaring eight-lane freeway, with overpasses that swooped in every direction.
Mimi looked up at a blinking freeway sign. It read: TAKE
THE NEXT EXIT. “I think that’s for us,” she said, accelerating in-to the right lane. The exit took her to a wide boulevard of skyscrapers, and a valet wearing a shiny red jacket waved her into the driveway of the tallest and shiniest building on the street.
The valet line was filled with a row of expensive and rare European cars.
“Right in there,” the valet directed, pointing toward the glass doors. “They’re expecting you.”
“You were wrong; they do have valets in Hell,” Oliver joked. He noticed the valet was wearing a silver collar around his neck. So the trolls did run the place. They were the invisible hands that made sure the trains ran on time and dinner was never late. The slave labor of the underworld.
Oliver scratched his face, feeling a sudden five o’clock shadow on his chin. When he passed through the doors he noticed his reflection. He was wearing a flannel shirt, a beret, aviator sunglasses, baggy blue jeans, and expensive sneakers.
“I look like a douche,” he said.
“Stop complaining,” Mimi said, puckering her lips at the glass. For this part of the journey she was dressed in a trendy outfit: tight jeans, high heels, a slouchy and comfortable black sweater. She had sunglasses on her head and an expensive handbag on her arm. She almost felt like herself again.
Through the glass doors was an expansive marble lobby.
Mimi walked to the elevator and pressed up. When the elevator doors opened to the top floor, they found themselves in yet another stark and beautiful lobby. Everything in the place had been designed to intimidate and disconcert, to make a person feel small and humble and not quite pretty enough.
Oliver followed Mimi to the reception desk, where three good-looking she-trolls in headsets fielded calls. The headsets were made of silver, and wrapped around their necks like dog collars. No blood, though. The nearest one smiled when they came closer. “Yes?”
“Mimi Force and uh… Oliver Hazard-Perry. We’re expected,” Mimi said.
“Of course. Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
They walked toward the uncomfortable but beautiful furniture. Another impossibly gorgeous girl troll in an improb-ably chic outfit approached them. Her silver collar was a choker, and Oliver could swear it glittered with diamonds.
“Mimi? Oliver?” she asked. “Can I get you anything? Water?
Coffee? Iced tea?”
Mimi shook her head. “I’m good.”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Oliver said. When the ass
istant left, he turned to Mimi. “What’s this all about? Where are we?”
“I think Helda’s going to make me an offer,” Mimi said. It was another temptation, another obstacle to keep her from what she truly wanted.
As soon as Mimi explained, it suddenly clicked, and Oliver understood why everything looked so familiar. Since Helda was making Mimi an offer, their environment had been designed to look and feel like a sleek Hollywood agency.
They waited for an hour; the assistants continued to hover and brought drinks even though they hadn’t ordered them.
Oliver felt itchy in his jeans as the fabric scratched. “How long do we have to wait?” He hoped it wasn’t as long as their drive through Limbo.
“Unpredictable,” Mimi huffed.
Finally the assistant returned, and this time she didn’t ask them what they wanted to drink. “Come on back,” she said, with the pat smile of a stewardess or restaurant hostess.
“Wait here. Don’t drink that,” Mimi warned. Oliver spat out the coffee in his mouth, and Mimi followed the assistant into a large office with a spectacular view of rolling green hills dotted with Spanish-tiled rooftops.
The demon sitting at the desk was turned away from her, with his legs on the armrest of his chair. He twirled around and winked at her. “She’s here in my office right now. Yes, I’ll tell her. Sounds good. We’ll do lunch. There’s a new place that everyone is raving about. You can’t get a reservation but I know the owner. All right. Good-bye. Talk later.” He removed his headset and turned to Mimi with a crafty smile on his face.
He had slicked-back hair and a shiny suit, and he was handsome in the way that powerful men are. He had an aura of confidence, wealth, and ruthlessness. His cuff links gleamed in the sunlight, a hard silver glow. “Azrael! Sexy! Been too long, babe,” he said, getting up and giving her a bear hug.
“Mamon,” she said. “I see you’ve redecorated.”