Travis reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a comic book. “I got this for you.” He held it out to the demon. “You can look at it while you wait.”

The demon fumbled the comic book away from Travis and spread it out on the seat. “Cookie Monster! My favorite! Thanks, Travis.”

“See you later.”

Travis got out of the car and slammed the door. Catch watched him walk across the yard. “I already looked at this one, asshole,” he hissed to himself. “When I get a new master, I will tear your arms off and eat them while you watch.”

Travis looked back over his shoulder. Catch waved him on with his best effort at a smile.

The doorbell rang precisely at seven. Jenny’s reactions went like this: don’t answer it, change clothes, answer it and feign sickness, clean the house, redecorate, schedule plastic surgery, change hair color, take a handful of Valium, appeal to the Goddess for divine intervention, stand here and explore the possibilities of paralyzing panic.

She opened the door and smiled. “Hi.”

Travis stood there in jeans and a gray herringbone tweed jacket. He was transfixed.

“Travis?” Jenny said.

“You’re beautiful,” he said finally.

They stood in the doorway, Jenny blushing, Travis staring. Jenny had decided to stick with the black dress. Evidently it had been the right choice. A full minute passed without a word between them.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She shut the door in his face. Well, that hadn’t been so bad. Now she could put on some sweatpants, load the refrigerator onto a tray, and settle down for a night in front of the television.

There was a timid knock on the door. Jenny opened it again. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous,” she said.

“It’s all right,” Travis said. “Shall we go?”

“Sure. I’ll get my purse.” She closed the door in his face.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them while they drove to the restaurant. Typically, this would be the time for trading life stories, but Jenny had resolved not to talk about her marriage, which closed most of her adult life to conversation, and Travis had resolved not to talk about the demon, which eliminated most of the twentieth century.

“So,” Jenny said, “do you like Italian food?”

“Yep,” Travis said. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the restaurant.