I even had a bread oven crammed into the corner in a way I could only assume was not fire-safe. (I’d definitely be evicted if my landlord saw it.) But my pride and joy was my Le Creuset Dutch oven. As you can tell, I’m a cooking fanatic, so maybe I wouldn’t burn Simon’s breakfast after all today. I don’t always burn them; I just need some more practice is all.
And some tunes. I walked over to my Bang and Olufsen sound system and queued up some French cooking music, instantly relaxing to the soothing accordion notes. GoneGodDamn, that top-of-the-line speaker system put out some nice sound. No regrets on that purchase … of course I was still making monthly payments on it along with, oh you know, the absurdly high price for renting an NYC apartment. And utilities. And I tried to send an anonymous donation to Amir with each completed job’s earnings to help him try to stay afloat.
And then there was that other thing I had. The one with payments of over six thousand dollars a month …
I shook my head. I knew Amir was fighting an uphill battle to hold onto his dream. But so was I. And sometimes I felt like I was drowning. Figuratively. In debt.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
“Crap …”
I fanned the smoke detector and cracked open a window. Not surprisingly, my upstairs neighbor stomped a few times to show that they didn’t approve and I gritted my teeth.
As I flipped the blackened pancakes, I could hear Garfunkel’s chiding voice from earlier. Damn it. With my fancy electric griddle, it shouldn’t have even been possible to burn them. I shook my head.
My father has a saying: kameno tost! It’s Greek for “burnt toast.” It seemed I’d inherited his cooking skills instead of my mother’s. Oh well.
I toasted some Pop-Tarts for Garfunkel (hey, didn’t burn them!) when Simon’s pancakes were almost done. Then I loaded up a plate with pancakes and another with Pop-Tarts, and set them all out neatly on the coffee table.
Then I took a shower.
And then I passed out on the couch, forgetting all about setting my morning alarm so that I could go for a run before Orion and I left for the big job interview in the morning.
I awoke to the theme song of He-Man: Masters of the Universe blaring from my Bang and Olufsen sound system. It may have been a small apartment, but I’d turned it into a veritable home theatre. And let’s just say my neighbors didn’t appreciate me only for my close relationship with my smoke detector.
Crunch.
I lifted my head from the couch’s arm rest. Garfunkel sat with his legs dangling off the couch seat beside me, munching on some potato chips—or rather, a potato chip. Tiny hands, remember?
He took another bite out of his current chip, speaking with his mouth full. “You’ve got slobber on your cheek.”
“I do not.”
I wiped slobber from my mouth as I glanced at the window. It was nearly dark out.
I sat up and stretched like a cat, yawning sleep away. “What time is it?”
“Oh … about five,” Garfunkel said, and I relaxed a bit. “In the morning.”
“What? Why didn’t you wake me?”
Simon sat on the floor, biting his nails. “You were sleeping so peacefully.”
“Yeah, like a rock,” Garfunkel said.
I grunted in disgust as I ran to the bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed that I looked like crap, but it didn’t matter—I’d be sweating soon enough. Today was the meeting with Orion’s big-paying client, and I wanted to get my daily run in beforehand to clear my mind.
I threw my hair up in a ponytail and changed into running clothes with a thermal base layer. Then I slipped on a pair of expensive running shoes.
Luckily for me, my familiars were used to the routine and had already thrown on their athletic attire as well. They looked somewhat comical in their long white socks, colorful sweatbands and miniature compact hoodies.
I was hungry, so I ate a banana on the way out the door. (Damn you, Orion …)
If I didn’t get some miles in each day, a part of me went a little crazy. Also, I wasn’t born with this body … well, I was, but maintaining it required upkeep.
I’m a Long Island girl, so I ran up and down the pre-dawn streets parallel to the ocean, all the while jamming to some upbeat music through my earbuds.
It was a good run, and I got out most of my pre-employer-meeting jitters. I also shed a lot of sweat and some of the angry feelings that had been weighing on my mind, such as my relationship with Orion, my multiple delinquent payments and where my life was generally headed (hint: I had no clue).
If I didn’t run, I feared I would truly lose my mind, much like Orion if stuck in a crowded metropolitan area.
On my last loop, I got a phone call from one of my least favorite numbers. I didn’t want to answer it, but I knew it was important. I stopped running. “Hello?”
“Is this Theo Apollonia?”
I clenched my teeth. “You know it is.”
The man on the other line cleared his throat. “Look, it’s a question we have to ask everyone when we call. Uh … this is Larry from the Collections Department for—”
“I know who you are,” I said. “I’ve got caller ID. Can you just get to the point, please?”
I swear I can be charming when I want to be.
“Uh, yes. Straight to the point, Theo.”
“You can call me Ms. Apollonia,” I said just to mess with him. I swear I’m not evil …
“I’m calling about, well, you know. As you are probably aware, you’ve skipped the past two monthly payments.” He paused as if he expected me to interject or refute him. I let the silence drift on until it became awkward. The man was just doing his job, but I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
“Well, Ms. Apollonia, this is beyond a courtesy call. In fact, I’m just glad you answered the phone this time, because if you’re unable to make a payment today your investment will be turned over to a third-party agency.”
I bit my lip.
After a few moments, the man resumed. “Ms. Apollonia, are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Are you able to make a payment today?”
I placed a hand against a street light. Without the money from the graveyard job, my only possible salvation was Orion’s big job offer meeting later this morning.
I cleared my throat and put on my best smile, hoping the gesture reflected in my voice. “I’ll have the money soon. I swear.”
I could almost hear the man shaking his head. “I’m afraid—”
“There’s got to be something I can do to help you.”
The man sighed. “There is. Settle your bill and you get to keep your investment and you don’t get sent to a debt collector.”
I had only one option left to try. “No, I mean something else I can do for you. Off the record.”
The man stammered. “You do know this is a recorded line?”
I straightened my back unabashedly like a true New Yorker. “You’ve got my number. Use your cell …”
My voice trailed off as I caught a glimpse of someone standing in the shadows about fifty feet away on the other side of the street. It almost looked like … No, it couldn’t be. Not her. Not now. But I’d seen her outside the bodega yesterday, too … It couldn’t be a coincidence. And there was no mistaking her for someone else. Not with those arms.
The man from the collection department said something else, but I didn’t catch it.
“What?”
“I said you have until the end of the day to get the balance settled.”
I hung up without responding before I could say something stupid, and when I looked back up, the figure was gone. I knew what I had seen, though. My old partner. Watching me. Crap …
“It’s OK, Theo,” Simon said. “You’ll figure something out.”
I shook my head. “Did either of you see something over there?”
Simon said he hadn’t, but Garfunkel just grinned.
Double crap …
Part of
me hoped I’d just imagined it, but they say trust your gut, and my stomach was definitely contradicting my hope …
“My Big Fat Greek … Job Interview”
After a quick shower and an even quicker breakfast, Orion picked me up in front of my apartment building in his truck. It was the kind of vehicle where you had to open the doors with a key from the outside and the windows were crank-operated. It was quaint, and for some reason I liked it despite the lingering smell of beef jerky.
Orion seemed less skittish and more Orion-like, which boosted my confidence. This was good, because there was a lot riding on this prospective job offer. I had high hopes, because really, how much worse could it get than graverobbing?
Orion and I were pros; we’d seen a lot, been through a lot. I also had Simon’s book smarts and Garfunkel’s quick thinking to help get us out of sticky situations. And I had the best tech girl in the city on speed-dial.
So going into the interview, I felt capable of pulling off a heist inside Fort Knox, if it came down to it. Not that it would. Orion and I didn’t pull those kinds of jobs. Now my old partner … Well, best not to think of those days. I tried to forget the figure I had seen outside the bodega and in the shadows on my morning run. I couldn’t afford the distraction.
It was a pleasant drive to our potential employer’s residence, just under a couple hours north to Poughkeepsie. And even though it was winter, the change of scenery was nice.
Orion and I didn’t talk much on the drive up, although I wanted to bring up the topic of how much I needed this job to pay off my … liabilities. But Orion was in focus mode, mentally prepping for the job offer.
See, Orion has one important rule when it comes to working a job: A cloudy mind is a dangerous mind. Or, translated into Theo talk: Get your shit straight before the mission.
Which was a good idea.
So I lay my head back between the headrest and the doorframe and took a nap …
“We’re almost there.”
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Then I checked the overhead mirror and wiped off my mouth.
We were nearing the cul-de-sac of an expensive subdivision. Very exclusive. As in, this-cul-de-sac-has-a-gate exclusive. A ten-foot-tall brick wall to either side of the wrought-iron gate blocked most of my view of the house; closely planted trees in front of the wall concealed the rest of it. Orion eased up to the guard sitting in a quaint, similarly bricked guard shack dappled by leafy shade. The guard lowered a paperback novel from his face and appraised us.
He had a smooth, angular face, but it was gentle enough. It was the kind of unsuspecting face that was good for hiding superior military training. The mystery novel in his hands was a nice touch, too. I’d seen his type in the military.
Some movement caught my attention off to the side, and I stifled a fake yawn so I could inconspicuously turn my head for a better look outside the truck window.
Yep, just as I’d thought. A guard. Patrolling the perimeter within the shade of the trees plentifully planted along the brick privacy wall.
This both excited and cautioned me. Most jobs we accepted weren’t from people with this much security. But it also suggested the job’s payout would be worth it, no matter how dangerous.
Orion put the truck in Park and leaned an elbow casually out the window as he smiled up at the man.
The guard regarded us some more and picked up a clipboard hanging on the booth’s wall. When he spoke, smooth lips peeled back from straight white teeth. “Mr. Orion, I presume?”
“Ayuh.”
The guard leaned forward, giving me a quick once over. His face looked genuinely surprised. “And your … associate?”
“Theo Apollonia,” Orion said amicably enough.
The guard made a checkmark on the clipboard.
“You were expecting a guy?” I asked, probably more than a little indignantly.
“It is more predominantly a male first name,” Orion clarified, interjecting smoothly.
The guard nodded curtly. “You’re early.”
Orion flashed his trademark easy grin; it was so casual that guys couldn’t help but feel a kinship with him, and so intimate that it melted most women’s hearts. Not mine, of course. We’re just partners, I think. And as I’ve already mentioned, there was that pesky age gap. But that hair, though …
“Is that a problem?” The charm in Orion’s easy voice was impossible to resist. It redirected one to his way of thinking without being abrupt.
“No sir.” The guard flicked a switch and the gate swung open electronically.
Orion tipped his head and put the truck in gear as we rolled forward.
And I almost choked on my breath.
First off, the cul-de-sac was large and sweeping enough to accommodate like twenty or thirty cars. Talk about a party …
The house itself was only two stories tall … but it was a mansion. As in tall, white columns, balconies and decorative cornices. I’m no expert on architecture or Greek history like my father, but I detected some ancient Greek construction in the facade. It was classy but also surprisingly modern, as if it had only been built in the last five years.
Orion turned to me. “What do you think so far?”
“Holy sh—”
“Language!” Simon said.
“… ipwreck,” I finished. Yep, if we played our cards right, we’d definitely be scoring one hell of a payday.
Orion followed the sweeping curve of the roundabout, pulling to a stop just outside the columns as the front door opened and one of the handsomest gentlemen I’d ever seen in my life stepped out.
I say gentleman because he was cleanshaven, tall and smart-looking, dressed in shiny black dress shoes and black slacks, suit coat and tie. His shirt was starched white and button-up, and I thought how silly it was of me to pine over Orion when there were other suitable fish in the sea. Fish my age and with hair just as impressive as Orion’s. And bingo! No ring on his finger …
And he was now standing right outside my open window.
The man bowed and then stood tall with a perfect shining smile. “My master bids you welcome.”
If I thought Orion’s voice was cool and casual, this man’s was even smoother, like buttery velvet … Ew. Sorry for the mental image—sounded better in my head.
“You’re a bit early,” he continued, “but it is amenable to him. You shall wait in the grand foyer while he finishes up his current business.” He paused, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me. “If, of course, that is amenable to you?”
“Amenable to me,” I said quickly. I turned to Orion. “Is it amenable to you?”
He nodded slowly, and I thought I detected jealousy on Orion’s face as he asked, “Where should I park?”
Tall and Handsome swept his arm across the completely empty cul-de-sac. “Anywhere you choose. Where you are. Or over there. It doesn’t really matter. We seem to have a vacancy right now.” He chuckled softly, and I laughed and turned to Orion.
I leaned over the center console until I was inches from my partner’s face. “Isn’t he so funny? And charming?”
Orion grunted, put the truck in gear and parked a few meters past the front door.
Yep. Totally jealous. I grinned and turned back to face T&H, who was opening my door for me.
“Such a gentleman,” I said.
The foyer was opulent, to say the least. Orion and I sat on antique wooden chairs with crimson plush seats and what I assumed was gold gilding around the frames. Yeah, gold.
Across from us, a grand staircase comprised of marble spiraled upward to the second floor. A plush golden rope stretched across the golden handrails at the bottom of the steps with an official-looking white placard in flowing font that read: Do not Enter, which of course prompted my curiosity and my desire to explore.
To our left was the front door we had entered by and on our right was a long, wide hallway with several rooms on each side; however, all the doors were closed so it was impossible to tell what was behind them. The c
ombined mystery of the closed doors and the off-limits staircase would probably have been too much for me to resist had Tall and Handsome not still been standing with his back to a door which I assumed his employer (and hopefully my soon-to-be employer) was behind.
I admired the crystal chandelier above us before turning to our host. “What’s your name?”
He gave a lazy championship smile before performing another slight bow with his hand over his waist. “My name is Ganymede.”
A bit archaic, I thought. And kinda creepy.
His smile widened. “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I’m that Ganymede. Cup bearer of the gods.”
“Oh yeah,” I lied. “But that name’s a mouthful. How about Gan? Rhymes with Dan.”
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I’d prefer Ganymede.”
“Gan,” I said.
His smile faltered. “Ganymede.”
Orion grumbled something.
“Excuse me?” Gan asked.
Orion scratched the back of his head. “Oh. I was just wondering when your employer might be ready to see us. It is past the agreed upon time now.”
Gan frowned. “I’m not sure. My employer is a very busy individual.”
Individual … That was a strange way of addressing his boss.
Who were we about to meet? A man? A woman? An Other? If so, what kind of Other would it be? Which mythology, folklore or fairy tale? I didn’t care either way, but the statement struck me as odd.
A few moments later there came three solid knocks like a gavel striking a block. (Unfortunately, not being a stranger to the court system, I know what a gavel sounds like …)
Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1) Page 4