“How long does it take you?” He poked at a towering stack of envelopes. “You don’t want Mr. Arkady to look ungracious! You could have been working on these before the show started, and then at the show!”
You mean, while we were busy redesigning the star dress, then trying to send Mr. Arkady down a rabbit hole?
Reynaldo shook his head and clucked his tongue as he cat-walked away. I picked up a pen and started to address an envelope when my phone vibrated. I flipped it open and read:
What r u doing now?
Jeremy. I texted back:
T-Y’s for the show, Reynaldo cracks whip!
I kept the phone open and set it to silent. Another message popped up two seconds later:
Haha. Feeling better?
I looked at Shar, who was busy addressing envelopes. I typed:
Still no voice. But not contagious.
His next message came up almost instantly.
Cool. Think u can get away 4 a sec?
I snuck another peek at Shar. Was it fair to leave her? It would only be for a couple of minutes. I told him yes.
Come 2 the exit stairs 2 left of elevators :)
I snapped the phone shut and jumped up, startling Shar.
“Bathroom!” I yelped, and dashed out without looking at her; the guilt might make me reconsider.
I could feel my heartbeat speeding up as I walked past the fake Fabergé eggs and into the beige reception area. Out the double doors. Down the hall. Past the elevators. No one was there to hinder me.
As I grasped the cool metallic handle of the stairwell door, visions of Jeremy and me on Coney Island zipped through my mind like a flickering slideshow. I’d been robbed of my moment—there had been no kiss, only the brush of his lips on my cheek, his breath in my ear, but no more. I had no idea what his experience had been; we’d never talked about it.
I pushed the stairwell door open with resolve and burst through. It was empty. I stepped into the stairs, my breathing shallow, my heart still racing. I closed my eyes as the door swung shut. Hearing the soft click of the latch, I shook my head; this was a Hades trick. He’s furious that I won’t deliver Shar to him, and now he’s going to mock me.
Behind me, someone cleared their throat. He’s here; he actually had the nerve to come to confront me. I spun around, ready for a fight.
“You—” I started, then stopped.
It wasn’t Hades.
It was Jeremy.
In the half second that I turned to face him, his expression changed from a soft stubbly grin to wide-eyed confusion. I must’ve looked deranged.
“I’m sorry,” he began to apologize, but I strode over to him, shaking my head. I put a finger to his mouth. His lips parted, letting out a short breath that tickled my finger. I moved my hand to his cheek; he felt real, warm.
“It’s really you,” I mouthed.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Expecting someone else?”
I blushed—nowadays I could never be sure.
“No.” The word came out in a whisper.
He pushed himself away from the wall and, slipping an arm around my waist, spun me around so our positions were reversed. Brushing the hair away from my face with a finger, he bent down so that his face was mere inches from mine.
“I like your hair,” he said. “I like your eyes. No, I think I love your eyes.” His lips brushed my forehead, nose, then hovered above my mouth.
Here we were again—the moment, the exquisite anticipation. Never taking my eyes off his lips, mine parted. No interruptions.
Gently, he pressed me against the wall, his warm palms guiding my face closer. I could feel the feathers prickling against the skin of my back. He was still holding my face in his hands, but he pulled away slightly and stared at me for a long moment. So close …
“Is something wrong?” I whispered.
“No,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. I inhaled deeply, losing myself in the mingled, spicy scents of patchouli and sandalwood—his scent. “It’s just that … I feel like we’ve done this before … haven’t we? I try to remember”—he squeezed his eyes shut—“but I can’t.”
I raised my right hand and smoothed his brow. His eyes fluttered open.
“We’re here now,” I said, my voice neutral. I lifted my face closer to his and he descended toward mine. His lips were warm and soft, and his teeth tugged gently, teasingly, on my bottom lip. I closed my eyes. As the kiss deepened, he started to move his hands down to my neck, my shoulders. I shrank back, but not before he felt the weird padding on my arms. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands moved up into my hair, drawing me closer to him.
The phone on his belt buzzed. Reluctantly, we parted. He closed his eyes and threw his head back in exasperation before looking at it.
“Reynaldo. I have to get back,” he said morosely. “And Mr. Romanov changed his plans. I’ll probably be gone the rest of the day. I’ll text you as soon as I can.”
I nodded, and reached up a hand to run it through his hair. He gazed at me for a moment before his lips reclaimed mine. I was torn between not wanting it to end and hustling him back to Arkady so Shar and I could ransack his office.
“I’ll leave first,” he said, pulling away reluctantly. “We really need to do this again.”
I gave a little wave as he pushed through the stairwell door. Then I counted to sixty, replaying the last five or so minutes in my head, before leaving as well.
Demeter was at the reception desk when I went back in.
“Margaret, a word.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, patting my scarf. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Save it, dearie. We both know you’re perfectly capable of talking. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one interrupts us.” I heard the doors bolt.
“What do you want, Demeter?”
Her look was disapproving. “What kind of friend are you? Leaving Sharisse to toil away while you have a rendezvous. She hasn’t had much fun since you’ve been saddled with your mission. You got Jeremy—what did she get?”
I knew where this was going and I didn’t answer.
“She could find happiness like you—and you’d both be free.”
“With Hades?” I retorted. “I don’t think your daughter wants Shar anywhere near him, and I know Shar doesn’t want his attention.”
“Persephone is young and rebellious.”
“She’s a big goddess. I think she can take care of herself.”
“I liked it better when you minced your words, Margaret. Those who go toe to toe with the gods stumble and eat dirt. Some become dirt.”
Demi raised her hands and all the doors opened—I’d been dismissed.
I found Shar finishing up the thank-yous.
“That’s it, the last of them,” she sighed, leaning back after she’d rubber-banded the last stack. “Make it to the bathroom okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, and left it at that. She didn’t need to be enlightened on current events—my interlude with Jeremy might annoy her, and my conversation with Demeter would definitely depress her.
About an hour later, Jeremy left with Arkady. As soon as they got onto the elevator, Reynaldo grabbed his hat and scarf and dashed off toward the stairwell.
“Date with Andre,” Shar explained. “He told me all about it while you were out. He was totally stressing over what to wear, what to say.”
“He’s always having a conniption,” I grumbled. “But look, Jeremy told me that he and Arkady might be gone for the rest of the day, and if Reynaldo is on a long lunch …”
“Let’s not waste any time.” Shar got up. “So, when did Jeremy tell you this?”
When I didn’t answer immediately she sighed loudly. “Bathroom?”
I turned three shades of red and nod
ded.
“Whatever.” She flicked her hair and quickly strode away.
Down we went to Jeremy’s office. Shar looked around cautiously before going in.
“We’ll start here—you check the desk, I’ll do the computer,” she ordered after we’d slipped through the door and shut it behind us. I found nothing in the drawers, and had just shut the last one when the office door opened.
Callie stood in the entrance, her right hand still on the doorknob. A techie tool bag was slung over her shoulder, and in her free hand she clutched an extra-large bag of chips.
We froze, and she stopped dead, seeing us. Her dark, bug-like eyes narrowed as she looked from me to Shar.
“What are you two doing in here?” she demanded, in her high and grating voice.
“Trying to find Mr. Romanov’s schedule, why?” said Shar, looking nonplussed. “What are you doing in here?”
Callie looked taken aback. “I, uh, always make my rounds when Mr. Romanov goes for his mud baths. I have to do the back-ups.” She looked ready to bolt or scream for help.
“Well, we have to review his schedule for new treatment options. We couldn’t do it while Jeremy was working, and this is the only computer we have access to, but I think the program froze. Can you help us?”
“Morons,” Callie said. “Next time, call me when something like this happens.”
Setting her chips and tool bag on a filing cabinet, she shooed Shar out of Jeremy’s chair and plunked herself down on it, making the air-cushion seat hiss. We stood behind her as she peered at the monitor. Shar had gotten as far as the password screen, but of course neither of us knew Jeremy’s, or anyone’s, password. Still, Shar had tried typing in something; a string of black dots almost filled the code-box.
Callie grabbed a pencil off the desk and tapped the point against each dot in succession. When she got to the end, she sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Typical!” she spat, disgusted. “You spelled the password wrong! There’s only nine letters in ‘longevity,’ not ten.”
She deleted Shar’s erroneous entry and typed in the password. After a few rapid mouse clicks, up popped Arkady’s schedule.
“Thanks,” I said, maneuvering myself toward the keyboard. “We’re good from here. We just have to print it out …”
Callie raised a hand to stop me. “I’ll do it for you. I don’t need you two messing up my systems!”
A few seconds later, the printer whirred and a sheet slid out.
Shar snatched it up. “If we move the Botox up one hour, we can squeeze that new treatment in, don’t you think?” she said smoothly. I was seeing shades of Hades—having to do all the talking was turning her into a silver-tongued Shar-latan.
I nodded with authority.
Callie eyed us suspiciously as she pushed up her black-framed glasses with a finger. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be in here?”
“Do you think Jeremy can be in two places at once? He had to go out with Mr. Romanov, and he needs us to map out these appointments so he can schedule them when he gets back in tomorrow,” Shar said. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain to Mr. Romanov why he’ll have to wait eight weeks for new hair follicles.”
I could add to the conversation, but Shar was doing fine on her own. I gave Callie gave a menacing glare and she backed up a step.
“We have what we need. The room’s all yours,” said Shar. She turned to go, with me following close behind.
Callie watched us closely as we left.
“Mission Impossible?” Shar giggled, when we were safely away.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I don’t think so!”
This Ain’t No Bed of Roses
With a copy of Arkady’s schedule safely tucked into the tight pocket of my jeans, the rest of the day seemed a breeze. Tonight we would look it over, pick the best spot, and voilà! We’d be back to hum-drum school, prom, and graduation. And my shoes! My two dozen pairs of beloveds were getting dusty waiting for me. I know Meg couldn’t wait either. She was getting close to being completely covered with feathers. If it weren’t winter, she’d be dying of heat stroke, covered in fluff and continually wearing long-sleeved, high-necked sweaters.
On the way back to the apartment, we stopped off at the post office to mail the thank-you cards. Meg stayed outside, iPod in place, while I went in.
Between the dim lighting and my shades, the post office was dark. I bumped into the metal detector by the door. Enough! Frustrated, I pulled off the glasses and made a beeline for the outgoing mail slot. I could see now, but thanks to my monstrous bird feet, I managed to trip over a non-slip rug that had bunched up near the door.
When a nice man grabbed my elbow to steady me, without thinking I smiled at him warmly and gushed, “Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do that!”
He promptly let me go. My head twitched—it had never done that before.
The man was standing next to me, staring at me with glazed eyes. He was enthralled. Damn! My toes were already fused and I sported scaly skin up to my knees. My fingers were curving like those old ladies who tried to look hip with long nails that yellowed and twisted, just like mine were now. The skin around my elbows was scaly and it was working its way down. My head twitched again.
“Ase me isihi! ” I said to him, and he turned and left. I dumped the cards in the box and hurried out, tripping over the stupid rug again.
“What’s the matter with your head?” Meg asked.
“I don’t know. It just started.” My head jerked back and forth, sometimes up and down. I was getting seasick.
“Does anyone in your family have epilepsy?” Meg craned her head and frowned while she studied me. People passing moved over a little farther than they needed to.
“It’s really weird,” she added.
“Ya think?!”
“What you need is a cup of chai.” Meg clasped my arm and led me, twitching away, several doors down to a Starbucks. She pushed me into a chair.
“I’ll order,” she said.
“Do you think you should? You’re running out of bare skin,” I warned.
“I can handle it. Sit there and don’t look at anyone.” She walked off.
As I watched her join the line, I caught the eye of a college kid. He smiled tentatively at me. Raising a hand to my mouth, I blushed daintily and …
What is wrong with you?? Do you want to grow a beak? I really was a bird brain! Frantically I groped for my shades. Finding them, I slapped them on my face, only to have them rocked off as my head twitched again.
Too little, too late. Here came College Boy, tongue hanging out.
Damn, damn, damn!
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered throatily. Ugh! Coffee breath! Didn’t people realize how stinky it was?
“Go home. Study hard. Ace all your exams.”
“For you, anything!”
“And ase me isihi! ” I dropped my gaze to my ugly hands, waiting to see if I’d lose a finger. Or two. No, but suddenly my shoes felt incredibly tight. There was a ripping sound as the talons on my feet cut through my boots. How can anyone explain boots with claws? My nose felt a little longer too. I whipped out my compact.
My nose was longer! Now I looked like Gerda Shumholz from eighth grade; that girl had a honker that would look too big on the Sphinx!
Meg returned, plopping two cups on the table. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“Stop staring! It’s embarrassing enough!”
“I leave you for three minutes, only to find you looking like … like …” She searched for a description.
“Like Big Bird! I know!”
She dropped into the chair opposite me. “What happened?”
I gave her a mutinous look. “I accidentally enthralled some guy.”
I pointed subtly at University Dude behind her. She looked over her shoulder, then turned back to me.
“Only one guy, and that’s what happened?”
I started to say yes, then remembered about the older man in the post office. I closed my mouth.
“Two guys? Please tell me it was only two!”
I nodded morosely. Meg sighed, her shoulders drooping. Then she started to giggle. I guess she couldn’t help it, but it still pissed me off.
“Shut up!” I warned through clenched teeth. The more she tried to stop, the worse it got. People were glancing our way, some smiling, but I didn’t know if it was because of Meg and her silvery Siren laughter or my horrible appearance. I assumed the worst. Oh sure, laugh at the ugly girl. It made me uncomfortable to realize that I myself had been guilty of that sin.
A tear slid down.
“Oh Shar, don’t cry!” Meg looked suddenly stricken. “I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t help myself.”
With a sniffle and a swipe, I nodded. “I know. It’s just that when you’re as vain as me, this is the worst.”
Meg pushed my cup toward me. “Have a sip.”
“Thanks. Ah-choo!”
She leaned away. “Take another Claritin.”
I tried to get the pill into my mouth, but I kept missing it because my head kept jerking. In frustration, I dumped the pill into the chai and waited for it to dissolve.
“You know, you look familiar.”
“I’m your roommate. You live with me.”
Meg waved a hand. “No, I mean the twitching.” She rubbed her chin absently. “I know! Your head moves like a bird’s!”
“Geez, the hits just keep on coming! If this doesn’t end soon, I’ll have whiplash.” I walked over to the self-service bar and nabbed a straw. It was either that or finish wearing the rest of the cup. My beautiful, winter-white scarf was spotted with drops of chai. Hades was definitely going to buy me a new one.
“We’d better get you home,” Meg said.
Thankfully, only an Asian tourist stopped to stare at my feet.
“Vivienne Westwood,” I said, and kept walking.
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