by R. L. Naquin
Oh, she was going to be an absolute freaking delight. I could already tell.
Polly stepped aside and held her hand out to indicate the new woman. “Wynter, this is Audrey. She’s going to take you out and show you the ropes.” She gave me a reassuring smile and pat on the arm. “I’m not in the office a lot, but Audrey’s been here a long time. If you have any questions at all, she’ll be happy to help. Right Audrey?”
The redhead folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall. “Of course. I’ll take good care of her.”
Polly patted me again as if I were a flight risk. “Okay, then. I’ve got work to finish up before my next meeting. Good luck!” She darted away and disappeared into her office.
Audrey sighed and rolled a chair over to me. She dropped into the seat and held out her hand. “Give me your folder, first of all.”
I handed it over. “I’ve been reading it for nearly two hours. I don’t understand a damn thing.”
She licked her index finger and rifled through the papers, then pulled a chunk of them out. “These are totally bogus. You don’t need to waste your time on them.” She dropped them in a recycling bin next to her. “And this whole section on dress code is so outdated it’s ridiculous.” She dropped it into the bin with the rest.
“What should I wear, then?” I tried to keep my gaze on her face and away from her skyscraper heels. I couldn’t possibly walk in those things. And Trina’s skirt had been so tight, I’d never be able to sit down without ripping it if I wore one like it. I was doomed.
Audrey snorted. “Whatever the hell you want to wear. You’ll be invisible. Nobody cares.” She closed the folder and handed it back to me. It weighed considerably less.
A woman with tanned skin, braids, and almond eyes walked past, then stopped and backed up. “This her?” She gave me the same once-over Audrey had given me.
Audrey nodded. “I was just giving Wynter the lowdown on the dress code.” She waved her hand. “This is Kayla.”
Kayla didn’t smile. “Welcome.” She folded her arms and leaned against the same spot Audrey had.
“Thanks.” I swallowed. For people whose job it was to be inspirational, they didn’t seem very friendly. “Have you been here very long?”
She shrugged. “About six years. Most of us have been here awhile. The rest…” She shrugged again. “The rest of the slots have a higher turnover rate.”
I frowned. “Slots?”
Audrey and Kayla exchanged an amused look, then Audrey cleared her throat and returned her attention to me. “Nine muses, right? You know that much?”
I shifted in my seat, and a stab of pain throbbed up my leg, reminding me that I’d been through worse things than a couple of condescending coworkers in the last week. “Sure. Nine Greek Muses. I just didn’t know the department kept with that tradition.”
“Well, we’re mortals, not gods, so there are three slots per original Muse. So, twenty-seven Muses per region.” Audrey rose and pushed her chair away. “Grab your stuff, Snow White. I’ll take you to the supply room and get you set up, then we’ll take a ride.”
Kayla smirked. “Have fun, Snow.”
It was like being in high school again. Except, I hadn’t put up with it in high school. I’d have to deal with it, here, though. No more walking away from things when they got tough. I’d signed a contract. I was stuck.
I followed her to another room where she pointed at a wall of gold belts in various sizes hanging from hooks. Most of the hooks had names written on small wipe-off boards above them. One of the boards was had a black smear across it, the name no longer legible. Audrey snatched a cloth hanging from a hook and wiped the board clean, her face scrunched into a frown.
She turned away from the board and eyed my figure for a moment, then chose a belt and handed it to me. “Try this one.”
The gold was warm and lighter than I expected, as if it were woven of spun-gold thread rather than crafted of solid metal. I wrapped it around my waist and clicked it in place. It settled over my hips like it was made for me. “Perfect.”
She nodded. “Thought so.” She wrote my name above the empty slot. “From now on, you’re responsible for that belt. Make sure you always hang it up before you leave every day.”
I ran my fingers over it. “It’s beautiful. What does it do?”
She led me to a storage closet on the other side of the room. “Your belt holds your supplies, renders you invisible, and modifies your voice. It’s what makes a human into a Muse.”
This was going to be the craziest job ever.
Audrey pulled out a large plastic bottle and a silver can, then showed me how to hook them to my belt. I was a little disappointed. The belt went from a stylish accessory to a piece of utilitarian equipment. The containers weren’t too big, though, so the belt didn’t drag much.
“There’s more of everything in this closet. When you return your supplies, refill them for the next person. Nobody likes to get to an assignment and find out they’re out of juice.” She grabbed her own belt and loaded it, then led me out of the supply room.
Back in the main office, we found our way blocked by two men standing in the middle of the hallway, talking to each other and oblivious to our attempts to get past.
Audrey tapped their shoulders. “Step aside, boys. I have new meat to tenderize.”
They turned slowly to face us, apparently in no rush to comply. The one on the left was taller with a round face, thick lips, and squinty brown eyes. The shorter man on the right had blue eyes that were a little too wide apart on his face, flat cheekbones, and a sparse attempt at a soul patch on his cleft chin. Neither was terribly attractive, but the shorter one seemed to think he was.
“Well, hello.” He scanned me up and down and licked his lips. “New meat is always welcome in this place. I’m Dave.” He tipped his head at the other guy. “And that’s Jeremy. We’re the only foxes in this henhouse. What’s your name, chicky?”
My skin felt like it was physically drawing away from him. The guy next to this waste of air didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by his friend, either. In fact, Jeremy looked as if he wanted me to answer and move on so they could resume their conversation.
While I tried to decide on a pithy comment that would smack this guy down, Audrey groaned and pushed him out of the way.
“Her name’s Wynter. And we’ve warned you about that henhouse shit before, Dave. Don’t make me call HR again. They’re running out of sexual harassment videos for you to watch.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me past the two guys and out into the lobby. “I have no idea why those guys are still here. Dave’s an ass and Jeremy’s just plain creepy. Ignore them.”
I shivered. “Hard to believe they’re out there inspiring people.”
She shook her head in disgust as she hit the down button for the elevator. “They get the job done, apparently. I don’t know how.”
We stepped into the elevator and she pressed the L button. A moment later, we were back in the atrium where I’d started.
Audrey led me through the busy lobby, past a man with a bull head, two arguing satyrs, and dozens of humans traveling to and from other parts of the building. I didn’t see Phyllis anywhere, but couldn’t stop to look for her. Audrey kept moving toward the front door where I’d come in that morning. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me through. I blinked in the bright sunlight.
We were not in Topeka, Kansas.
Chapter 8
I frowned and looked back at the door. The building behind us was now an abandoned McDonalds. “What just happened?”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “I touched the door first. Didn’t they explain it to you in orientation?”
I shook my head. “If they did, I missed it. We’re not in Topeka?”
“No, we’re in Charlotte, North Carolina.” She waved her arm. “This is the town I’m connected to, right now.”
“So, I live in Topeka, but I work in Charlotte, halfway across the country?” My head felt like it
was full of bees. “What if I went out the door first?”
“Then we’d be in Topeka. Your base.” She pointed at a single car in the parking lot as she walked. “Your assignments will be in Topeka when you’re on your own.”
It made sense, if I didn’t think about it too hard. All week I’d been parking on the street in the worst part of town outside an abandoned building. No other cars were parked around me, and the only person I saw was that homeless dude who hung out near the entrance.
I glanced back at the empty restaurant as I slid into Audrey’s car. A scruffy man walking a pair of corgis appeared around the corner. He raised his arm and waved at Audrey, and she waved back.
Interesting. Next time I saw the homeless dude in Topeka, I’d have to take a closer look.
Unless he was peeing on the wall again. I did not want a closer look at that.
Audrey drove us across town with the radio up loud enough to discourage conversation. I hoped she’d warm up to me eventually, but so far, I was still feeling a chill from her. Maybe that was her personality, or maybe she disliked training new people. Who knew? For now, though, I tried not to rub her the wrong way. I already felt like I was off to a rocky start at this new job.
We parked and left the car at the curb in an average-looking suburban neighborhood filled with older trees, two-story houses, and family cars in the driveway.
“The first thing you need to know is about parking.” Audrey pressed the auto-lock button on her keys and the nondescript, blue four door’s lights flashed. “One block up, one block over. That’s the rule of thumb. Of course, you can’t always do it that way, but that’s the ideal we strive for. The most important thing is not to park right out front. Especially since you could end up going to the same place every day for weeks. Don’t look like a stalker. Neighborhood watches are filled with assholes.”
She handed me a sheet of paper with a name, address, and description of a person living at that location. The address was 1311 Oak Street. We currently stood in front of 1214 Elm Lane. I glanced at my high heels and made a face. Then again, hers were three times higher than mine. She must’ve built up some stamina to wear the damn things every day.
We walked one block up, then turned the corner and walked half a block before Audrey stopped me.
She glanced around. “Okay. This is where it gets tricky. Give a little look around to be sure no one’s watching. It’s okay if they see you. They’ll forget. But if they’re actually watching you, they might remember.” She looked around again, then pointed to a spot on my belt buckle. “Now, press that.” She did the same.
Absolutely nothing happened.
“What did we do?” I held my hand out and examined it. No difference. Not even a fancy shimmer effect.
She took off again, talking over her shoulder. “We’re invisible.”
“I can see you, you know.”
She flapped her arm at me but didn’t slow. “Of course we can see each other. We both have belts on.”
“Oh. Of course.” I directed a scathing look at the back of her bobbing head.
We turned again at the corner, walked past two houses, and stopped at a brown and blue house with a detached garage. Audrey held up the paper and squinted at the numbers above the front door. “This is it.” She marched up the front steps and took my arm. “Hold your breath.”
I didn’t have time to do anything. She yanked me through the front door before I had a chance to inhale. I couldn’t have breathed if I’d wanted to.
My head spun and my stomach lurched. I’d walked through a door. A door.
Of course, I hadn’t thought it through first. Walking through walls and doors was how it would have to happen. We couldn’t exactly ring the doorbell and wait to be let in.
A soft scuffling came from another room, and we followed the sound. A woman not much older than I was sat on the floor in front of a small wooden table. Paints, brushes, and newspaper lay scattered around her, untouched.
The look of despondency on her face didn’t alter when we entered the room. Up until that point, despite having been pulled through a solid door, I hadn’t really believed people couldn’t see me. Being invisible isn’t exactly something a person should take on faith.
“Okay. Let’s get to work.” Audrey unhooked a bottle from her belt and unscrewed the top. “This is your most important tool. Everything else is meant to make things easier for you. But if you don’t have this, you can’t do your job.” The cap came off with a plastic stick attached inside. At the bottom of the stick was a loop.
My eyes widened. “Are those soap bubbles?”
“These are Transmutational Thought Transference Bubbles. We just call them Thought Bubbles.” She dunked the wand in the solution, pursed her lips, then blew a stream of bubbles in the direction of our would-be artist.
Some of the bubbles went wild and floated away. Others popped before they reached her. One bounced off her shoulder, and another smacked her right between the eyes before it splattered in a rainbow. I winced, but she didn’t react.
Audrey drew closer to her target, and her voice was soft and musical. “Relax, Sophie. Let the colors and shapes guide you. Creativity flows through you, and you have so many new ideas. You can do this.”
Sophie tilted her head as if she could almost hear Audrey’s words. Her lips turned up in a dreamy smile, and she chose a paintbrush from the selection scattered across the floor. Dipping the tip of her brush in crimson paint, she hummed to herself and made a spiral in the center of the table.
Audrey cleared her throat and screwed the cap on her bottle, though she continued to hold it loosely in her hand. “That is what we call creating an inspiration. Done right, the client should mostly continue on her own momentum with only a few minor stalls.”
We watched as Sophie alternated her brushes and paint colors, dabbing dots and squiggles in elaborate patterns. Each time she paused for more than a minute or two, Audrey whipped out her bubbles and sing-songed words of encouragement. We stayed for over an hour. I was gratified and amazed to watch the project blossom from a plain wooden surface to a fantastical work of folk art.
Audrey clipped her bubbles to her belt. “I think she’s got it. She doesn’t need any more help. Time to bug out. We’ve got more work to do.”
I didn’t say anything as we walked back to the car. I’d been touched by what I’d seen, and I was still mulling it over. Sophie had looked so sad and frustrated. With a few words of encouragement—and some magic bubbles—everything about her had changed. Her entire demeanor had opened up, her body language becoming more positive and self-confident. And the work she did was beautiful. She’d been a whirlwind of creative passion.
Could I possibly do a job like this? Could I inspire people? Help them achieve great things? Make them happier with their lives?
I didn’t notice when we arrived at the car.
Audrey snapped me out of my thoughts. “Hit the button. You don’t want the car doors to swing open when you’re invisible. People will notice that, and it’s weird enough that they won’t forget, no matter how powerful the spell is.”
I touched my belt buckle and climbed into the car, frowning. “Why don’t we fall through the car door? How could I affect it when I’m invisible if I’m also able to walk through front doors?”
Audrey pulled out a tube of lipstick and used the rearview mirror to apply it. “It’s all about intent. You can affect things if you expect to, and they can affect you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to sit down while were in there. You’d have fallen through the chair. In fact, it’s easier to affect things in a normal way than it is to walk through it. That’s why you had to hold your breath when went inside. It helps. If you’re concentrating too hard to make something happen, it actually gets more difficult.”
“What about people, though? Can we affect them?”
Audrey blotted her lipstick on a tissue and turned to face me, scowling. “Do not touch the clients, Wynter. Ever.” She put the
car in gear and pulled away from the curb, muttering under her breath.
“But what if they move too fast and you bump into them? How do I keep that from happening?” The good feelings I’d come away with now felt closer to panic.
“Simple instructions. Don’t make them complicated. Just don’t touch anyone. Got it?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she turned the radio back on and cranked it too loud for us to speak.
Twenty minutes of very loud country music later, Audrey stopped at an office building. “This is it. Keep up.” She took off toward the revolving glass door situated between two columns of brick.
I followed behind and stepped into the elevator with her. She pressed the button for the third floor, then touched her belt buckle to render herself invisible. I did the same. When the doors opened, we stepped out and turned left, then stepped through a door marked Southern Puppy Love Magazine.
The receptionist never looked up from her book as we waltzed past. One of the advantages of being invisible was not requiring an appointment. Audrey took us to the last office on the right and disappeared through the door. I stepped through behind her.
The office was actually a conference room. One long table filled the space, and padded, wheeled chairs ringed the edges. Though the room could seat at least a dozen people, only one man occupied the space with us. His dark blue eyes were narrowed in concentration as he paced the table, stopping occasionally to shuffle the photos, articles, and ads spread across the dark wood.
The man’s suit jacket lay crumpled over a chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. He frowned, swapped out a photo of a shih tzu with a black lab, then switched them back. He groaned and plopped into a chair, scowling.
“What the hell is he doing?” I walked the length of the table, looking at the mess of papers and photos.
Audrey snorted. “He’s planning the layout for the summer issue. What do you think he’s doing?” She gave me a look like she thought I was an imbecile.