by R. L. Naquin
“I am so sorry, Bart.” I shifted my purse on my shoulder feeling like a two-year-old who’d been coloring on the walls. I’d known better, and I’d been caught. “I had to run a really important errand before I could come out. I didn’t expect it to take so long.”
And all I had to show for it was a dirty scarf doused in too much perfume.
He didn’t look angry, exactly. More disappointed. Like he should have expected I’d be a flake. For a moment, his expression softened. Then his gaze flicked to the back of my hand, and the disappointment turned to anger.
“You went clubbing? That’s what was so important?” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Damn, Patrice. That’s really cold. If you didn’t want to go out with me, you should have just said so.”
“But that’s not—”
He cut me off. “I don’t want to hear it. Just. Just let me go.” He marched off down the street and disappeared without looking back.
I totally sucked at dating.
LIZZY DIDN’T SEE things as hopeless as I did.
She held up the gaudy scarf and sniffed it. “Gold dust. Chocolate. Stinky flower perfume. This is the best clue you could have gotten.”
I snorted. “She’s at a strip club next to a candy shop?”
Lizzy tossed the scarf at me. “She’s been hanging out at the Elysian Fields.” She sniffed her hand and wrinkled her nose. “Your girl is in the Underworld.”
“Aw, come on. You’re kidding me.” I stood for a moment, trying to decide on a clever plan. Nothing clever sparked in my brain, so I had to go with average and hope for the best. “Okay. So, I’ll go check it out tomorrow during lunch.”
“It’s a start.” She smiled, then her face changed to a more concerned expression. “So, what will you do about Bart?”
I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. “I have no business trying to date. I’m so out of my element.” I groaned and dropped the back of my hand over my eyes.
Lizzy chuckled, and the bed springs shifted as she sat next to me. “You’re just a little rusty. It’s okay.”
I moved my hand and gave her a withering look. “I’m not rusty. I’m brand new at this.” I covered my face with both hands. “You have no idea who I used to be.”
She clucked her tongue—which was oddly hypnotic, coming from a siren—and shoved my hands away. “I saw the clothes you showed up with. I know exactly who you were and exactly who you are now. And you’re going to get off your ass and fix this, because who you are now is not the kind of person to lay down and give up when she wants something.”
I sat up, avoiding eye contact with her. “Fine. But he never wants to see me again. I’m not sure how forcing myself on him is going to change that.” I wandered across the room to the fish tank where I kept my pet snake Daphne. I lifted the cover and let her slither up my arm to chat with the snakes on my head. “Things were simpler when it was just you and me, Daphne.”
Lizzy chuckled. “Sure it was. But was it happier?”
The bright green snake wound through my fingers, and I placed her back in her terrarium. “No. I wasn’t happy at all before.” I sighed and sat next to my roommate. “So. You understand men. Tell me what to do.”
“Call him.” Her bright eyes shone with suppressed laughter.
I shook my head. “I don’t have his number.”
She stared at me. “You don’t have his…Oh, honey. That’s the first thing you should have done.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, it’s too late now. I guess I could get it at work. I’ve got security clearance to access everyone’s data.”
She shook her head. “We want him to like you, not feel like he’s being stalked. If he didn’t give you his number, you can’t call him. It’s a major social faux pas.”
My voice sounded whiny, even to myself. “So, what do I do? That doesn’t leave me any options.”
Lizzy gave me a soft smile and moved one of my snakes so she could look into my eyes. “You’ll just have to figure out where he’s going to be, then be there.”
THE NEXT MORNING, determined to avoid another phone call with Circe when I was already cranky, I sent her a quick text message letting her know that I’d briefly seen Kyra the night before and that a new clue led me to believe I should be looking in the Underworld today.
The text she sent back was not as mollified as I’d hoped.
Great. Maybe you’ll find her before I send an anonymous note to the Messenger department about the scuffs on their winged sneakers. Chop chop.
The woman really was a bitch.
When it was time for my lunch break, I headed straight for the elevator. It was empty, but a bouncy blonde girl sporting cupid wings tried to step on with me. I glared, my fingers threatening to lower my dark glasses. She blanched and stepped back.
A bead of sweat rolled from her temple as the elevator doors closed.
I pulled out the ID card the witch Hecate had recently given me for solving a problem she’d been having. I slid the card into the slot and pressed the button to take me down to the Underworld.
When the doors opened, I followed the hallway past several offices and exited the building into the actual Underworld. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. I’d never been down here other than inside Hecate’s office.
The air smelled heavy and dank, as if the entire place were inside a cave. It might have been. It was hard to tell. The sky looked artificial and, despite the afternoon light, there was no sun. Nothing grew anywhere I could see.
“Help you, miss?”
I startled and looked up at a large, vaguely human man in a uniform. A shiny badge pinned to his shirt said Security.
I swallowed hard and steadied myself. My badge was totally legal. I could be there. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “I need to get to the Elysian Fields.”
“The original or the restaurant?” His left eye twitched on the last word, as if he hadn’t had the best experience at the eatery.
I wavered before answering. Would Bart be there if I showed up where he sometimes worked? Would that be too creepy of me to show up unannounced? Did I have time to hit both places? I had no idea how big the Underworld was.
Mentally, I swatted myself for thinking about it. Priorities. I had to find Kyra before her mother decided my time was up. I had to focus. Bart would have to wait.
“The real place. Not the restaurant.”
He gave a curt nod. “Good choice. Food’s a lot better.”
The security guy gave me precise directions and showed me how to use the public golf carts parked right outside the building. I followed his directions through the maze of the Underworld and found myself out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the only trees and bushes I’d seen since my arrival.
I hopped out of the cart and stood with my hands on my hips, trying to understand what I was seeing. Whatever I’d expected the Elysian Fields to be, this wasn’t it.
A short path stretched ahead, ending in an enormous gazebo in the middle of a grassy clearing. Tall benches lined the inside of the gazebo, and a long table sat in the center. I drew closer and saw the table was covered in an astounding amount of food and drinks, as if it were set for a party minutes from happening.
Or maybe the party had already begun.
I hadn’t noticed at first, since they hadn’t been moving, but there were bodies everywhere—curled under trees, spread out in the grass, draped over the benches in the gazebo. They weren’t dead, but they were certainly out of it.
Some snored softly. A few giggled or squealed in their sleep. One guy in a fedora and old-fashioned nightshirt crawled out from under a bench, drank a glass of champagne in two gulps, stuffed a piece of cheese in his mouth, then crawled back under his bench.
I contemplated a plate of chocolates on the table. They looked delicious, and one probably wouldn’t hurt.
Someone sneezed to my left. “And that’s why it’s so important to keep your ears clean when you go on a Roman holiday.”
The speaker snorted, passed gas, and resumed his snoring.
I decided against the chocolate.
As I turned toward the golf cart, I caught a whiff of something familiar. Something not related to food. Something floral. I frowned and spun, trying to locate its origin.
Across the clearing to the right of the gazebo, a stand of enormous blue flowers stood watch over a sleeping woman cradling an aardvark. Hoping the flowers wouldn’t have the same affect as the food in this place, I approached the garden on tiptoes, ready to run if anything spit magic pollen at me or tried to swallow my face.
The closer I drew, the more certain I was that the flower smelled familiar. I glanced down at the sleeping woman. Up close, I could see she was coated in a soft, golden dust that sparkled in the fake sunlight.
My eyes grew wide, and I rummaged in my purse until I found Kyra’s abandoned scarf. It was covered in the same gold dust, and when I sniffed it to be sure, I smelled the same fragrance as the flowers hanging over my head.
Lizzy had been right. Kyra—or at least her scarf—had been here.
In fact, maybe she was here again. I walked the perimeter of the clearing, poked in bushes, and examined every single conscious and unconscious person. After a half hour, I’d been around the clearing and through the gazebo twice. No Kyra.
Once again, I had no idea where to begin to look for Kyra. And Circe was not going to like it.
What happened to folks like me who got fired from Mt. Olympus? Where else could I possibly go? Would there be jail involved? Something…worse?
I shook it off and hopped into the golf cart to head back, my stomach protesting my lack of lunch in the presence of so much food. I wasn’t beaten yet. I just needed to regroup and try again.
On the plus side, I kind of liked driving the golf cart around. So there was that.
I WAS GOING to go straight back to work. I really was. But on the way to the Underworld office building, I saw a road sign that said Downtown. After everything I’d done to screw this up, it seemed as if the Universe was flapping its arms at me and screaming, “This way, you idiot!”
When the Universe flaps its arms at you, you don’t argue. You do what it says.
The town square wasn’t large. I drove around the entire block and checked the names on the buildings. The Elysian Fields restaurant where Bart sometimes made deliveries wasn’t there. However, I did find the elusive House of Nyx taking up an entire corner of the square. Had I known it existed, I could have been there from the beginning, and none of this mess with Bart would have happened.
But come on. Seriously. That hadn’t been my fault.
Outside the main square, several streets branched out, and several businesses sat waiting for customers. The Underworld didn’t appear very busy.
A few streets over from House of Nyx, I found my destination.
Hopefully, showing up where a guy worked wouldn’t be seen as stalking if he’d actually said where he worked. Even if it was, I intended to sit there until he showed up with a delivery so I could talk to him.
This time, I’d make him listen to me.
The Elysian Fields was larger than I’d expected—not as big as the real one I’d just come from, but bigger than House of Nyx up the road. I parked the cart and went inside, expecting an upscale eatery, or at least a mid-level chain feel to it. I did not expect the thick smell of grease, the cheap carpet that somehow managed to feel sticky under my shoes, or the rows and rows of buffet stations lit by warming lamps and surrounded by smudged sneeze guards.
Under the grease, it smelled like bleach.
A thin woman with dark circles under her eyes approached me. Her uniform was stained, and she had a run in her hose. I kind of wanted to hug her.
She grabbed a menu and gave me a warm smile. “Just one today?”
I glanced at the unappetizing display of food piled in silver warmers and shook my head. My snakes hissed and recoiled. “Oh, no. Not today, thank you. I was wondering if you could help me find someone.”
The woman—Carol, according to her nametag—slid the menu into the slot from where she’d taken it. “Sure. Who do you need?”
Need? That was a weird way to put it. I didn’t need anybody. Certainly not this mousy guy I’d been chasing all over the Underworld. He was just a guy. I didn’t even really care that much.
My cheeks felt hot.
“I’m looking for a guy who makes deliveries here. Bart. Do you know him?”
Carol’s brow wrinkled in thought. “No, I don’t think so. But Pinky would know. He takes the deliveries.” She glanced around the empty restaurant, then signaled me to follow. “Come on. Nobody cares in this place. Let’s go find him.”
She led me around a labyrinth of halls, then through a pair of silver, swinging doors into the kitchen. Several dispirited cooks stood over food that already looked overcooked and wilted. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would work there. Or eat there.
At the back of the kitchen, Carol disappeared out a door. I followed and found myself in an alley near a loading dock and multiple industrial garbage bins. It stank of rotten fish sautéed in swamp water.
A small man dressed in dirty white leaned against a fence while smoking a cigarette.
Carol took me to him. “Hey, Pinky.”
“Hey, darlin’. How’s business?” He took a last puff and flicked the butt away. His gaze traveled over her as if she were a classic car he planned to restore.
“Same as always. Very slow.” She brushed a stray hair into her hairnet. “You know anybody named Bart?”
He gave a slow nod. “Sure. Makes the deliveries. He in trouble?”
“This young lady’s just looking for him.”
Pinky stopped his perusal of Carol and turned his attention to me. His eyes widened. “Holy smokes, girl. Are those real live snakes?”
I smiled. He didn’t appear to be shocked. More like he was surprised and impressed. “Yeah. They kinda grew on me.”
“Kinda grew…” he stopped, coughing and laughing. He smacked his thigh with the palm of his hand. “Kinda grew on you. That’s hilarious!” He wheezed a little as he laughed. After a moment, he pulled himself together. “What do you need Bart for? You mad at him?”
I shook my head so hard my snakes protested. “Oh, no. In fact, he’s mad at me. I wanted a chance to explain. It’s all a big misunderstanding.”
Pinky nodded. “Okay. Sure. Mistakes happen. Sure they do.” He grinned at me. “Boy, those snakes sure are something. Can I touch one?”
I took a step back, startled by the request. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“That’s fair. That’s fair.” He lit another cigarette. “I’m afraid you missed old Bart already. He came in about an hour ago, unloaded his truck, and took off. He didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, so I just stayed out of his way.”
My heart fell. I was so close. In fact, if I’d made Bart my top priority and come here first, I’d have caught him. I checked my watch. I was nearly a half hour late getting back from lunch.
I sighed. “Well, thank you for your time. Both of you. I guess I’d better get back to work.”
Carol patted me on the shoulder, careful not to touch any snakes. “Sorry we couldn’t help. What’s your name?”
“Patrice.”
“Well, you come back anytime, Patrice.”
I doubted I’d take her up on it. Sometimes the Universe is just plain wrong, no matter how much arm flapping it does.
THE QUEUE WAITING in front of my desk stretched through the waiting area and out toward the front door. I was over an hour late.
And I had nothing to show for it.
I plopped into my chair, put away the Out to Lunch sign, and tried to focus on the customers instead of my failed love life. Seriously. I hadn’t even made it to the first date with this guy, and I’d already botched it.
Three hours later, my queue was a manageable two or three people long, and from time to time, I had no one in it at all.
&nbs
p; Those moments were dangerous. They gave me time to think. Time to be tempted to tap Bart’s name into the database search field to see if his phone number came up. Or any other interesting information that might help my cause.
During a particularly long lull, I sat for ten minutes with my fingers on the keyboard, debating the ethics of just peeking at Bart’s personnel file. Just a peek. I could find out his phone number, where he lived, whether he’d been married before, and where else he’d worked both in the company and before he arrived here.
Mt. Olympus kept records of everything. Unlike out in the regular world, the applications and interviewers could—and did—ask anything they liked without legal ramifications. It would all be in there.
I could try to bring up the file, grab his number, and close it before I saw anything too personal. That wasn’t likely to work, though. I knew I’d have to stop and read every word of it.
I curled my fingers into my palms and moved my hands from the keyboard. I couldn’t be trusted. Then again, what if Circe made good on her threats and I were fired tomorrow? I’d never get another chance to get the information about him.
A slender woman with dark red hair appeared. “Can you help me, please?”
I shook off my unethical thoughts. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m supposed to meet my sister for lunch, but I’m not sure where she works.”
“What’s her name?”
“Eliza Dupree.”
I typed the name into the search box and brought up Eliza Dupree’s file. “Your name, please?” I scanned the pages of information until I came to the family members section.
“Lorena Dupree-Nelson.” She smiled and touched her wedding ring, turning it around and around on her finger.
I guessed she was a newlywed by the dreamy look on her face as she played with her ring. I did not roll my eyes. I was a professional.
“ID?”
She pulled out her wallet. The name on her license agreed with both the name she’d given me and the name in Eliza Dupree’s file. Good enough for me.
“Your sister works in the Messenger department.” I pointed her toward the bank of elevators over my shoulder. “Go up to the sixth floor. Someone up there will help you find her. The entire floor belongs to that department.”