“What?” Brea yelled, turning the shower off.
“That shop on the flyer, Olympiad Paintings, says they have what we’re looking for, except you’re not going to believe this.” Lindie waited patiently until a robed Brea entered the room with a towel wrapped turban-style around her head.
“Okay, whatever it is I’m not going to believe is causing you great joy, so spill it quickly.”
“He’s pretty sure he has some rather pricey replicas of the paintings at his partner’s store, but he says his partner is kind of well…” Lindie was hesitant, which didn’t bode well. It didn’t matter. If there was a chance in hell she could get the paintings for Mr. Forbright, then she would go through hell or high water to obtain it. She just wanted to get paid and get out from under his thumb.
“Spill it,” Brea ordered, taking the towel from her head and squeezing the excess water out of her curly hair.
“Road trip!” Lindie squealed, jumping up and down, her black hair flying, then obediently settled as it was before. Brea looked at her wet, disobedient hair and snorted. Some women had all the luck.
“What do you mean ‘road trip’? Can’t we just order it and have it delivered to the cottage? When I make my final rounds at the place to make sure all is intact I can arrange to have it hung.”
“Well that’s just it. You see the owner is kind of—well, according to the guy I spoke with on the phone, he said his partner opens the store by appointment only.”
“What?” Brea screeched. “Just where is this shop? With my luck, probably Timbuktu.”
“No, that’s the beauty of it. You can kill two birds with one stone. It’s in Ashe Bay.” Lindie was bobbing her perky head up and down, willing Brea to see the logic in the luck. A slow smile spread over Brea’s face.
“You mean the shop is in that little rinky dink town about forty miles from where Forbright built his house?” Brea briefly had the nagging thought they had gone through that town and never saw an art dealer. Perhaps it was housed within another building. It didn’t matter. Things were looking up.
“Yes!” Lindie squealed with delight, jumping onto the couch like an excited child. “We can obtain the paintings and you can finish up the deal. We’ll be done with old wrinkle-face.”
This time, Brea allowed herself to squeal like a thirteen-year-old girl. She laughed hysterically. The thought of seeing an end to this job was a relief she couldn’t express in words. Yes, the money was good, but the sleepless nights and all-day headaches she could do without. “Did you make an appointment?” Brea asked as she came down a little off her high. Lindie’s smile dimmed somewhat.
“That’s the only snag so far.”
“What do you mean?” Brea felt the joy slipping right through her pores.
“Well, the guy who said his partner is out of town a lot but he knows for a fact that he’ll be home for a few days starting tomorrow.”
“So you’re telling me we need to go ASAP so we can make the appointment and be able to keep it before the guy goes back out of town?”
“Well, we could stay here and if we don’t get in touch with him, we could miss the opportunity. But if we go, we have a better chance of catching up with him and getting him to open up the shop for us before he leaves for God knows where for who knows how long.”
Okay, yes, this was sort of desperate. But desperate times called for desperate measures. The end of Mr. Forbright was near, and though she was sure she had better things to do than run down artwork for some old fogey who probably went bird-watching in every state, it seemed necessary. She kissed her massage appointment for tomorrow goodbye as she told Lindie to cancel all appointments for the next few days. Ashe Bay was three hours away from Canton, Michigan. She was sure she would enjoy the trip back a lot more than the trip there, because she knew her burdens would be lifted and the world would look a whole lot more inviting without Mr. Forbright and his floppy jowls ordering her about.
With Lindie on the phone canceling appointments, Brea took the sheet of paper with the address of the shop on it and MapQuested it. An hour later she found herself picking up some of Lindie’s things from her house. With luggage in the back and Lindie in the front seat, squirming like a kid on the way to the ice cream parlor, Brea headed onto ninety-six west toward Ashe Bay, with printed-out directions and a disturbing feeling that something monumental was going to happen.
“You do realize you’re not supposed to use your powers,” Hermes drawled as Cupid erected an art dealership before their very eyes.
“If memory serves me I’m not supposed to use my powers to seduce her,” Cupid corrected. “Hera said nothing about building structures. Besides don’t try to help me now. If it wasn’t for Arachne telling me something about the woman, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” Hermes said, admiring the new building. “It looks too new to be an old shop.” He waved his hand, adding a layer of decrepitness to the structure. “That’s better.”
“Which brings me to my next question. All twelve of you had to agree to this task, how could you, my best friend in the world, betray me?”
“Oh, spare me the drama, Cupid.” Hermes shook his head. “We both know if I would have protested they would have brought in Dionysus and then they would have voted to keep me from helping you in any way. My way was better.”
Cupid snorted. “That doesn’t explain why my own mother betrayed me.”
“Are you serious? You really can’t figure that out? One word. Psyche.”
“Surely she’s gotten over that.” Cupid looked disbelieving. Aphrodite had wanted Cupid to make Psyche fall in love with a rather distasteful gentlemen, for she was tired of people comparing Psyche’s beauty to her own. But Cupid had taken her as his wife instead, further infuriating his mother, who insisted Psyche was not right in the head. Unfortunately, this was one of the few times his mother had been right. The marriage had been disastrous. It was perhaps a good thing Psyche divorced him after all. They hadn’t shared a marriage bed in centuries.
“Your mother is not known for getting over things, Cupid, not to mention what you did to her with Adonis.”
“By the gods, I was a child, it was an accident. I did not mean to make her fall for that young man. Besides if memory serves me right she didn’t seem all that resentful afterward.”
“It caused a scandal.”
“My mother is a scandal unto herself. Enough of this talk. Did you lure them here?”
“Yes, I spoke with a rather pleasant woman on the phone. I’m sure they took the bait and should be here soon. Why not woo her there, old friend? Why make her come all the way out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Distractions. I have a time limit. The city offers too many distractions, too many avenues of escape for my prey. I need her to concentrate on me and only me.”
“Ah, well I can see that.”
“Have you seen her?”
“No one but Artemis has seen her. But knowing Artemis, she’s probably uglier than the bottom of a septic tank.”
Cupid laughed, but disagreed. “No, an ugly woman would be easy to seduce. This woman must have some sort of problem. Perhaps she’s mental like Psyche. Maybe she even likes women instead of men.”
“No, your mother made sure it was fair in that area. Remember, Artemis said she marked her with the letter A, so be on the lookout. Well, anyway I can help you let me know.” Cupid nodded his head and before he could blink, Hermes was gone.
Cupid thought it a good time to use his only resource. He summoned forth the lovely spider. It appeared on his hand and traveled up his arm. He brought his forearm to eye level.
“Hello, Arachne. When she arrives I am counting on you to give me any inside information. Her seduction will be a cinch. I will need all the information you can give me. Stay close, until I call you.” Cupid allowed the spider to send her thoughts to him and he smiled. “Yes I haven’t forgotten all the fine print of our deal, I appreciate your help and regardl
ess of the pact, I am forever in your debt.” The spider bade him goodbye before it shimmered and then was no longer there, leaving Cupid on his own to finish devising a plan to keep his immortality. He was the god of desire, how bad could this mortal be?
Three: A fish out of water
“You know, isn’t MapQuest supposed to give you the fastest route to your destination? Why does it seem like we’ve been driving for hours?” Brea sipped the last of her banana-flavored chai tea and threw the empty cup in the backseat to join the others. Lindie’s gaze followed the course of the discarded cup then she winced out loud.
“Really, Brea, what man is going to want a pig?”
“If I’m lucky, not one of them.”
“Look, you’re going to pass our turnoff again.” Lindie pointed to the exit and Brea relaxed a little. Okay maybe it wasn’t MapQuest that got her all turned around. It was probably the pit in her stomach that churned and turned and told her something was amiss. She dreaded this trip; it reeked of change, surprise. Brea didn’t like surprises. She liked total and utter control.
“I’m sorry, Lin, but I told you, I have a feeling about this, it’s… I don’t know.”
“Get out of your comfort zone. You’ve been having Mr. Forbright riding your butt for so long maybe you’re used to it and you’re really not ready for this business relationship to end.”
“Thanks, Oprah, but believe me, I want it to end.” Brea squinted in the darkness. Didn’t these people know how to erect streetlights? She’d been down here once, and that time Mr. Forbright had her flown in by helicopter. All the pieces of furniture she’d ordered for the house had been delivered and he had made sure she oversaw the placing of each and every piece. There was no time for sightseeing, because as soon as she and the furniture movers were done, he had the helicopter waiting to return them home.
“I can’t believe he’s letting us stay in one of his cottages. I thought surely he’d make us pitch a tent or something,” Brea murmured almost to herself as she strained her eyes to see the road where she had to turn to get to the cottage.
“Well, he said not to touch anything and to sleep in the guest rooms only. Old fart. We’re down here for him and he can’t even be hospitable.”
“Trust me, if there were hotels in Ashe Bay, that’s where he’d make us stay. Wait a minute; I think this is us.” Brea turned the car onto the freshly graveled road.
“It’s the only house for miles I’m sure,” Lindie chimed in, forgetting the sour mood she was in just a moment ago. “Despite the circumstances, isn’t it great to get out of the city for awhile? Nothing but crickets singing. And look, you can see the stars out here!” Lindie gushed, barely letting the car come to a stop before she was bolting out. “Listen to the crickets singing!”
Brea got out of the car and slapped her arm in irritation. “Yeah, well, feel the mosquitoes biting,” she grumbled as she swatted at her neck. “Come on, get your luggage. I’d love to play Little House on the Prairie with you, but I’m the one who drove the whole way out.” As Brea went to the back of the car to get the luggage, she noticed a rather large house across the street, but down the road a bit. Was it there the last time she was here? Surely she would have noticed it? She grabbed the luggage that Lindie made clear she had no intentions of helping with. It could be that she was so wrapped up in Mr. Forbright’s house that during the daytime hours she wouldn’t have noticed it. A shiver went down her back, as she got the vague feeling she was being watched. The house appeared empty and dark, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t inside watching her and Lindie. Brea shrugged; she was tired and had an overactive imagination anyway. Slamming the trunk lid shut, she shoved Lindie’s bag in her arms as she passed her. “Let’s go, it’s creepy out here,” she muttered. Lindie looked at the stars once more and smiled.
Cupid and Hermes watched the women as they pulled up. Their night vision as sharp as their day vision, they had no problem seeing the humans clearly. Cupid smiled as the first woman burst from the car, excitement radiating from every pore of her being. Would Artemis be so kind as to give him such a beguiling creature to seduce? It would be like taking candy from a baby. She was a petite, exotic beauty and Cupid could see helping himself to her rather innocent charms. If things went his way, he’d have her saying yes to his marriage proposal in a week. Arachne had done well. Her information gathering was proving to be priceless.
Then the other woman stepped from the car, slapping at her arm and neck in obvious irritation. Okay, so this one wasn’t as much a nature lover as the other one. Hermes snorted when the woman seemed to zero in on the house.
“That one is trouble, my friend.”
“How do you know that? Humans tire easy and she has just taken quite a drive. I am quite sure her negative body language is due to exertion.” But even as Cupid reasoned, a knot formed in his gut. She did look like trouble; beautiful, sexy trouble. For a second it seemed as if she were looking right at him. He knew it was impossible, human vision did not function well in the night especially at this distance, but it sure as hell felt like she saw them.
“Do you think the tall one can see us?” Hermes asked a little uncomfortably.
“No, she’s just sensitive. It says a lot about her nature.”
”Such as?” Hermes raised his pale eyebrows and looked at Cupid head-on.
“She’s suspicious by nature. A survivor even, always on the lookout for danger.”
“Then I would venture to guess that Artemis might have picked her.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Herm, old friend. Don’t underestimate the exterior of an innocent. That little one could be just as much trouble with her innocence. Full of archaic ideas like no sex before marriage.” Cupid shook his head and shivered, he was glad the human race had been lost some of their hang-ups they’d revered in the past.
“Well,” Hermes began, stepping away from the window, but not before taking one last look at the small beauty. “What are you going to do about a name? You know one of the rules is no lying. In this day and age you can’t go around with a name like Cupid.”
“What is wrong with the name Cupid?” he responded in defense. “I certainly like it better than Eros. Come to think of it, none of us were too crazy about our Roman names.”
“To put it in simple terms, it sounds—uh, feminine. That is unless you’re a male stripper, then I would say it’s perfect.” Hermes poured himself a drink, oblivious to the insult he had inflicted.
“Really? When was the last time you told a human your name is Hermes?” Cupid threw back, watching as Hermes choked on the drink. “I know why, because maybe your name sounds a bit backwoods? Like maybe your mother and father were related?” Hermes stood astonished before he burst into laughter. “Touché, my friend. But you have to admit, you cannot tell her your name is Cupid. She’ll think you’re crazy.”
“Well I’ve already thought of this, and I think I have a solution. I could choose a name that defines me, defines what I am.”
“Any ideas so far?” Hermes poured another drink for himself and one for Cupid. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small, meticoulously wrapped objects. He unwrapped one and plopped it into his drink, he repeated the process for Cupid’s drink. “How about a little ambrosia to give this drink some kick, eh?”
“Thanks,” Cupid gratefully accepted the drink, the ambrosia making it sweeter but more potent. “So far, I’ve come up with nothing, what about you?”
“Hmm, give me a moment.” Both gods sat in silence, racking their ancient brains for one name.
“What about the name Bob?” Hermes asked seriously.
“Did you somehow make your drink extra-strong?” Cupid wrinkled his face in distaste.
“Well, it’s a common name.”
“I am many things. Common is not one of them.” Cupid replied disgusted by the suggestion. “Besides what does the name ‘Bob’ mean, anyway? I am sure it has nothing to do with me or my situation.” Both men fell into sil
ence again. The room was radiating with the brain energy being exerted.
“I have it!” Hermes snapped his fingers and a sly grin creased his face.
“Well, let’s hear it.” Cupid urged in annoyance.
“Jordan.” Hermes waited while Cupid mulled the name over in his mind. “It means descendant.”
“I know what it means, and you may have something there.” Cupid stood and began to pace the floor in the dark room. His wings shimmered into view; he stretched them, letting them flap in a slow cadence as his mind worked feverishly. “Areson.” He pronounced as last.
“I don’t follow.” Hermes sat his half empty glass on the table next to him and ran a hand through his closely cropped blond curls.
“Areson—it means son of Ares, which by the way I am. Jordan Areson. Descendant, son of Ares,” he proclaimed with triumph. “Not a lie whatsoever.” He shook his wings before they shimmered out of sight. Hermes picked up his glass and bade Cupid do the same. When Cupid complied they raised their glasses to toast. “To you my friend, Jordan Areson.”
“Should we do some sightseeing?” Lindie asked as she tied her sneakers.
“No, I just want to go to this—what’s the name of the store again?”
“Olympiad Paintings,” Lindie supplied standing and smoothing her skort down.
“Olympiad Paintings, and get the hell out of dodge. Is that businesslike?” Brea asked, showing disapproval in Lindie’s choice of clothing.
“Brea, we are in Mayberry so to speak. Country folk, pure and simple. Do you really think we’re impressing them with business attire?” Brea groaned as she looked at her own cream-colored suit skirt and saw Lindie’s point. She flipped through her packed clothing, tossing them about until she unearthed the simple jeans and white T-shirt. “That’s better.” Lindie smiled, looking at Brea as she slid into her tennis shoes.
Utter Cupidity Page 2