Utter Cupidity

by Toni L. Meilleur

  Brea stopped her progress and rolled her eyes before turning around. He stood next to his very sporty red car with the door opened and a huge grin on his handsome face. Brea wanted to bash it in. Instead, she pasted on the fakest smile she could muster and climbed into the car. She didn’t have to talk to him, at least not yet anyway.

  As they made their way to God knew what restaurant since Lindie wasn’t there to direct them, Brea made sure nothing about her posture indicated she was comfortable with him. She wanted to dissuade him from any attempt at conversation.

  “You know, you’re sitting there with your knees locked together tighter than bark on a tree. Are you thinking about entering a convent?” Jordan asked her with a smirk.

  “Maybe. At least there aren’t any jerk-faced men in there.” Brea slid him a disapproving look.

  “Jerk-faced?” he sounded truly insulted.

  “Jerk-faced,” Brea repeated. This time he fell silent. Brea couldn’t help the smile that flirted at her lips.

  They pulled into the parking lot of what appeared to be an Italian restaurant. Before Jordan could come around to the other side, Brea already had her door open and was out. She purposefully slammed the door extra hard. Jordan looked at her but said nothing. He did, however, manage to get ahead of her and open the door, much to Brea’s chagrin. Excellent manners wouldn’t change her mind about him.

  It seemed no matter where Jordan went people scurried to serve him. They were seated immediately despite the small crowd that had been waiting before they arrived. Brea made sure not to make eye contact with any of them. She could feel the holes they were boring in her back.

  Jordan took the liberty of ordering her a red wine. Brea said nothing, the less fight she put up the faster this would go. Jordan put his arms on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied her. “Shall we start in the bedroom?” he asked.

  “Start anywhere you like,” Brea muttered low, glancing around at the occupants. Anything but stare into his gorgeous face. She settled her gaze on a picture of cherubs who were up to no good by stealing apples from an orchard. One of the cherubs in particular looked a little more mischievous than the others.

  “Am I boring you, Brea?” Cupid asked, following her gaze.

  “No, the painting just caught my eye.” She seemed to be studying it intently.

  Cupid looked at the painting in question and winced. He hated catching glimpses of himself as a baby. Aphrodite had made sure everyone had seen her little boy. He indeed was the inspiration behind the cherubs. “You don’t like it?” he queried.

  “Well, I don’t really like cherubs,” Brea said at last. Cupid coughed, trying to cover the indignant retort he was about to make. He had been a cute kid.

  “Why is that?”

  Brea took her time answering. “I don’t know really, they’re kind of cheesy. And that one there.” Brea pointed to the one who was a direct duplicate of him. “He looks naughtier than the rest. He looks to be the type of child I’d put over my knee and spank repeatedly. He looks to just be begging to get punished. He appears to be more of a scoundrel-in-training than a baby angel.” It was the most words she had spoken to him and the most insulting.

  “It’s just a painting,” he said at last.

  “True,” Brea agreed, taking a sip of the wine the waiter set before her.

  “Brea, I think we should talk about what happened in Ashe Bay.” Cupid approached the subject carefully.

  “I don’t, you made yourself clear. You’re still in love with your ex—who’s really not that much of an ex, and there’s no future for us other than the romp we had. I’m a big girl. I got it and now I’m moving on.” She gulped down her wine.

  “I wasn’t myself that day,” Cupid began.

  “Yeah? You looked pretty Jordan-ish to me.” Brea kept looking around.

  “Can we start over?”

  “Yes, but only in the business sense. That’s all I have for you, Jordan.” Brea settled her hazel eyes on him. “You only get to hurt me once.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, ever. I have no recollection of what went on. I’m not excusing my behavior, just asking you to give me another chance.” It was the truth. He couldn’t remember what he didn’t do in the first place.

  “No, Jordan, just business. If you want me to work for you, start talking, or else I’m giving you this check back and walking out of here.” Her words were hard as she looked at him. She seemed determined to stick to her guns on this. He was determined to get back in her good graces and her bed.

  “Fine, that’s how it will be—for now.” Cupid retreated for the moment. He still had roughly two weeks. A lot could happen in two weeks. “Then I insist we start in the bedroom.” He smiled at her, knowing she liked his smile. “I have an idea of what I want in there.” He winked at her. “After we finish up here I’ll take you to my place, that way you can get started immediately.”

  “Fine by me.” She flipped the menu open and ignored him. Yes indeed this was definitely going to be an uphill battle.

  “So how did it go?” Hermes slouched in the only chair in the sparsely furnished condo.

  “She’ll be here later today. Seems after she swallowed her meal whole and practically ran out of the restaurant she remembered a previous engagement.” Cupid couldn’t help but smile at her rather graceless exit. “She wouldn’t even let me take her back to the office.”

  “Sounds like she’s going to be a tough nut to crack,” Hermes observed, taking a piece of ambrosia candy out of his pocket. “Somebody did a number on you my friend.”

  “Yes, and that somebody has a lot to answer for. Any ideas?”

  “Well, let’s see. On the night in question every member of the Council has an airtight alibi.” Hermes crunched on the candy, searching his thoughts.

  “Everyone?” Cupid was shocked. “Zeus?”

  “In bed with a strumpet.”

  “Hera?”

  “Locked in her quarters, working on a curse for Zeus.”

  “Ares?”

  “Off trying to start a war in some third world country.”

  “My mother?”

  “Trying to stop Ares.”

  “Hephaestus?”

  “Gay club.”

  “What?” Cupid looked at Hermes sideways.

  “Seems they’re more accepting of his disfigurement, in fact I understand he’s considered…”

  “Enough, really I don’t need to know the details.” Cupid held up his hand as if to ward off any more visuals from Hermes. “Well, if everyone on the Council is accounted for, then that means we have a lot of suspects to weed out. I have a gut feeling one of them is definitely my ex-wife.”

  “I agree.” Hermes popped another piece of candy into his mouth. “It could be anybody helping her.”

  “No, it’s obviously someone with a grudge against me.”

  “Like I said, could be anybody.” Hermes grinned. “And you know gods don’t have to have a grudge to be malicious. But don’t worry, I haven’t met anyone who can cause more trouble than me. I’ll find them.”

  “Any word on Arachne?”

  “No, don’t worry, Cupid, we’ll find her, I have plan.” Hermes stood, ready to take his leave.

  “Good, because without her I’m working blind trying to seduce Brea.”

  “Maybe you should try to get to know her yourself, and stop cheating.” Then Hermes was gone.

  Cupid hated when he did that. Delivering the last word then leaving. But Hermes’s words made an impact. He would have to make an honest effort to find out all those little things about her for himself. Cupid had never done that. Every affair he’d had had been a whirlwind, even his marriage. He had two weeks to get to know the tsunami that was Brea and get her to marry him. Easy as pie.

  Fifteen: In one fell swoop

  “Doesn’t he know how to give up?” Psyche threw her arms in the air. She paced the hotel room they were staying in—illegally. After all, when you have a frien
d who can appear and disappear at will it seemed rather useless to check into a hotel.

  “Apparently so. You two are divorced, correct?” Eris drawled, perched on the sofa and watching the craziest woman she had ever known pace the luxurious carpeting.

  “He actually came here and took her out to lunch.” Psyche made a sound of disgust. “You know, she isn’t even all that pretty. Take away the sculpted cheekbones and plump ass, she’s just another somebody.”

  “Nobody,” Eris corrected.

  “What?” Psyched looked at Eris, puzzled.

  “She’s just another nobody. Really, Psyche, if she were somebody you wouldn’t be this angry.”

  “True, can you believe he gave up someone like me and now he’s dating her?”

  Eris refused to point out—again—that it was Psyche who divorced Cupid, and that Cupid had been forced to date her to keep his immortality. It was the inability to grasp little facts like this that made Psyche just a little off balance.

  Eris however was glad she had someone to appreciate her skills. She certainly wasn’t going to split hairs with the loon. “I say my work here isn’t done.” Eris waited for Psyche to stop ranting to herself long enough for her words to sink in.

  “What do you have in mind?” Psyche’s green eyes glittered in interest.

  “Well, I noticed humans can be quite superstitious. Maybe if I can convince her to see Cupid as a bad omen, she’ll want to stay away from him.” Eris clapped her hands in merriment. “Oh, this is going to be some of my best work.”

  “Oh, boy, I’ve heard that before.” Psyche looked at her with doubt.

  “Just be ready to be entertained,” Eris winked.

  Brea wished she hadn’t drunk the wine so fast. Her head was killing her and the wine had done nothing to sweeten her mood. After catching a cab back to her office, she bee-lined for Lindie’s house. She had quite a big bone to pick with her.

  Lindie had deserted her. No—betrayed her, leaving her alone with Jordan as if they were star-crossed lovers. She planned on yanking out Lindie’s hair strand by glossy strand, and Lindie had better pray that appeased her anger.

  She knocked hard on the door, since Lindie had a habit of listening to her music at the highest volume. Brea could see her through the sheer curtains, peeking out at her.

  “Open up, Lindie, I can see you,” Brea barked.

  Seconds passed before she heard the locks turning. Lindie stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. She gave Brea a sunny smile. “Well, how was lunch?”

  “How was lunch? Lindie, you deserted me. I could kill you right where you stand.”

  “Wait, Brea, I had a really good reason, honest.” Lindie tried to look pitiful.

  “You wanted to see him rip my heart out a second time?” Brea poked Lindie in the arm. “Honestly, Lindie, I thought—”

  “Who is at the door?” came a familiar old screechy voice that put Brea’s nerves on high alert.

  “That’s not who I think it is, is it, Lindie?” Brea dropped her voice. She caught the faint smell of burning incense and looked at Lindie accusingly.

  “Yes, I didn’t have time to tell you. She called me at the office to let me know she had taken an earlier flight…”

  “How long?” Brea poked her again.

  “How long what?” Lindie rubbed the spot.

  “How long have you known she was coming?” Brea began tapping her foot in irritation.

  “A month. But, Brea, so much was going on, it must have slipped my mind,” Lindie apologized.

  Before Brea could spin around and break for her car, the door behind Lindie opened and there stood Lindie’s Grandmother Pinn, a short, stocky, gray-haired woman with enough acid on her tongue to burn down a city. Grandmother Pinn hated Brea. She insulted her continuously every chance she got. She blamed Brea for Lindie not having an illustrious career in arts because Lindie had chosen instead to help Brea with her fledgling business. It was never Lindie’s dream to be a major art dealer but she’d never stopped to correct her grandmother out of fear.

  “Oh, I see. It’s your well-to-do employer, delivering personally the good news of your raise,” Pinn remarked, looking Brea up and down contemptuously.

  “Good afternoon, Grandmother Pinn. I trust Seattle threw a much deserved party after your departure.” Brea barely smiled.

  “Guys, please,” Lindie begged. “Grandmother, please go back into the house, I need to speak to Brea.” Grandmother Pinn looked at Brea and snorted before going back into the house. “You see why I didn’t want to tell you?”

  “Fine, I’ll let it go this time but—” Brea’s cell phone went off. Brea just waved goodbye at Lindie, taking the call as she went back to her car. She could just go home early and—

  “What?” Brea yelled into the phone, not sure she heard correctly.

  “I’m contacting all the tenants now, I don’t know yet what started this fire, but as of now, the building is not fit to be occupied.” Her landlord was close to tears and she felt sorry for her, but even sorrier for herself.

  “Can’t I at least get some of my things—my things aren’t burned up are they?” Panic went through Brea. Everything she owned was in that apartment.

  “Sorry, full damage hasn’t been accessed yet. Look I’m sorry, Brea, but I’ve got a million other phone calls to make. Sorry again.” The line went dead.

  Brea snapped her phone shut, near tears. She would just die if all of her things were burned up. She wasn’t in a position to replace anything. She was struggling with the business as it was.

  Brea sat in the car in front of Lindie’s house trying to get her frozen brain to work. Okay, so there was a good chance that her things were fine, but until then she needed a place to stay. Fine, she could just stay in a hotel until her landlord, Ms. Markesan, called. Now that she had a plan she felt a little better. She’d just stop at the drugstore and get the basic toiletries she needed then check into a hotel.

  “I’m sorry your card has been declined,” the woman said with sympathy, handing Brea back her credit card.

  “You must be mistaken, my card is in good standing.” Brea pushed the card back at the woman firmly. “Could you try it again?”

  “Sure.” The woman took the card with a look that said “we both know how this is going to end”. After several seconds she handed the card back. “It’s still declining it.”

  “Is there a number or something you can call? I pay my bill every month. This makes no sense.” She felt pitiful.

  “If you’d like to have a seat over there, I can see to that for you.” The receptionist smiled warmly as she lifted the receiver of the telephone. Brea thanked her, then plopped down in one of the soft leather seats.

  She started going over her options. Lindie was out. With that troll of a grandmother there, Brea wasn’t setting foot in Lindie’s home. She didn’t have enough cash on her and there was nothing in petty cash at the office. The receptionist interrupted her planning time.

  “It seems the bank’s computers have crashed because of some sort of virus. They don’t know when they’ll be back online again. They apologize for the inconvenience. Do you have another card you can use?”

  Brea sat at the bar enjoying the only thing she could afford right now, a margarita. With a total of twenty-three dollars in cash, it looked like she’d be spending the night at her office. She wanted to repeatedly smash her head against the varnished wood on the bar. It seemed like bad luck was just following her wherever she went.

  “Hi,” a smoky female voice said, with accompanying expensive perfume. Brea turned to see a gorgeous woman with long black hair sitting next to her. She hadn’t even heard her approach, let alone sit down. The woman held out a hand with perfectly manicured black nails. Brea shook her hand.

  “Hi,” she returned.

  “You look kind of bummed and your drink’s almost gone. Can I buy you another one?” the woman offered.

  “No, I’ll need to drive later,” Brea said sou
rly. “There’s a couch with my name on it at my office.”

  “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound very comfortable.” The woman laughed lightly. “Why don’t you just go home?”

  “Burned down.” Brea emptied her glass.

  “That’s terrible, anyone hurt?”

  “Not that I know of.” The last thing Brea wanted to do was chitchat with a woman whose only problem was probably deciding which designer purse to carry.

  “Well, that’s a relief, maybe you can bunk with a relative or a friend meanwhile.”

  “Can’t, her piranha of a grandmother is visiting.”

  “Oh, boy well I guess that’s why you’re here in the hotel then. How long will you be staying?”

  “I won’t be, can’t afford to.” Brea rose off the stool. “I gotta go.”

  “Well, I sure hope things look up for you. You know it’s almost like you’re cursed or something. You know some people just attract negativity.” She held out her hand for a goodbye shake. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Brea shook the woman’s hand and left the bar, her words ringing in her ear. It sure felt like she was cursed. Brea drove to the office, debating whether she should stop by a discount store and invest her twenty-three dollars in a pillow and blanket. It wasn’t like she could afford much else. She needed a quick nap, something to get her through the rest of the evening.

  Her mood was definitely salty as she walked to the front door of the office. Digging into her pocket for the keys, she found them empty. She rolled her eyes and prayed silently as she went through her purse, still no keys. Brea jogged back to the car and searched every compartment—she had lost the keys to her office. “Dammit!” she screamed in frustration.

  The day went to crap as soon as Jordan arrived. Her mind briefly went to the woman at the bar. Some people did seem to attract negativity. Jordan was a walking umbrella in the house. Bad luck. She’d experienced nothing but suffering since meeting him, of course, not counting the time they spent on the floor of his store. Or even the camp-out that rained them out. But other than that he was bad news. She was going to stay as far away from him as possible. After she gave him his stupid check back.