Uninspired Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 3)

by R. L. Naquin

  “Remember when we went to San Francisco?” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed his palm over his face. “We never even left the hotel. I always swore I’d take you back there so we could actually see the sights.” A sob escaped, and he slapped his hand over his mouth as if to keep from doing it again. He took a deep, shaky breath, and his voice was a whisper. “I don’t know how to be without you .”

  My eyes filled with tears, and I turned away. There was nothing for me to learn here that would help my client paint his magnum opus. This was not my business .

  Unfortunately, the same was true of what was going on in the car. From where I stood, I could see Elizabeth wasn’t fairing much better. Her shoulders shook, and she kept dabbing at her eyes with a tissue .

  “Awesome.” I sucked in a lungful of fresh air, trying to clear my head and my heart. At the car, I didn’t get in. I leaned against it and waited for Gordon to finish his goodbyes .

  I felt terrible for Elizabeth. I still didn’t like her, but I understood her a little better now. Nobody wants to suffer through unrequited love. The poor woman was the third side of a love triangle, and she was losing to a dead woman. That had to suck mightily .

  And Gordon—well, he was out of earshot, at least, so I couldn’t hear him reminiscing with his dead lover. I understood him better now, too. And I had an idea how I could help him, now that I understood what was going on. In fact, it was my first break in his case. Muse 101: You can’t truly help someone until you understand them .

  Finally, I was getting somewhere .

  A fter Elizabeth brought Gordon—and me—back from the cemetery, he was exhausted. She gave him his placebo and put him to bed. While she was busy with him, I took a moment to go visible while I took out the pill bottle I’d stolen and buried it in her purse. Now that I knew how she felt, I could see her irritation and abrupt manner for what it was—a broken heart .

  She stayed with him after he fell asleep, so I left. Gordon wouldn’t be painting anything that day, and Elizabeth wasn’t going to take her eyes off him long enough for him to do what he wanted .

  I climbed into my own car and rubbed me eyes. Hunger and fatigue battled for my attention .

  “Just a little longer,” I said to my bloodshot reflection in the rearview mirror. “Food, a quick stop at work, then home .”

  A quick burger from a drive-thru wasn’t the healthiest choice, but I was famished. I ate as I drove, part of my mind working on my plan for Gordon, and part of it worrying over Phyllis .

  By the time I parked outside the dilapidated building that posed as Mt. Olympus, both my mind and my stomach were full. Syd nodded at me as I passed, and I gave him a wave. He appeared to be engrossed in a steamy paperback with a bare-chested man and a half-dressed woman on the cover. I didn’t interrupt him .

  I slipped through the rickety door and into the opulent, bustling lobby of the Mt. Olympus Employment Agency with my quilt in my arms. Patrice sat at the reception desk glaring at a man in a checkered suit and a straw hat far too small for his head. The man took a step back and pulled out his wallet. Patrice looked up at me and winked, then resumed her glare at the man .

  It was well after lunch, so there was little traffic coming and going. Three people exited the elevator. I rode up to my floor alone. At that hour, my office was empty, so I stowed the quilt in the filing cabinet under my desk and fired up my computer .

  I had two emails from Audrey asking for help with the clients she’d taken over, and I took a few minutes to answer her questions. A third email was a newsletter from Human Resources. I skimmed it, deemed it to be unimportant, and closed it .

  My eyelids were heavy and burned from lack of sleep. I powered down the computer, double checked that my physical inbox was empty, and pulled out my cellphone .

  I had one more thing to do .

  I dialed the number to the Underworld head office where I’d briefly worked. Parker picked it up on the third ring .

  “Hey. It’s Wynter .”

  “Wynter! How’s everything in the upper world ?”

  “Peachy. How about you? Kris and the baby doing well ?”

  “Everybody’s doing great. What can I do for you? Are you sure you’re okay? You sound …”

  “Exhausted ?”

  “Yeah. That would be a good word for it .”

  “Rough night.” I closed my eyes and made a silent wish. “Parker, do you have a way to get ahold of Mom and Hades ?”

  “Sorry, hun. They went off grid .”

  “What if it’s an emergency? Hades didn’t leave an emergency number ?”

  “Are you having an emergency? What’s wrong? What can I do?” He sounded as if he was ready to hang up and come running to my aid. Which was cool. It was good to have friends willing to drop everything if I was in trouble. But I didn’t need a big strong man to save me. I needed my mother .

  “I appreciate that, Parker, but I really need a plant expert. I don’t need a parent so much as I need Persephone .”

  “Can’t your grandmother help? Demeter’s got mad plant skills .”

  I snorted. “She’s part of the problem.” I rubbed my sore eyes. “Listen, can you just make sure if they call in that Mom calls me right away? It’s kind of urgent .”

  “So it is an emergency .”

  I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. “Not exactly. Well, yeah. I don’t know. Maybe .”

  “If they call in, I’ll pass the message along. In the meantime, if Kris and I can do anything, let me know , okay ?”

  “I will. Thanks .”

  “Oh. I almost forgot. Hang on a second.” The phone banged on what must’ve been the desk, and papers rustled in the background before he picked up the receiver again. “You there ?”

  “Yeah .”

  “I have a message for you. Some guy named Scott .”

  I groaned. “Of course you do .”

  “He left a number and said he wants to get coffee sometime soon .”

  I wrote down the number he gave me while blood pounded in my ears. “Thanks .”

  “New boyfriend?” Parker’s voice was hopeful. “Anything you want to tell me ?”

  “Old boyfriend.” I grunted and stuffed the number in my purse. “And no, there’s nothing to tell. Let’s just say jury duty was full of surprises .”

  He chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough week .”

  “You have no idea .”

  After I hung up, I realized my bed at Mom’s house was full of potting soil and bits of grass, plus the drive back was so much longer than to my apartment with its clean sheets. As long as Demeter stayed away, Phyllis should be okay for a few more hours .

  I pulled myself to my feet and trudged back to my car. A nap would do me a world of good. And who knew? Maybe afterward I’d have my head on straight enough to put on big girl panties and talk to Mark before going to Mom’s for the night .

  Maybe all I needed to act like a grownup was a nap .

  And maybe some cookies and milk .

  Chapter 15

  T he milk in my fridge was expired—in fact it was already going bad before I’d moved to Mom’s—so cookies and milk were out. But the nap was glorious. I’d forgotten how wonderful it was to take a nap in the middle of the day .

  My problems were no closer to being solved, but at least I was better prepared to handle them .

  I locked up my apartment, pulled back my shoulders, and forced myself to walk across the courtyard to knock on Mark’s door before I could think too long about it and lose my nerve .

  He didn’t answer right away. I heard music coming from inside, so I knew he was home. I stood there longer than I probably should have, debating whether to knock again or make a run for it. Finally, I decided to knock again .

  The door swung open as my knuckles hit the wood .

  Mark stood in the doorway, blinking at me. “Wynter .”

  I gave him a shy smile . “Hi .”

  He ran his hand through his hair and look
ed over his shoulder. “ Uh , hi .”

  The butterflies in my stomach turned to a cold, dead lump. “You have company. I’m so sorry .”

  He glanced over his shoulder again, then stepped outside, closing the door. “Why are you here, Wynter ?”

  I stepped back, surprised by the chilly tone and abrupt question. “I…I just wanted to talk .”

  He looked at his bare feet, then back at me. His expression was stony. “Where the hell have you been ?”

  I took another step backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. “I’ve been at my mom’s. I needed time to think .”

  His expression softened. “Are you done thinking ?”

  I nodded. “I think so .”

  “So, you’re coming back ?”

  “I can’t yet. Phyllis is sick .”

  His face hardened again. “Your houseplant is sick, so you won’t come home .”

  “Yes.” I stepped toward him, my hands out. “I know that sounds ridiculous. But I need Mom’s greenhouse right now. I can’t move Phyllis until I get her sorted out .”

  He shook his head and turned toward the door without looking at me. “Go back to your mom’s, Wynter. I can’t take care of everybody. You’ll have to figure this one out on your own.” He went inside and closed the door without saying goodbye .

  Choking back tears, it took everything in me not to run to my car. Still, I walked pretty damn fast, humiliated and heartbroken as I was .

  I’d waited too long. Not only had I lost Mark’s friendship, he’d already found someone new. Obviously, I hadn’t meant as much to him as I’d thought if he could replace me so quickly .

  On the way back to Mom’s, I let myself cry it out since I didn’t want to do it in front of Phyllis. She had enough to worry about right now without having to take care of me .

  As I pulled into the driveway, I wiped away my tears and tried to pull myself together. Mark was great. He deserved to be with someone who didn’t carry around so much emotional baggage .

  I deserved this. After what I’d done to Scott back in high school and probably countless others after him, I probably deserved a lot worse. It was time for me to grow up and stop acting like hearts were disposable. Mine felt badly bruised for the first time I could remember .

  If this was how I made all those ex-boyfriends feel, then maybe it was my turn to see how it felt .

  And maybe I never deserved Mark in the first place .

  T he early evening sun bathed my mom’s yard in the false warmth of winter. Everything looked new and fresh. And pruned. The hip-high grass had been mowed, and the overgrown bushes had been clipped back to normal growth. I stood on the walkway blinking in surprise .

  When I’d left that morning, I’d had to step around the overgrowth from Grandmama’s episode. Now it was gone as if a crew of landscapers had spent all day on it .

  I stood for a moment, admiring the neatly trimmed hedges and the level blades of grass. To my left, Mom’s plastic yard gnome was visible again, proudly riding a pink flamingo .

  “I don’t suppose you saw what happened here, did you Frank ?”

  Frank didn’t answer, of course. He never did. He was a plastic yard ornament. But as I turned away, I would have sworn he winked .

  Startled, I waited for him to do it again or come to life. Something. But no. That was all Frank was going to give me. I waited another minute before I moved on, but he didn’t move, and I was twitchy to check on my houseplant .

  Phyllis was fine when I went inside. As long as being five feet tall and prone to bleeding at the slightest injury could be called fine for a potted houseplant .

  “Wynter, quit fussing. I don’t need anything.” She pushed my hand away with a branch when I pressed my fingers into her soil to judge her moisture level .

  “But I feel like I should do something . Give me something to do to help.” I pulled the kitchen curtains closed. “You’re sure you’re warm enough? It’s chilly in here.” I rubbed my arms and fiddled with the thermostat .

  “Have you been crying ?”

  “What? No. Don’t change the subject.” I wandered to the sink and plucked yesterday’s wine glass from the dish rack where I’d left it to dry .

  Phyllis was silent while I poured a glass of a New Zealand chardonnay I’d found in the fridge. I thought she’d fallen asleep, and I sat at the kitchen table next to her while I sipped .

  “So, are you going to tell me why you were crying?” Her voice was gentle but had a sharp edge to it. There would be no hiding my problems from her .

  “I’d rather not.” I rolled the stem of my glass between my fingers and stared into the golden liquid. “I talked to Mark .”

  “Good for you!” Her leaves shivered .

  “Not really. He didn’t want to talk to me.” My throat tightened, and I stopped talking .

  “Well, his feelings are hurt. Give him some time.” The soothing tones of her voice were almost normal, but her volume wasn’t what it used to be .

  I wanted to tell her about the girl he had in his apartment. I wanted her to tell me to quit making assumptions, since I hadn’t seen or heard who was in there. I wanted her to tell me everything was going to be alright .

  But this wasn’t about me. I would mend. I wasn’t sure she would .

  “I called the Underworld today and left a message for Mom in case she calls in. Maybe she knows a way to ungrow you or something .”

  Phyllis snickered. “That’s not a thing, Wynter. Don’t be silly .”

  I shrugged. “Worth a try. Besides, the bleeding thing is really serious. I can’t prune your leaves or cut you back so you’ll grow healthier.” I took a large swallow and rested both hands around my glass. “I don’t have god powers like Mom and Grandmama. I feel so helpless .”

  “Wynter. Look at me .”

  I shifted my gaze to the lush leaves in her center . “What ?”

  “This is the way things are. Time passes. Seasons come and go. All things happen the way they’re supposed to .”

  I frowned. “What does that mean ?”

  “It simply means, life is ever changing. You’re moving forward in your life. And so must I .”

  Goosebumps raised on my arms and my stomach made a panicked flip. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about ?”

  Phyllis’s leaves twitched and quiet snores came from somewhere deep in her greenery .

  I drained my glass and moved to the sink. “Well. Now I feel so much better.” I tossed an eye roll in her direction, but the snoring continued. Either she was out or she was faking hard. Either way, she wasn’t going to say anything more .

  “Life was so much less complicated before I had people to care about.” I switched off the kitchen light. “Goodnight, Phyllis .”

  I wasn’t positive, but Phyllis looked taller the next morning by a good three inches. When I asked her about it, she failed to effectively reassure me .

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with a laugh that sounded a little too high pitched to be genuine. “Everybody is taller in the morning than they were when they went to bed .”

  I took a bite of my bagel. “Fine. If that’s true, you’ll be shorter when I get home tonight.” I grabbed a marker out of the junk drawer and drew on the wall next to where her tallest leaf grew .

  “Wynter! Your mother will not appreciate that you drew on her wall.” Her shocked tone didn’t sound as scandalized as I thought she wanted it to .

  “Please. Mom painted an entire garden in the bathroom.” I took another bite and shoved my feet into my sneakers .

  “That’s different. That’s art.” She paused. “You’re really going to work in a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers ?”

  “I’m invisible. I can wear whatever I want.” I crammed the rest of my bagel into my mouth and refilled the coffee in my travel mug .

  She sniffed. “You’re still going into the office. I don’t recall them having casual Fridays .”

  I smiled. She sounded better today. Stro
nger. “I don’t recall there being a dress code at all .”

  Once I’d checked her over, given her a little water, and asked twenty times if she needed anything, I left her alone to rest. If Phyllis wouldn’t let me help, I could at least try to help Gordon. It was, after all, my job .

  I went straight to his house, having kept my belt and bubbles with me. The drive wasn’t too bad, and my mood was lighter than it had been the night before .

  Phyllis was right. I had to give Mark some time. But I wasn’t going to give up. For now, I needed to worry about Phyllis and Gordon. Once I had them sorted out, it would be my turn. I’d spent so much time helping everyone else, I’d forgotten to help myself .

  All I needed to do was grow up a little .

  I parked a few blocks from Gordon’s house, flipped on my invisibility belt, and hustled up the walkway and into his house. His quiet humming drifted down the hall, and I followed it into his studio .

  The energy in the room buzzed in my ears, and Gordon zipped about on his wheeled stool as if he were a shirtless hummingbird. He’d found the pictures of Charlotte I’d hidden and propped them wherever they would stand up. He’d added details to a few, and a few others were brand new. Charlotte stared at us from all sides .

  The most surprising thing, though, was the enormous canvas sitting on the easel facing away from the windows. A rough sketch took up a large section in the center, and Charlotte’s face was already coming to life in acrylic paints over the crude pencil lines. The details of her features were breathtaking .

  With every few strokes of his brush, he whipped around on his chair and glided across the room to one of the previous drawings. He squinted, nodded, then pushed off and rolled his chair to the easel to make a few more strokes with the brush along her lower lip .

  Finally, after so many days, he was on his way. This was the first time I’d really seen him work with his whole being. This was the artist Kayla was such a fan of, not the depressed drama king I’d been following around all week .

  This was Gordon Gordon .