by Gary Jonas
“I thought Brad Pitt was with Angelina Jolie. Who is Troy and when did Brad start batting for the other team?”
Lakesha moved to hit me again, and I raised my arms to block her attack.
“Kidding,” I said. “I’m not an idiot. I haven’t read the stupid book, but I know about Helen of Troy and the wooden horse and all that crap. And yes, I saw the movie Troy, but I don’t remember it having Apollo.”
“They didn’t want any gods in their movie.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Sean Bean didn’t die in it, so that has to be divine intervention.”
Lakesha couldn’t argue with that one. Point scored. I leaned back in my chair with a smug smile. I should have known better, of course.
As soon as I leaned back, Isis scratched me through the open back of the chair.
“Ow!” I jumped out of the chair, damn near knocked the table over, and spun around, holding my lower back. I checked to see if I was bleeding. No blood.
Kevin and Isis sat on the floor behind the chair, and both were grinning.
“Isis is a good cat,” Kevin said.
“You told her to scratch me?”
Kevin shook his head. “I didn’t have to. It was just my idea to sneak into the room behind you. I was going to jump up and give a sudden yell to make you shit your pants, but Isis struck first.”
“Sit your ass down, Brett,” Lakesha said. “And stop teasing the cat.”
“I didn’t tease her.”
“You tempted her by leaning back.”
“I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” I said. “Helen, when is Apollo going to get here?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“And you’re meeting him somewhere?”
“He wants me to meet him at Oracle Studios over on Avenue S at nine in the morning.”
“Forget that,” I said. “Reschedule for two in the afternoon.”
“He won’t reschedule.”
“I can’t do mornings,” I said.
Lakesha smiled. “Kevin?”
“Yeah?” Kevin said.
“Think you can wake Brett up at seven thirty in the morning?”
“Of course.”
Lakesha smiled. “In that case, I’m all in.”
“Oh no you don’t,” I said.
“Oh yes I did.”
“Great,” Helen said. “I’ll say you two are my agent and my manager.”
“Which of us is the agent?”
Helen hesitated. “Brett, you’ll be the agent, and Lakesha will be my manager.”
“So I’m in charge,” I said nodding like a proud rooster.
“No,” Helen said. “You’re a negotiator. Lakesha and I are in charge.”
Lakesha pushed away from the table. “All right,” she said. “I’m going to go call Sabrina to tell her she needs to help get Brett moving in the morning.”
“Well, if I’m just a negotiator,” I said, “I don’t need to be there at nine. Why would anyone want to see the world at that ungodly hour?”
“Apollo is a god, so for him it’s a godly hour,” Helen said.
CHAPTER NINE
“Am I bugging you?”
Something poked me in the ribs. I swatted at whatever it was and turned over in bed.
“Am I bugging you?”
More poking.
Swat, missed, didn’t care.
“Am I bugging you?”
“Yes,” I said and pulled a pillow over my head.
Poke, poke, poke. “It’s seven o’clock, Brett. Time to get up.”
“Fuck off,” I said.
Poke, poke. “Boop, boop,” Kevin said with a high-pitched voice as he stabbed me in the side with his finger. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.”
“Cut it out!” I threw the pillow at him, and rolled onto my back.
“This ought to wake your lazy ass up,” he said.
I felt pressure on my chest as Kevin stepped on me. Just in case he planned to jump on my stomach, I tightened my muscles, and in case he wanted to rack me, I moved my leg to protect the family jewels. I just wanted to sleep.
Something wet splashed on my face and kept pouring in a steady stream.
What the hell? I shook my head. “Stop!”
As soon as I opened my mouth to yell at him, liquid poured onto my teeth and tongue. I opened my eyes to see the dumbass demon pissing on me.
I screamed and tried to knock his head off, but my hand passed through him. How could he be solid enough to piss on me, but not solid enough to hit? Magic sucked.
I rolled out of bed and spit on the floor. “Aaarrrrghhh!” I yelled and raced to the bathroom. I cranked on the water faucet, leaned down and filled my mouth. I rinsed it around and spit it out, then refilled my mouth and spit again. I washed my face, and kept spitting.
Kevin crept up behind me. “Problem?”
“Fuck you!”
“Got you up, didn’t it?”
I squeezed half a tube of toothpaste directly into my mouth, and rolled it around with my tongue, then spit the wad into the wastebasket by the toilet. The water in the sink was still running, and I bent to slurp more water, slosh it around, spit again. I might never get my mouth clean.
I pointed at the demon. “One way or another, you’re gonna pay for that!”
“Totally worth it,” he said.
I tried to kick him, but my foot went right through him. Damn. How did Helen make contact with him? Could she teach me?
“Careful,” Kevin said. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake you up with a fudge surprise, only it won’t be fudge.”
I slammed the door in his face.
He stepped through the door. “That was rude,” he said.
“Out!” I said, pointing at the door.
“Isis said I should shit in your shoes,” he said.
I yanked the door open. “Get the hell out of here, you nasty little bastard!”
“Make me.”
I wanted to smash his face in, but I couldn’t touch him. It wasn’t fair. I stepped out of the bathroom, and stared at my bed. The pillow and part of the mattress were sopping wet.
“Goddamn it,” I said. I pulled the cover off the bed, and stripped the sheets from the mattress.
Sabrina appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She wore a thin nightgown that on any woman other than my cousin might have been a turn-on.
“Damn, Brett,” she said as she stared at the mess. “Did you wet the bed?”
“No!”
She walked over to the bed, sniffed the air. “You did,” she said. “You’re thirty years old and you still wet the bed. Wow.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“There’s no one else here.”
“There’s a nuisance demon named Kevin here,” I said, pointing to where he stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “The son of a bitch pissed on me.”
“You had a dream where you had to pee, so you just peed?”
“It was a demon.”
“A demon made you pee?”
“No! The demon peed on me.”
She laughed. “Whatever. Wash your sheets. And for the love of magic, please keep your voice down. I’m trying to sleep upstairs.”
With that, she turned and left the room. Kevin stared at her ass as she walked away.
I glared at Kevin. “You think this is funny?”
He nodded. “I know it is.”
“You could have at least made yourself visible to Sabrina so she’d know I didn’t wet my bed.”
He kept grinning. “Word will get out that you’re a bed wetter. Maybe you shouldn’t have a drink before bed. You ever think of that?”
I flipped him the bird, as I walked around the bed to reach the pillow. I picked up the pillow by the corner. While I could wash the pillow case, I was not about to ever lay my head on the pillow itself ever again. Seventy-two cans of Lysol and fifty bottles of Fabreze wouldn’t change the fact that it was covered in demon piss. I carried it out of the room, down the
stairs, and out into the garage, where I dropped it in one of the green plastic trash cans.
I’d need to buy a new pillow.
When I went back upstairs, Kevin was lying on the bed.
There was a wet spot around where the pillow had been, but the rest of the mattress was dry.
“Bastard,” I said.
“Something wrong, Brett?” he asked, all innocent.
I tried to punch him, but hit the mattress.
Helen needed to teach me how to make contact because Kevin needed his ass kicked more than anyone I’d ever known.
I grabbed a bottle of Fabreze from beneath the sink, and emptied it on the mattress.
“There will always be a piss stain there,” I said.
“A little something to remember me by,” Kevin said. “And if any woman ever finds you attractive enough to sleep with again—something I think I might have messed up for you the other day—she’ll know you’re a bed-wetter too.”
I threw the empty bottle at him. It flew right through him, and bounced off the wall.
“Be quiet down there!” Sabrina called. “I’m trying to sleep!”
CHAPTER TEN
Kevin and I arrived at the Oracle Recording Studio five minutes early. The building stood on a fenced-in gravel lot near where Avenue S meets Seawall Boulevard. I couldn’t remember ever being early for anything before. On the drive over, I’d crammed as many Altoids into my mouth as possible, and they still burned my tongue as I got out of the car.
Lakesha sat on a bench in front of the building in a smoker’s area. The sound of traffic over on Seawall made for soft background noise. Most of it was blocked by the fence.
“Look what the demon dragged in,” Lakesha said.
Two rows of palm trees lined the walk to the studio and the smoking area. I leaned against one of the trees and tried to speak, but several mints spilled out of my mouth. One of them stuck to my blue button-down shirt, while the rest hit the sand by the walkway.
“What the hell are you eating?” Lakesha asked.
I shook my head and tried to answer, but I couldn’t form the words.
“He has a bad taste in his mouth,” Kevin said. “Morning breakfast elixirs don’t agree with his delicate palate.”
A taxi pulled up to the curb, and Helen got out of the backseat. She leaned over to pay the driver, and the way her red dress hugged her curves was a sight to behold. She turned toward us, and smiled.
“I’m glad you both made it.”
“What about me?” Kevin asked.
“You? Not so much.”
“Hear, hear,” I said, sending little white mints flying all over the walkway.
Helen grimaced and held that look for a moment. “Maybe you should stay out here with the demon,” she said. “Lakesha and I can handle this.”
I spit out the rest of the mints and wiped my mouth on my sleeve, leaving a trail of white residue on the blue material. “No way. I didn’t get up at fuck-this-o’clock to wait outside.”
She looked me up and down. I had a nice shirt on, and tan slacks. I tried to brush the white flecks from my sleeve, and only succeeded in spreading them around a bit.
“You don’t own an iron?” she asked.
I guess my shirt was a bit wrinkled, too. I tried to smooth out some wrinkles to no avail. And the white streak from the mints didn’t add to my professionalism. I rolled up the sleeves to hide the stain.
“And you don’t own any socks?”
I had loafers on, but she was right about the lack of socks. I had shorts on under the slacks, and planned to remove the damn pants as soon as we were done here. I didn’t expect anyone to look to see if I was wearing socks. Who does that?
Lakesha pushed herself to her feet, and walked over to me. She pointed to the street. “Walk with me.”
Great, I thought, she’s going to give me shit about my lack of professionalism.
I walked with her. She held a hand out toward a painted symbol on the road, drew magic from it, and waved a hand over me.
She pursed her lips for a moment then nodded. “That will do.”
I looked down. My shirt and pants were clean and pressed, and my hair felt different. I reached up, worried that she’d magically sheared it, but no, it was still nice and long. It was just magically combed back. I gave my head a shake to loosen it up. There was a limit to how professional I needed to look. I was a musician, after all.
“Better,” Helen said when I approached. “I still wish you’d worn socks.”
“And I still wish I was in bed sleeping.” I touched her arm. “Before we go in, I have to ask you something.”
“No, I won’t go out with you.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask.”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised. “What, then?”
“How do you manage to hit the demon when I can’t?”
She grinned. “The demon is from another dimension, and as such, his atoms vibrate at a different frequency. I simply adjust my vibratory frequency to match so I can smack him.”
I blinked at her. “Can you tell me that again in six words or less?”
“What did you get from what I said?”
“The demon is from another dimension so you hit him with a vibrator.”
She laughed. “He’d like that too much.”
“Come on,” I said. “Help me out here.”
“Work your magic so you’re on his frequency.”
“That’s still more than six words. What is he? A radio?”
“You know how all atoms are in motion, right?”
“No.”
“Trust me, they are.”
“And?”
“You need to have your atoms moving on his level.”
“Still more than six words.”
“Too bad,” she said.
Kevin scrambled around in front of me. “You need good vibrations,” he said and punched me in the crotch.
I stared down at him and smiled. “Nice try, dumbass.” I rapped my knuckles on the cup I’d strapped on for protection that morning.
“Cheater,” he said.
“Children, it’s time,” Lakesha said.
We all filed into the building, and a receptionist directed us to a meeting room down a hallway lined with posters for famous bands. I looked at the pictures of Bon Jovi, the Stones, Maroon 5, and Glen Campbell and shook my head. Glen Campbell might have come in here because he’d done the song “Galveston,” but the rest of them? No way. Somehow, I knew the owners of the studio would say the posters were merely decorations and not intended to suggest the artists had ever set foot in the building or recorded here.
A sign glowed over a closed door at the end of the hall to let us know a recording was in session, but we didn’t have to go that far. Instead, we took a right-hand turn into a meeting room with dark paneled walls. A long oak table filled the room, and ten black leather chairs were positioned along the sides with one chair at the head of the table. That chair faced a window that looked into the recording studio where a blonde woman adjusted a breath screen in front of a large microphone.
“Can we take that from the top?” she asked, her voice piped in through a speaker in the wall.
“Hello, Apollo,” Helen said.
A tanned hand reached over to the wall to turn off the speaker, then Apollo spun around in his chair to face us. He had an olive complexion, dark, slicked-back hair with gray at the temples, and deep brown eyes. He wore a gray three-piece suit with a dark blue tie.
“Helen,” he said. His voice was rich and filled the room. “You brought friends.” His eyes locked onto Kevin. “A demon? Really? It has to wait outside.”
“Blow me,” Kevin said.
Apollo waved his hand and Kevin flew out the door, and the door slammed before he could come back into the room.
“Who are your companions?” Apollo asked.
“This is Lakesha,” Helen said. “She’s my manager.”
“You have a manager now?
”
“And this is Brett Masters, my new agent.”
I nodded at him.
Apollo looked me up and down. “An agent who doesn’t wear socks with his slacks?”
“He’s … eccentric,” Helen said. “The important thing here is that they know who and what you are.”
Apollo didn’t have a reaction to that. He simply gestured toward the chairs. “Be seated,” he said.
We took our seats, all three of us on the side of the table closest to the door. Helen sat closest to Apollo. I sat beside her, and Lakesha took the chair next to me.
Apollo studied us and rubbed his chin. He pointed at Lakesha. “You’re a witch,” he said.
She nodded. “Impressive.”
He looked at me. “You have access to magic, but it’s so sporadic that you’re not worth my time to bother with, and if you’re an agent, I’m Elvis Presley.”
“Wow,” I said, “I thought you died on the toilet.”
“Fake agents need not speak,” he said.
Helen glared at him. “If my agent and manager don’t approve of your contract, I’m not signing.”
He grinned. “You’ve had time to think, and I’ve adjusted the contract a bit. It would not be wise to defy me.”
He waved his hand in the air and a stack of papers magically appeared before him. He snatched them, flipped through the pages, and nodded. Then he handed the contract to Helen without another word.
She didn’t even look at it. She set it on the table and slid it over to me.
Wait a minute. I didn’t want to read the damn thing. What did I know about contracts? So I slid it over to Lakesha.
“Really?” she whispered.
“Give it a once over,” I whispered.
Apollo stared at us. “Fake agent can’t read a real contract?”
“I’m here to negotiate or to turn you down. Lakesha is here to see if the contract is fair to our client.”
“Right.”
Lakesha flipped through page after page.
“You’re not going to offer us drinks?” I asked.
“No,” Apollo said.
“That’s a strike against you right there.”
“I’m a god,” Apollo said. “You would do well to remember that.”
“I thought you were a god of light and music and healing. You’re supposed to be a good guy.”