Margarita lined up for the bathroom, wondering what the hell she was doing at this stupid unicorn club on a date with a god. This wasn’t going to work out. It couldn’t. She and Acan were two different people—or beings or whatever—and their worlds didn’t mesh.
“You must be her,” said a female voice from behind her.
Margarita turned to find a statuesque blonde wearing a pink minidress, with long legs, creamy skin, and iridescent turquoise eyes.
“Oh shit.” Margarita covered her mouth. “Yo-won-o-dem!”
The blonde raised a brow. “I speak one hundred and seventy-seven languages, but sadly mumble is not one of them.”
Margarita dropped her hand. “Sorry. It’s just…” She leaned in. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” The eyes were exactly like Acan’s.
“Very astute. I am the Goddess of Forgetfulness, Belch’s sister.”
Acan’s sister and she continued talking about how her brother behaved like two different men, but that he still had a lot of maturing to do. It seriously gave Margarita second thoughts about their future. Perhaps all that was required to make them work was a little patience and an open mind.
Then the goddess told her she had two minutes to make a choice or face getting a memory whammy.
Margarita gasped. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart attack,” said Acan’s sister.
Shit. Margarita turned and sprinted back toward Acan’s bar, finding it completely empty save the line of patient customers on the other side. Oh no. Oh no. Where is he? Margarita swiveled on her heel, her eyes searching frantically. Nothing.
“Hi there.” A tall, well-built man, with long honey brown hair and the same brilliant turquoise eyes as Acan, stepped out of the crowd and stood in front of her. He had a fierceness in his gaze that immediately set off alarm bells.
She took a step back. “Who are you?”
“My name is Máax, and I want you to listen very carefully, Margarita. You are to read this letter quickly, turn around, and head straight for the front door.” He shoved a folded-up piece of paper at her.
“I don’t understa—”
“Hurry, woman. Time is running out. Take it.”
She grabbed the thing from his hand.
“Don’t think. Just do. Jessica needs you,” he said.
Her heart sank to her shaking knees. What was happening? She unfolded the letter and quickly scanned the handwritten note, the flashing lights of the club making it difficult to read, but not impossible.
What the hell? She looked up and the man was gone. She spun on her heel, but there was no sign of him. She stood there for a moment, feeling her stomach knot into a ball of terror. She then turned and sprinted for the front door, pushing people out of her way.
Just a few feet from the exit a solid wall of go-go pink stopped her.
“Sorry, babe,” said Acan’s sister, “but your five minutes are up.” She reached for Margarita’s shoulders, but Margarita stepped away.
“Back the fuck off.” She shoved the note at her. “And get the hell out of my way.”
The woman’s eyes darted from Margarita’s face to the note and back again. “What is that?”
“A warning. From you.” Margarita dropped the note at the woman’s feet, stepped around her, and left the club.
The next morning, Acan came to on the floor of his new living room, with a train wreck inside his pounding skull.
“Gods fuck me.” He sat up, pressing his palms to the sides of his head, and noticed two warm bodies next to him. A brunette and a blonde. Naked. All three of them.
“What the…?” He jostled the brunette’s shoulder. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Where the fuck is Margarita?”
The woman rolled the other way, giving him her back—or butt cheeks. “Who’s Margarita?” she mumbled.
“She is my…mate.” He whispered that last word, feeling an ache in his heart as he recalled Margarita standing behind the bar with him last night. She’d just served a drink to a woman with pink braids, and there was this moment when he looked at Margarita, thinking, This could work between us. This could really work. But then he’d explained to her that he could not stop being the party god, and the hope and joy vanished from her eyes. How could she have not understood that? Why couldn’t she simply accept him as he was and let their relationship take its natural course? Either way, he knew she was going to end the night walking away. From him. From them. She then made an excuse to go to the bathroom. From there, it was all a blank.
He glanced over at the two sleeping women and then down at his stomach. Flat. Perfect. So I did not drink, but I cannot remember anything? Oh hell. He must’ve flipped last night. Losing Margarita had set him off. This can’t be good.
Panicked, he shook the brunette. “Hey. What happened last night? Did we fuck?”
No response.
He tweaked her bare butt cheek.
“Ow!” She opened her brown eyes.
“What did we do last night?”
The woman scrubbed her face with her hands. “You made us drinks and we watched Love Boat reruns. You said it was some special kind of sleepover.”
“So we didn’t have sex?” he asked.
“No.”
He felt instant relief, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. That being said, “Then why are we naked?”
The woman pointed to the other side of the room, where a Twister mat lay spread across the floor.
So I turned evil, made them watch Love Boat reruns, and we played naked Twister. “Jesus, I’m becoming Cimil.” Gods, I hope that is the worst of last evening.
Fear struck him hard. The last time he’d blacked out, he’d succumbed to the evil inside him and then decapitated his brothers and sisters.
He quickly dialed Forgetty, but it went to voicemail. Fuck. What happened last night?
He grabbed his car keys and drove straight for the club. One hour later he arrived and parked in the back alley. He ran inside to find Forgetty behind his bar, cleaning up.
“Oh, thank gods.” He let out a sigh. “Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone?”
She looked at him only for a moment. “Sorry. Must’ve left it on vibrate.”
“No. It’s fine. I just thought I’d maybe hurt you again or something.” He rubbed his brow. “I blacked out again last night.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“But I didn’t remove anyone’s heads or anything, correct?”
“Nope. You were just a rude bastard, which is why I kicked you out,” she said, her voice indifferent.
“And Margarita?”
“She, uhhh…left.” Forgetty began drying off the clean glasses and putting them under the counter.
“But she’s all right?”
“Alive and kicking,” Forgetty said.
“So it’s over, then. She has rejected me.”
“I honestly don’t know, Acan.” She didn’t sound happy. Was she worried that he would give up?
“Sister, do not concern yourself. I am going through with the party tonight. I will find a woman. I am sure of it.”
Forgetty smiled at him, but her usual spark of light was missing from her eyes. “I hope you do, brother.”
“Is something the matter?”
“I have to take a break for a while. I’m leaving town in a few hours.”
“You are going on vacation?”
“Yes. A vacation.”
“Now? Why now? I understood you were to assist me this evening at the mixer.”
“You’ll be fine without me. We have five bartenders lined up, and I pulled the DJ from our other club in San Diego.”
Her odd behavior did not sit well with him. “Are you certain that nothing has happened?”
“Yup. Hunky dory. I just need a few days off to decompress. I might go visit a few old friends.”
Something was definitely bothering her, because she would never leave at such a difficult time. Especially whe
n New Year’s was so close. That said, if she did not want to discuss it, he would not push. She had her reasons to keep to herself.
“Very well, enjoy your rest. I will see you when you come back?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He sensed she was lying, but he had to let it go. He had to focus on tonight, on clearing his heart and mind of Margarita. It wasn’t what he wanted, but she’d rejected him last night, and his duty was to his brethren and to the people who would be harmed if he didn’t halt his transformation. He had no choice but to move on. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
“See you later, sister.” He turned to head back out to his car.
“Brother?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget to wear pants tonight.”
He glanced down. Dammit. Again?
He smiled awkwardly. “I will not forget. But the shirt is staying off. Can’t let these abs go to waste. The fate of the world lies in the balance.”
Forgetty bobbed her head. “Guess it can’t hurt. Break a leg.”
“Thank you.” He got to his car, feeling like things were off. Very, very off. But why?
It is something I will have to figure out later. Because tonight, he and his rock-hard abs needed to attract the perfect woman. Yes, we will save the world. He patted his stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Since returning from the club last night, Margarita had not been able to stop crying and checking on Jessica, who slept in her room. There was no doubt in Margarita’s mind that the letter had been real and, for some reason, she’d been given another chance by that god.
Why? It didn’t matter. She’d cheated death. Death. And it terrified her. It wasn’t the way life worked. We were supposed to live the lives given to us, no matter how long or short. Still, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to get this second chance to watch her daughter grow up. And as of today, she would make every moment count.
Finally, around seven in the morning, Margarita decided it was time to make a few changes in her life, starting by turning over a new leaf with her daughter.
She went into Jessica’s bedroom, hugging a box of tissues. “Jess? Honey? Wake up. We need to talk.”
Jessica opened her groggy green eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything. Everything and nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, but I’m going to tell you a story…”
An hour later, Jessica sat with her back up against her headboard, her sweet little face pale and her eyes filled with confusion. “So you’re Amish. And you left my father because he hit you, not because you didn’t love each other enough.”
“I only lied to protect you, Jessica. I wanted you to have an easier life, but now I realize I robbed you of the chance to really know me and why I am the way I am.”
“I always wondered why you never dated.”
“Part of me feels like, and will always feel like, the people I love will just turn their backs on me. But that’s what you need to know about me, Jessica. I will never turn my back on you. I will always be there to cheer for you no matter what you choose to do in life. And even when you push back and act like an insensitive teenager, I will never make you feel unloved. I am here for you, and going forward, I will make more time for us. Less time at the gym, less worrying, less work.”
“What about your plans to franchise and make more money?”
Margarita didn’t want to tell Jessica that she was supposed to have died, and by some miracle, a deity came out of nowhere and delivered a letter that changed her fate. That was the sort of story that could shake a child’s world.
I myself still don’t understand what happened. She only knew that she was alive.
Margarita smiled. “Some things are more important than money.”
Jessica smiled back. “So does this mean you’re finally going to start dating again?”
“God, no. I think I’d like to focus on us a little more. There’ll be time for dating once you’re off to college.”
“What about that guy from last night? He seemed nice. So tall…and wow. So tall.”
Margarita frowned. She didn’t like her daughter appreciating Acan’s, errr…tallness or anything else.
“He is nice. In a way. But I don’t think we’re meant to be. His, umm…work takes up a lot of his time. And he loves what he does, so I couldn’t and wouldn’t expect him to change just for me.”
“That’s too bad. Because…wow. He was so,” Jessica sighed and shook her head appreciatively, “tall.”
“Yep. Tall. Among many, many other things.” Such as he’s hung like a stallion and kisses like the God of Panty Melting. Even right now, just thinking about it made her all toasty down there. And changing subjects… “Hey, want to go for a jog? We can stop for pancakes at the place around the corner on the way back.”
“Sure.” Jessica clapped. “Let me get dressed. Oh, and before I forget, my friend Kara is having a birthday movie thing at her house tonight. Her parents will be there. Can I go?”
“Just be home by nine. It’s a school night. Now, go get dressed. It’s a beautiful day outside.”
Margarita and Jessica had a fantastic day. Probably more fantastic for Margarita simply because she now knew how much she had to be grateful for. Being alive. Being there to watch her daughter grow and find love and maybe have her own children someday.
All it had cost her was Acan. But there was little choice but to put him out of her head and move on. She’d escaped with her life and that was what mattered. That and my daughter obeying my damned rules.
Five past ten, Jessica still hadn’t come home. “Dammit, Jess.” Margarita had sent several texts that Jess decided to ignore. You would think that after this morning, Jessica would change her damned ways.
But what could Margarita expect? Things were not going to change overnight, and her daughter was still a teenager.
Margarita called Kara, and when she didn’t answer, there was no choice but to get in the damned car and retrieve her daughter. Why did Jessica insist on making things so much harder than they had to be?
Wearing black yoga pants and a T-shirt, Margarita slipped on her running shoes, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for Kara’s house only to arrive ten minutes later and find Kara’s mother at a complete loss for words. “I’m so sorry, but Jessica isn’t here. The party ended at nine.”
“What? Where did she go?” The rage pumped in Margarita’s veins.
“Come in. We’ll ask Kara.” Kara’s mother, a full-figured woman with short dark hair, disappeared down the hallway of their small ranch-style home. After a few minutes, she returned to their living room with Kara in tow.
“Tell her! Tell her right now, Kara, or so help me you will be grounded for six months!” said her mother.
“Mom, I don’t know.” Kara’s dark hair fell over her eyes as she looked at the ground.
She was lying.
“Kara, honey,” said Margarita. “I don’t know how to explain this to you in a way you’ll fully understand, but I am going through a rough time right now. And maybe Jessica is fine, and maybe she doesn’t need me, but I need her. I need to know she’s okay. Can you understand that?”
Kara grumbled under her breath. “She Ubered to some club with Ophelia.”
“A club? What’s the name?” Margarita asked.
“I don’t remember. It’s some big party for this billionaire guy who’s looking for a date.”
Oh hell no. “Is it called the Randy Unicorn?”
“Yeah. That’s the place.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why would Jessica go there?
“Thanks.” Margarita sprinted for her car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Acan could not believe how many men had shown up for this evening’s event. Dammit, Jill! There were perhaps five percent women and ninety-five percent men. Gay men. Very nice, but very gay.
“I’m sorry,” Jill had said ri
ght before they’d opened the doors. “How was I supposed to know I shouldn’t put rainbows and an animal with a big phallic symbol on its head all over the ads?”
“Did you at least say the word wife in these ads?”
“I said partner because I didn’t want to frighten off any women who might not be ready for marriage but might be okay with a committed relationship.” Jill had begun to cry, which resulted in his feeling sorry for her and offering another raise.
With that, Jill picked herself up and continued the task of coordinating the evening—organizing the staff, greeting guests, and discreetly handing out VIP passes to the second floor, where Acan would get a chance to serve the selected women a cocktail. He would use his special gift to determine if a potential mate was here tonight. He knew that any woman worth her salt would order her perfect cocktail for the occasion. So few actually did. They ordered something safe, something familiar, or they ordered “their drink,” which was code for “I don’t know how to color outside the lines. Ever.” Any potential mate of his would order her ideal beverage for this very particular occasion, demonstrating a respect for the sacred, time-honored tradition of getting intoxicated. That will be my sign.
As the staff below got the evening going, and Jill handed out passes to women who might fit his criteria—love to party, hot, hot, love to party—the women began filing upstairs one by one, each female a bigger disappointment than the last.
“I’ll have a light beer,” said a perky blonde. “Oh. Nice abs. Work out a lot?”
“No. Here’s your ‘beer.’ Now you may leave.” He waved the woman—an unnaturally skinny thing, who looked like she survived exclusively on kale chips—to the exit.
She huffed and marched toward the stairway leading back down to the main floor.
Light beer, he scoffed. It is an insult to beer. They should call it that which is left over when beer takes a hot piss on an effervescent snowman and crawls into a can to die.
“Next!” he yelled.
The following women weren’t much better. Miss Vodka Tonic ordered a wine spritzer. Wrong! Wine Spritzer lady ordered a dirty martini. Wrong! Kalua and Cream gal asked for champagne. Sacrilege! What the hell is the matter with you, woman! It made him sick, seeing all of this incorrect drink pairing.
GOD OF WINE (The Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. Book 3) Page 18
