Jeremy shook his head slowly. “The last intern we hired tried that and Reynaldo whined for a week. Sorry, going in person makes for fewer mistakes. I’ll take an order of vegetable samosas and a strawberry smoothie.”
Was he a veg-head too? God, I was surrounded by herbivore freaks. If there was a worldwide famine, they could be my food source. I knew who I’d snack on first.
“Mr. Romanov?” Meg queried. I was glad she wasn’t so besotted she’d forgotten why we were here in the first place.
“Should we order something special for him?” I asked, trying to spare her a feather or two.
“Oh no,” Jeremy laughed. “His macrobiotic chef will be bringing his meal by a little later. Mr. Romanov only eats meals specially prepared for him. I’ll tell you all about it another time. Make sure you ask Reynaldo, Demi if she’s here, and Callie what they want.”
I tugged my Coach bag out of the drawer of the desk where Meg and I had been busy writing personal thank-you notes for Arkady to the rich and notorious who’d attended his show. I gave a little wave. “Later.”
We made the rounds. Reynaldo ordered a salad with exact measurements of nuts, berries, beans, and a sliver of salmon. Not too thick. No dressing. And get him a whole lemon. He would do the rest himself. He was so anal he probably squeaked when he ran.
The nasty goddess was in residence.
“Problems yesterday?” she snickered.
“Lunch order?” asked Meg, ignoring the taunt. The silent thing was becoming a habit, and she was using it to her advantage.
Demi answered brusquely. “Why, ambrosia, of course.”
“You mean, that icky marshmallow fruit salad?” I scrunched up my face in disgust.
“How retro,” Meg drolled. “I hear that was really popular sixty years ago, but I’ve seen it in a lot of delis. One ambrosia—” She started to write it down when the pencil flew out of her hand.
“Ugh! I would never eat any of the slop you call food. I don’t want anything, Margaret. I … what’s the phrase you use? Brown bag it.” Demi poofed a golden goblet full of some steamy liquid. It made the reception area smell like a fruit stand.
“Oh Demi, you’ve brought in your special diet drink again!” Reynaldo sniffed as he breezed through. “When will I convince you to give me the recipe?”
“Not in your lifetime,” she said pleasantly, without even looking at him. Reynaldo tittered as he pranced back through the doorway.
Demeter sniffed. “As if! The pest. Sharisse, have you seen or heard from our mutual acquaintance? How is the dear boy?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I headed toward the door which Demeter slammed shut in our faces.
“Never turn your back on a goddess.” I felt myself being spun around until once again we both faced her. She likes to play games! Goody! Does she know Twister?
“You might want to be careful who you insult,” she warned. Her face softened. “You know, Sharisse, with my son-in-law’s looks—that hard body, bronzed skin, and although I hate to admit it, his irreproachable good taste—do you really feel repulsed by the idea of spending time with him?” I let my silence speak for me and pointed to the door. It swung open. “Although I must say you seem to be giving him a bit of a challenge. Maybe he’s losing his touch. Go a little crazy. I’m sure he’d show you a good time.”
“Then you sleep with him,” I muttered under my breath.
“Don’t listen to her,” said Meg as we passed through the hall. “I don’t know how we’ll manage it, but we’re going to do this. It’s either that or you’re stuck with me for a long, looong time!”
“With your taste in clothes? Don’t torture me.” My jest got no laughs. It made me queasy to think that Meg was right. With the scheming of Hades and Demeter, I was stuck in a hard place between two divine rocks.
The next stop was Callie, House of Romanov’s one-person computer department. I guessed with all he had to hide, Arkady wanted as few hands in his business as possible. But man, did this one have reality issues! Callie spent way too much time playing Final Fantasy and guzzling those god-awful energy drinks.
We found Callie under her desk, the back end of her khaki pants and her sensible walking shoes sticking out.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat and Callie crawled out, dust and bits of paper stuck in her long and tangled brown mop. She looked up, blinking at us with bright, darting eyes.
“Oh!” she grunted, bumped her head and hoisted herself up into her chair.
“We’re doing lunch orders,” Meg said blandly.
“Yeah,” Callie answered, perking up. “Food!”
“Uh-huh,” I replied. “What do you want from Sam’s?”
“Don’t they make those awesome jalapeno bean wraps?” she drooled. Who got that excited about a sandwich? “I want one of those,” she continued, “with extra cheese and hot sauce. Tell them to dump it all on. And a bag of Doritos—the big one.”
Beans and hot sauce? I am so avoiding you for the rest of the day! Out of the corner of my eye I saw Meg crinkle her nose. Right—make that the rest of the week.
“Jalapeno wrap, Doritos, big,” I said as Meg jotted it down. “Gotcha. Anything else? Something to drink?”
“Get me another three of these.” Callie picked up an energy drink can—one of the super-sized black ones with the slime-green streaks down the front—and shook it in our faces. Something sloshed around inside and a fly buzzed out. She finished it off.
“All righty then,” I said. There was no way I’d ever sit at a table with this woman.
“We better go before it gets really crowded down there,” said Meg. “Bye!”
“Finally!” I steered Meg out of the building and we headed downtown. That was after Callie came running out of her office with a spreadsheet of the extra food she wanted. It took up a whole page, and she insisted on going over it with us. Talk about OCD. Then Reynaldo caught us and added a brownie to his order.
“No nuts.” He’d wagged a finger at us like we were naughty children.
“I hate this job,” I fumed as we strode down the street a good fifteen minutes later. “I hate the assignment, I hate Demeter, I hate Hades, I hate—”
“Couldn’t agree more,” sighed Meg. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about our situation. This might be a ‘burst in and haul him away’ kind of thing.”
“And how are we going to break into his office and take him? He doesn’t admit anyone other than specialists or your sweet Jeremy, who’s there most of the time—we’d have to entrance Jeremy and whoever else is in there. Then there’d be problems if Reynaldo sees us, or Callie. And there’s nothing we can do about her.” The complications were astronomical.
“Or Demeter,” Meg added. “She’d meddle just because she can, but she’s weaving her own web, and we’re the flies caught up in it.”
“Please,” I said, holding my stomach at the memory of the fly-in-the-can. “Don’t talk to me about bugs.”
“We have to do it when no one’s around,” Meg went on. “You had the right idea before, I think—if that’s what you really want to do.”
“What’s that?” I couldn’t remember what splendid idea I had.
“Go to work when no one’s around and do some digging. There’s got to be a schedule or agenda that will give us a clue to Arkady’s activities.”
It sounded reasonable; if we knew where and when he’d be someplace, we could coordinate his kidnapping.
We arrived at the deli—Sammy’s Sandwich Shop, a regular hole in the wall. I was expecting something more exotic and upscale, but when we opened the door I knew immediately why the meals for House of Romanov came from here. I was seduced by the scent of hot pastrami on rye with mustard, and the sweet enticements of gooey chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven—yum yum yummo! But Callie and Reynal
do’s extensive food orders had put us at the back of a long line of power-suited people who were too busy to figure out what they wanted until they got up to the counter.
“We’re going to be here forever!” I sighed, adjusting my shades. I’d gotten quite used to wearing them, but when this was over, I wasn’t going to wear glasses for a solid week. Sun exposure over that short a time couldn’t give me wrinkles.
Crow’s feet on my feet AND on my face. Wonder if I can pre-pay a future facelift, like people do for funerals?
I dutifully positioned myself behind the last person, a tall, pin-thin blond woman. A small dog with a terrified expression on its face peeked over her shoulder. Meg took the tiny space that was left next to me. The next person would have to wait outside in the cold.
Blondie shifted from side to side as if she was slow dancing, and every time her poor pooch whimpered she would impatiently shush it.
While we waited, I examined every aspect of her that I could see. She had to be a foot taller than me, but we were both built the same way, slender with long legs. Blondie’s were encased in snug-fitting jeans a color somewhere between beige and gold; there was a metallic sheen to the fabric. Definitely Dolce and Gabbana. Her jacket, bag, jaunty fedora, and five-inch heels seemed to be made from the same material, or at least they were all the same shade. When she moved under an overhead light, I discovered I was right—her outfit shimmered. If she wasn’t standing so close, she’d look like a statue. Even the dog had a matching gold-toned collar. How Hollywood A-List. At least she should’ve looked better than the dog.
A large group left the store and the line shuffled up several feet. Now there were only a couple of people, including Blondie, in front of us.
“List,” I said.
“Here you are.” Meg held up the pad. “I think I’ll get the same as Jeremy. It sounds good.” She smiled faintly. I knew where her thoughts were going, and I envied her. My naughty thoughts had nowhere to go.
Meg pulled out Jeremy’s House of Romanov credit card just as I was about to search for Hades’.
I clicked my tongue. “Which one should we use?”
“Does it really matter?” she offered. “It’s probably all coming from the same place.”
“But what if he gets mad?”
Meg waved a hand. “Pffft! Come on Shar, he wants you so bad you could buy Rockefeller Center on his Visa and he wouldn’t flinch. Besides, it’s kind of like a business expense.”
The line advanced and Blondie was up. She had turned slightly and I could see her profile. Her skin was golden and perfect, and her features were fashion-magazine quality. The guy behind the counter started talking to her, and I turned my attention back to Meg, who was picking at a hangnail. I reached into my purse to get my wallet. I so didn’t want to use Hades’ card; the hologram was too suggestive. Seeing any more of him might burn my retinas.
I choked.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asked, her voice low.
“My purse shook.” Slowly I pulled out a small blue box tied with a white ribbon.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The box is from Tiffany’s, so it has to be good!”
Meg looked confused.“We didn’t go there together. When did you manage to sneak out?”
“I didn’t! It has to be a gift. From you know who. Oh, this is going to be so awesome !”
“You’re not going to keep it, are you?”
“You bet I’m keeping it—it’s from Tiffany’s. Oh, don’t give me that look, Meg, it’s probably something small and tasteful.”
“Greeks bearing gifts,” she mumbled.
One tug on the thick satin bow freed the lid of the box. Slowly I peeled it off. Now we both gasped. A chunky, square-shaped, crystal-clear blue diamond winked at us from a white velvet cushion. I stopped breathing. It had to be over five carats.
“I think that falls into the category of big and ostentatious,” she said acerbically.
“I didn’t make any promises!” I blurted.
“Next!”
It was our turn at the counter. Blondie had stepped aside and was arranging her packages and dog while she waited for her order. As we stepped up, she gave us a piercing glance that for some reason made me shiver, despite the fact that it was hot and close in the crowded room.
“Nice ring,” she drawled. The little dog whimpered and she gently tapped it on its nose.
“A gift,” I said, shoving the box deep into my purse. Blondie’s order came up and she left. It was our turn.
I read the list to the man in the grubby apron behind the counter, and told Meg, “Wait here for the food while I go get the drinks.” I pushed the list into her hands and made my way through the line, which had grown to the back of the shop again, to the fridge case and started pulling out bottles.
Even through all the background noise, I heard the deli man. “You want these sandwiches toasted?”
Before I could run back and respond, Meg answered him.
“No, don’t toast them, but cut them into quarters and—” The words had hardly left her lips when she jumped and rubbed her rear. I grabbed the drinks and hurried forward.
“Anything for you, Miss!” The guy behind the counter gave her a toothy grin. Then he took the sandwiches from the line worker standing next to him and started cutting them up himself.
“Can I get you anything else?” he fawned.
“Ase me isihi,” said Meg under her breath, and slipped out. Once our order was ready, I quickly signed the credit receipt and met her on the street.
“I’m going to be a walking feather mattress,” Meg said, stomping back to the office.
“I think I need another Claritin.” My nose was running and my eyes were starting to water. It was very hard trying to wipe my eyes underneath the sunglasses. Meg’s proliferating plumage made me doubly cautious about looking at people. I’d definitely gotten the easier gift to deal with, but it was getting harder to be around her.
As soon as we got back to the office, Reynaldo was waiting, impatiently tapping his foot.
“There’s a priority client in the Yellow Salon. Go offer her something.” He took his salad and brownie. “I’ll be in to assist her in a moment. I simply have to get some food before I pass out! Maybe I’m hypoglycemic! Oh!”
“Go wolf down that lump of chocolate,” muttered Meg when he was out of earshot.
I shook my head. “He’s such a drama queen. C’mon. We’ll drop the lunch order in the kitchen, find out what the client wants, and hit a coffee shop if we have to. Neither of us can make coffee that’s drinkable.”
The Yellow Salon was empty.
Meg’s head swiveled around. “There’s no one here. Maybe they’ve already taken care of whoever it was?”
“Good. One less thing we have to do. Let’s go.”
“I’m not done with you.” The voice slid like cold steel along my spine. Out from a dressing room came Blondie from the deli. And her little dog, too.
“What?!” I asked.
Her jaw clenched and her eyes hardened. “So, do you frequently seduce happily married men? Flirt and take advantage of their weakness? Wheedle gifts and who knows what else from them?”
“I don’t chase after any married men!” I responded indignantly. “I’m only seventeen! I don’t even have a boyfriend!”
Meg leaned closer. “Shar, married man, gifts out of thin air. Think!”
It was like a slap to the head.
Hades. And now the happy little wife. What was her name …
“Persephone! It’s a regular family reunion,” quipped Meg in my ear. “At least she’s being forthright.”
“Oh jeez,” I gulped.
Persephone gave us a glacial look, then lounged seductively on a striped yellow satin chaise. “Why i
s my husband, Lord of the Underworld, brother to Zeus, giving you, a stinking, lowly mortal, gifts?”
“Uh …” Sorry, Sharisse can’t talk now, she’s brain dead.
Meg jumped. “Shar never asked for anything from him. She wants nothing to do with Had—your husband.”
Well, it was mostly true, but I still couldn’t speak. Thank God Meg defended me while I continued to stand there, drooling on the yellow and sage-green carpet.
Persephone was unimpressed. She sprang off the chaise and waved an identical Tiffany’s ring in front of me.
Hades, you idiot! Giving two women the same ring! We both should slap him.
“Liar!” she screamed at Meg, then turned to me. “You’re using your wiles and cheap charm on him. Why would he want you when he has me, immortal goddess and Daughter of Demeter? Who put you up to this? What god? I command you to tell me what your interest is in my Hades.”
Those intense green eyes, so like her mother’s, bored into me. I could hear myself sweat. Slowly, she stroked her dog, which whimpered when she paused for too long.
“It’s a working relationship only. Nothing personal. On my part. And I avoid gods whenever I can. At all costs! I swear!” I held up the scout’s honor sign. She didn’t have to know I was never a Girl Scout.
“It had best stay that way. Any step over that line and you will regret it for the next, oh, eternity. Am I clear?” Persephone’s voice was shrill.
“Yes ma’am!”
“Margaret, get me champagne, chilled, with a strawberry, and a plate of fresh fruit. Have your friend get me spring water for my pet while we wait for Reynaldo. Go!”
We scuttled out of the room in different directions. I knew I had to get Persephone what she wanted quickly, but I also had to have a moment alone to stop shaking. Just a minute, and then I’d be able to function. I couldn’t go to the kitchen, the water cooler, or the ladies’ room; my only option was the supply closet. Fine. If that’s what it took for a few seconds of peace and safety, then that’s where I was headed.
For a closet, it was pretty big. There was actually room enough that I wouldn’t feel claustrophobic. Plopping down on a carton of TP, I leaned back and inhaled deeply.
Sirenz Page 12
