by R. L. Naquin
I nodded. “I am so sorry. Are you okay? Can I help you carry anything?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I’ll be okay. It’s not my first time at this.”
A small potted cactus teetered on top of her box. I grabbed the ceramic planter before it fell. “Got it.”
We walked past Audrey and Kayla, and Trina gave them a little wave without letting go of her box. “See you around, I guess.”
Audrey looked genuinely upset. “Sorry to see you go, Trina. Come back and visit once you get settled.”
Kayla gave the first sincere smile I’d seen from her. “We’ll miss you!”
Trina swallowed hard. “We’ll have to do lunch some time.”
As we walked past, Audrey looked at me with a curious, puzzled expression, as if seeing me in a different light.
I walked Trina out to the lobby, still carrying her tiny cactus. “Hey. You want to get a cup of coffee before you go?”
Asking a friend to get a cup of coffee gave me a nervous flutter in my stomach. Friendship was so hard. I had to actually do stuff.
Trina grinned. “Sure. They’re expecting me upstairs, but they didn’t say when. I could use a shot of caffeine first.”
She probably could. The few conversations I’d had with Trina in the past had been a lot more…energetic. Getting booted from the Muse department must have taken a lot out of her.
We got settled with our lattes in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. I felt a twinge of Rick-related guilt when I smelled the cinnamon in my coffee. For the first time, I noticed Trina’s hands were shaking.
I put my cup on the table. “You okay?”
She took a deep, steadying breath and put her hands in her lap. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. Thank the gods I’m a Legacy. Maybe the next place will work out. I’ve got to be good at something, right?”
“You’d think all their assessments would get it right the first time. Where are you going next?”
Her expression was serious and intense. “All the way to the top. They’re sending me to the Fates.” She waited, as if I was supposed to gasp in surprise or draw back in horror.
The best I could give her was a slight raising of the eyebrows. “Is that good? Bad? I have to be honest. I have no idea what it means.”
One side of her mouth drew up in a wry, half smile. “I guess I don’t really know, either. I’m just going by the reactions everybody else gave me.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure it’s an office like any other.” I held my coffee cup aloft in a toast. “And you will be fabulous at whatever it is goes on up there.”
“I hope you’re right.” She sipped her drink. “So, how’s it going for you? I never see you, so you must be busy.”
I grimaced. “I suck. None of my clients are behaving.”
She frowned. “How many do you have?”
“Three.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Usually, they start people off slow. Somebody in Fates must have high hopes for you.”
“Well, their hopes are wasted. I’m failing miserably.”
She patted my hand. “You’ll bring them around. I believe in you.”
“Thanks.” I picked at the sleeve on my cup. “Wish you weren’t leaving. Everybody else hates me.”
“You mean Audrey and Kayla? I wouldn’t worry about them.” She gave me a reassuring smile.
I shook my head. “I kind of get the feeling nobody there is too happy to see me.” Not even Polly, if I were really being honest with myself.
Trina’s smile faded. “Oh, that.”
I sat straighter. “What?”
“I didn’t want to tell you. I’d hoped everybody would forget about it.” She fidgeted in her seat and looked distressed. “Here’s the thing. There’s only a set number of people who work in the Muse department in any given region.”
“Sure.” I nodded slowly.
“Somebody had to leave for you to take her place.” She stared at me like she was waiting for me to understand some deeper meaning.
“Okay. So, whoever was there before me was somebody they all liked a lot. But I can’t be somebody else.”
Trina scratched her nose, took a breath, and tried again. “Your predecessor is named Phoebe. Everybody liked Phoebe. She was great at her job. Everybody gets a difficult client from time to time, but it takes three failed projects to fail the department.”
“So, she wasn’t so great at her job after all. Or really unlucky with the clients they assigned her.”
“No,” she said, drawing the word out. “One difficult client. Every few months, she’d get that same client assigned to her with a brand new project. And halfway through, the client would bail and stop working on it. After the third time, Phoebe got booted and transferred to the Underworld, since she isn’t a Legacy.” She gave me a pointed expression, as if waiting for me to pick up on something she wasn’t saying.
“Well, I’m really sorry to hear that. Why would they keep giving her the same client, though? Obviously, this client wasn’t a good investment. What kind of projects are we talking about, here? Life saving inventions? Setting up charity events? Building wells in Africa so people can have clean water?” I didn’t know why certain people were singled out to receive help from a Muse, but to have help sent three times, the person in question must’ve had something important to contribute to the world.
Trina groaned. “You would think, but no. Cross stitch. Knitting.” She paused and covered my hand with hers while staring into my eyes. “Quilting.”
My face got hot, and my stomach felt queasy. That pattern sounded familiar. “No.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so, honey.” She squeezed my hand. “You were Phoebe’s client before you came here. And now you’ve got her job.”
“No wonder they all hate me.” Maybe being sent to the Underworld was all I deserved. And why was I so damned interesting that I warranted visits from a Muse on three separate projects? Craft projects, no less.
“I wouldn’t take it too seriously. After you’re there for awhile, most of them won’t even remember anymore.” She paused and looked around. “Well, except for Jeremy.”
“What’s up with Jeremy? He won’t even look me in the eye.”
“He was in love with her.”
“Ew.” I couldn’t imagine the little toad involved with anybody.
“Oh, they weren’t together. She did date Dave for awhile—gods help her—but Jeremy sort of mooned after her. Ha! Mooned. Phoebe, goddess of the moon. Get it? I’m hilarious!” She laughed at her own joke. “Anyway, he was kind of stalkery, but nothing came of it. She’s probably lucky she got out of there before he got up the nerve to make a move.”
“That explains so much.” As horrible as I felt for my shitty life choices getting this Phoebe person fired, I felt better now that I understood what was going on in the office.
Trina glanced at her watch. “I feel so much better. Thank you for sitting with me so I could pull myself together. I should probably go upstairs now and get myself settled in my new reality—whatever it turns out to be.”
Back to her usual self, Trina hopped up, gave me a hug, and disappeared before I could do more than wish her luck. She left me with far fewer questions than I’d had before, but a whole lot more guilt.
~*~
The day didn’t get any better. Alex was halfway through painting the kitchen chairs a flamingo pink, and Missy was cleaning the oven. I couldn’t even find Mark.
Though I should have been trying harder to blow some sense into one of the two clients I could find, I knew I needed to change tactics. I had no idea how to do that, though. I had no backup plan.
Crazy or not, my mom was always the best place to go when I was in trouble. I was pretty sure this more than qualified for trouble.
As I pulled into her driveway, a lot of the tension in my shoulders relaxed. I’d gone through with the whole Mt. Olympus thing so I wouldn’t have to move in with my mom again. Maybe that hadn’t been the best choice.
Mom’s house wasn’t so bad. Nobody was trying to send me to hell, here, at least.
Because, honestly, that’s what it felt like was happening in the Muse department. Whether it was my coworkers or somebody up in the Fates department, somebody wanted me to fail.
I found Mom in her bathroom, drawing on the walls with crayons. She had her long blonde hair tied in a knot on the top of her head, and it bobbed back and forth with her movements.
I rapped a knuckle against the open door so I wouldn’t startle her.
“Hand me the burnt sienna,” she said without looking up.
I found the crayon she needed and dropped it in her upturned hand. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Give me just a minute to finish this squirrel.”
The last time I’d visited, the bathroom had been painted a light blue. It was still blue, but she’d been drawing trees and grass and birds in bright colors on every surface that the wax would stick to—walls, ceiling, wooden shelves and cupboards. Not even the floor had escaped. The crayons hadn’t left much of a mark on the shiny blue tiles, but she’d colored the grout in between a deep cerulean.
I waited for her to finish shading the tail of the squirrel she was coloring right above the floor vent, trying to remember if I’d ever colored on the walls when I was a kid. Probably not. If I had, Mom would have made a day of it and helped.
When she was done, she pulled herself up from the floor and smoothed the wrinkles from her jeans. She wore a bright green T-shirt with the words That’s What She Said printed in yellow.
She put away the crayon I’d handed her, folded the lid closed and smiled. “There. Let’s get some juice.” She brushed past me and took off for the kitchen, expecting me to follow.
After such a crappy couple of days, there was something immensely comforting in sitting in my mother’s yellow kitchen, drinking fresh-squeezed juice and eating warm, homemade bread smothered in butter. For a little while, I felt like a little kid, untroubled and safe with a happy tummy.
After my second glass of kiwi-blueberry-pineapple juice and my third thick slice of warm potato bread, I sighed in contentment and pushed away my plate.
“Better?” Mom took away the dirty dishes and set them in the sink.
I nodded. “Better.”
She returned with a dishtowel and wiped the table. “Want to talk about it?”
I shrugged. “I’m having a hard time getting the hang of my new job. Turns out, I may have been the reason the person before me lost her job, and everybody wants me to fail.”
She paused and looked at me, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Well, then, you’ll have to disappoint them, won’t you?”
“I’ve tried everything they taught me to do, but I can’t get the clients to listen to me.”
“Then try something else.” She moved to the trashcan and shook the towel to get rid of the crumbs. “Rules are only good if they work. If they don’t work, change direction.”
“Try something else.” I brushed off a crumb she’d missed. “Okay. Yeah.”
She sat in the chair across from me and tented her fingers under her chin. “You’ve never really been one to do things the way people expect you to. Find your own way.”
I had no idea what I was going to do, but I felt a lot better. She was right. I was trying too hard to do it their way. I was trying to follow rules I didn’t understand, with constraints I wasn’t convinced were necessary.
Somehow, I had to figure out Wynter’s way to solve this problem. And whoever was screwing with me was going to fail.
Chapter 19
I had to admit, I didn’t feel as confident about things when I got up for work the next morning. It was one thing to decide to do things my way.
Figuring out what my way entailed was another matter.
As I got ready to start the day, Phyllis was uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, the lack of chatter was a little unnerving.
“Are you okay?” I poked her soil. “Do you need water? Maybe some sun in the courtyard?”
One leaf dipped and brushed the back of my hand. “I’m fine. A little worried about you, though. Any ideas yet?”
“Not a clue. I’ll start by checking in on all of them. Maybe they straightened out on their own.” I glanced out the kitchen window. “Maybe I’ll stop at Mark’s on the way out. See if I can jump start him before I go.”
“It couldn’t hurt, I suppose.” Her voice sounded pinched, as if she were trying not to cry.
Which was weird for a plant.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Several branches flapped. “Everything is fine. Go. Be productive. Inspire art. How am I supposed to people-watch all day if you’re in my light?”
She was trying to make a joke of it, but I could tell something was bothering her. I was positive it was concern for me. The best I could do was get the job done. Then we could both be less stressed.
Before I left, I set her in the kitchen window like I’d been doing for the last few weeks. When I crossed the courtyard and stood outside Mark’s door, I turned and gave her a wave.
He opened the door before I had a chance to put my hand down and turn around to knock.
“Who are you waving at?” He sounded amused.
I faced him, embarrassed, then saw he was standing in the doorway, soaking wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. A small towel.
I shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant. “My plant,” I said. “We’re very close.”
He smirked. “Cute. So, what can I help you with first thing in the morning like this?”
My eyes watered at the strain of keeping them focused on his face. A drop of water dripped from his hair and rolled down his neck to his chest. I smiled harder and didn’t watch. “I was on my way to work and figured I’d check and see how Candy Land is coming.”
“Oh.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, that’s not really a concern anymore.”
“It’s cancelled?” I felt like he’d punched me in the stomach. The Muse office probably didn’t give a rat’s ass if a project was cancelled by the client’s employer. All that mattered was whether or not the project was completed.
He shook his head. “No. I decided to keep it simple. I appreciate your help trying to nail down a theme, but it’s probably better if I just build her a sandbox and a couple of swings. She’ll like it, whatever we end up doing.”
“Oh.” I tried my hardest not to look too disappointed. I wasn’t even sure if that would count as completing his project. Probably, as long as it was done on time. Still, it didn’t sit well with me.
He didn’t give me a chance to object. “Listen, I’m feeling kind of exposed, so I’m going back inside. Thanks for stopping by, though. Maybe I’ll see you later after you’re done with work.”
Count on it. I nodded. “Yeah. Have a good day.” I gave him the same wave I’d given to Phyllis and turned away as he shut the door. As I made my way to the car, I mulled over what he’d said. Given the choice, no kid would rather have a plain wooden sandbox when they could have a candy castle. Was Mark giving up? Out of funds? There had to be a reason for scaling back after all the stress he’d put himself through to find the perfect theme.
I was still trying to sort it out when I got to work. Caught up in my own thoughts, I plowed right into that moody receptionist, Patrice, in the lobby.
The snakes on her head rose together in a chorus of hisses, a few striking in my direction. “Watch it,” Patrice said. She patted the snakes to calm them. “I just got them settled down.” She gave me an annoyed frown from behind her tiny sunglasses, then dismissed me as if I’d never existed.
Her mild reaction surprised me. I expected her to shriek at me, then turn me to stone or tear my heart out with her claws—though her claws were actually square-tipped nails done in a purple and gold French manicure. I’d noticed them when she fixed her snake hair. Maybe she wasn’t so scary after all.
Maybe not, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking,
and my knees were a little weak.
Because my day had already gone so well, the universe—or maybe the crazy people in the Fates department—had one more surprise for me before I could make it safely to my desk.
I got on the elevator, hit the button for my floor, and watched the doors close. One floor later, the doors opened on the second floor and there was Rick. I stopped myself before I groaned, at least. I retained that much of my dignity.
He was dressed in a pair of tight pants, a white shirt, and a black cape with red satin lining. He smiled, revealing fangs, then stepped into the elevator. “Hi.” He held up his coffee cup. “I was hoping you’d be around for coffee, but I didn’t see you.”
I tried not to stammer, but I failed. “Oh. I…didn’t…I didn’t know.”
His eyes looked sad, but hopeful. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Well…uh…I don’t know, Rick. I’m kind of having a rough week.” The elevator opened on my floor, and I ran out before they’d finished clearing. “I’ll call you, okay?”
The doors slid closed, but not before I saw the look of disappointment with maybe a touch of anger on his ghostly white vampire face. I felt like a horrible human being. It had only been two-and-a-half weeks since I’d seen that same look on Freddy’s face. I was a serial dumper. And a coward, too.
What the hell was wrong with me?
As I entered the office, I didn’t even look at Dave and Jeremy. They watched me walk past, and I had to refrain from rubbing the goose bumps from my arms. However, ignoring them seemed to work. After getting no response from me, they wandered off to the other end of the office, no doubt to attempt to make some other woman feel uncomfortable.
I checked my inbox and found it mercifully empty. A small, stuffed giraffe I’d brought from home made the desk a little less stark than it had been the day before, but it didn’t help as much as I’d hoped. Then again, if I didn’t turn things around, I’d be packing it all up to move to the Underworld in another two-and-a-half weeks anyway.
The prop room was quiet, so I slipped in and grabbed my belt and a full bottle of bubbles. I’d stopped bothering with the anti-doggy dust once I realized my only animal problem was Oscar, and he and I had become friends. However, remembering how tough the previous few days had been, I helped myself to a second bottle of bubbles. It couldn’t hurt to have extra.
