by Gina Ardito
“Tell me who he is, and I’ll have Rocco throw him out,” Pete offered.
“No.” She shook her head. “If he gets thrown out of here, he’ll just wait for me outside. But if he thinks I managed to get away from him, he’ll either leave here to try to find me or give up.”
Pete’s focus sharpened. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the cops?”
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, but she fisted her hands and nodded.
“At least tell me what the guy looks like so I can let you know when he’s gone.”
She didn’t need to. The way her body continually thrummed, she knew the man was still looking for her on the dance floor. She could almost picture him, could definitely hear him calling her. His melodious voice, lyrical and disarming, echoed in her head. Adara? Where are you?
“Tall, blond hair, really good looking,” she recited. “You can’t miss him. All the females in the club are orbiting him like satellites.”
“I saw him when he came in.” Pete opened the door a crack, peeked out, then closed the door and shook his head. “I don’t see him now.” His scrutiny intensified to laser beam. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
He didn’t say it, but she sensed the rest of that question was, So much that you’re seeing villains where there are none?
And honestly? She didn’t know. The walls closed in on her. Her vision blurred around the edges. The air stifled, too heavy for her to pull any into her lungs. Inside her purse, her cell phone rang. Probably her friends looking for her. Whatever the purpose of the call, the excerpt from her current favorite song that served as her ringtone shook her into action again.
“I…” she gasped. “I…think…I’d better…go.” Hefting her purse onto her shoulder, she stumbled forward. Head down, she yanked open the door.
Ignoring Pete’s shouted, “Hey!” she fled across the dance floor, past the bar, and out into the humid night.
~~~~
The immortals of Mount Olympus gathered to watch the events unfolding on earth. Only those deities whose realms lay outside the heavenly abode did not attend the soiree. And while they may not have been in residence, they were surely aware of the goings-on. After five thousand years of waiting, no one wanted to miss the denouement to the legend of Aphrodite and her beloved Adonis.
Those fortunate enough to reside in the cosmos, however, viewed Aphrodite’s arrival on earth with the same keen interest die-hard sports fans reserve for the Super Bowl or World Series.
Apollo clucked his tongue. “Aphrodite always had a flair for the dramatic.”
“‘Tis true,” his twin, Artemis, interjected with an amused titter. “Yet, how else would she make herself known to Adonis? To appear among the earthbound at a moment’s notice has always been difficult, but in these times, it is quite dangerous. We cannot materialize in all our supernal splendor without blinding the humans. If we change into an animal such as a swan or a bull, we risk being killed by a hunter. If we transform into a shower of gold or some other more natural phenomenon, earth’s scientists come running with their exploratory equipment to measure our elemental qualities. And if we remain invisible, our lovers are trapped in hospitals, thought to be insane.”
Athena sighed, and the snowy owl seated upon her bare left shoulder took flight around the pink-hued heavens. “The earth of today bears little resemblance to the Golden Age of Athens and Sparta, does it not?”
“To be sure,” Eros remarked with a smirk. “I do not envy my mother this chase.”
“I, too,” a sinister voice announced, “intend to become involved in this debacle.”
Until that moment, no one had noticed the sullen Ares, Aphrodite’s former lover, standing alone in the darkest corner of the assembly room.
Deafening thunder rumbled through the clouds at their feet, and all eyes turned to Zeus seated upon his celestial throne.
“Ares.” Zeus’s eyes flashed with summer lightning. “You shall not harm Adara. ‘Twas you who sent the boar to kill Adonis. This time, I will brook no interference from your jealous nature.”
“Oh, I will not harm Adara,” the god of war replied, a wry smile twisting his thin lips. “I shall merely make our Aphrodite’s chase more challenging.”
