by Amanda Heger
Her mother stayed behind a closed office door, only coming out when absolutely necessary and always bringing a tornado of nervous energy with her.
And Jake had ceased to exist.
To be fair, he probably existed somewhere in the general Gold Lea area, but Eliza couldn’t confirm that. He’d responded to her text about a new client meeting with an oh-so-expressive “okay” and nothing more. But that was probably for the best. It gave her time to let the awkwardness and disappointment she’d felt after the candy dish incident fade a little.
It still stung if she let herself think about it, so she didn’t.
She definitely didn’t think about how it would feel if those warm, brown eyes roved over her body. Or the way his dark stubble made him look just a little rough around the edges. Or how that tiny dip appeared above his left eyebrow when he was thinking hard about something—preferably her.
Nope, she hadn’t thought about any of that at all.
At least, not in the last two minutes.
But she had thought about it the rest of the morning as she click-and-dragged cards to their respective suits, because today she’d have to face him. She had a potential new client appointment this afternoon, and he’d be there to make sure she didn’t burn the place down during the meeting.
The bells above the door to Herman & Herman rang, and Eliza jolted from her slumped position. She’d thought she still had half an hour of tortured daydreaming before he showed up.
“Hi, I… Oh.” She slumped back in her chair as Herman & Herman’s biggest competitor swaggered through the door: Vic Van Love. Rumor had it that he’d been born John Papadopolous but changed his name to something more accessible for his business. Eliza believed it too. Everything the man did—from the hokey television commercials to the highway billboards to the ten-foot-tall inflatable Cupid on his office roof—was in pursuit of another dollar.
“Well, well, well. The prodigal daughter returns.” His voice was even sleazier than she remembered. Which was saying something, because on a scale of one to need-to-wash-your-hands-in-bleach, the Vic Van Love she remembered required a bathtub full of bleach.
“What do you want?” Eliza asked. She’d always hated Vic and his Cupid shop across town. He cut every corner, milked clients for every last dime, and stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. Which was always more money. Even if that meant dozens of people got their hearts broken in the meantime. And it seemed her rage had only intensified over the years.
“Since you asked, I’ve always wanted a pony. Maybe a princess party, where all my friends get sparkly nail polish—”
“And realize you’re a misogynistic asshole, so they kick you in the balls?” Eliza asked. “That could be arranged.”
“You’ve gotten feisty with age. What are you now, Eliza? Twenty-nine? Thirty?”
“Something like that.”
“Right, right. A lady never reveals her true age.” Vic lowered himself into one of the chairs and did an epic manspread. His long, skinny arms and legs seemed to take over the entire waiting area. His too-blond highlights reflected the fluorescent light, and his ill-fitting suit didn’t do his midsection any favors.
Eliza lifted her chin. “What do you want, Vic?”
“I just happened to be in your neck of the woods and thought I’d swing by. Check in on my favorite little mom-and-pop shop.” The condescension in his voice was thick—so thick Eliza wanted him to choke on it. “And as I was pulling in, I noticed there wasn’t a single car in the client parking lot.” His eyes widened in mock concern. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Everything is fine,” Eliza said.
“Is it though? Because the last I checked, it would take a pretty big crisis to bring the Eliza Herman out of hiding. One might even call it a deficiency.”
Eliza’s insides grew heavy, like her stomach had been coated in lead and filled with rocks. The rough, jagged kind. If anyone in Gold Lea hadn’t known about Herman & Herman’s financial issues before today, they would soon—thanks to the world’s slimiest gossipmonger. “Business is fine,” she lied.
“Well…”—Vic leaned forward on his knees—“tell your parents, if things get too hectic, I’m always available to take their few clients off their hands. Where is that father of yours anyhow? I have something he might be interested in.”
If she were a true, upstanding citizen of the world—one of those when-they-go-low, we-go-high people she’d always admired—Eliza would have offered to take a message. But where Vic was concerned, she was a when-they-go-low, we-kick-them-in-the-balls-and-run type of girl. “I’ve told you a dozen times over the years, Vic. My dad can’t enchant someone who isn’t attracted to you. It’s not his fault qualifying candidates are just so rare.”
He straightened his jacket and stood as if completely unaffected, but Eliza could see the hint of annoyance in his eyes. “Fabulous,” Vic said. “Let your dad know I stopped in, right?” And then he was gone, leaving a cloud of cheap aftershave behind him.
Eliza watched as he backed out of the drive in his shiny, red convertible—the stereotype of a midlife crisis if there ever was one—and sped toward downtown Gold Lea. A glance at the clock told her Jake would be here any minute, so she closed her pathetic game of solitaire and tried to shake off the film of disgust Vic’s visit had left behind.
How had he known about the deficiency notice? What did he want to tell her father? Why—
No. She forced all three hundred and seventy-two of her questions into a tiny box in the back of her brain and sealed it shut. Jake would be here soon, and then her potential client. She needed to bring her A game—and some client fees—for Herman & Herman. The only way to do that was to be a calm, cool, and collected Cupid.
Fake it ’til you make it, and all that.
Eliza turned on the office radio and grabbed the file folder of blank intake forms she’d put together this morning. She’d just run through everything one more time, and—
“And now a word from our sponsors,” the radio announcer said. A cheesy jingle played through the speakers, followed by an all-too-familiar voice.
If you’re feeling the call of romance,
Or maybe a tug in your pants,
Don’t be lovesick,
Just call Vic!
Cash payment due in advance.
She rolled her eyes. Many things had changed about the love business in the last ten years—including how to drum up clients, apparently—but Vic’s sleaze level was not one of them. “What a dick,” she muttered.
Apparently, the universe had it out for her today, because at that exact moment the office door opened, and Oliver-comma-Trevor stepped through the entry. “Excuse me?” he said.
“Oh, hi. Not you. The radio. I mean, sorry.” She stepped around the receptionist’s desk and stuck out her hand. “Agent Oliver, nice to see you again.”
His clammy fingers hung loosely in her palm. “Ms. Herman, we’ve finished processing your application for a provisional license.”
“Great.”
“We’ve… Well…” He grimaced as he shifted his briefcase from hand to hand. “There’s been a slight hiccup with your license.”
Eliza had been around long enough to know that a “slight hiccup” with the Department of A.S.S. could be enough to derail someone’s career for years. “Did I miss a piece of paperwork? Because I’m sure I can complete—”
“Ms. Herman, have a seat.” He hoisted the briefcase onto the receptionist’s desk between them and produced a file from inside. Its corners were dog-eared, and inside was a thick, messy rainbow of papers. Hand-printed letters on the edge of the folder read HERMAN, ELIZA.
She sat, and her throat went dry. The file had to be at least an inch thick.
“Ms. Herman—”
“Please, call me Eliza.”
“Ms. Herman, last week when y
ou completed your application, you indicated you’d previously obtained a provisional license.”
She nodded.
“When this happens, we check the applicant’s prior file to be sure there are no conflicts, complaints, or other issues. I checked our online database the day you came into the office and nothing was noted, so I issued your license. Unfortunately, a later review of our older paper files revealed a different story.”
She stared at the thick file. There had to be at least a hundred pages there. A hundred pages documenting all the failures of her past licensing attempt. She sucked in a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was an adult now. She paid her own bills and kept her plants alive without any help. And less than a week ago, she’d performed an enchantment that hadn’t ended in disaster. “Okay, and?”
“And after reviewing your prior file, we’ve decided you meet the requirements of Section 10.08 of the CCR.” He plucked a sheet of paper from the front of the file and slid it across the desk.
Code of Cupid Regulations § 10.08
Borderline Approval
Any applicant who has either (1) a history of three or more enchantments that have resulted in hospitalization or a need for physician intervention, (2) received two or more complaints in any six-month period or more than five complaints in any consecutive twenty-four-month period, or (3) engaged in persistent and problematic behavior as defined in §10.00 et seq., may be subject to additional licensing requirements, including but not limited to…
She slid the paper back across the desk. She didn’t need to read any more to know where this was headed.
“Would you care to guess which section applies to you, Ms. Herman?”
Eliza didn’t need to guess. She fit every one of those definitions—and probably a few new ones that hadn’t been invented yet. “Is my license being revoked?” she asked.
“On the contrary, given your special circumstances, the Department is quite interested in making sure you succeed.”
“What special circumstances?”
Agent Oliver cleared his throat. “Ms. Herman, your enchantment levels are well beyond those of most Cupids. The Department has a vested interest in making sure you are licensed and insured. Public safety is our top priority, after all. That’s why I’ve been assigned directly to your case. Over the next several weeks, we’ll work through the action plan I’ve created.
“Starting immediately, you must report all Cupid activities that involve client contact to me, preferably twenty-four hours in advance unless you have good cause to establish why you were unable to call me. I may also choose to drop in and observe those activities at any time. Once I’m satisfied that you have attained sufficient supervised hours, I will schedule you for your full licensing exam. However, said exam must take place no more than thirty days from the date your provisional license was issued.”
“Wait. What? I don’t understand.” Eliza’s brain couldn’t keep up with his words. Not only did she have to do all enchantments under Jake’s supervision, but she had to do them in front of this government bean counter too? He wasn’t even a Descendant.
Probably.
She was pretty sure at least. But it wasn’t like she could ask. With her luck, she’d say something stupid and blow the cover for all the other Descendants around the world.
“It’s simply a matter of procedure,” Agent Oliver said. “I’m sure you can agree that public safety must be our top concern in cases like yours.”
“And you’re going to choose the date of my exam?” She hadn’t even planned on taking the exam. Once her dad was back on his feet, she’d be hitting the pavement in search of a real job again.
“Yes, sometime within the next month, after I’ve had time to observe you in the field. We want to be sure you aren’t taking the exam too soon, but the thirty-day limit protects your rights by ensuring that we can’t keep you from it for too long.”
“Wow.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Ha. Did she have any questions? She had dozens, but most were of the Is it too early to drink? variety. “No.”
“Great.” He pulled an unmarked envelope from the depths of his briefcase and handed it to her. “This is your provisional license. Please be sure to keep it with you at all times when working in an official Cupid capacity. You can shred the temporary copy you received at the Department.”
Eliza clutched the envelope between her fingers and watched him stuff her File o’ Shame back into his briefcase. “I have a potential client coming here in a few minutes. I obviously didn’t know about”—she gestured toward his briefcase—“all of this twenty-four hours in advance.”
He narrowed his close-set eyes and glanced at his watch. “Potential client?”
She nodded.
“I have another appointment. Otherwise I would stay. This one time, and this one time only, feel free to meet with him or her in the office to discuss your services, but I will need a full day’s notice before you do any enchantments or take any other client meetings.”
“Sure. Great.” Great? It was anything but great. Man, why did this pencil pusher make her so nervous?
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Herman.” He shook her hand one last time and made his way toward the door. The clang of the bells followed him out of the office, leaving Eliza alone with her anxiety…and the disembodied voice of Vic Van Love on the radio.
Have you fallen deeply in love
But get nervous approaching your dove?
Don’t be stupid;
Hire a Cupid!
Because sometimes love needs a shove.
Chapter 8
Cupid Rules of Professional Conduct § 1.6. (a) A Cupid shall not reveal information relating to the representation of a client unless the client gives informed consent, the disclosure is impliedly authorized in order to carry out the enchantment, or an exception applies.
By the time the bells above the office door rang for a third time, Eliza had given up on the day. She sat with her head on the desk, willing the clock to tick faster. The sooner five o’clock came, the sooner she could untangle herself from this mess.
“Hello?” Jake asked. “Is anyone here?”
She didn’t bother to look up. “No.”
“That’s weird. I was looking for this woman. About five-four? Brown hair, big, brown eyes? A little bit clumsy but a great laugh?”
“Ha, ha, ha.” Eliza sat up. The weight of her ponytail had shifted to one side, and she suspected she had lines crisscrossing her cheek, but what did it matter? Jake had made it abundantly clear they weren’t a match, so she might as well look as messy on the outside as she felt on the inside. “I’m five-five, thank you very much.”
“There she is. Rough day?” He leaned against the far wall of the office, like he might need to make a break for it at any moment. She must have looked even worse than she’d thought. She took down her ponytail and ran her fingers along her scalp, trying to smooth her hair into something semiprofessional.
Jake’s wince would have been noticeable from space. “That terrible, huh?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh. No. I just, uh, ate something bad for lunch.”
If the shade of green in his cheeks was any indication, whatever he’d eaten must have been beyond horrible. “You okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Eliza finished fussing with her hair and shot him a grin. “Because I have had a day, and if you puke on my first new client, I will make you pay, Sanders.”
He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.” It was the sort of teasing confidence she would have found insanely attractive if she were letting herself be attracted to Jake.
Which she definitely was not.
“I know I look sweet and innocent, but I can scheme with the best of them
,” she said.
Jake’s cocky grin made her insides flip. He opened his mouth in what she was certain would be a smart-ass retort, then closed it immediately, like he’d changed his mind. In the span of two seconds, he’d wiped his face of all expression. “So…rough day?”
“Something like that.” And your complete inability to see me as anything but a little sister isn’t helping anything. “Trevor Oliver stopped by today to bring me my license.”
“That’s good, right?”
“My borderline approval license.” She held it up—not that she wanted anyone to see it ever, but Jake would probably see the thing at some point, so she might as well get ahead of the story. In the photo, her eyes were half-closed and her mouth half-open. The harsh flash combined with the overhead lights in the Department had turned her skin a pasty white, and her nose cast a shadow on her upper lip. A shadow ’stache. And if that weren’t bad enough, the Department had stamped the words BORDERLINE APPROVAL across the badge, just in case anyone dared think she was the least bit capable.
She launched into the whole thing about her “borderline approval” and “problematic behavior” and how the A.S.S. agent would be dropping in on her enchantments.
Finally, Jake took a bigger step forward. “Wow. That’s, um…”
“Hideous.”
He smirked. “I was going to say not your best photo.”
She shoved the license into her back pocket and sprawled back in her chair. “That’s the least of my problems right now. How am I going to do an enchantment in front of him? I barely made it through the Johansens’ without a disaster, and that was the easiest case ever.”
“You’ll be fine, Eliza. You’re not as bad at this as you think you are.”
“You’re right. I’m worse.” She flopped her cheek back down against the desk. “I wasn’t even going to take the full exam, and now it sounds like they can just spring it on me at any time.”
“Eliza, look, I wouldn’t be here doing this if I didn’t believe in you. I’d bet any amount of money that you could go down to the Department right now and ace that test.”
