Crazy Cupid Love

by Amanda Heger

  Ron Weasley kicked and sputtered, like he was a bucking bronco instead of a 2004 Ford Mustang. Eliza gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and glanced over at her father. “It’ll be fine. Ron does this sometimes. Things will smooth out in a minute.”

  But within the span of two minutes, the racket had become intolerable, and a wisp of gray smoke trailed out from the hood. Eliza yanked the car over to the side of the road and killed the engine. “I’ll be right back.”

  She popped the hood and got out of the car. Sometimes, Ron just needed the patented jiggle, jiggle, tap—a quick series of bumps and flicks to a few important wires—to get him reenergized. Eliza had no clue why it worked, but it did. Almost every time. Hopefully, today would be no different.

  Two jiggles and a tap later, she slammed the hood shut and hopped back inside.

  “Sorry about that,” she said to her father as she turned the key.

  And “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII eye IIIIIIIII will always love yooooooou,” Dolly Parton crooned through the speakers.

  Her dad clung to his seat belt. “Liza, I know you love this car, but maybe it’s time for an upgrade. You could even get a newer Mustang. Have you seen those? They made them look more like the old ones.”

  “They don’t make them in this shade of orange anymore. Besides”—she patted the dash just as Ron stopped, then started up again—“Ron and I have been through a lot together.” Also, since she was working for free for her parents, she couldn’t exactly afford a new car. But she wasn’t going to tell her father that, especially not since she’d told her parents that her actual job had given her family medical leave.

  Depending on how one looked at it, that wasn’t a complete lie. They’d just given her the leave before her father got sick. And it was going to continue for a while afterward.

  Okay, it was utter bullshit, but she didn’t want her parents to feel like they had to pay her. Things at Herman & Herman were beyond tight, and her dad was still under a strict no-stress rule from his cardiologist.

  “How many visits do you have left?” she asked once they were back on the road.

  “Getting tired of chauffeuring your old man to cardiac rehab all the time?”

  “Actually,” she said, “I kind of like it. Gives us a chance to catch up without Mom breathing down my neck about the office or my license.”

  “Your mother means well, Liza. She’s just had a lot to deal with lately.”

  “So how many visits?” She steered Ron toward the hospital and the conversation away from her mother.

  “At least four, maybe more. The doctor says it depends on how I do on my walk test next week.”

  “Is it like a sobriety test? Do you also have to touch your nose and say the alphabet backward?”

  He gave her a small smile as they pulled into the parking lot. “Yes, that’s exactly it. And speaking of tests…”

  She pulled into the patient drop-off zone and threw on her hazard lights. Well, light. Ron had blinked one out last week. “Yes?”

  “Liza, pull into a real parking spot for a minute.”

  “Dad, you’re going to be late.”

  “I’ve got plenty of time.”

  Despite Ron’s unruly protests, Eliza pulled into a parking spot in the front row. The morning sun shone directly into the car, and she opened the window to let in the breeze. A few trees swayed in front of the looming building, and men and women dressed in scrubs came in and went out through a side entrance. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “How’s your mentorship going?”

  Talk about a loaded question. Should she start with the accidental enchantment? Or maybe she should talk about the last time she’d seen Jake, when they’d stood in the middle of the target range and hugged for almost a full minute. She’d finally pried herself away from his broad chest and warm arms, but it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “Fine. It’s going fine.”

  “How are things with Jake?” Tim Herman, cutting to the chase since 1964.

  “Fine, why?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Dad. I’m sure. Why?”

  He shook his head, and a tendril of gray hair fell across his face. He’d had a few gray hairs for years now, but in the last few months they’d really begun to take over. “He always had such a big crush on you when you were kids. I was worried he had ulterior motives. I know he’s a good guy, but the Department takes the mentorship thing very seriously.”

  “Wait. What?” She gripped the steering wheel as though Ron had tried to throw her off.

  “Last year in Seattle, two Cupids—a mentor and a provisional licensee—had their licenses revoked for inappropriate relations. West Coast Cupid magazine had a whole write-up in the July—”

  “No. Not that. What do you mean he had a crush on me?”

  “Oh, come on, Liza. You really think he spent all those nights at our house because he wanted to study for PSC tests?”

  Eliza waved him off. “Probably. He was always a real brainiac.”

  “No one is that much of a nerd, not even Jake. He had a crush on you.”

  “I don’t think so, Dad,” Eliza said.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s going okay. Jake’s always been ambitious, and this will be a good résumé builder for his Cosmic Council application, even if you don’t get your full license. The gods know we need someone better to represent the Erosians around here than Vic Van Love.”

  “Jake’s applying for the Cosmic Council?” While the Department of Affection, Seduction, and Shellfish made official government regulations that applied to the business of Cupiding, the Cosmic Council secretly made decisions on behalf of all Descendants. Including those Descendants the human government didn’t know existed—which were, to date, all of them except Cupids.

  Once upon a time, her mother had been on the Northern California branch of the Cosmic Council. She’d come home from the monthly meetings with frazzled hair and pour herself three fingers worth of whiskey. When ten-year-old Eliza had asked what they talked about at the meetings, her mother’s response was always something about hot air and wishful thinking. As soon as her mother’s Council appointment was up, she’d stepped away and never looked back.

  “He didn’t mention that?” her father asked.

  Eliza shook her head. “We’ve been pretty busy. You know, studying.” And trying not to kiss.

  Her father’s face lit up. “Studying? Does that mean you’re going to take the exam? I’ve always said you can do anything you want to do, Eliza, as long as you put your heart into it. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope you’d join Herman & Herman officially.”

  “Well…” She had two choices: explain the “borderline approval” situation and how she might be forced into taking the test at any time…or don’t. “I’m thinking about it. No promises, okay?”

  “I won’t get my hopes up.”

  But Eliza could see his hopes had already soared to new and terrifying heights. His cheeks had pinkened a smidge, and the hard lines around his eyes had softened. It was the best he’d looked in weeks, maybe even months. “You better get out there, or you’re going to be late,” she said.

  Her father kissed her on the forehead and got out of the car. Eliza watched him as he walked, and she could swear she saw a bounce in his step as he headed into the hospital.

  Gods damn it. One way or another, she was going to have to pass that test.

  * * *

  Three miles from home, Ron started protesting again. The thermostat climbed a little higher with each block, and the gentle thumping under the hood became a bone-rattling shake.

  “Come on,” Eliza pleaded. “Just a little bit farther. You were the unsung hero of Hogwarts. Certainly you can make it back to the house.”

  Ron must have gotten pissed at the mention of his “unsung” status, because he sputter
ed to a halt right then and there. Eliza steered the dead car into the parking lot of Lizzie’s Five and Dime, where she came to a stop in front of the ten-foot cherub statue.

  And no amount of taps or jiggles got Ron going again.

  “Fantastic.” Eliza reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She needed to be back at Herman & Herman in an hour to sit at the front desk. If the past was any indication, Ron would want to rest at least that long.

  Elijah, her usual source for car-related assistance, was still in Athens. Her father was obviously indisposed, and even if he wasn’t in the middle of his cardiac rehab program, she wouldn’t feel right asking him to bail her out in his condition. Her mom could probably help, but she’d spend the whole ride home complaining about how Eliza had thrown off her entire schedule.

  Instead, Eliza pulled up her messages with Jake and—against all her better judgment—began to type.

  How do you feel about pancakes?

  Three little dots appeared in the bottom of the window.

  Better than waffles, not as good as French toast.

  Luckily, no one was around to see her stupid grin.

  To be specific: how do you feel about me buying you pancakes in exchange for a ride back to my house? Ron is being difficult.

  She waited. The bubbles didn’t appear. She checked her email. The bubbles didn’t appear. She opened her favorite hate-read blog, the Cupid Cabal, and scrolled for new entries. She’d give Jake five minutes to respond, and if he didn’t, she’d rescind her invitation and start walking.

  Cupids were strictly forbidden, by both the Department and the Cosmic Council, from sharing more than very basic information about their craft with the general public, but that didn’t stop everyday folks from creating website upon website with ideas, theories, and intricate diagrams of how they believed love enchantments worked. Most of the ideas were bad, the theories worse, and the diagrams illegible. The author of the Cupid Cabal claimed to have “lived underground in the Cult of Cupids” for a year, pretending to be a Wingless somewhere near Baltimore.

  Mostly, his ramblings sounded like the work of a fan-fiction writer who’d tried to mash The Wire with Bulfinch’s Mythology, but occasionally he had some decent insights. Enough to make Eliza believe the guy knew at least a few Erosians. Today’s entry, titled “Uncovered: The End of Natural Love,” rambled on and on and on about how “well-trained Cupid operatives” were working with the government and the mainstream media to put an end to any relationships that didn’t begin and end with Cupid involvement.

  Eliza was just about to get into his account of some “underground recognizance” when her phone vibrated.

  Sorry, had to get out of a meeting. Where are you?

  Lizzie’s. I’m the girl in the orange car parked in front of the giant Cupid statue.

  Three perfect little bubbles appeared.

  Be there in 5.

  She was typing out her thanks when the phone vibrated again.

  You have no job, Herman. French toast is on me.

  Gods be damned, she couldn’t stop smiling.

  * * *

  By the time they were sitting across from each other in the packed Lakehouse Café, home of Gold Lea’s best breakfast, Eliza’s smile had long since faded.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” she said. “I just hopped in the car this morning to drop off my dad. I didn’t have time to shower.” Or put on deodorant. She’d arguably managed to “brush her teeth,” but only if your definition of adequate dental hygiene was gargling a Listerine sample chased by a stale piece of Big Red.

  “It’s fine.” Jake stared a little too hard at the menu, especially since they’d already ordered.

  “This is definitely less than five feet apart,” she whispered. “Maybe I can ask for a table instead of a booth? One of us on each end.”

  “Eliza.”

  “Sorry.”

  He glanced up at her. When their eyes met, heat flickered there before he looked back down at the list of breakfast options. “I’m not an animal. I can control myself.”

  “I know. That’s not what I meant. I was just trying to make this a little easier for you.”

  “Have you ever been enchanted?” he asked.

  She shook her head. Not that she’d ever want to be enchanted anyway. She’d seen people do a lot of stupid things because of infatuation, and it never ended well. Eliza did enough stupid things on her own. She didn’t need to add another hazard to the mix.

  “You’ve never been curious?” he asked.

  “Curious, sure. I mean, back in middle school, I had a whole plan to head to LA one weekend, hunt down Leonardo DiCaprio, and enact a double enchantment that would make me Mrs. DiCaprio in under a month, but…” She shrugged.

  “Seriously.”

  “My crush was very serious.” She wasn’t about to tell him about her other very relevant crush during those years. The one on a friend whose name rhymed with Snake Ganders.

  “Yeah, yeah. I remember you watching that old version of Romeo and Juliet a hundred times. You were obsessed.”

  “Please, like you didn’t have three Jennifer Garner posters hanging in your room.”

  His eyes locked on Eliza’s. “I’ve always had a thing for girls with dimples.”

  Eliza smiled, inadvertently flashing the dimple in her left cheek. She wondered—not for the first time—if she’d been enchanted and didn’t know it. Because that was the only good explanation for the way his attentive look made her feel.

  “Anyway,” she said. “With my, um, issues, it’s never seemed like a good idea.”

  “It’s like this,” he said. “When you’re enchanted, you can control yourself. You’re not a zombie. It’s not an excuse to do or say anything you wouldn’t normally. But if you’re already a jerk, that’s going to be intensified, because suddenly being around the other person becomes the most exciting thing in your life. At least, you think it is. It’s all you want, and you’ll go to the ends of the earth to make it happen.”

  Eliza’s heart did a back handspring. Or a double back tuck. Or whatever it was her gymnastics coach had tried to teach her before she’d fallen off the balance beam and enchanted him. He’d run off with one of her teammate’s fathers. “Being around me is the most exciting thing in your life?”

  He nodded, slowly and steadily. “Don’t let it go to your head, Herman.”

  She fanned herself like a faux southern belle. “Who, me?”

  Jake tensed. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Oh. Right.” She shoved her hands into her lap. “The pheromones.”

  The waitress brought their breakfasts. Identical stacks of French toast with bacon and eggs on the side. The smell of melting butter, bacon, and maple syrup overwhelmed them, and Jake visibly relaxed.

  “This is better, right?” Eliza asked before shoving a piece of bacon in her mouth. “The smells and stuff.”

  “Much.”

  They ate in peaceful silence for a moment before Eliza opened her big mouth. “My dad says you’re running for the Cosmic Council.”

  “I’m weighing my options.” He stuffed a bite of French toast into his mouth.

  Clearly a topic he wanted to discuss in detail. “What’s that mean?” she asked.

  Jake’s lips turned up in what appeared to be amusement. Suddenly, Eliza was delighted at her own nosiness. “I’m technically done with my time in the Corps,” he said, “but they’d like me to sign up for another tour.”

  “Where would you go?” Eliza couldn’t picture him anywhere but here in front of her, with a tiny dash of powdered sugar in the bow of his lips.

  “I don’t know. I’m one of the most experienced Corps members by now, so probably somewhere tough.”

  “And you don’t want to go back?”

  “Not right now.”

&n
bsp; Eliza took another bite of bacon. “What do you want to do right now?” she asked. He met her gaze, and it sent a hot flush up her neck. “I mean, besides, you know…”

  He laughed.

  “What?” she asked, but she laughed along with him. How could she not, with sweet, deep laughter like his?

  “Eliza, it’s fine.” He leaned across the table conspiratorially. “Let’s just acknowledge it. Yes, if I didn’t think it would ruin both our lives, I would have ordered this food to go, taken you back to my apartment, and tried to convince you to let it get cold.”

  “What? Why would you… Oh.” That flush that had previously been creeping up her neck? It made a complete U-turn and barreled due south—way above the speed limit.

  “But it would fuck everything up for you,” he said. “And yes, if I decide to run for the Cosmic Council, it wouldn’t look good for me either. But I’m a grown man who can manage my hormones and feelings. I promise.”

  Eliza jammed a bite of eggs into her mouth so she’d have time to think. Sure, he could manage himself like a grown-up, but Eliza felt less in control than ever. “You are considering the Cosmic Council thing then?”

  He nodded. “Would you also like my five-year plan and ultimate life goals?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it. I’d love to know where the Jake Sanders expects to be in five years.” She leaned back in the booth and forced her shoulders to relax. This—the nosy questions and witty banter—this she could do. The talk about feelings and desires, not so much.

  “In a perfect world, I’d be working my way up through the Cosmic Council. First through the Northern California branch. Then the Western Division. And hopefully to the North American Division.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

  “And this is why I don’t tell people my plans.”

  Fabulous. Walking disaster, party of one, your table is ready. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… Well, I’ve never met anyone that actually wanted to be on the Council. Especially not another Cupid.”

  Sure, other groups of Descendants vied for positions on the Council. If you could claim lineage to the right god, being on the Council meant power and honor and wealth. The Furies held contested elections every six years, complete with debates, psychological trials, and intense campaign slogans. The Asclepians had a top-secret appointment process, but rumor was it involved committees who ranked their Descendants by number of lives saved each year. The Muses, well… The Muses did their own thing. They were fickle and mysterious, but they always ended up with an inspired choice to represent their interests.