Playing Cupid

by SC Alban

  Personally, homecoming was not my thing. I only agreed to work on the float in order to earn the few extra-curricular credits I needed for graduation. In addition to being co-captain of the cheer squad, Stacey was also the president of the float committee, hence Jason and the flatbed. It was a time-honored tradition—ugh, it was total crap, but it was high school. Some traditions never fade.

  Pulling back from the window, Amadeo peered at me with a sparkle in his eye.

  “Did you happen to notice anything of interest in there?” he asked slyly.

  I looked again at the two as they chatted over the food Stacey brought. Though I was out of earshot of their conversation, I was beginning to understand there was more to their relationship—a closeness—than I’d initially noticed. The way she leaned toward him when he spoke, how he smiled when she laughed—their body language revealed something their words didn’t. Interesting.

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly getting it. These two matched. “But he’s like, what? Nineteen? Isn’t he too old? Stacey’s still in high school.”

  “If my cupid instincts are correct, and they usually are, he’s just turned nineteen and Stacey’s seventeen,” he replied with an air of superiority.

  I thought back. He was right. Jason was a senior when we were sophomores. How in the heck could he possibly know that?

  “How did you know?”

  “Just another perk of being an awesome creature of mythic proportions.”

  “Hmph,” I snorted.

  “Now, no more chit-chat. Let’s do this. You ready?” He took the small cerise bag from his pocket.

  “You sure about this?” I asked. “I’m not in the business of getting honest, hard-working people into any trouble. I mean, this is Jason’s job. What will her father think?”

  He tucked in his chin and stared at me.

  “Right. You know best.” I nodded, removing the bow from where it was slung over my shoulder. I pulled the second arrow from the quiver.

  Amadeo was ready with directions.

  “Okay, you wait near those two shrubs by the entrance over there, and as soon as the signal flares, shoot him with the arrow. Got it?”

  I nodded. He whipped around to the shed, but hesitated. Turning back to me, I noticed a smug grin on his lips. “Oh, and the signal, in case you might miss it, is a giant, golden, sparkling cloud of love dust, okay?”

  I threw him an annoyed glance. “Go.”

  “All right, let’s do this. Time to work the magic of love.”

  “You really need to stop saying those things,” I said in a low voice. “You sound like a cheesy greeting card.”

  He ignored me as he made a show of climbing up the side of the shed one-armed.

  Man, if that is how he climbs with a hurt shoulder, he must practically float when he isn’t injured.

  When he reached the top, he elaborately hoisted himself onto the roof—was he always this melodramatic?—making his way to the skylight. He lifted it open with his uninjured arm and, emptying a small amount of the dust in his palm, stuck his hand through the narrow opening and let it sprinkle down.

  When the giant explosion of golden dust radiated into the space just as it had in The Country Home, it appeared neither Stacey nor Jason noticed the disturbance. As the cloud receded, my heart picked up pace and my palms became clammy. After surviving three hundred and eleven stinking practice arrows, I’d made a vow to take this whole cupid thing more seriously. I still had the blisters to prove it. But my nerves? They were as active as ever. I rubbed my thumb against a callous on my finger, and for a moment, I wished I’d shot three hundred and eleven more. Still, this was Stacey’s chance at love, and I couldn’t let jitters get in my way. I got into position and readied my bow.

  Jason appeared in the doorway, holding the door open for Stacey. As she stepped out into the fresh snow, I pulled back the arrow and took aim from my hiding spot in the brush.

  A loud braying snapped my attention to the right. Mr. Dyer’s donkey ran out from the barn directly towards Stacey, apparently spooked. What the…?

  Startled by another explosion of noise from the charging beast, my fingers slipped. I stumbled in the snow, and the arrow flew. My jaw dropped as the golden dart soared through the air, nearing the braying creature. Holy. Crap. I sucked in a breath and glanced at Amadeo. Horror was etched into his face, his eyes wide, his skin pale as he saw my blunder.

  Time slowed down as I glanced back and watched the arrow, shaking in its trajectory, making its way closer to the unintended mark, not the young man I was supposed to have aimed for.

  “Stacey, look out!” Jason bolted after her, pushing her out of the donkey’s path, both of them landing in the snow. As they fell to the ground, the arrow hit the very tip of Jason’s boot, melting into him until it completely disappeared.

  “Oh, thank God,” I choked out, collapsing on all fours in the snow in relief. However, it was only a second later before tension crept back in. I still had to reckon with Amadeo.

  Gathering courage, I peeked up at him. If his eyes had been able to shoot arrows of death, I would’ve been a goner for sure. In an instant, he popped out of sight and appeared at my side.

  “Get. Up.” He was practically vibrating. “We’re going home.”

  I winced and stood. Yeah. Not good. But the lecture I was expecting on the drive home never happened. On the contrary, he didn’t utter one word. He just sat there, stewing, his face the same color as his coat. Crap.

  That had been forever ago, and his coloring was still in the glowing magenta range. As we sat in the barn, I tried to apologize for the fifteenth time. I bit my lip. It’d been over two hours, and he was still giving me the cold shoulder. Dang, it was getting downright icy in the barn.

  “Amadeo, I’m sorry, okay? Really, I am. Please forgive me.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the stalls. He pulled an old wooden stool out and began to brush Cosmo’s mane. His shoulders relaxed, and with that small movement, the knot in my stomach began to untangle. It was something. I crossed my fingers and hoped this meant he had calmed down enough to move on.

  “I know, Megan,” he said in a quiet voice. “I know it was an accident. But it cannot”—his throat caught—“it just can’t happen again.”

  Oh, thank God. He was ready to let it go.

  “It won’t, I promise. I feel awful.” Desperate for his snarky attitude, I added, “And you thought Kyle Peterson was an ass.”

  Amadeo shot me a dirty look.

  “Too soon?”

  “A bit,” he said, hopping down from the stool and putting the brush away.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Well, the good news is, the second mark is matched, and you only have one more name on your list. And plenty of time do it in, right? Looks like things are going your way, after all.”

  This time, he smiled as he walked over to the bench in his ad hoc living room. Sitting down, he motioned for me to join him.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We only have one more person left, and then I’m headed home, quota complete, with my record and reputation intact. Well, I hope my rep will make it through that last debacle. I’m telling you, Megan, you really know how to scare a guy. I nearly had a coronary. Congratulations, you are the absolute first being in existence to nearly kill an immortal. Ever. A real ticker-stopper.”

  This time, he gave me a genuine smile, and I knew he was ready to leave the past behind. It was a good thing, too. I wasn’t sure what else I could’ve done to make it up to him. He pulled his little book out and flipped through to where the final name was located.

  “I’m hoping this last one will be easy,” he said. “And I believe you know him.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll give you a hint. He’s one of your fellow classmates. Tall, dark, and mysterious. Any guesses?”

  My interest piqued. Which Fighting Explorer would I get to shoot next? Oh, I hoped it was Stuart Kwong; he was such a nice guy. Anticipation got
the better of me, and I completely forgot about the list secrecy rule. There were always too many of those rules for me to remember, anyway. I snatched the book from his hand before he could stop me.

  “Megan, no!” he cried as my eyes found the name.

  My jaw dropped. There were only two words scribbled on the entire page.

  Jay Michaels.

  My heart stopped.

  “Jay Michaels,” I shouted. “Amadeo, you’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the people on your list…Jay Michaels. This whole time his name was there, and I’m just now finding out?”

  “What’s the big deal? I just said you knew him,” he replied in a calm voice, snatching the book out of my hands and slipping it back into his coat pocket. “That should make things so much easier.”

  “Know him? Of course I know him. Since forever. He was my home economics partner. You know, the guy from the fountain and the bookstore?” I began. I couldn’t seem to go anywhere these days without Jay popping up. Why did he have to be everywhere? “Well, that’s him. Ugh. Of course he’d be on the list. Why wouldn’t he? He already has everything else; why not love too? Of all the smug, arrogant, flaky, know-it-all, smug…”

  “You already said smug,” Amadeo pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, he’s doubly smug,” I countered.

  He lifted his eyebrows as I continued my rant.

  “There’s no way I’d ever match up anyone with someone who is such a…such an…annoying fake. Someone who continually bails on his partner, without so much as a text… and he already has everything else. Why not this too? It’s not fair.”

  “So, you know lots about him, then. Excellent. We’ll start in the morning?” He smiled.

  “Forget it. You’re on your own,” I snapped. Tears stung my eyes, and I became more pissed. Why was I crying? “You’re just gonna have to find a way to do this yourself, because I’m done. I tried to help out, but this is just too…too much.”

  “Perhaps you’re overreacting just a tad?” Amadeo’s voice was lulling. It poked my anger like a cat teasing a garden snake.

  “Overreacting? Overreacting? Really?” I said, my face hot. “Coming from the cupid who is ready to relocate because of his aversion to the color pink? But sure, I’m extra, here.”

  “Hey. You try to look your best for your wife in a pale, putrid pink uniform when you have such a robustly warm skin undertone. I’m not saying I didn’t do it, because let’s face it, I could rock any color, but it was pretty darn difficult,” he argued. “Besides, we’re not talking about just anything, here. This is love, Megan. This is Jay’s chance to meet his true love, and you can make that happen for him.”

  “Oh, lucky me.”

  “You sure have strong feelings about this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think—”

  “Don’t say it,” I said, pointing at him.

  I placed my hands on my hips, looked up at the ceiling of the barn, and exhaled sharply.

  “What I don’t get is this: Jay will probably date tons of girls in his life. It’s not like there’s a shortage of people who want to date him. He’ll be able to pick and choose anyone he wants. Why does he need your arrow? Why now? Why can’t someone else who needs it have it?”

  “When an arrow is assigned by the powers above, it’s for a reason,” he answered. “And there’s no going back. You don’t just change an arrow assignment. You have to trust the process. It’s not a cupid’s job to question those reasons. Cupids never ask why. We just do.”

  “Well, I’m not a cupid. I’ve never wanted to be. All I wanted was to graduate and get the hell out of this stupid town,” I shouted, the tears finally slipping through my lashes. “It’s not fair, none of this, and…and I…ugh, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ve got to get Cosmo ready for the night.”

  I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and hastily grabbed an extra blanket from the hook near Cosmo’s stable. Draping it over his body, I snapped it together at the front with angry fingers before stroking his mane.

  Still frazzled by the last name in the book, and Amadeo’s unwillingness even to try to understand my feelings, I stomped out of the barn without saying goodnight, not stopping until I was in the safety of my room.

  I threw my body on the bed and took a few breaths. Closing my eyes, I tried to recall some of my happy thoughts, memories of Mom, to calm me down. It was no use. Despite his moment of niceness earlier that afternoon, the thought of Jay getting an arrow made my blood boil.

  Or maybe it’s the thought of him with someone else that bothers you.

  My muscles tensed, and my heart skipped two beats. I sucked in a shaky breath. It wavered against my lips as I exhaled.

  Where did that come from?

  Chapter Eleven

  “Of all the people in this world who deserve love, why do the people who have everything else get to have it first?” I asked my empty room.

  “At least this headache of a life will be over soon,” I muttered, remembering I was moving on.

  A knock on the door brought me back to reality.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Uh, Megan?” Dad’s voice echoed through the door. “I heard you slam the downstairs door. May I come in?”

  “Um, yeah, I guess,” I responded.

  What momentous occasion called for a visit to my room? First Amadeo dropped the bomb about Jay. Now Dad wanted something. What else could go wrong tonight? Perfect timing. I pushed up into a sitting position.

  “Come in.”

  “Um, I was wondering if we could have a talk,” he said as he opened the door.

  He was wearing an orange plaid flannel shirt and jeans. It was pretty much what he had worn every day since I was born. He often rotated the colors of his flannels, but the orange one was his favorite. He wore it the most often. Mom used to say orange brought out the amber of his eyes. A flash of sadness coursed through me. He stood in the doorway and waited for me to answer, but all I could see were his eyes. Mom was right. They were golden.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said in a low voice, still reeling.

  He walked in and searched for a place to sit. I wasn’t a complete slob, but well, I just found the chairs in my room to be of better use as make-shift storage than a place to sit. It’s not like I had friends popping by to hang out. Taking a pile of sweaters into my arms, I cleared off the chair at my desk and offered it to him, throwing my bundle on the foot of my bed.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked.

  His lips were pursed, his eyes held an intense gaze, and his skin was a shade paler than usual. It’d been years since my father initiated a conversation of such apparent seriousness. The last time had been...

  Fear shot through me, and I struggled to breathe. My chest seized and my head swam in dizziness. “Oh God,” I said, choking through the words. Tears immediately stung my eyes. “You’re sick, aren’t you? You—”

  “No, no, God no,” he said, quickly reaching out to touch my hand.

  I sucked in a large gulp of air and leaned back. I pulled my hand from his and rubbed the back of my neck. Jesus. When I had regained my composure, I looked up at him.

  “Then what?”

  “Megan, I uh…” He rubbed his brow and ran his fingers through his caramel-colored hair. Genetically, I may have missed out on those amazing amber-colored eyes, but as least I’d gotten his hair color. Mine mirrored his velvety-rich tone. “Megan, I wanted to talk a little bit about us.”

  “What about us?”

  He shifted in his seat. “Damn, I’m not good at this, am I?” he muttered.

  A long pause allowed silence to fill the space between us. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

  “I was at the Pattersons’ again. Busted screen door this time,” he finally continued. “Mrs. Patterson asked about you.”

  I shrugged. “And?”

  “She just wanted to know if you got the casserole she sent a while back.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I shoul
d’ve said thank you.” I paused. “Is that what this is about? A thank you? I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “No…yes…kind of.” He sat back and looked up at the ceiling. “Mrs. Patterson asked me about you, and I when I went to answer, I realized I had no idea. Hell, I couldn’t even tell her you ate the casserole because I, well, I didn’t know. I didn’t pay attention.” He looked at me, his eyes glossy. Were those tears? He cleared his throat. “Look, I know how hard it’s been for you since Mom. You know, things just haven’t been the same for either of us.”

  Anger flashed like oil on a hot pan. My internal temperature spiked at what could only be four alarm levels. Was he serious? How in the hell did he know how hard it’d been for me?

  “Haven’t been the same?” My voice rose louder. “Haven’t been the same? Really, Dad? How about barely recognizable!” My breath grew choppy.

  “I know, Megan, I know, it’s just…” His words crashed to the floor as they fell out of his mouth.

  “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” I interrupted, fully intending to end this conversation ASAP. “About how hard things have been? Well, don’t worry about it, Dad; we don’t need to have this conversation. I know exactly how difficult things have been. Consider it discussed.”

  He straightened his shoulders and faced me. “Well, here’s the thing, Megan. Whether or not you participate, I am having this conversation with you.” His eyes flashed, and I flinched at the determination in his voice. Did he actually care? I blinked as he continued. “I want to try and—”

  “You want to try?” I recovered. “Try what? It’s been nearly six years, and you haven’t ever tried…anything. Not once. And now your big idea is to randomly come in here and talk about this? Why? Of all the nights you want to start being a parent…why tonight?” Did I really want to have this conversation now? I’d avoided it at all costs for so many years. But I couldn’t stop myself. My emotions were already teeming from my fight with Amadeo.