“Yes, I said no, I will not do it.” His chin went up.
He was going to act like he was above it all? Now? After all the stunts he’d pulled and two more notches on his belt? No, he wasn’t getting away with that. Or he wouldn’t if I was willing to admit what I wanted. That was still up for debate.
“Do what?” I added a healthy shrug of indifference to the end of the question, just in case he wasn’t clear on my nonchalance.
“Let me, let you, in on a little secret.” He leaned in close, as if to impart a world secret. “I know when someone wants someone else. It’s my gig.”
I scowled, pretending complete ignorance as I took another sip of coffee. I wanted this accomplished but in such a way as to still give me deniability. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He kept smiling as he leaned closer. “I wouldn’t do it for him. I’m not doing it for you. I say when and how. I’m Cupid. No one tells me when to do my thing but me,” he rattled on as he went to the fridge, needing more milk.
“He tried to get you to spell me?” He’d said he was going to play dirty but I was still surprised to find out he’d asked.
His eyebrows rose and he put a hand over his mouth as he made a fake gasp of surprise. “I don’t know. Is what you’re doing considered asking?”
“I’m not asking you to do anything but if I were to ask something, or perhaps you just gathered a certain feeling, I would think you would do whatever you could for me since you owe me. And, of course, you gave me that whole spiel about being part of the gang? Gangs help out other gang members.” I rethought that sentence really quickly in my mind. Nope, nothing outright incriminating.
“And here you are, asking for me to wrong you again.”
“If you hadn’t screwed with me, I might not even be interested in…certain things.”
Cupid laughed so hard, he started choking on his last sip. I watched as he walked over and had to spit out his mouthful of coffee into the sink. When he finally got his breath back, he turned and said, “Darling, you wanted him even when you hated him. Please, don’t try that bullshit on me. And what you’re doing makes absolutely no sense. If you both want it, and know you want it, what do you need me for? Just go at it already.” He stopped speaking as Luck sashayed into the kitchen in her sheer robe, negligee and furry heeled slippers before he continued, “This one can surely help you out with how to get things started. Unless that’s not the problem?” The corner of his mouth went up with ease now.
“Help with what? What are you all talking about?” she asked with full red lips. If it were anyone else, I would think the morning appearance had more to do with having company but not with Luck. She never completely turned off the sex bomb.
“Nothing.”
Cupid pulled Luck over to him with an arm around her shoulders. My coworker, who would’ve run screaming from him a week ago, went willingly into his embrace simply because of the prospect of gossip.
“Karma wants to bang Fate but I think he’s playing hard to get. Now, she’s trying to get me—”
“Pure speculation,” I said, breaking his sentence.
The interruption bought me all of a micro pause while they looked at me strangely with squinted eyes and then Cupid resumed. “She wants some of my mojo.”
“You people are the absolute worst.” I couldn’t even muster up enough emotion to yell anymore, just turned to pour some more coffee.
“Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” Luck said to Cupid, as I lifted the lid off the sugar bowl and scrapped out the last half teaspoon.
No more sugar? I couldn’t drink my coffee like that and I needed it badly. One person could only take so many insults in a small period of time.
I pulled open a cabinet above me where I hoped to find some more, while Luck and Cupid continued to discuss my situation.
“So he wants her but doesn’t want her. But, wants her again but now he won’t do it even though he does? I’m so confused,” Luck said.
“No more than them,” Cupid replied.
They both broke out laughing while I searched some more cabinets for much-needed sugar.
Skateboards skidded across the hardwood floors, surely leaving marks, and the Jinxes strolled in.
“What are the hooker and the love bus laughing about?” Bobby asked.
“Goddamn heathens! Who finished the coffee and didn’t put on a new pot!” Billy started shouting.
For once I was happy about their big mouths and the opportunity to change the subject.
“Make a single cup.” I pointed to a Keurig machine off to the side.
“I know you’re still fairly new and shit, but I only drink that blend.” His little finger tapped on a bag of gourmet grinds with a local coffee house sticker.
“Why are there skid marks across my floor?” Fate asked from the doorway since there was no room left to actually enter the kitchen.
Three blond heads dodged out of the kitchen, presumably to avoid taking responsibility for the marks on the floor. They were followed by Luck and Cupid who appeared to want to gossip in private for a change.
Fate walked in, reached above the cabinet over the fridge and pulled out a large bag of sugar, which he plunked down next to the empty bowl, sitting lidless. He grabbed a coffee mug of his own, his side brushing mine as he made himself a single cup and then leaned a hip against the counter.
“There’s more bags in there.” He tilted his head toward the cabinet he’d just opened.
“Thanks,” I said and then waited to see if he would bring up the subject of last night because I certainly wasn’t going to.
After a couple more sips I determined that would be a no on both fronts.
“Where did you get all the sugar?” I asked, partly out of curiosity, since I hadn’t seen any in the stores recently, and partly to fill the horrible silence that had my fingers twitching.
“I stocked up a couple weeks ago,” he said.
My spoon stopped swirling mid stroke. “You did? On sugar?”
He raised his eyebrows and made a face toward my coffee.
“But how did you know I took my coffee so sweet?”
He shrugged. “It was a guess.”
“Based on what?”
“You’ve never seemed to be able to beat that sweet tooth.”
“I never fought it so why would I have beaten it?”
“You’ve tried in the past.”
“When?”
“Not in your last life but many times before that.”
“Did you have jobs with me in the past? With my fate? Is that how you know so much stuff about me?”
All of a sudden Fate wasn’t leaning. “Some.”
Murphy walked into the kitchen and coughed, the word “Bullshit,” was barely disguised by his ruse.
“Murphy, I heard Bernie might need some help with the cats. Hear anything about that?” Fate asked, his eyes narrowing.
Murphy’s jaw dropped a bit and then he finally replied, “Not a word.”
Fate nodded, patted Murphy on the back and left the kitchen.
The second he was out of earshot I rounded on Murphy. “What did you mean, Bullshit? Fate didn’t have jobs with me? Spill the beans.”
He rapidly shook his head. “I was just coughing.”
“No you weren’t.”
“Karma, do you know what cats do to me? I sneeze, my eyes water and itch. They make me wish I were dead.” He sighed like someone truly exhausted or desperate and his eyes silently pleaded.
“Okay,” I said and took my coffee to drink on the deck while I pouted. What kind of lame immortals are we to be taken down by some cat dander?
Chapter TwentySeven
Later that morning, I leaned against the doorframe of Fate’s office, which he was now sharing with Cupid, the air mattress sitting deflated in the corner. He was bent over some papers, an elbow on his desk and fingers at his temple.