Utter Cupidity Read online

  Dedication

  Sometimes the best changes we make are the ones forced upon us.

  One: We reap what we sow

  The hotel room reeked of stale alcohol. The figure, though swift and sure-footed, doubted even he could avoid all the beer cans and empty liquor bottles strewn without care throughout the suite. The man in white tennis shoes with pure gold wings somehow embroidered into them tried with great stealth to maneuver around the obstacles. A partially clad woman with more of her body hanging off the couch than on it snored lightly. He wrinkled his nose to ward off the offending smell of old alcohol, then settled for putting his arm across his nose instead. His keen vision located the sleeping area and he headed that way. Realizing what a futile endeavor it was to avoid the beer cans, he gave in to simply kicking them out of his way—it wasn’t like the inhabitants were going to wake up from the noise. He knew it would take nothing short of a jackhammer to wake the passed out occupants.

  The object of his mission lay sandwiched between two naked women. Each one had thrown a rather possessive arm around him. Even in his sleep the man seemed to have a mischievous grin on his face. The life of a scoundrel; he shook his head in disappointment. Dreading the news he had to tell him, he leaned over the bed and shook the sleeping man. Once, twice, and then in frustration, he slapped him perhaps a little harder than necessary. Blue eyes shot open in indignation, albeit a little bloodshot, but no less an incredible blue. The expression changed from anger to a roguish familiar grin.

  “Herm, old friend!” He sat up, running a hand through his long, curly, sun-blond hair. “At last giving in to your more carnal side?” Somehow he managed to disengage himself from the grasp of the two women and stood without regard to his naked form in front of his best friend.

  “Get dressed, we have to go,” Hermes said grimly, well used to the antics of his friend.

  “Can’t do, Herm. I promised these three ladies a weekend of debauchery, and so far we’re only into day one.” He seemed to look around for the third one then shrugged it off. He looked around in curiosity before he went to the mini-bar and grunted in dissatisfaction at its empty contents. “Want to go on a beer run with me?”

  “There will be no beer runs, old pal. You have to go. I was sent to retrieve you by any means necessary.”

  “Did my mother send you? I told you don’t listen to her, I’ll talk to her when I’m good and ready.” In a blink of an eye he was dressed in a form-fitting black T-shirt and jeans. “Really, since when do you do her bidding anyway?”

  “It’s not her who sent me. The Council sent me.” There! Hermes said it and waited for the impact of his words. His friend squinted at him. “They were tired of their summons being ignored. You really need to come with me, I can’t leave without you.”

  “What is this about? Has something happened to my mother? Or did my delightful wife find yet another way to make life miserable for the Council?”

  “I’m not allowed to talk about the nature of the meeting, only…”

  “Only what? This is unlike you, Hermes. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I wish I could, but I am under a strict and personal order from the Big Guy.”

  “He’s just blowing a lot of hot air. He’s full of himself. Look, why don’t you and

  I—” Before he could finish, Hermes locked him into a bear hug and moved faster than anything on earth could ever dream of doing.

  Within moments, he found himself standing in front of a fully assembled Council. Cupid was a little dizzy and sick from the flight, because even he couldn’t move that fast. He laid his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath before he looked upon the Council again—this time Hermes was seated. Cupid acknowledged each of the eleven members with a nod. When he got to the twelfth, he bowed in demanded custom, hating every second of it.

  “You may rise,” a voice boomed. When he rose from his bowed position, the Big Guy began.

  “You have been found guilty of neglect of your duty. Each Council member here has agreed that drastic action must be taken to maintain the integrity of our positions as a whole. You have ignored our summonses and displayed utter disregard to your superiors. In the past this was tolerated, but it is no longer. It has gotten, as they say, ‘out of hand’. In order to maintain the benefits that your birthright has given you, you have been sentenced to a task that you have exactly one month from tomorrow to complete. If you fail this task, you will be stripped of all privileges and maintain a common life.”

  A sickening feeling settled into the pit of Cupid’s stomach. Every member of the Council, including his own mother, looked upon him without pity. One month to complete a task? How hard could it be? What did Zeus mean by “maintaining a common life”? He couldn’t possibly mean…

  “Yes, that’s right, I see that understanding is now upon you. If you fail to meet the challenge of this task you will be stripped of your immortality and your divine gift.”

  “You would make me human?” he spat out, disgusted with the avenue the meeting was traveling on.

  “Yes, without hesitation!” the Big Guy roared back, irritated at having been interrupted. Not intimidated, despite the knowledge that the Big Guy could indeed do that. Cupid warily pressed his next question.

  “What is this task you demand of me?”

  Zeus immediately looked smug as he settled himself a little more in his throne. Despite knowing what was about to happen, every Council member leaned forward in anticipation. His mother had a worried look upon her face that wasn’t there when the meeting first began. She began wringing her hands together; whatever was going on, she didn’t look as if she approved of it. But then again, she was never known for looking at the fine print for anything.

  “I wasn’t aware of—” she started to say then was silenced by the eldest god.

  “I have no tolerance for you today. You were given a full report on the proceedings here. Perhaps you should spend just a little bit more time reading than getting laid, hmm?” he challenged her. “As for you—” he directed his piercing gaze to Cupid, “—in order to maintain your position you must prove that you still have what it takes to keep it. You must get a mortal to agree to marry you within one month.”

  It took him a moment to digest the words, before laughter threatened to bubble up and cascade out of his mouth at an alarming rate. Were they kidding? Perhaps these people spent much too much time with their heads in the clouds.

  “I hate to break this to you, but I thought it was common knowledge that I’m already married. Not the happiest man, but married all the same.” It took great effort keep the smugness out of his voice.

  “Which brings us to the other matter at hand,” Zeus stated, still looking as sly as a fox that had caught more than one hen. “Your wife has petitioned, and I have granted her, what is it they call it? Ah yes, a divorce.”

  “What?” His ears rang a bit. He didn’t hear that. No god had ever gotten a divorce. It was unheard of. It was behavior like that of the common people. “She divorced me? I’m no longer married?”

  “Yes indeed,” Zeus proclaimed. Even his mother looked happy at that news, no-brainer there. His mother had never liked his wife. “Cupid, your wife, Psyche, has divorced you. You would have known this had you answered any of the summonses sent to you in the last year or so. I had no choice but to give her her freedom. This, of course, works in nicely with your task.”

  “Wait a second. I’m divorced and you want me to get married right away?”

  “That’s right—to a mortal woman,” the elder god proclaimed.

  “But why? It’s no secret that you, Zeus, have had more affairs than can be counted on everyone’s fingers in this room. Psyche and I had an understanding—she was crazy and I no longer loved he
r. Why am I being punished for the behavior every god in this room has indulged in?”

  Cupid knew that perhaps he had gone too far in pointing out Zeus’s affairs, with Hera in the room, but right now this reeked of lopsided justice. Zeus’s face had gone red with anger, but Cupid held his ground. He wasn’t going to be stripped of his immortality without a fight.

  “Because none of us have ignored our job,” Zeus declared. “Tell us of the latest epic affair you arranged, God of Desire? Marriages in the human society have been falling apart for lack of desire. Businesses haven’t grown, because of lack of bed-hopping, which we all know can seal a deal. By the gods, boy, we’ve lost whole species of animals on this planet because of the animals’ lack of desire to mate. These things affect us in one form or another. Apollo cannot tell you the last time he aided in the writing of great music or the production of a great masterpiece, for the humans are not driven by a need to express their physical desires. Families are small because there is no physical desire and therefore little or no procreation—what is Hestia to do? As for Athena and Ares, there are no wars. Remember the fall of Troy? That was some of your greatest work. The desire for Helen was—”

  “I got it!” Cupid risked retribution for cutting Zeus off, but really, he got the point. “Besides do we really need a war?” he questioned the Council and was greeted by cold stares, in particular from Athena and Ares. “I got the point, just give me a few days, I’ll right things.”

  “I’m afraid you’re past that point,” Athena intervened. “If you had answered our summonses like Father mentioned, then perhaps we could have negotiated. But your actions were not wise and therefore you have no choice now. It takes all of us to strip you of your immortality. We have agreed, even your mother, Cupid.” Athena said the last part a little snidely. A quick glance to Aphrodite and he knew she had not intended this. What Aphrodite’s intention was in agreeing to participate in his judgment was beyond him and would be explored later. But for now his well-formed butt was in some hot water.

  “Athena, you are a chaste god and therefore you want to see me fail,” he sneered at her.

  “My personal feelings have nothing to do with this. Remember, Cupid, there are twelve of us sitting here.”

  “I don’t see how marrying a mortal will prove anything.”

  “It will give us an idea of how strong your talents are since it has been awhile since we have witnessed them,” Athena answered. A strangled cough mixed with laughter came from Hermes, who was no doubt thinking of the state in which he’d found Cupid. He’d deal with Hermes later.

  “Fine, I’ll be right back with a mortal wife.” Cupid allowed his wings to surface. Large, snow white wings that were the length of his body appeared and stretched out. Cupid was impatient to resume his rather debaucherous weekend.

  “I’m sorry, you haven’t heard the rules,” Hera piped up. Cupid knew she was intent on adding a little sting after he’d waved Zeus’s affairs in her face.

  “What are the rules?” Cupid asked her in a bored voice, relaxing his wings just a bit. He refused to show Hera the respect he showed Zeus. After all Hera could be quite the bitch. Sometimes he didn’t blame Zeus for seeking pleasures elsewhere.

  Hera leaned even further forward in her seat. “Number one, you cannot lie to the mortal woman you pursue.”

  “What?” Cupid was dumbfounded. Not lie? Well, he could still achieve what he needed without lying. “Go on,” he urged her, still quite confident in his abilities. However, it didn’t knock the shine of triumph from Hera’s face.

  “Number two, she must agree to marry you within one month.”

  “Yes, well, I heard that one earlier, is that all?” he asked her in arrogance, prepared to leave at the soonest opportunity.

  “Well, then there’s number three. You can’t use your divine powers to seduce her in any way, Cupid.” Now Hera sat back in her throne, triumph settling around her like a fine perfume. She struck an elegant pose and enjoyed the look of shock on his face.

  “I can’t use my powers?” He had to admit that one would probably cause a problem. While he had great confidence he could seduce any mortal woman, the women of today were less likely to just jump into marriage. Bed maybe, but not marriage. This could be a problem but he had no intention of letting Hera know that. “Fine then, I’ll be on my way,” he announced to the Council. He would just find the most desperate human woman the earth had and then offer to marry her.

  “Wait, there’s more.” Hera sounded like an infomercial as she smiled wickedly at him.

  “More rules?” He cocked a perfect blond eyebrow, determined not to let her get the upper hand.

  “No, just an FYI. It is only fair to the mortal that if you accomplish this task, Artemis will erase her memory of the whole ordeal. But remember this is only to make it easy on the mortal. You see, we couldn’t make this too easy for you, so the Council has agreed to let Artemis pick the woman.”

  Now his gut fell to his feet. That was not good. That was not good at all. Artemis, the goddess of hunting and archery who opposed marriage, was smiling at Cupid.

  Two: Sugar and spice

  Brea Saunders wanted to bash in the face of the old man as he insisted, for the third time, that she could find the replica paintings she had already spent three months looking for, for his new country cottage. His jowls jiggled as he pointed at her, smiling, telling her that he was bringing his new young wife home, and wanted the atmosphere of romance. What she really wanted to tell him was that his young wife already had the atmosphere of romance in his very ample checkbook, but what she said was, “Of course, Mr. Forbright, I will continue to look down more unconventional avenues.”

  He waved his hand in the air to scatter her thinly veiled meaning. “I really don’t care how you go about it or how much the dealer wants. I want those particular paintings. Then you can consider my house decorated and I’ll have a sizable check for your troubles. So far the house is everything I dreamed of, but I want those paintings.” He smiled at her again. The smile that said I already know she’ll do what I ask because I’m rich. He heaved his ancient, sagging butt out of the chair with the help of his cane and caretaker. For just a second Brea envisioned kicking the cane out from under him to see him sprawl at her feet. She smiled. Mr. Forbright took it as acquiesce to his almost unreasonable request.

  Lindie held the door for him as his caretaker helped him out of the door. As soon as it shut, Brea said the one thing she’d wanted to say since he walked into her office. “Old bastard,” she muttered, flopping in the chair he had just vacated. Lindie perched her petite bottom on the wooden desk across from Brea. Lindie Yang was short, petite and beautiful. Her straight, waist-length black hair looked like she glossed each strand. Her bangs were ruler straight, accentuating her exotic eyes—eyes that now scrutinized Brea.

  “You know he’s paying you good money. It’s okay for him to be picky.”

  “Lindie, as a former art major you know how hard it is to get those paintings. They are extremely rare. You yourself said it would be damn near impossible unless divine intervention was at play. We’ve been searching for three months, which by the way, equals the time he met and married the skank he’s trying to impress. She wouldn’t know a Sellaio painting from a Crayola box. Which, I’m guessing, she still colors with.”

  “You just hate men in general. He could actually love her, Brea,” replied Lindie, the ever-hopeful romantic—she was a lost cause.

  “Of course I hate men. They’re disgusting. If it weren’t for the one function of procreation, they would serve no purpose. Look at him; he must be like, what, a thousand years old? She’s twenty—if that. It’s disgusting. Men only want one thing. They don’t care about the person giving it to them.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to bring him up,” Lindie chided.

  “I didn’t say his name. Do you think my ex-boyfriend has the patent on being a no-good, two-timing, good-for-nothing asshole? No, my dear friend, they are in ab
undance, and always in season.”

  “Every man isn’t Terry. There is someone out there meant for you, Brea—” Brea cut Lindie off before she could start her long diatribe of two halves of one soul coming together and blah blah blah.

  “I’m not in the market. I’ve been celibate for a year and I’m fine.”

  “A little cranky, but I wouldn’t say fine.” Lindie laughed, throwing a paper clip at Brea.

  “Yes, well, you stand a better chance of seeing Moses part the Red Sea again than my thighs being parted by any man. But seriously, we have to find a very good replica of those paintings. I don’t know where to start.” Brea played with her curly, long dishwater-blonde hair, twisting it around her finger. Unlike Lindie, who was pure Asian through and through, she was of mixed origins. The hazel eyes and blondish hair, along with her very light sun-kissed skin color, spoke of her Caucasian genes. But it was the high angled cheekbones, sensuously plump lips and firm, rounded derrière that told of her African American heritage. She had been called everything from striking to beautiful, and she didn’t care. All her beauty did was attract all the wrong people—particularly men.

  “Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt to hit the Internet one last time,” Brea said on a sigh, her brain running on fumes.

  “You already know there’s nothing there, not even on eBay.” Lindie hopped off the desk. “I’m hungry, let’s get something to eat. What’s this?” Brea half turned in the chair to see Lindie peeling a small flyer from her shoe. “It must have blown in when Mr. Forbright left.” She held it with caution between her fingers, as if she’d just picked up a paper smeared with dog poo. “Hey, Brea, I think we might be in luck.”

  “Why is that?” Brea got out of her chair to stand behind Lindie as she read the yellow flyer. “Now that is weird. But timely.” She smiled. “Well let’s get something to eat and then you, my wee secretary, can call and see what kind of paintings this shop has.”

  “I do believe we might have struck gold,” Lindie called to Brea over the rushing sound of the shower. They were camping at Brea’s house for the evening.