Yoni was at her makeup table in her Cubby Bear dressing room when I walked in.
She didn’t even blink. “You’re that stalker,” she said, sounding not shocked but resigned. She looked me up and down, sighed, and went back to putting on foundation.
I grinned with delight. “That’s me!” I was so thrilled to be in her presence that I forgot Veek’s problems. I had a private moment with Yoni! I’d waited years for this.
“You’re not the first person who ever got fixated on me,” Yoni said. Up close, her skin was exquisite. What a shame that she was smearing foundation on it. I watched, fascinated. “Sometimes they’re not cute teenagers like you. Sometimes they’re big, scary men. Sometimes they don’t want to leave me flowers.”
“I’m not a child,” I protested.
She just looked at me sideways.
“I want to—” I stopped. When one has wormed one’s way into the temple, it would be foolish not to listen to the goddess’s private message.
“Well?” she said. “You want to what?”
“I want to know what it feels like to achieve something.”
“You’ve achieved plenty. You can climb the outside of a hotel wall and break in through a window and get back out without leaving a trace. You speak two languages.”
“Five,” I said. Yoni looked startled. “My father insisted.”
“And I bet you have other academic achievements.” My goddess leaned toward me, looking me in the eye.
I held my breath. This would be important.
She said, “I barely got to finish high school. I was making too much money to be allowed to take time off for college.”
She wanted to compare us. Bon, I welcomed such a lesson. “But your achievements were acknowledged. I want to know what it’s like to be acknowledged.”
“You want your achievements recognized. By your father?”
She was astute, my goddess. My eyes stung with angry tears. I nodded.
The door opened, and I cringed. But it was only an old waiter bringing a pitcher of water and ice in a bucket.
Yoni didn’t tell him to get out. She smiled and thanked him, and when he asked for an autograph she gave it, and she shook his hand.
I chafed. My private audience with the goddess was ticking by. Get out! I screamed mentally at the waiter.
When the door closed behind him, Yoni spoke as if nothing had interrupted us.
“So I suppose your father slaps you down and he doesn’t appreciate your hard work and he wants you to be something you’re not.”
“He doesn’t want me to be anything. I’m an ornament to his life. Just a spear carrier in his movie. I want my own movie!”
My goddess nodded. “I’ve met your father.”
“You have? How?” Angry blood rushed into my face. “He went to see you, to warn you—oh!” I balled my fists. “He is hateful!”
“Well, that’s kind of what I was going to say. Based on what I saw, I suggest you consider who you’re dealing with, and adjust your expectations accordingly.”
I digested this. Yoni didn’t think much of my papa, that was clear. “You think I’m wasting my time, trying to—to—”
“Impress him. Yes. Either he’s never going to be impressed, or he’s impressed already and this is his reaction. If you don’t like his reaction, well, I’d stop hoping for something else.”
“Give up?” I said, feeling bleak.
“You’re who you are, he’s who he is.” Yoni added deliberately, “Look, all I know is my own experience. I’ve been the star of my family since I was twelve. The world is watching to make sure I live up to my past achievements. Everything depends on my success. If I mess up, they’ll all starve.” She looked over her shoulder toward the door. “Any minute now they’ll come along and have something for me to do. Something about being a big star,” she added with irony.
“Is being a star—being popular—what gives you all those powers?”
“What?” she blurted, looking thrown off-balance at last.
“When you sing and people fall in love and have sex, right there at the concert. And throw away their crutches.”
“I—that isn’t me.” She looked flustered.
“Yes, it is.” I pointed at the door. “That waiter came in bent over like an old man. I don’t think he could stand up. You shook his hand and his back straightened.”
Yoni looked horrified. I couldn’t see why. Didn’t she know what she could do?
I remembered now why I had come.
“You see, I know someone with powers who is not famous. He has been hiding his whole life. He’s a member of my family, and a sex demon, and so good in bed, parbleu! I was sorry—I used to be sorry for myself,” I added, to show her I had been listening to her, to make her listen some more. “But it was much worse for him. He’s black, you see. My family would never tolerate that. Black and the heir. My father wants to get rid of him and he has this thing that gives him much power, and I’m so afraid for my Veek!”
I’d thought I could be tough, but in Yoni’s presence, because I trusted her, I found myself sniveling.
She looked away. “I’m dating a sex demon, too.”
“Ashurbanipal?” To her startled look, I said, “He is my lover’s roommate. They work together.” I had a delicious slumber-party feeling. Yoni and I were dating two sex-demon roommates. It almost made us sisters.
Yoni didn’t look as pleased as I was.
I said urgently. “Do you think they feel like whores? Or do they feel like gods? I mean, do they even notice women? And how do they stay sane, doing this job, decade in and decade out?”
“Too many questions, kid.” She sighed and looked at her watch. “Here’s some fast answers. One, sometimes. Two, sometimes. Three, oh, yeah, they notice us. Four, they’re guys, they get to have sex all the time with different women, and what’s your question again?” She smacked my shoe. “Time’s up, cookie.”
“But I have to tell you about Veek!”
Yoni shut her eyes, sighed, looked at me, and sighed again. “I have to put my makeup on. You talk.”