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Leila Martins had always known that she was beautiful. What she did not know was whether it was a blessing or a curse.
She was taller than most girls, with milky-white skin and thick, wavy auburn hair, which made her light green eyes come alive. Her pink, full pout has been likened to that of Angelina Jolie’s on many occasions. She was naturally lean, although her curves softened the edges of her frame.
She had been raised in a loving household. Her parents had made her feel valued for her intelligence and ingenuity, instead of her appearance. Considering the era in which she’d been born, with such a strong emphasis placed on beauty, this was an uncommon trend.
Leila found it difficult to fit in. Her looks were often made fun of: her eyes were “too big” and, as a young girl, she was considered too tall and thin. Once she hit puberty, she was picked on for having a bigger bosom than other girls. She was “too smart” to be friends with the social butterflies, but “too pretty” to be smart... On and on it went. She found it hard to take her parents’ praise seriously when her own peers rejected her.
In contrast, her two older brothers, Liam and Carl, were extremely popular. They did their best to draw her into their circles, but she felt ill at ease with the jocks and cheerleaders and chose to befriend people who were more intellectual. In sixth grade, she hit it off with Jasmine Samuels. Jazz was an artist and opened Leila’s mind to the spiritual undercurrents of the world. They quickly became inseparable.
Born in 1982, Leila grew up in the eclectic ’80s and found release for her teenage angst in the ’90s era of grunge. Thanks to bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and Jazz’s influence, Leila had a healthy outlet for her anger and frustrations. When she was fourteen, she was scouted by a modelling agent at a rock concert, and her career took off. Although she kept close contact with her family and Jazz, she was further alienated from her schoolmates as a result.
It was hard to stay focused on school while she was jet-setting around the world, but Leila understood the importance of education and made it work. She got a tutor and graduated from high school a year early, acing most of her subjects, and then focussed her attention on her blossoming career as a runway model. By this stage, curves had made a comeback, thanks to women like Tyra Banks and Heidi Klum, so it wasn’t hard to find work, although she often had to ignore remarks about her weight. She was not a size double-zero and refused to starve herself to gain the approval of the industry.
The one upside about her lifestyle was that she was always exposed to men, in more ways than one. She lost her virginity at age sixteen and has seldom been single. She lived by only two rules: never date models and never sleep with photographers. She remained true to these, no matter how tempting the options. She was soon wooed by millionaires and very nearly got engaged to a banker by the age of twenty-three.
But all that glitters ain’t gold, and she began loathing her career once she realised that she would never be taken seriously.
Her opinion on fashion and beauty was expected and even praised. When meeting her in person, people gushed about how pretty she looked without make-up, how her pictures didn’t do her any justice, and how lucky she was to be beautiful. They hardly ever spoke to her about deep, thought-provoking subjects like war, religion, or current world affairs. The men in her life didn’t expect her to be intelligent, and the women—apart from Jazz—only cared about what she did to stay perfectly groomed and fit.
She once expressed her annoyance with the American government to her banker boyfriend, who laughed and said: “Don’t worry your pretty head over things like that.” Needless to say, their relationship ended soon after.
While in the Bahamas doing a bikini shoot for Sports Illustrated, she would give up modelling, too. The theme was “smart and sexy”, a mocking title considering the models wore barely-there swimsuits with nerdy glasses and pigtails. She was given a light green, revealing one-piece with crisscrossing material over her stomach to wear, with her auburn hair styled in a French braid. The photographer had her in the kind of pose that screamed alluring innocence, like a top student seducing her professor.
“And remember, darling, be sexy!”
Something inside her snapped as she dropped the pose. To everyone else on set, she looked like she was about to throw a hissy-fit. They were right.
“Excuse me?”
He briefly lifted his eyes from the camera. “This shoot is about being smart and sexy.”
“I imagine there’s a reason why smart appears first in that statement,” she said, her anger starting to simmer.
He burst out laughing. “No one expects you to be smart. The glasses have that covered.”
“You’re implying that without these,” she said, removing the glasses, “I don’t look smart?”
Everyone’s gazes shifted to him.
“I’m not implying jack, darling. I’m saying it outright.”
In less than a minute this man would make her flip her lid. “Oh, silly me. I guess I don’t have anything but grey matter between my ears.”
“So, can we stop this nonsense and get back to being you doing what you’re being paid to do?”
“No, I don’t think I will.” She smiled sweetly. “Find some other brainless model to be sexy for you. I quit.” She turned on her heel and stormed off the set.
“Leila! You can’t leave! You, get her back here. I didn’t come all this way to have a diva lose her mind!”
In the safety of her dressing room, she shut the door firmly. She carefully shed the expensive swimsuit, but only because she was sure they’d need it for her replacement, and grabbed a make-up remover wipe to clean her face. By the time she emerged, she was dressed in comfortable clothes: torn, washed-out jeans and a baggy T-shirt, with sandals.
“Where are you going?” one of the other models asked, eyes wide.
Leila rummaged around in her handbag and handed the future Victoria’s Secret model a business card. “My agent is amazing. Give him a ring if you’d like to be represented by the best.”
“You can’t really be thinking of quitting! What will you do?”
She put her sunglasses on with a shrug. “That’s for me to figure out.”
* * * * *
After an eight-year career of being nothing but her body, Leila Martins enrolled into university to obtain a Bachelor of Science degree in Physics, intending to specialise in quantum research.
It didn’t come easily, but she was used to being a social outcast. At every step of the journey, the look on people’s faces never changed. From the time she began the enrolment process to being introduced to the rest of her class, they all raised their eyebrows as if to imply, “and you think you are going to understand this concept or that formula?”
She was older than most in her class and had to retrain her brain to focus on thick textbooks and complicated mathematics now that she wasn’t faced with flashing light bulbs. Her beauty intimidated many of her peers, girls and boys alike, and they whispered endless jokes about her intellect when they thought she couldn’t hear. It didn’t help that many of the boys knew her as Leila Martins, the model who’d appeared on countless billboards and magazine posters, no doubt lining their teenage bedroom walls.
She didn’t feel the need to set the record straight. She wasn’t attending university to make friends but to prove to herself that she was smart and driven enough to do anything that she put her mind to. Within four years, about a month before her twenty-eighth birthday and against all odds, she graduated summa cum laude with her Masters.
Her family was at the ceremony to cheer her on as she walked onstage to receive the rolled-up piece of paper that proved there was more to her than just the exterior. Jazz also attended, sneaking glances at Liam whenever she wasn’t whooping or clapping. Even members of the paparazzi loitered at the edges to capture every moment for celebrity news channels around the globe. She could only imagine what the headlines would say.
When it was over, Jazz hurried up to her best friend, her black Chinese bob bouncing. “You made it!” she cheered, almost knocking Leila over when she jumped into her arms. “Our Lala has finally grown up!”
“Stop that.” Leila smiled. “But thanks for being here.”
“Girlfriend, there is only one thing that makes me happier than knowing you got your degree.” Jazz gave her a sly look. “Tonight, we’ll end your celibate streak, get unbelievably drunk, and wake up naked on a boat!”
“In that order?” Leila laughed.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Sienna chuckled, coming over to give her a hug. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”
Leila held her mother tightly. “Thanks, mom.”
Sienna touched her face with a smile. “I’m so proud right now. Oh, and your father already has a couple of contacts from labs who would be very interested in giving you a job.”
“I’m sure we’ll work something out,” Denver Martins agreed, joining the group of women. He pulled his daughter into an embrace, kissed the top of her head, and said: “It’s good to know that, from now on, I won’t have to worry about the men in your life. They’ll disappear the second you tell them you’re a rocket scientist.”
“Quantum physicist,” Leila corrected.
He winked. “Right, that. Are you going out?”
“What do you think, Mr. M?” Jazz said with a laugh, her dark blue eyes twinkling naughtily. “She is my best friend, after all.”
“We’ll have to arrange for a celebratory dinner at a later stage,” Denver sighed. “You’ve had your nose in a book for years. You need to let your hair down.”
“Thanks, dad. Where are the boys?”
“I think they’re waiting in your getaway car,” Sienna grinned.
Leila couldn’t help but shriek in excitement. She’d missed being social. She hugged her parents again, thanking them profusely for attending, and then she grabbed Jazz’s hand to rush in the direction of the parking lot. Her brothers were in Carl’s red BMW convertible, and grinning from ear to ear as they shouted words of encouragement.
“Damn, he is mighty fine,” Jazz said, eyeing Liam.
“Euw! Please don’t be a cliché.”
“I can’t make any promises. I’ve wanted to see that stockbroker naked for years.”
Leila rolled her eyes as they reached the car. Before she could get in, Jacob Vivviers stepped up to her.
He was one of her fellow graduates and had always been nice when they interacted. He was her height, with brown hair and light brown eyes. He had the type of bone structure male models would kill for, but something about him reminded her of a puppy. He was five years younger and appeared to be in good shape, though it was difficult for her to tell in the baggy clothes he wore.
“Jake, hey,” she greeted, tucking her hair behind her ears. Now that she wasn’t focused on studying, she could appreciate a cute guy when she saw one.
“Congratulations,” Jacob said with a friendly smile, hugging her a bit awkwardly.
“Thanks. You, too.”
Jazz let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Okay, nerd, thanks for dropping by, but we need to get Leila drunk and laid. Either you talk on the way to the party or take her number and buzz off!”
Leila went beet red.
Jake cleared his throat. “Sure, I’ll tag along.”
“Let’s go, losers!” Carl hollered impatiently. “You too, Miss Artsy-Fartsy!”
“Carl, isn’t your fiancée wondering where you are?” Jazz quizzed as she, against his explicit instructions, jumped into the car.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together,” he said, glaring at her in the rear-view mirror. “One night apart won’t hurt.”
Liam waited for Leila and Jake to get into the backseat before they drove off to an unknown destination. While her eldest brother and best friend got into a verbal spat, Leila turned to Jacob and smiled.
Man, I’m out of practice.
“Congratulations on your academic achievements. You made the top ten!”
He chuckled. “We’re done, so I think you can quit the big words.”
“Wow, are nerds usually so ballsy?” Liam wondered.
I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I underestimate them as much as they do me.
“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Jacob laughed, his eyes glued to Leila’s face. “I must admit I wondered whether you would make it to the end.”
“I know what I was up against.”
“A lot of guys lost bets tonight.”
She eyed him. “How about you? Lose any money over me?”
“No,” he answered, shaking his head with a broad smile. “But I sure won a lot.”
She was pleasantly surprised. “You bet on me?”
“Fifty bucks each between fifty guys... You do the maths.”
“Drinks are on you, then?”
“If you’ll let me,” he murmured.
“Ohmigod,” Jazz said triumphantly, suddenly barging in on the conversation. “Girlfriend, you’re getting laid tonight! I think I’m reaching orgasm just thinking about it.”
To say that the rest of the journey, which lasted twenty minutes, was at the expense of Leila’s lack of sexual gratification was a gross understatement. She tolerated each jab and joke, promising herself that she would try everything in her power to take Jake to bed.
Like so many times before, she got what she wanted.
* * * * *
Their relationship didn’t last as long as she’d hoped.
Everything moved at a shocking pace after she graduated. She landed a job, purchased her dream apartment with a good chunk of her savings, and got involved with an organisation that used science as a means of dissecting and measuring spiritual awakenings in people. She was asked to pose for GQ for an obscene amount of money, and she agreed with the condition that she would be fully clothed. Surprisingly, this bolstered her popularity among men.
Her job required her to travel all over the country to the other facilities as part of the experiment she’d been roped into, to check on major findings and ensure the correct procedures were being followed. How in the world she had kept her relationship with Jake afloat for a little over a year was a mystery to her. He was smart and funny, and one of the few guys who attempted to know the woman behind her physical body. As one of his first lovers, she taught him how to please a woman, but luckily, he was an eager student. She fell deeply in love.
But he had a dark side.
He was jealous of her success and became resentful of her beauty. During the last couple of months of the romance, he constantly accused her of having affairs when she was out of town. Ironically, when she returned from one of her work trips early, she found him in bed with a girl from his own workplace.
“I never really liked him anyway,” Jazz told her later that evening, swinging her Cosmopolitan cocktail around as she gestured. “Come on, Lala, you can do so much better! I mean, the man couldn’t even try to be taller than you.”
Even while miserable, her friend had the ability to make her laugh. She took a gulp of her cocktail. “He reached his peak height before he met me. There’s not much he could do.”
“He should’ve tried harder,” Jazz insisted. “He wasn’t smarter or prettier. You were a total mismatch. I mean, you even taught him sex!”
“He got good at it. I’m sure that girl agrees.”
Jazz’s eyes lit up. “Hey, you can actually walk up to her and say, ‘I taught your boyfriend how to do that’!”
“Yeah,” she sniffed.
“Nope, stop it. We’ll have none of that! Waiter!” Jazz extended her hand into the air and waved until a server showed. “We need two shots of tequila, two shots of caramel vodka and two glasses of dry red wine. And a dash of speed.”
Leila groaned and leaned back in her chair. “Jazz, that’s a terrible combination. I think I should go home and cry.”
“That’s never done anyone any good. Besides, he’s probably still packing his bags.” Jazz drained her drink. “We’re getting you drunk. You need to loosen up. And then you’re taking a gorgeous guy to my place. See how selfless I’m being?”
“Do you know what Liam will say when I pitch up with some random guy? Scratch that. Do you know what he’ll do?”
Jazz grinned. “I know how to keep your brother distracted.”
Leila made gagging noises. “Shouldn’t you be beyond this? He has you halfway down the aisle.”
“He only has me as far as I let him take me,” Jazz said dismissively. The small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth was the only hint that she was exceptionally happy. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll make sure he won’t even notice you’re there.”
“Who’s the lucky guy, then?” Leila asked, glancing around the cocktail lounge. Despite catching her boyfriend in the act with someone else, luck was on her side: it was a Friday night and the end of the month, so the place was packed. She perked up ever so slightly as she considered her options.
“The waiter is looking mighty fine,” Jazz purred as said waiter unloaded their order from his tray. He gave her a startled look, and she waggled her eyebrows. “What do you say about having sex with Leila Martins?” she asked, gesturing to her best friend.
The colour drained out of his nineteen-year-old face when he caught sight of the famous ex-model, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry ground.
“She’s joking,” Leila said, smiling weakly. She preferred older, more confident men. “Thanks for the drinks. You can go now.”
Jazz clicked her tongue once they were alone. “As punishment, it’s time for you to down these shots. Three, two, one, go!”
Leila was no longer the party animal of the past, and she pulled a face as soon as she got the shots down, chasing them with a few sips of wine.
Ugh. I’ll regret this later.
“I don’t want someone younger again,” she said once she was certain the drinks were staying put. She was already buzzed. “If you can find an Eric Dane lookalike, I will be eternally grateful.”
“Ooh, agreed.”
“I have dibs, ’cause you’re dating Liam, ’member?”
Jazz nodded half-heartedly, already lost in McSteamy fantasies.
“Why would he cheat on me, though?” Leila blurted out, dragging her wineglass closer.
“He was threatened by you,” Jazz said gently, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “It’s not you, sweetie. You were being your normal, awesome self.”
“I’m not used to being cheated on.”
“There’s a first time for everything. But this will also be the last time, got it?”
Leila nodded unenthusiastically.
“Hello! Cute blond at your seven o’clock. He’s drinking beer with a bunch of guys, looking a bit sad. My Spidey senses tell me he’s just broken up with his girlfriend. Perfect! Revenge shag!”
Looking over her left shoulder, Leila made eye contact with the cutie. Her mouth went dry. He was delectable, although she wasn’t sure if it was due to her drunken haze. He finished his beer and walked over.
“I’m going to the loo,” Jazz announced cheerfully, scrambling away from the table.
“Is this seat taken?” Gorgeous Blond asked, pointing to the chair Jazz had vacated.
“No,” Leila answered, “but I predict it will be in about five seconds.”
He chuckled, sitting down.
“See? I’m psychic.”
“Looks that way. So, how do you see this night turning out?”
She rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, turning up the theatrics. “You, naked, under me.”
“Interesting that you’re the one taking control in your vision.”
She took a sip of her wine and regarded him, feeling heat flowing through her veins. He was probably about thirty-three, already setting him apart from the likes of Jake. “I call it mutually satisfying. Girl on top is great for me. I expect you to last.”
He cleared his throat. “So, this vision... Is it likely to come true any time soon?”
She gulped down the remainder of her wine and looked around. Jazz was already settling the account and gave her a thumbs-up, meaning Leila had the go-ahead to find alternative transport. Her eyes locked on Gorgeous Blond.
“Within the next half an hour, if you play your cards right.”
* * * * *
Aether chuckled as the mortal woman who housed Ananke’s soul left the cocktail lounge with a man in tow. “She’s enjoying this incarnation. Women are more liberated.”
Erebus nodded in agreement. “It suits her. She has always been an unconventional Goddess, but this time her soul is complemented by the era. What a curious life Leila Martins has lived.”
“We blended in pretty well, too,” Uranus said, raking his hand through his short dark blond hair. He was still struggling to get used to the feel, as it was contrary to previous iterations and his form in the God Realm. “A hundred years ago, we may have been able to excuse long hair, but in this modern time most men sport a shorter hairdo.” He glanced at Tartarus. “Typical of you not to join in, brother.”
“I’m posing as a wannabe rock star,” Tartarus reminded them, gesturing to the tattoos on his arms. He wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt, which spanned tightly across his muscular chest, and leather pants. “We don’t all have to be corporate assholes.” The other three gasped, looking at him in surprise. “What? I’ve been working on their dialect. Makes it easier to blend in.”
Erebus snorted. His hair was cut and styled like that of the famous footballer, Christiano Ronaldo. With the dark suit he’d donned, he resembled the very corporate executives they were discussing. “Next thing you know, you’ll start fornicating with the locals in the name of ‘research’.”
Tartarus’ amber eyes glowed, and he smiled slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Besides, it would be expected of a wannabe rock star.” He returned his attention to his favourite new plaything, the iPhone.
“They’re also expected to play musical instruments,” Aether pointed out. His silver hair was cut in a military style, drawing the eye to his ice-blue gaze. “But I imagine you are prepared on that front, as well?”
“This piece of human technology is amazing. It can teach you anything within seconds,” Hell confirmed. Gods and men, alike, loved gadgets. “It’s nowhere near our manifestation powers, but it’s an admirable imitation.”
For about five minutes, the men hunched over the screen to see what could be done on the magical device. Then Uranus cleared his throat and said: “We’re getting distracted. Let’s discuss our plan.”
“Simple. Each one of us will go up to her, declare our intentions, and get it over and done with. As you all know, I have a devilish Hell to run,” Tartarus added dryly. On the contrary, the Afterlife wasn’t what most mortal religions depicted it to be. “The sooner I’m rejected, the sooner I can return to the things that actually matter.”
“And you’re sure she’ll reject you?” Aether asked.
“When last was I selected by any of the women? At the end of the Atlantis, and look where that got everyone. If I had to wager, I’d say it’s between Erebus and you.”
“How much are you willing to wager?” Erebus challenged.
“I have another proposition for you,” Uranus interjected before Tartarus could complete the deal, a broad grin on his face.
The God of Hell narrowed his eyes. “And what would that be?”
“If you’re right, and it’s Erebus or Aether, then we’ll grant you ten mortal years with a lover of your choice,” Uranus answered slowly. “I know how much you love them. Humans, in particular.”
Tartarus paused, keeping his glower trained on Heaven. “And if I lose?”
“If Leila Martins chooses you or me, you must marry Ananke and be her monogamous husband,” Uranus finished.
I knew something like this would come, Tartarus thought, rolling his eyes in faux nonchalance. They’re always sticking their noses in my business.
“I’ll start looking for that human woman,” he said aloud.
“You accept?” Aether asked, taken aback.
“You didn’t give any other conditions or rules, so it’s an easy win, really. I’ll be my normal self and she’ll run straight into your hyperactive arms. Although, Erebus has that tall, dark and handsome way about him, which could sway her to the side of Darkness, yet again.”
“I am not hyperactive,” Aether growled.
“Shake on it,” Uranus said quickly, holding his hand out.
At the same moment the Gods sealed their wager, Leila started undressing her conquest a few blocks away.