Saturday Night
Roark picked up his Sam Adams and took a long drink while he waited for Bruce and Jason. He knew they would be there, because they said they would.
Unlike the woman in his life. Even if she didn’t want to be, Stephanie was the woman in his life. They had to be, at least, in some variation of a relationship. Because right now, all he wanted to do was strangle her.
She’d run away. He wondered if he should really be surprised by her early-hour disappearance. Thursday had been the best damn bed games he’d ever had—it blew away every one of his expectations. She’d been open, let him try different things, and he’d even had some fun himself. So trusting, the entire time, he’d hoped their bad evening had been long forgotten.
Evidently he was wrong.
And her phone call yesterday, the first time he’d talked to her since, had him seeing red.
What the hell did he have to do to prove to her he was serious? Wasn’t being in a relationship about supporting one another?
“If your face gets any longer, your chin will be in your beer glass,” Bruce said as he took the barstool next to Roark.
Roark forced a smile. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”
Bruce smirked. “Who says that? ‘Woolgathering.’ That’s something my grandmother would say.”
“What can I say, I’m old-fashioned.”
“Yeah, you probably buy the gal dinner before you bang her.” Bruce smiled as the bartender acknowledged him with a wave, and tossed a few dollars to cover the coming drink.
“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Roark said. “That whole gentlemanly courtship thing.”
“God, drink your beer. You’re talking with way too many syllables tonight.” Bruce gulped his beer. Circles hung under his friend’s eyes. “So what’s her name?”
“There’s no ‘her,’” Roark countered.
“Yeah, um, okay.” Bruce’s cell phone went off and he glanced at it. A grin spread over his face as he answered the text.
“Girlfriend?” Roark asked, trying to turn the tables on his friend. He wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation.
“Just Facebook.” He stroked the screen and pulled up Facebook’s mobile app. “Going to a steampunk con here in town.”
Roark blinked. “There’s a steampunk con here?”
“Only for those of us who are cool enough to know about it.”
“Are you taking your camera?”
Bruce nodded. “I told them I’d do a few shots for their website if they gave me and a friend free passes to get in.” He took a drink of his beer.
“Are you dressing up?”
Bruce chuckled. “What fun would it be if I didn’t?”
Roark snorted. “So, you’re wearing your Firefly costume again?”
Bruce grinned. “With some awesome steampunk accessories I picked up.”
Despite his mood, Roark grinned. “I may be forced to have an intervention for you, nerd.”
Bruce laughed off the comment. “And what’s the difference between steampunk and Star Wars or Star Trek?”
“Star Trek and Star Wars actually are real movies. And television. Where is steampunk? It’s just a mix of western and technology.”
“Wild Wild West comes to mind. League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Back to the Future Three…”
“Not exactly stellar titles for reference,” Roark said.
Bruce grimaced. “Well, Back to the Future is awesome. I mean, Doc Brown made an ice maker roughly the size of a barn. That’s total steampunk.”
“Whatever gets you through the day.”
A yellow envelope plopped on the bar next to Bruce. “God, if he’s on one of his steampunk tirades, I’ll take my drink to go,” Jason said as he dropped onto the barstool.
The lady bartender came over, smiling big at Jason. Roark rolled his eyes when Jason ordered his drink, oblivious to her ogling.
She winked at him—winked—and he didn’t even register it, instead facing Bruce and nudging the envelope toward him.
“Is that my stuff?” Bruce asked.
Jason nodded.
“What did you need him to do?” Roark asked. Jason was a private investigator by trade, and could usually track down anyone and any of their dealings.
“Nothing important,” Bruce said, pulling the envelope closer to him.
Jason glanced at Bruce.
Roark figured he ought to go take a leak, and excused himself from the bar. Evidently, Bruce and Jason needed to share a few words.
“Can I beat my charge?” Lilly said, her arms crossed and her curls vibrating from her flapping wings.
“What’s the matter?” Christy asked. She hadn’t seen any of her friends since they started this latest challenge, and Lilly looked fit to be tied. Ava hovered on the other side, watching.
“That… Ugh. He is such a fool!” Lilly snapped, yellow dust flying everywhere, including on Christy and Ava.
“Watch it,” Ava replied, very quietly.
“You know, you could have made your charge not find the stuff,” Lilly said, waving her wand to disperse the dust. “A freak solar flare knocking out his computer. Heck, break his modem—that would have worked too.”
Ava spun around. Today, her leather body suit was actually dark red rather than black. “How is it my job? Jason was asked to do a job. He did it. What do you want me to do about it?”
“You could have fried his computer! He shouldn’t have done it,” Lilly said. “Things were going well. Now this is going to ruin everything!”
“Your charge asked for it. Offered to pay. It was a job—it didn’t mean anything to Jason. It’s you that should have prevented him from doing it.”
“Like I could have stopped him! We’d just gotten the assignments. I didn’t even know if it wasn’t for Andres!”
“Girls!” Christy said. “Knock it off. If you’re not careful, you’ll draw attention. And we do not need…”
“Hello ladies,” came Cupid’s smooth voice.
“Damn,” Ava said, glaring at Cupid. “Doesn’t Hollywood need you for the scandal rags or something?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ava, that is no way to speak to a god.”
“A minor one,” Ava said, arms crossed.
Cupid glided over to Ava. “You should be very careful, young one. I can be very influential when I need to be.”
Ava snorted.
“You just need to move along, there, Cupid. We have this under control,” Lilly said, puffing her golden dust everywhere. “We don’t need any of your help.”
“But my help is so good in these kinds of situations,” Cupid said with a grin.
“You’re more of an annoyance,” Christy said.
“I don’t know about that. One of my little arrows would certainly help your situation out a great deal.”
“If you go near my charge, I’ll…I’ll…” Christy flustered.
“I didn’t mean your charge. The girl he has his sights set on…she could certainly use a little motivation.”
“Cupid! You had better not!” Christy snapped.
“I think I just might need to…” He held up his hand, as if he were about to disappear, when another being joined their little party.
“I would not do that if I were you,” said Christy’s husband, Ewan. He flew between Christy and Cupid. Ewan crossed his arms and glared at Cupid. Even compared to the god, Ewan was strong and muscular. Coupled with his magical gifts, the man could brawl with the best adversary, and he looked ready to rip Cupid’s head off.
All for her. Christy had never been so glad to see her husband.
Cupid raised his eyebrow. “As if I were going to listen to the words of a tooth fetcher…”
“You should,” Ewan said. “I have friends in powerful places.” His voice, low and steady, sounded more like a gladiator about to attack than a Tooth Fairy. His wings bristled, their thin, fine edges quivering as he spoke.
Cupid snorted. “I am a god. What are you going to do to me, tooth fetcher?”
“Report you for meddling in Fairy Godmother affairs. Among other things…” Ewan got closer as he spoke, the threat very real on his face.
While Christy loved her husband for defending her and her friends, this could turn very bad very, very quickly if they weren’t careful.
Cupid gritted his teeth, slipping just a little closer to Ewan. “As if anyone will listen to a tooth fetcher.”
Ewan didn’t back down. The two snarled at one another. Christy wanted to punch the arrogant god in his mostly perfect nose.
“Listen boys, this may be fun for you,” Ava said, getting into the mix. “But we have a real problem. Cupid, you’re being a pain in the ass. So knock it off.”
“Watch it, little baby. You have your own messes to deal with,” Cupid said, glaring at her.
Christy expected Ava to snap back with something, but she froze, her eyes wide and her mouth glued shut. A miracle in itself.
“Ava?” Lilly touched Ava’s arm, and Ava jerked away.
“Just ask her about her charge,” Cupid said with a smirk. “If anyone needs to be—”
“No one wants to hear what you have to say,” Lilly spouted off.
Another fairy joined the party—this one in the regal pale gray suit of a Council member, making even Cupid pause.
Andres took in the scene, then turned his attention to Cupid. “What is going on here?” the newcomer asked, the silver sparks of his magic showering Lilly.
“Nothing you need be concerned with,” Cupid replied.
“It looks a little suspicious,” Andres said. “You seemed to have upset these fairies a great deal, Cupid.” Andres, the liaison to Mount Olympus, floated next to Ewan, a stark contrast to Ewan’s thick build—sinewy, with the simple silver clothes only Council members wore. Even his wings seemed sleek and slim.
“I am merely doing my job,” Cupid said.
“Your job should not be anywhere near these fairies and their charges,” Andres said.
“If they were good at their jobs, then my presence would not be a concern.”
Ewan let out a low growl.
Andres merely shook his head. “You know the law, Cupid.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would hate to see your godlike standing removed due to meddling in fairy affairs.”
Cupid rolled his eyes and waved a hand. “You fairies and your rules…”
“Just try us,” Ewan added.
“You cause us enough grief with your own playing. Stay out of the affairs of the fairies, Cupid.” Andres flew a little closer to the god. “You walk a very thin line with us.”
“You fairies have no sense of fun.”
“Fun is not changing human free will,” Christy said, hands on her hips.
“But that is just it, isn’t it, my dear? Your influence is almost the same as mine. Almost.” And with a wave of his hand, he disappeared.
Ohh, she could just…just…
She grimaced. “How much longer until retirement?”
Her husband wrapped his arm around her. “As soon as you get this case worked out, then we’re done.”
She glanced down at her charge, who headed back to sit with his friends. “It cannot take too much longer.”