Uninspired Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 3) Read online

  “What’s the scandal today?” I sipped my coffee and scanned the board .

  Ted’s dog had a litter of puppies, and he was giving them away. Alex needed a babysitter in Chattanooga, Tennessee for Thursday-night bingo. Sherry was selling Avon and had the newest campaign catalog at her desk for anyone who wanted to place an order .

  Other than all the magic flying around, my office was like any other office in the country .

  Audrey stopped in mid-sentence and eyed me from head to toe. “Ballet flats and cargo pants? Really, Wynter ?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t walk in those shoes you wear. I’m comfortable .”

  Kayla shook her head, and the beads in all those braids clacked together. “You’re missing the point. We don’t care what shoes you wear, as long as they go with your outfit.” She wrinkled her nose. “Cargo pants? Really ?”

  I smiled. “What?” Sometimes I threw on clothes just to annoy my fashion-plate sister-Muses. I hadn’t even remembered I owned cargo pants until that morning. “I think I look nice .”

  Audrey laughed. “You’re so full of crap. You do it on purpose .”

  I raised an eyebrow and sipped my coffee. “Do I?” I totally did. What did it matter? My clients couldn’t even see me. “Who are we talking about besides me ?”

  Kayla narrowed her almond eyes. “Don’t think we’re done with you. We’re taking you shopping one of these days .”

  Audrey grimaced. “We’re talking about Drew up in the Messenger department .”

  I tried to sip my coffee, but the cup was already empty. “The guy with the gold tooth ?”

  “No.” Audrey ran her fingers through her dark red hair. “That’s Chuck. Drew’s the one with the scruffy goatee .”

  “What about him ?”

  “He’s been reassigned to the European division because he couldn’t get along with his colleagues.” Kayla’s face had a smug expression .

  “No way.” I’d never heard of that happening. Transferred to another department, sure. Sent to the Underworld, yeah. But not sent to another Mt. Olympus branch in another country .

  “Totally way,” Kayla said. “Apparently, they didn’t even want him in the Underworld .”

  Audrey nodded. “Europe has tighter regulations. The French will straighten him out .”

  I watched their faces and realized they were trying not to laugh. “Are you guys messing with me ?”

  Audrey smirked. “Serves you right for wearing those pants .”

  Kayla winked. “Plus, we owed you for dumping all your clients on us. Who has that many clients in the first place ?”

  I scowled. “You got my clients ?”

  They nodded together .

  “We split them between us.” Audrey shrugged. “What happened? Why did Polly take them off of you ?”

  “She replaced them with one big client .”

  “Big?” Kayla grimaced. “Like, a body builder ?”

  “No.” I stuffed a hand in my pocket and pulled out my assignment. “Have you ever seen a deadline like this?” I unfolded the paper and passed it to Audrey .

  “BID?” Audrey’s face paled. “Oh, that sucks. I had one of those once, about four years ago. Tough break .”

  Kayla frowned. “What’s a BID ?”

  “Phyllis said it means Before Imminent Death. It’s a last project sort of thing before they die .”

  “Oh, man.” Kayla gave me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “That does suck .”

  I nodded at Kayla, then turned to Audrey. “So, you’ve done this before. How long do you think I’ll have with him? Any idea ?”

  “I don’t think anybody knows.” She handed the assignment to Kayla so she could look at it, too. “Except maybe whoever upstairs sent down the assignment .”

  “Fate.” My jaw clenched. “Those people sure like to butt into things, don’t they ?”

  “It’s kind of their job .”

  Kayla squeaked. “Gordon Gordon is your client ?”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “You know him ?”

  “Know him? I’ve got three of his prints up in my living room. When I was in college, I had a framed display of his entire mermaid collection as postcards.” Her eyes teared. “He’s dying ?”

  “Looks that way.” I took the paper from her before she destroyed it in her fist .

  She took both my hands in hers and gave me a look so intense and sincere, I nearly laughed, since I’d never seen her look like that before. “Wynter, you have to help him finish .”

  “I will. It’s my job .”

  “No. Really. It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do .”

  I left the office a little disturbed by Kayla’s intensity. Collectors could get that way, I supposed, but I hadn’t expected it at work .

  After parking a few blocks away, I clicked my belt button and strode into Gordon’s house. He sat at the kitchen table, head resting on his fists, staring at a wheel of cheddar cheese .

  Artists were so weird .

  I pulled out my bubbles, not even trying to figure out what the hell he was doing with the cheese. I unscrewed the top, dipped my golden wand into the liquid, and blew a stream of bubbles the size of jawbreakers straight at his face .

  “Up and at ‘em, my friend. You have a life’s work to complete. Staring at cheese isn’t getting you anywhere.” I blew another stream at him, and the bubbles popped on his unshaven whiskers .

  Gordon slid the chair back and shuffled into his studio. Had I noticed he was wearing his pajamas, I might have first tried to inspire him to get dressed, but once he was in his studio, I didn’t want to lose his momentum .

  The canvas he’d drawn a small charcoal circle on the day before now had lines scattered over it in what looked like a jumble of unconnected figures. It was also on the floor under the window, ignored. He’d placed a huge pad of paper on the easel, the page clean and unmarked .

  We were starting over from scratch. That was fine by me .

  I dipped my wand and blew, dipped and blew, dipped and blew. I kept going until the entire room was filled with magical soap bubbles of inspiration, and spots formed at the edge of my vision from hyperventilation .

  “Gordon, you have a painting inside you that wants to come out. Let it out.” I blew more bubbles. “Quit trying to fight it, and allow your creation to flow through your hands .”

  I must’ve gotten through to him. He picked up his charcoal stick and sketched a series of loose circles and thick lines. I had no idea what it was—at this stage it didn’t look like much—but there was definitely a face forming in the center, and some sort of blotchy thing in the air above it .

  Gordon’s sketching took on a fury of energy, and sweat formed above his lip. Without stopping, he flipped to the next page and kept sketching. This time, smaller figures like marionettes formed on the paper, and after a moment, a rough dragon outline appeared in the upper-left corner .

  Again, he didn’t pause when he flipped to the third page. He was on a roll. This time, the sketch took on a more equine form. As I watched, the horse became clearer, and a horn grew from its forehead. For the third time, something hung in the air above the main focus .

  Even though the three pictures were no more than rough, charcoal outlines, they appeared to grow progressively more ominous. Whatever haunted my emo artist, he was letting it out on the paper .

  I wasn’t sure if I should interfere or allow him to work through it. Was this the great work he was supposed to do before he died, or was it therapy ?

  Without thinking, I dipped my wand to go another round with him. Maybe he needed a fresh perspective .

  In fact, he looked a little flushed. Maybe what I needed to do was encourage him to take it down a notch .

  A door slammed at the front of the house. I jumped. Gordon didn’t notice .

  As far as I knew, Gordon lived alone. I doubted he’d be the sort to tolerate—or be tolerated by—a roommate, and I hadn’t seen any feminine touches or personal item
s a woman might have sitting around. Judging by the Playboy magazine I’d seen in his study, I didn’t think he was gay, either .

  So, who was the sharp-featured brunette in the power suit and red lipstick? She stormed into the room, felt his forehead, and took away his charcoal, as if he were a naughty child .

  “Gordon, you’re burning up. What the hell are you thinking?” She tugged his elbow until he rose from the stool in a daze, then led him to the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder at the sketches and scowled .

  I followed them into Gordon’s bedroom. The pushy woman pulled down the sheets and blanket, then guided him into bed .

  “Elizabeth, I’m fine.” His protests were weak, and his face was flushed .

  I ran around to the other side of the bed, frantic to get a better look at him. “Did I do this to you? I am so sorry. I didn’t know .”

  He was a little sweaty, and his eyelids were heavy. He didn’t fight hard when this Elizabeth person pulled the sheet up to his chin .

  “I should have gotten here sooner. You’ve been acting so weird lately.” Her voice was sharp, and when she adjusted his pillow, it wasn’t gentle .

  I groaned. “This is all my fault. I should have done more research on you first .”

  “This is nobody’s fault,” he said, closing his eyes. “You both did the best you could .”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. He did hear me. That had to have been an answer to what I’d said .

  Elizabeth snorted in disgust. “You’re worse off than I thought.” She grabbed a glass from his nightstand. “I’ll get you your pills .”

  I watched her leave, then moved closer to the head of the bed. “Can you really hear me? Gordon ?”

  He held his hand out toward the foot of the bed, nowhere near where I was. “I miss you so much, Charlotte. I don’t know what to do without you .”

  He dropped his hand to the mattress and snored softly .

  Elizabeth came back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. When she saw that he was asleep, she rolled her eyes, set the glass on the table, and shook out a pill to place next to it. With the pill and glass where Gordon would see it when he awoke, she pocketed the bottle, then straightened the coverlet over him and shook her head. “You’d better be worth all this effort, Gordon. I’ve got five other clients, and they’re a hell of a lot more productive. I can’t eat fifteen percent of nothing.” Her face softened, and she brushed his hair from his face. “I wish you’d let her go .”

  Elizabeth left more quietly than she’d arrived .

  Fifteen percent. So, the angry lady who moved through the house like a tornado was his manager or his agent. That was interesting .

  I stood over him for a minute, wondering what I should do. In the end, I curled up in the chair in the corner and watched him sleep. Creepy? Maybe. But I felt responsible for his exhaustion. I’d driven him to it with a roomful of bubbles when a few might have done the trick. I’d pushed him too hard .

  As penance, I stayed for the rest of the afternoon, making sure he was alright. He woke around 4:30 PM, found the pill sitting out for him, and dropped it in the trash without taking it. He appeared to be back to normal .

  Whatever that was .

  Chapter 5

  A fter such a crappy day at work, I didn’t much feel like going out, but Mom and Hades had tickets to see a show at the Orpheus that night, and I’d promised I’d be there .

  For the record, I still wasn’t used to saying “Mom and Hades” like it was no big deal that my mom and stepdad were king and queen of the Underworld. No one should ever get used to that. It’s just weird .

  Despite my bad day—or perhaps because of it—the night out would probably do me good. After work, I changed clothes in an empty Muse office, then took the Mt. Olympus elevator to the lobby. Once everyone else stepped out and the doors closed, I slipped my keycard into the elevator slot and pressed the down button .

  A minute later I was in my shiny red golf cart, pulling out of my reserved Underworld LLC parking spot. I breathed in the fake night breeze and tried to let go of the tension of the day. The air smelled of freshly mown grass with a hint of honeysuckle. I smiled. My mother’s long absence had left the Underworld bereft of growing things. But the goddess of spring had returned, and so had greenery and flowers .

  It made for a much more pleasant drive .

  The Orpheus was in the downtown district, a few blocks over from Town Square. I parked, plugged in my cart to let it charge, and made my way to the box office .

  I ducked my head to speak into the tiny opening at the bottom of the ticket window, though I knew it wasn’t necessary. “Hi, Shelby. I think there should be a ticket waiting for me .”

  The dark-eyed siren smiled. When she spoke, her voice sounded like raindrops falling gently on harp strings. “I have it right here.” She slid the ticket through the opening. “Your parents are already inside. Enjoy the show .”

  Until she finished speaking, I wasn’t able to move. Once I was released from her siren spell, I grabbed my ticket and took off .

  Always let a siren have the last word. Otherwise, you’ll never get anywhere .

  The inside of the Orpheus was all red velvet, gold leaf, and marble columns. In spite of having changed into a skirt and heels, I still felt underdressed for the grandeur of the place. A couple dressed in jeans and cowboy boots strode up the stairs past me. They didn’t help me feel any less underdressed, though they should have .

  I climbed the winding staircase, turned down the hall to the right, and entered the family box. I stepped through the curtain and took my seat next to my mother .

  She grinned and kissed my cheek. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it .”

  Hades sat on the other side of her looking uncomfortable in the suit jacket Mom probably forced him to wear. “Did you get a program? Here.” He smoothed the wrinkles from the crumpled booklet in his hand and passed it to me. “It’s a good show. We’ve seen it before and wanted you to see it, too.” He gave me a long, pointed look I didn’t understand .

  His gaze flicked to the program in my hand and back to my face, as if the paper held something important. I flattened the program with my palm, then examined the cover .

  Mr. Benchley Takes a Wife :

  A Musical in Three Acts

  I flipped through the first few pages—ads from local businesses that sponsored the show. House of Nyx must have sunk a lot into the production, since it had a full-page ad and was mentioned on the cover .

  Several pages in, the program gave a short description of the play, followed by the division of the three acts and the cast list. I’d never been to a show in the Underworld before, so didn’t recognize the names of any of the actors .

  Except for one .

  The part of Alice was being played by Phoebe Eldridge. I knew that name, though I hadn’t met its owner. She knew me, though. I was the reason she’d been sent to work in the Underworld .

  I glanced at Hades. Now that I’d seen what I assumed he wanted me to see, he was taking great pains not to look directly at me. I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but the lights dimmed and the orchestra began the overture. My jaw snapped shut, and I sat up straighter, waiting for Phoebe to step on stage .

  I had to wait awhile. The play began with a fight scene between Mr. Benchley, the title character, and a rival for the hand of Nancy. The two men leaped across the stage trading blows, pirouettes, and verses to the opening song. Nancy herself sang back-up from an ivy-covered balcony .

  Mr. Benchley ended the song when he lost to his rival. The other man caught a buxom Nancy in his arms when she jumped from the window, and the two exited the stage hand- in -hand .

  The play was weird. A half hour or so in, Phoebe entered the stage on the back of a wooden llama. Mr. Benchley may have had the play named after him, but Phoebe was the true star .

  And damn, she could sing. She was spectacular. Her character, Alice, sang a hilarious song about getting her ducks
in a row before she could ever marry a man. It became even funnier when several dancers dressed like fluffy ducklings appeared and did a soft shoe with her .

  During act two, Alice had a monologue. She stepped forward into a spotlight and spoke about her loneliness and how Mr. Benchley filled the aching need in her heart .

  Halfway through her monologue, Phoebe’s gaze went out across the audience, entreating her viewers with her eyes to hear her heartbreaking plea. She was a wonderful actress, and my throat tightened with sympathetic emotion .

  Her gaze passed over our box, then returned, looking directly at me. Phoebe’s face went pale beneath her stage makeup, and she stumbled over her next line. She took a deep breath to collect herself, focused on a group of people on the other side of the theater, and continued as if nothing had disturbed her .

  When it was over, Mr. Benchley and his new wife, Alice, were the last out on the stage to take their bows. As the curtain closed, Phoebe stared at me until she was completely obscured .

  I practically jumped from my seat. “I need to go back stage .”

  Mom squeezed my hand. “Go ahead, sweetheart. We’ll meet you outside .”

  I bolted from the box and headed down the hall .

  I was finally going to meet my own Muse .

  B y the time I waded through the excited crowd going the other direction and made it backstage, Phoebe was gone. I stood outside her dressing room deflated and disappointed .

  “Sorry. You just missed her.” A woman with blonde hair and long legs stood in the hallway in a short bathrobe. I was pretty sure she’d been a dancing duckling. And possibly the fishmonger’s wife in act three .

  I poked my head into the dressing room anyway. “Why would she leave so fast? Don’t you have, like, cast parties and stuff after ?”

  The woman shrugged. “It was her last day. She wanted to get the hell out of here.” She grimaced. “No pun intended .”

  “Her last day ?”

  “Sure. She’s been transferred .”