God of Wine

  Nothing.

  Just as she was about to make her way to the basement, she spotted him. No. No. But why? Her heart sank into her black boots.

  On the platform in the middle of the dance floor, Acan was sandwiched between two women. He had one bent over and was dry humping her from behind, her miniskirt hiked so high that everyone could see her unicorn panties. The other woman had her arms wrapped around him from behind with her hands shoved down the front of his pants. The crowd encircling the platform cheered and pumped their fists while the three put on their dirty show.

  Ohmygod. Margarita was speechless. And hurt. This was absolutely not the sort of man she could be with. “I’m done. I’m done with you.”

  As if Acan heard her voice over the loud beat of the music and screaming patrons, their eyes met. Did he notice the pain in her eyes? Because his smile melted away and he looked down at himself holding the bent-over woman by the hips.

  “Asshole,” Margarita mouthed.

  Just as she turned to leave, Acan screamed something at her and jerked the other woman’s hands from his pants, but Margarita had zero to say to him. She made her way toward the front door, weaving through the wall-to-wall packed club. Just a few feet from the exit a solid wall of go-go pink stopped her.

  “Sorry, babe,” said Acan’s sister, “but your five minutes are up.” She placed her hands on Margarita’s shoulders.

  “Wait!” Acan’s booming voice echoed over the loud music. “That wasn’t me! I wasn’t in control.”

  Everything around Margarita slowed to a glacial crawl, and her shoulders heated up. The scene around her melted away, leaving only herself and this woman’s hypnotic eyes. She then felt a strange energy burrowing deep inside her mind, searching for something.

  In the background, Acan’s voice thundered, “Forgetty, no! Get the fuck away from her!”

  Margarita fell to the floor, the loud noise of the club, the lights, and voices of the crowd flooding her eyes and ears. She looked up and saw Acan holding his sister’s wrists, the two facing each other. She looked terrified. He looked frozen in time.

  “You stupid fuck! Why did you do that!” His sister released herself from Acan’s grasp and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Why the fuck would you do that? Why! Godsdammit!” She shook him hard.

  Acan stared blankly at his sister. “Do what? And who the hell are you?” His eyes moved around the room. “What is this place?”

  Oh no.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Pacing the length of the small office on the second floor of the Randy Unicorn, the statuesque blonde mumbled profanities while Margarita sat on the edge of the stainless steel desk, thinking her hardest.

  “Is there anything we can do or someone we can go to for help? Some God of Remembering or of Erasing Bad Mistakes or something?” Margarita asked. “What’s your name again?”

  The blonde rolled her turquoise eyes. “Call me Forgetty. Just like I told you the last five times.”

  “Sorry. I keep forgetting.”

  “Shocker. And no. There’s no way to undo the damage. At the very moment he pushed you out of the way, I had my power focused on erasing him from your mind. I erased him from his mind instead. His memories—at least the important ones—are gone. For good.”

  “Where did they go?” Acan asked, sitting on the red sofa pushed against the wall, opposite the desk.

  Margarita could hardly look at him. His vacant gaze seemed somewhere between awake and asleep and lost.

  “Your sister took them away by accident,” she said. “Now shush. We’re trying to figure this out.”

  “This is bad. Very, very bad,” Forgetty mumbled. “New Year’s Eve is only a few weeks away. Dammit! Why did I listen to Cimil?”

  “So what does this mean? What happens on New Year’s Eve if he doesn’t know who he is?” Margarita asked.

  Forgetty pushed her fingertips through her hair and blew out a breath. “Just because he can’t remember who he is doesn’t mean he’s powerless or any less of a danger.”

  “I need a martini. I’m not sure what that is, but I know I need one,” Acan muttered.

  Margarita cocked a brow. “Well, I guess some things can’t be forgotten.”

  “You should go. I have no idea what he’s capable of,” said Forgetty.

  “You’re wrong. I know exactly what he’s capable of.”

  “Really?” She crossed her very toned arms across her chest. “Did he tell you that he recently discovered he can decapitate anyone merely by snapping his fingers?”

  Margarita covered her mouth with both hands. He had mentioned it, but she thought he’d been joking.

  “I see you’re catching on,” said Forgetty.

  “So what do we do?”

  “You don’t want him, right?”

  Part of her had wanted him very much. Now, she just wanted to strangle him. Why did he have to ruin everything by acting like such a sleaze ball?

  “No,” Margarita replied. “Not after I saw him humping that woman on the dance floor. I can’t sign up for that.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Humping is fun. I think I like humping,” said Acan.

  They both looked at him and barked, “Shut up!”

  He frowned.

  “Okay,” Forgetty said, “let’s assume that if you were not going to accept him, he would’ve gone forward with the mate mixer tomorrow night.”

  Margarita felt like she’d taken a blow to the stomach. “That’s right. He had a mixer planned. He didn’t ever believe we’d work out.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. Not really. But it still kind of hurts.”

  “Get the hell over it. You said you don’t want him, and that means he’ll have to pick another.”

  The idea rubbed her wrong, but what could she do? “And?”

  “And we’re just going to have to help him.”

  “How?” Margarita asked.

  “We will sort through the riffraff and pick a few women. With what we know about him, maybe we’ll get lucky and find someone he likes.”

  “I can’t play Cupid. I barely know him.” The words felt like a strange lie. She felt like she’d known him her entire life, and thinking of him with someone else felt…well, it felt bad.

  “Do you want him to find a mate or not?”

  “Yes. Of course I do,” Margarita replied. “I don’t want people to die.”

  “I like mating. Mating rocks,” Acan mumbled.

  “So how are we supposed to convince any woman to want him—the real him. Or, at least, the him he will become once he sort of…”

  “Gels back into his true drunken form?” asked Forgetty. “We’re going to have to sell him. Convince them of how much fun he is. The king of the night and prince of the party.”

  Margarita swallowed hard. Forgetty was basically saying she’d have to pimp him out. “This is lame, and it makes no sense. Women have eyes and they’ll see how un-fun he is.”

  “It will be fine. He’s a god. All women want him. The trick will be convincing him to love one of them.”

  Margarita looked down at her feet. “You want us to trick him into falling in love?”

  “You can’t trick the heart. But you can persuade it. What other option do we have since you don’t want him?”

  Margarita shrugged. This all felt awful. She wanted to vomit. “I need to get home.”

  “Ah, yes. I almost forgot that you are but a weak mortal who requires sleep.”

  Snotty much? “I have a daughter waiting for me, and I have a gym to run, which requires me to be there at five a.m.”

  “Fine.” Blondie rolled her eyes. Or was her name Wanda? Margarita couldn’t remember. “Can you drop him off at home?”

  “I guess, but we came in his car,” Margarita said.

  “Take it and return it later—trust me, he won’t miss it.”

  “What’s a car?” he asked.

  Diana—or was it Muffy? The woman walked over to Acan and sq
ueezed his cheeks. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about this. You just get some rest.”

  The woman’s cell phone beeped on the desk. She walked over and picked it up. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

  “What?” Margarita asked.

  “I’m being summoned.”

  “By whom?”

  “My brethren.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because?” Margarita asked.

  “Because it probably means they know I wiped Acan’s memory and they think it’s game over for finding him a mate—”

  “What will they do?”

  “They will want to imprison him or remove his head.”

  “Jesus.” Margarita winced.

  “I do not like the sound of that,” Acan said.

  “Why would they do that?” Margarita couldn’t understand these people.

  “They can’t let him flip and end up hurting people. Of course, they don’t know him like I do, so they have not figured out that either plan won’t work. Once he flips, we’re all toast.”

  This did not sound good. Not at all.

  “You need to take him, Margarita. Take him and run while I try to talk some sense into my brethren and sort this mate business out.”

  “What? No! I already told you that I have a daughter and a business to run.”

  “I will send someone to watch over your daughter, and I can have the Uchben take care of your gym.”

  “What’s an Uchben? Wait. Never mind. Doesn’t matter. I am not having strangers step in and take care of the two most important things in my life. Have your friends take care of Acan.”

  “I can’t. Everyone I know will turn him in. They won’t understand.”

  “But they’ll be fine watching over my daughter and business?”

  “Sure. I’ll tell them it’s a favor for a friend. They’ll forget why they’re doing it anyway. But they won’t forget Acan or the fact that every immortal on the planet is looking for him.”

  “I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Please, Margarita. This is important. Not just for him but for everyone. All I’m asking for is one day. Keep him hidden for one day while I try to fix this mess.”

  “And then what?”

  “Come back here to the club tomorrow at midnight. I will have his perfect woman waiting and then he will be cured.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Margarita. “But on one condition. You don’t ever touch me or my kid. No memory voodoo or whatever it is that you do.”

  The woman took a moment to think it over. “Deal. But you know that if you ever disclose our existence to anyone, you will be executed.”

  “Lovely.” Margarita handed her house keys to…to…that lady. “My daughter’s name is Jessica. We live at 1706 Colby Avenue, apartment D. Here’s the address for my gym.” Margarita handed the lady a business card from her little satchel purse. She turned to Acan. “Come on, big man, let’s get going.”

  “Use the back door and don’t let anyone see him,” said Acan’s sister.

  “I’m sure no one will notice a seven-foot, shirtless man who looks like the mascot for the Thunder From Down Under.”

  “I do not know what flatulence has to do with any of this, but I trust you’ll figure out how to disguise my brother.”

  “Errr…okay.” She took Acan’s hand. “Let’s go.” She would call Jessica on the way to the car and let her know that a friend was coming to keep an eye on her. “Wait.” She stopped halfway out the door. “Who’s going to look after my daughter?”

  “I will send Máax.”

  “Max?”

  “No. Ma-ahx. You put the stress on the first a.”

  There was absolutely zero difference in the way she’d said it. “Okay. Whatever. And what does he do?”

  “He’s the God of Time Travel. He’s married to Ashli, the Goddess of Love. They just had a baby, so he’s great with kids.”

  Okeydokey. God of Time Travel. And Goddess of Love. “See you tomorrow night, then.”

  “Yup.”

  “What if this doesn’t work?” Margarita asked. “What if you don’t find him someone else?”

  Something peculiar flickered in her eyes. “I’ll think of something.”

  That didn’t sit well with Margarita for some reason. This situation seemed too important to simply wing it. “See you tomorrow.”

  She took Acan’s hand and led him down the back stairs that let them out into the alleyway behind the club. “You wait right here. Okay? I’m going around front to get your car. I’ll only be a minute.”

  He blinked. “Okay. Wait here.”

  “That’s right. Good god. Stay.” She ran down the alley and around the corner to the main street in front of the club. She told the valet that Acan sent her for the car, and after a quick call to Acan’s sister to confirm, he brought the vehicle.

  But by the time Margarita got to the alley, Acan was gone.

  “Oh crap.” I lost the God of Wine.

  This night just kept getting worse. First, there was learning about Acan’s “flipping,” then there was his shockingly disgusting behavior at the club, and then she was nearly assaulted by Whatsherface before Acan had his memory flushed down a dark hole. Now Margarita was supposed to be on the run to keep Acan from being imprisoned or killed by the most powerful—and psychotic—beings on the planet, only now she’d freaking lost him. In Los Angeles! The god could literally be anywhere. After asking the doorman at the club if he’d seen Acan again, which he hadn’t, she’d hit every bar, sleazy strip club, and liquor store in a ten-block radius.

  With the sun now coming up, Margarita pulled over in a small parking lot and rested her head on the steering wheel. “Oh God. What am I going to do?”

  If she told Acan’s sister she’d lost him, who knew what would happen? For sure, the woman wouldn’t be happy and then she would probably wipe her memory. That couldn’t be safe. Look what had happened to Acan.

  There was a knock on the window. A tall policeman stood there, instructing her to roll down the window.

  Dangit. Just what I needed.

  She lowered the window. “Good morning, officer.”

  “Have you’ve been drinking, ma’am?”

  “Drinking? No. I don’t drink. I’m, uhh…I’m looking for my brother. He’s not well and wandered off last night. You haven’t seen him, by any chance? He’s shirtless, seven feet tall, in really, really, really good shape?”

  “No, ma’am. But if you think he’s a threat to himself or others—”

  “Heavens, no. No threat.” Unless you count the annihilation of millions of people.

  “Then I suggest you file a missing persons report after twenty-four hours have passed. In the meantime, this is private property. You’ll have to go elsewhere to take a nap.”

  “Thank you, officer. I’ll move my car.” She started the engine and waved as they pulled out of the lot. Okay, think, think, think.

  She took a deep breath. I am the God of Wine. I have lost my memory. Where would I go? Where would I go? Her brain began to tingle and images started popping into her head. Waves. Sand. The surfers and wind.

  Her eyes flew open. “He’s at the beach!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Acan stared at the waves, feeling lost. He wasn’t certain why he was here—as in, on this planet—or why his memory had been taken from him. The only thing he knew for certain was that everything felt wrong. The streets weren’t familiar. The people behaved strangely—rude, unfriendly, unwilling to help a tall shirtless man wandering around in the middle of the night. Whatever happened to hospitality? And what happened to his shirt?

  He also knew what he’d heard from those two women back at that noisy gathering place. He was a threat. Dangerous. And he needed to find a new woman for some reason because the one he was supposed to be with—that Margarita woman—didn’t want him.

  Staring out at the ocean, he watched two
men paddling through the waves on boards. Strange. Everything feels so familiar, but at the same time it’s not.

  “Acan! Acan!” a woman yelled, running toward him. It was the Margarita woman from earlier. The one who did not want him.

  He sighed. He was in no mood for her or her insults.

  She stopped right in front of him. “Where the hell have you been? Why did you just take off like that? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

  Still sitting, he looked up at her. “You’re blocking my view.”

  “Your view?” she seethed. “Your freaking view?”

  “Yes. My view. Now move.”

  “I’ve been driving around for hours looking for you. I went into the most disgusting, herpes-infested dive bars known to man. I had my ass grabbed at least ten times and had a twenty shoved down the front of my sweater. I stepped in five urine puddles, running from one liquor store to the next. And if it weren’t for the fact that I’m in such great shape and can run fast, I would’ve been mugged! Twice!”

  “You risked your life to find me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why? Were you not trying to get rid of me?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, still winded from running.

  “You said you did not want me. That I had betrayed you with another woman.”

  Margarita exhaled. “This has got to be the weirdest date ever.” She turned and sat next to him in the sand. “You didn’t betray me. Not exactly.”

  “Then why are you attempting to find another mate for me?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I have the feeling that I am familiar with complicated.”

  “Okay. Well, when I first met you—in a hotel elevator—you weren’t wearing any pants, and you were three sheets to the wind. You then proceeded to tell me I had a nice ass and tits.”

  He had? “Why would I walk around without pants? Or treat you in such an unchivalrous manner?”

  She shrugged. “You got me. But it only gets worse. You called me old, and then I challenged you to a little fitness competition, so the next day you showed up at my gym, naked. With a giant boner.”