Aphrodite would never forgive him.
There was little Apollo could do other than offer the comfort of blame. He would tell her what he could, but he would have to convince her he’d killed Adonis.
At least he was an actor. It was the only way he would be able to lie.
The natural thing to do would be to act as Ares would — haughty and vengeful. Apollo straightened himself as he pushed aside the brush in the clearing where Aphrodite sat in the grass. Adonis lay in her lap, gray and still, and she wailed, her bloodstained face wrenched in pain as Apollo began the longest ruse of his immortal life.
Day Seven
Lex fiddled with her pencil as she stared at a blank page in her notebook, trying to concentrate. For the fiftieth time that night, she shifted on her stool behind the counter of the bookstore, comfortable for only a second.
It was the first night that she had to work since she’d started going to practice, and she didn’t want to be sitting in the quiet bookstore. Not when she could be curled up on the worn couch at the warehouse.
She wondered what Dean was doing, pictured him as he performed, thought about how she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. And how she should have been watching Travis.
The bell on the door dinged as it opened, and Lex jumped, relaxing when she saw Kara gliding in.
She walked up to the counter and leaned over to rest her forearms on the surface. “You look absolutely thrilled to be here tonight.”
“Does it show?” Lex inspected herself for clues.
“Like a blinking neon sign. With an arrow.”
Lex’s phone buzzed on the counter with a text from Travis.
Meet at The Crow Bar at 10:30? Band is going. Text Kara?
She raised an eyebrow and passed her phone to Kara.
“Ooh, yes.” Kara’s face lit up. “I’m even wearing my favorite shirt. See?” She shoved her boobs together with her arms to demonstrate.
“Classy.” Lex looked at her phone. Nine fifty-six. Perfect.
She texted him back.
Just have to close up, see you there.
Kara plopped her enormous bag on the counter and pulled out her compact mirror. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders as she reapplied her lipstick.
Lex packed up her things and made her way around the store, flicking off lights and putting away books and magazines that had been left out. She slung her purse on, grabbed her keys, and locked up, pausing to laugh at Kara making a duck face at her reflection in the shop window as she shimmied her boobs around in her bra. Lex slipped the keys into her bag and buttoned her jacket up against the cold.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kara asked as they headed toward the subway entrance.
“Talk about what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Alexis. Mr. Mesmerizing?”
Of course she knows. She sighed. “He’s just so … I mean, you’ve seen him.”
“I have. He’s so pretty, it almost hurts to look at him.”
Lex’s shoulders sagged just a little at the defeat in trying to fight it. But at least she wasn’t alone. “Right? It’s practically criminal.”
“For real. His panty-moistening skills are off the charts.”
“Gross.” Lex side-eyed Kara, deadpan.
Kara laughed. “Hey, Lex, does he light the fire of desire in your lady cave?”
Lex cackled. “Oh my God, Kara.”
“I hear it’s cold in there. So cold. You need the spark of passion!” She cupped her ear. “I think can hear the wind blowing in it. What a lonely sound.”
They broke into giggles. “I can’t believe you just said that,” Lex said with the shake of her head.
Kara’s eyebrow climbed. “Really? You’re really shocked?”
“No, actually. You’re right. I’m not.”
They walked in silence for a moment.
“He’s a serial man-whore. You know this,” Kara said.
“Can’t a girl look and not touch?” she asked, feeling conflicted — she didn’t know if she could stop looking. Or thinking.
“I don’t know. Can you?” Kara laughed at her. “I saw you stripping him down to his tube socks with your eyes. You want to eat the man candy. With your mouth. On his—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. And yes, I do, but I won’t.” The words sounded more sure than she felt. “I have a boyfriend.”
Kara shoved her hands into the pockets of her military jacket and turned to Lex, amused. “Do you think said boyfriend sees your flames of ardor for the Panty Wizard?”
Lex snorted. “God, Kara. No, I don’t think he sees it. But I was already feeling weird, and now I can’t exactly deny that things between me and Travis are not okay. I mean, clearly it’s over, right? Does the fact that I’m lusting after a stranger make the decision for me?”
“I don’t know. Does it?”
Lex rolled her eyes. “You’re no help, you know that?”
“Yes, I do,” she said matter-of-factly. “Would you ever date Dean?”
“And how would that work?” Lex asked. “The guy’s never even had a real girlfriend. He’s a quitter. Plus, he’s Travis’s bandmate, the same one who keeps boning drummers’ girlfriends.” She frowned. “And anyway, why are we still talking about this?”
Kara put up her hands. “Hey, you started it.”
“No, I didn’t, asshole. You did.”
“Come on, let’s go get drunk and figure all this out later. Alcohol solves problems.” Kara hooked her arm in Lex’s, and Lex laughed, wishing that were true.
Dean leaned on the old saloon bar top as he waited for his drink. The Crow Bar showcased some great, little-known bands, but the best part was the Western taxidermy and oddity theme, like the swinging saloon doors at the entrance, or the taxidermy jackalope standing on the bar behind the taps, posed on its hind legs, its antlers stretching up into the darkness.
The bartender turned to him, her flapper dress swinging fringe as she slid his drink across the bar to him. The tall red feather in her beaded headband waved as she turned and walked away.
Dean walked under old beaded chandeliers and past a long wall of taxidermy crows mounted alongside old sepia photographs of Siamese twins and other carnival sideshows. But when he reached the stage, backed by worn red velvet curtains, he stopped to watch George’s blues band.
The old man sat on a stool behind the microphone with a stand-up bass player and a drummer on a trap set at his back. His coffee-colored skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat under the stage lights, and his gray hair peeked out of his porkpie hat as he crooned into the microphone and played his guitar, his voice gravelly and raw.
A small breeze pushed by, smelling faintly of flowers.
Roses? His brow quirked as he turned toward the door.
Lex.
Dean was rooted to the spot at the sight of her, realizing distantly that he was staring. He just couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Lex set her bag down on the bar and pulled off her jacket to hang it on the back of a chair, sweeping her long hair behind her shoulder. Her tight jeans hugged her hips and lean legs, the zippers on her black ankle boots catching his eye. She looked like she could kick your ass or kiss you or both, and any would be fine. Her black shirt was shorter in the front than the back, exposing a sliver of the snowy skin at her navel.
He drew in a breath, wondering if that skin was as soft as he imagined, if it tasted as sweet as he thought it would.
She was always in his thoughts, in the dark of night as he tossed and turned, when he was riding the subway or writing. Everything he’d written since he’d met her was inspired by her. And that was just when they were apart.
Lex was his obsession. And with every day that passed, the obsession deepened.
When they were together, he could barely function, his thoughts entirely consumed by her. The closer their proximity, the worse it was — she’d touched him once, just a brush of their hands, and he’d nearly reached for her, the urge to kiss her almost too
strong to resist.
It was baffling, especially given that he didn’t even know her. He’d barely even talked to her. They had only spoken a few times in passing — it seemed both of them were actively avoiding each other — but every time they did, he wanted to know more.
Walking away was getting harder every single day.
Dean didn’t understand how Travis hadn’t seen what was happening between the two of them, whatever it was. Roe definitely had, and Lex’s friend had seemed to notice too. He’d even felt a pang of jealousy when he overheard Travis talking to Kevin about Lex, and images of them together had flashed through his mind. Dean couldn’t stand the thought of Travis’s hands on her, and he couldn’t stand that he couldn’t stand it.
He was in so deep, he felt like he was drowning.
There was something about her. Part of it was probably because she was doing her best to shut him down, to hide the fact that she was interested in him, but he saw it. He knew.
It’s just that she wouldn’t pursue him, wouldn’t act on it. Maybe that was the appeal.
But it wasn’t just that, and he knew it.
Lex smiled at a bartender in a bowler hat and suspenders, and he smiled back, his handlebar mustache quirking as he handed her the drink she’d ordered. She took a sip and turned to watch the blues band. The singer’s eyes were closed as he poured his heart out into the microphone, and it spilled out of the speakers and into her.
She felt eyes on her and scanned the room to find Dean standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching her. A thatch of black hair had fallen into his eyes that were locked on hers, and he ran his hand through it to put it back in place. Her heart raced as she gave him a small smile.
The whole animal-attraction thing they had going on was ridiculous, and she tried to push her thoughts away. It took more willpower than she was comfortable with not to walk across the room to him — to do or say what, she didn’t know.
She was spellbound, like she’d been hypnotized. Like Mina and Dracula, it was as if he’d somehow infected her, and logic and reason no longer applied. Ultimately, she didn’t get it and was torn because, even though she knew she should stay away, she was equally fascinated, dreading and anticipating every chance she had to see him.
A few days earlier, Lex had watched him at the warehouse before practice started, bent over his black notebook with his long legs slung over the arm of an armchair. His face had been bent in concentration as his pen flew across the page, his attention focused so wholly on his task that nothing else seem to exist.
She knew that look. It was the same look she wore when she wrote and sketched.
After the first practice, she had downloaded all their music and had been listening to it in a compulsive loop. His lyrics hit her deep in a part of herself that she didn’t speak to very often, the place that whispered of love and forever and the loneliness of looking for things you didn’t know were real. Lex kept that little voice tamped down tight, only letting it out to write and draw.
Kara brushed her arm, and Lex shook her head to clear it, cursing herself as she broke the laser eyes she and Dean had on each other.
“I see Dean is here.” Kara raised her eyebrows at Lex, linking their arms so she could pull Lex toward the pool tables. As they walked past Dean, Kara catcalled, “Hey there, hot stuff.”
Dean didn’t take his eyes off her, though he took a drink to hide his smile, and she found herself looking up at him like there had never been and never would be anyone so beautiful.
Eye contact seemed to make it worse — she immediately felt like she could breathe again once he was behind her.
Lex and Kara set their drinks and bags down at a wobbly bar table near where Roe and Travis were playing pool. Behind them, Kevin was attempting to play darts with his face screwed up in concentration. He wasn’t having much luck. Mostly, they’d hit the board sideways, if they even got close. His skinny frame was clad in skinny jeans, Chucks, and a T-shirt that said Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because I’ll kick your ass at Street Fighter.
Lex hopped onto the barstool and swiveled around to face the pool table. Travis caught sight of her and sauntered up as Roe stretched over the table to make a shot, the light shining bright on his face and shoulders, the rest of him disappearing in the darkness.
Travis landed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Good day?”
“Well, I broke up a fight between two middle-aged women over the last copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, so … I guess that would make it a win.”
“That’s a story I’d like to hear.” He laughed as he turned back toward the pool table where Roe was leaning on his cue, observing them.
Lex shuffled in her seat and picked up her drink, pretending not to notice.
Kara grabbed her drink and shot a sly grin at Lex in parting as she slinked over to Kevin. “How about you let a pro show you how it’s done?”
Kevin looked elated. “Uh, please do. I’m considering trying out to be a championship dart competitor. That is, after I kick-start my cage fighting career. I might need quite a bit of tutoring.”
Kara grabbed a handful of darts and moved behind Kevin with a crafty look on her face, pushing up against him while she guided his arm to throw. He glanced over at the rest of the group with an is-this-really-happening look on his face.
Lex looked around the bar and then down at her drink as she realized that she was alone at the table, and Dean was unaccounted for.
Awesome.
She glanced around, nervous. He was bound to walk up at any minute, and her stomach flipped with anticipation. She wondered what would happen if she got caught in a conversation with him for an extended period of time. Every scenario that crossed her mind did not end well. And by not ending well, she meant ending up lip-locked against a wall.
They’d only spoken a few times, but she’d watched him during practice like a stalker. Dean had all the makings of a man-sized Venus flytrap. Everything about him called to her — and every other woman in a fifty-foot radius — but she knew if she got close, she would get eaten. Hopefully eaten in the sexy way, but she figured, more likely, it would be in the kind of way that she would experience a slow and painful death via metaphorical stomach acid.
Who says he would even come to sit next to me anyway? she thought.
Which happened to be the exact moment he walked up.
Dean’s green eyes were bright, and the black stubble on his face pronounced the hard line of his jaw. His legs were long in black jeans and a white V-neck under his black leather jacket. But it was more than that. It was in the cool certainty of his body as he moved, as if nothing could touch him, as if no one could hurt him. As if he floated above them all.
She watched him, awed and unsettled with her heart thundering in her ears.
He sidled up next to her and leaned on the edge of the wobbly table, tipping it toward him. Her drink teetered and spilled a bit, and she was entertained — that cool she’d been admiring had slipped, revealing him as just a man, not a god.
Or maybe a god with a little bit of a clumsy streak.
Dean grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins and mopped up the table.
“Sorry,” he said.
She thought she saw a little pink in his cheeks and stopped a giggle by biting her lip, her worries disappearing.
“It’s fine. No harm. See?” She turned her arms, inspecting for spills before picking up her drink and taking a dramatic sip, peering at him over the rim of her glass.
His eyes met hers, and they sat in silence for a moment. She broke their gaze, which always seemed to stop time, and looked down at the amber liquid in her glass, spinning it slowly, overly aware of her hands, her face, her hair as she tugged at a lock that tumbled around her face and twisted it with her index finger.
Ugh, get a grip.
She never did that. She unwound her hair and threaded her fingers in her lap.
Eager to break the tension, Lex scrambled for something to say, blurting ou
t the first thing that came to her. “This band is great. Have you heard them before?”
“Yeah, George plays here a lot. The guy’s a legend. We’ve jammed together a couple of times — I learned more from him in a few hours than I did in years on my own. I actually own the forty-fives he put out in the fifties.”
“You collect records?” she asked, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic.
“I do. It’s an obsession really.”
She smiled wide because of course he did. He was as obsessed with music as she was, probably more. “Vinyl is a precious, lost medium. What are you into?”
“Everything. There’s not a lot of music I don’t like, and I’ve got samplings from electronic to hip hop to indie albums.”
“It’s becoming a lost art. I mean, how annoying is it to go to a bar with a ‘DJ’ who plays off their iPod? That’s not spinning. That’s making a playlist.” She chuffed and took a drink.
Dean laughed, seeming surprised. “What about you? I’m sure I’ve got something in my collection that you’d like.”
She almost choked on her drink and swallowed hard. There were all kinds of things in his collection she was sure she’d enjoy. “I, uh … well, I love music, so I’m sure you’d have a record or two that I’d appreciate.”
He watched her squirm, and she thought he might be reading her mind, and that what he found amused him.
“I always see you writing,” he said, his voice deep and velvety and rumbling, the sound hitting her deep in her belly. “I write too, ever since I was a kid. I used to fill up composition books full of really bad poetry, though now I mostly write lyrics. Hopefully I’ve improved since then.”
“I think you’re doing all right.” Lex flushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I mean, you know, I really like your songs.” She flushed deeper as the hole she’d dug swallowed her up. “Um, anyway, I mostly write poetry, but I sketch too.”