“No mortal has ever dared talk to me this way.” Syph’s face reddened.
“Does it make you mad?” asked Bonnie. “Does it piss you off? Good. That means that you’re not an entirely lost cause. Now get in there and give this god some of that divine wrath everyone is always talking about.”
“I would, but he has company.”
Syph pointed to a car pulling into the house’s driveway. Bonnie ducked down, though she wasn’t sure why.
“You don’t have to worry,” said Syph. “I’ve made the car invisible.”
Janet exited the car and rang the doorbell. The door was answered by a raccoon.
Syph ducked. “Get down.”
Bonnie did so. “I thought you made us invisible.”
“It doesn’t work on other gods.”
Bonnie raised her head just enough to see the raccoon. “Wait a minute. You’re not telling me that… that’s the god that broke your heart?”
“Yes,” said Syph.
“That god?”
“Yes.”
“With the fuzzy tail and loudest Hawaiian shirt I have ever seen? The god who is wearing sunglasses even though it’s eight in the evening.”
“Yes.”
“The god who stands maybe three feet tall at-”
“Yes,” said Syph. “That god!”
Lucky took Janet’s hand and placed his muzzle against it.
“What was that?” asked Syph. “Was that a kiss?”
“I don’t think raccoons have lips capable of kissing,” said Bonnie. “That seemed like more of a nuzzle.”
He said something, and Janet laughed.
“Are they flirting?” asked Syph.
Janet knelt down and playfully ruffled the fur on his head.
“She is flirting with him.” Syph didn’t shout, but only because she spoke through clenched teeth. “Is this a date?”
“It looks like a date,” said Bonnie as Lucky and Janet climbed into her car.
Bonnie started her car.
“What are you doing?” asked Syph.
“I’m following them,” replied Bonnie, still slouching behind her wheel somewhat.
“Why?”
“Because…”
Something was different about Syph now. Maybe it was jealousy. Or rage. Or maybe just unpleasant discomfort from seeing the object of her obsession getting on with his life before her. Whatever it was, it was better than the constant ennui radiating from her. Either way, Bonnie was worried that if she told Syph any of this it might go away.
“Why not?” said Bonnie.
Janet wasn’t usually intimidated by the gods. She had enough experience with powers to remove most of the mystery and romance from the divine. She’d mingled with gods. Flirted with a few. And screwed several. But she’d never been on a date with a god. Not a real date.
She realized this on the drive to the restaurant, and for the first time ever, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“So…” She started without having any other part of the sentence mapped out. Her improvisational skills abandoned her.
“So…” replied Lucky.
They didn’t say anything for a few minutes. The radio didn’t even have the consideration to fill the silence with music. Instead, it played commercials. Janet flipped through the channels, but the radio refused to cooperate and she finally gave up, stopping on an Oracle Friends’ Network ad.
Lucky snorted. “That is such a scam.”
“Really?”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned closer. “Nobody has had a destiny in a thousand years. Not an official destiny anyway. Things got too big for that a long time ago. It was a lot easier to preconfigure the paths of fate when there weren’t so damn many of you mortals running around. Now it’s pretty much impossible. I think the last guy the Fates tried to guide was Gary Hamelin. And we all know how that worked out.”
“Never heard of him,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Well, my mom swears by them. Said they helped her find some lost keys one time.”
“Oh, yeah, they’re good for stuff like that, I suppose. Just don’t expect them to be infallible. It’s a good way to end up doing life in a Peruvian prison.”
“Gary Hamelin?” she asked.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
They shared a light chuckle, and for a moment, Janet thought the ice was broken. They’d already hung out, already slept together. But there was still an uncomfortable aura around this date.
“Why did you ask me out?” It’d been on her mind for a while now, though she hadn’t intended on inquiring. But she was desperate for any conversational thread, and this one just sprang spontaneously.
“Oh, no reason. Why did you say yes?”
“I had a choice? I thought if I refused you’d transform me into a spider or a flower or something like that.”
“Fruit basket.”
“What?”
“I usually transform people into fruit baskets.”
She studied him from the corner of her eye, noticing the slight smirk on his muzzle.
“Oh, you are so full of shit,” she said. “You don’t do that.”
“You got me. And you’re full of it, too. You didn’t say yes because you were worried about being smote by a disappointed god.”
“Okay, so you got me,” she admitted. “So you would’ve been disappointed if I’d said no?”
“Of course.”
“I’m just surprised. I didn’t think gods dated mortals much anymore. Not like official date dates. If you know what I mean.”
“Kind of fell out of fashion,” he admitted. “Mind if I turn up the radio?”
“No, no. Go ahead.”
“Dancing Queen” came out of the radio. Lucky’s ears fell flat. “Oh, Tiamat, I hate this song.”
“Go ahead and change it.”
“Thanks.” He fiddled with the tuner until he found a song that pleased him. “That’s better.”
“’ Waterloo?’”
“Yeah,” said Lucky. “Great song.”
“But isn’t ‘ Waterloo ’ by ABBA?”
“That’s right.”
“And isn’t ’Dancing Queen’ by ABBA?”
“Correctamundo.”
“And don’t they sound almost identical?” asked Janet.
“What’s’a matter? Don’t you like ABBA?”
“Who doesn’t like ABBA?” said Janet.
“Hecate,” said Lucky. “Huge Bee Gees fan. But what can you expect from a goddess of darkness?”
“Don’t change the subject. You were just telling me that you like ‘ Waterloo ’ but not ’Dancing Queen.’ Even though, by and large, they’re the same song. At least stylistically.”
“Oh, sure, stylistically,” agreed Lucky. “But ’Dancing Queen’ is a vapid little emptiness. ’ Waterloo,’ on the other hand, is a noble study into humanity, a continuation of the great Greek tragedy tradition. Yet it’s also a triumph of the mortal spirit, an unwillingness to surrender against the inevitable darkness, and even an ability to find comfort in defeat.” He snapped his fingers along with the tune. “She can’t refuse, but at least she feels like she wins when she loses. Think about it.”
“Oh, I will,” said Janet with strained sincerity.
“Music has always been the greatest expression of mortal philosophy,” continued Lucky. “The path to enlightenment is found in the lyrics of Spinal Tap.”
“That’s not even a real band. Next you’ll be extolling the virtues of the Monkees.”
“Nah. Every ounce of the Monkees’ artistic merit left with Peter Tork.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
He flashed a devilish smile. “You’ll just have to figure that out on your own.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she said with a chuckle.
“Usually, but most mortals are either too awed or too afraid to call me on it. Take Phil and Teri. They’re good kids, but they’re always walking on eggshells around me.”
“But I don’t,” she said.
“No, you don’t. You’re a rare breed of mortal, Janet. You aren’t afraid and you aren’t disdainful. No pressure. No expectations. You have no idea how attractive we gods find that in a mortal.”