Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(77)

"I hired Phoebus and his sister to be my assistants until Friday. Phoebus is an expert in ancient Roman architecture, and his sister is, well, so drop-dead that Eddie changed his mind about insisting the stupid center statue of his fountain be fashioned after horrid Bacchus and is using her as a goddess model instead." She finished, breathed, and waited for the storm.

"You hired your boyfriend?"

"He is not my boyfriend."

"And his sister?" V continued as if Pamela hadn't spoken.

"Yeah, well, his sister just kinda came with the deal. Phoebus really is an expert on ancient Rome. He's helped me convince Eddie to build an authentic Roman bathhouse instead of a tacky replica of the Caesar's Palace pool. Did you know that ancient Romans used their public bathhouses as country clubs?"

"Okay, focus. I'm not through with the boyfriend questions."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Whatever. And I thought you said he was a doctor and a musician," V said. "And wasn't he supposed to be hightailing it out of Vegas early Monday morning?"

"He is a doctor and a musician. He's also an expert on ancient Rome. And, yes, he was supposed to leave, but he, uh, missed his flight, so he decided to stay," Pamela said, trying to keep her voice light and unliar sounding.

"Sounds too curiously convenient to me. And I thought he was a young Jedi Knight. How the hell old is he, anyway?"

"Older than I thought at first," Pamela said, grateful she could answer one of her friend's questions truthfully.

"Are you still boinking him?"

"No! At least I didn't last night."

"His idea or yours not to boink?" V asked.

"Mine," Pamela said miserably.

"Oh, nuh-uh. You're totally stuck on him. Please tell me you didn't hire him just so you could keep him around and torture yourself with your growing obsession. It sets up a sick soap opera scenario, Pammy."

"It's not like that. I hired him - and his bitch sister - because I could use their help."

"So the beauty is a beast?"

Pamela smiled. She knew the red herring bitch tidbit would work.

"She's awful. Gorgeous, haughty, total goddess complex. You'd love her."

"You're such a tease." V sighed.

"I'm also a design genius. Hiring Phoebus and Diana has totally taken the pressure off me to produce something tasteful out of something impossibly tacky. Eddie is completely gone on Diana. One smile or pout from her, and he instantly changes his mind."

"And you, of course, have briefed her on what you want Eddie to like?" V said.

"Of course," Pamela lied. Again. Artemis couldn't be told to do much of anything. It was just a good thing that the goddess had excellent, if exceedingly extravagant, taste.

"So what is your handsome tripod doing besides standing around looking male?"

"He's not mine. And he's working with the architects on the bathhouse. It's really pretty interesting to find out about - " A knock on her door interrupted her. "Hang on, someone's at the door."

"Pamela?" Apollo's deep voice carried easily through the door. "I need your help."

"Uh, V, I gotta go."

"Okay - call me later. And remember, don't overanalyze everything, but be careful."

Pamela grunted a bye and closed the little flip phone before she cracked the door. One look at Apollo, and the door widened, along with her eyes. He was naked from his waist up. His hair was a wild curling mass, and his chin and cheeks were covered with blood.

"Oh my god! What did you do?"

"I shaved," he said. "And I'm bleeding!"

"Get in here," she pulled him into the room and closed the door. Under the splotches of blood that speckled his face his skin was pale. She shook her head at him and pointed at a chair. "Sit down before you fall down. You don't look so good."

Apollo dropped into the chair. He touched one of the blood drops, looked at his reddened finger, and swallowed convulsively.

"It's my blood," he said.

Pamela frowned at him. "Of course it is. It looks like you nicked the shit out of yourself shaving." She headed into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Haven't you ever shaved before?"

He shook his head woodenly. "No."

She came back in the room with the wet washcloth, remembering now that she had noticed how smooth and stubble-free his face had been the morning they'd woken up together.

"You've really never shaved before?"

He looked up at her. "I never had to. My face never grew a beard."

She bent in front of him and examined his face, touching him gently on the cheek. "It's really not so bad. You only cut yourself a few times. It's just that the face bleeds easily."

"I didn't know," he said, looking even paler.

She straightened. "Is bleeding something else you haven't done before?"

"No," he said, then frowned, "I mean yes. Bleeding is something I have never done before."

Pamela opened her mouth and then closed it. He was a god. Gods didn't die, so it was only logical that they didn't bleed, either. She didn't know what the hell to say. Before she could formulate an intelligent response, two knocks beat against the door, followed by the faint sound of her name.