Unfinished Muse (11 page)

She strode out without looking back, and I
trotted behind her. The woman could really work those damn
shoes.

On the way back to the office, I stared out
the window, lost in thought. A sense of unease worried at my gut
the more I went over everything I’d seen that day.

I’d never finished anything in my life. I
was a joke. How was I supposed to be responsible for helping other
people finish what they needed to do? There was no way I could do
this.

I was doomed to fail before I’d even
begun.

~*~

It took most of the weekend for Phyllis to talk me
down from my doom cloud.

“You’ll do fine,” she said for the fifth
time. “But you’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe if you don’t put
down the ice cream.”

I sat curled on the sofa eating mint
chocolate chip straight from the carton. With a really big
spoon.

“So what? The dress code didn’t say anything
about the size of my ass.” I waved my spoon in her general
direction. “Besides, I might as well eat all the ice cream I can
before I get sent to the Underworld. I bet it’s super hot down
there.”

Phyllis let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s
Hell, darling, not the Underworld. And I can’t believe you’re
throwing in the towel before you’ve even started. You don’t even
have your first client, and you’re already resigned to failure.”
She clucked a non-existent tongue. “I thought with everything
that’s happened in the last week, you’d have given up on giving up
by now.”

I grumbled vague noises into the carton
cradled in the crook of my arm. “Oh, sure. I should embrace my
deity heritage. Throw off my pathetic past as a loser and become a
demigod, capable of changing the lives of the regular mortals
around me.” I swirled the melting ice cream so it resembled a thick
milk shake. “Maybe if I knew who my father was, I might be able to
do that. But I don’t even know who I am, Phyllis. And until I do, I
can’t even eat in the big kids’ cafeteria. How sad is that?”

Usually, smooshing the softened ice cream
made it more appealing. This time it looked like unappetizing goop.
I dropped the spoon into the carton and contemplated how much
effort it would take to go into the kitchen and put it away.

“Wynter.” Phyllis’ voice was gentle.

“What?” Mine was more on the petulant
side.

“I know this whole thing is frightening. And
I know how hard it’s been for you, always moving around, never
fully committing to anything or anyone. But I need you to trust me
on this. You’re going to be fine. This is your fate. Fate will
never steer you wrong.”

I sighed and pulled myself from the couch to
head into the kitchen. “I know you believe I can do this.” The
spoon made a jarring clang when I dropped it into the sink. “I just
wish I could.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I believe in you
enough for both of us.”

Chapter 9

To my utter dismay, one day of training was all they
gave me.

I came in Monday morning, fully expecting to
go on another ride-along with Audrey, only to find an assignment in
my inbox and Audrey nowhere to be found. I grabbed the paperwork
out of the tray and took it to Polly’s office.

Her door was open, and she looked up when I
knocked. “Did you get your assignment?”

For a moment, I stood there like an idiot,
unable to speak. I’d forgotten until that moment what Audrey had
told me. Polly was a real Greek Muse. Daughter of the gods.
Possibly responsible for the words of Homer and Shakespeare. I
swallowed hard and held up the papers I’d brought with me. “Now
what do I do?”

She drew her thick eyebrows together in a
quizzical look. “You go to the address and create an inspiration.
There isn’t much to it. Audrey showed you how and when to use your
tools on Friday, right?”

I was too flustered to form a sentence to
object at first. One day of training seemed ridiculous. I had zero
confidence in my own abilities. “What if I do it wrong?”

She shrugged. “As long as you remember to go
invisible, no harm done. Try again tomorrow.” She frowned when I
didn’t move. “You’ll be fine. Go.” She shooed me away. “Motivate.
Inspire. Provoke art. And close the door, please.”

Scowling, I made my way back to my desk. I
sat for a few minutes thinking about how hard I was going to suck
at all this. Then I pulled myself together and used the outdated
computer in front of me to map the address on my assignment.

At least I could figure out where I was
going.

My client was a guy named Alex. He lived in
Topeka, a short distance from my apartment. I punched the address
into my phone’s GPS so I wouldn’t get lost, then scanned the sheet
to find out what Alex’s project was. My mouth opened in
disbelief.

“Toothpick art? Seriously?” I leaned back in
my chair and threw my hands in the air. “Whatever happened to
poetry and ballet? This isn’t even a thing.”

Kayla walked past, reading an assignment of
her own, and stopped to glare at me over the half-wall of my
cubicle. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

My voice sounded whiny, even to myself.
“They gave me toothpick art. That’s not even real.”

She gave me a disgusted look. “Did you think
you were going to start off helping someone write the Great
American Novel or something? You have to begin at the bottom. My
first assignment was for a graffiti artist.” She started to walk
away, then stopped again to look back at me. “It’s not like you
ever finish anything yourself, anyway.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I
would have asked her, but she was already gone. She wasn’t wrong,
but she wouldn’t know that. She’d just met me.

Muttering, I did a quick search on the
computer. To my surprise, toothpick art
was
a thing. An
impressive thing, in fact. I clicked through pages filled with
incredible works of architectural art.

“Ha. Fooled you, you cow. This is a great
assignment.” I really wanted to believe that.

After a few minutes, I logged off and went
to the prop room for my gear. I clipped the belt around my waist
and loaded it with a fresh bottle of bubbles and the Beastie stuff
Audrey had failed to demonstrate or explain. As I turned to leave
the room, I found my way blocked by Dave and Jeremy.

Seriously. For an office full of people who
were supposed to be inspirational, the employees in the Muse
department mostly seemed to be a pack of crap-weasels. They were
worse than the folks I’d worked with for two weeks at the DMV.

I really needed to rethink my life
choices.

Dave stuck his hands in his pockets and
grinned. “Hey, chicky. Ready for your first solo?”

I took a deep breath, counted to three, and
let it out. “I am, yes.”

Jeremy snickered, and it was every bit as
creepy as I’d expected it to be. “Can we watch?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Watch what?”

“You,” Dave said. “Solo.” He turned to
Jeremy, and they high-fived each other.

It occurred to me that I should say
something to my boss. Or maybe march down to Human Resources and
file a complaint. I’d never been very good at following rules like
that. I knew if guys like that weren’t reported, they’d continue
their bad behavior, and girls who were easier to shake up would end
up targets.

But it might also be the case that this was
some sort of hazing ritual. Everybody but Trina seemed to hate me
already for some reason, and frankly, it was my first real day on
the job.

I shoved past them, elbowing my way through.
“Not till you have notes from your mommies. You’re not grown up
enough to even talk to me right now.”

Whatever reaction they were expecting from
me, that wasn’t it. I left the office without hearing another word
out of them. Tomorrow I’d probably have another problem from them,
but for now, at least I was away from them.

“Crap-weasels.”

Halfway down the hallway, I’d cooled off
enough to realize I had no minder. Nobody was watching over my
shoulder or tracking my hours. And Polly didn’t seem at all
concerned about how long it took to inspire this guy Alex to get
his work done. If I didn’t get him motivated today, I could do it
tomorrow. The sudden freedom felt like an elephant had stepped off
of my chest and let me breathe.

That didn’t mean I meant to totally slack
off or anything. But at least I could stop somewhere and get coffee
on the way. I was, for all intents and purposes, my own boss during
the day.

I stepped into the half-full elevator,
golden tool belt jingling on my hips, and pressed the button for
the lobby. One floor down, a few people left, and a few more got
on. The doors closed, the elevator moved, and the doors opened. I
marched out, confident and full of myself.

A split second later, I realized I was on
the second floor, not the lobby. I groaned. I could spin around and
hit the button. The doors had only begun to slide shut. If I were
super quick, they’d open again and let me in.

Of course, then everyone inside would know
I’d prematurely jumped out of the elevator.

Opting out of the embarrassment scenario, I
moved forward with purpose so the last thing the folks in the
elevator would see was me getting on with my business. Or
pretending to, anyway. Once the doors closed, I stopped and looked
around.

The second floor was neither wide open like
the lobby, nor a maze of hallways like the fifth floor where I
worked. The main hallway was wider and led to a central waiting
area that branched off in several directions. Also, I smelled
coffee.

I followed the big hallway to the center and
peered up at the directory on the wall. Arrows pointed in different
directions to the Medical Clinic, Library, Chapel, and Midlevel
Cafeteria.

Midlevel cafeteria? That sounded intriguing.
No one had told me about any of these places, and I wasn’t certain
if I was allowed to use them. But if I had a better cafeteria
option than the one with the snake lady serving slop, I’d take
it.

I followed the arrow in the same direction
my nose told me there was coffee. I stopped outside the doors,
hesitant to go in without knowing first if I’d be humiliated and
tossed out. The view through the windows showed me a much more
comfortable eating area than the one downstairs. People sipped
coffee and typed on laptops or phone displays while a young girl
helped people from behind the counter.

It looked perfectly normal. There had to be
a catch.

The back of my neck itched, as if a bug had
landed there. I swatted at it and felt warm air brush my
fingers.

“This isn’t a Dickens novel, you know.” The
voice behind me was deep and rumbled with amusement. “You don’t
have to stand outside and watch people eat.”

I whirled and faced the guy breathing on my
neck. He stood several inches taller than me, had broad shoulders,
blue eyes, and soft blond hair. Perfect. Or nearly so. For some
strange reason, he was wearing a cowboy costume, complete with
chaps and gun holster. He clutched the brim of a black cowboy hat
with one hand.

Swap all that out for a nice suit, and he’d
have been perfection. Though the chaps weren’t at all
off-putting.

I cleared my throat in an effort not to
stutter with a sudden bout of nerves. “Howdy, partner. Did I miss
the rodeo?”

He grinned and reached around me to open the
door. “Work clothes. I don’t look like this all the time. Honest.”
He held the door and waited for me to walk through.

I frowned “Thanks. But am I supposed to be
in there? Nobody told me. I’m new.”

He rested his hand on the small of my back
and ushered me in. “Anybody who’s out of orientation can be in
here. You hungry?”

I shook my head. “I was just hoping for some
coffee before heading out to my assignment.”

He winked. “Allow me, New Girl.” He strode
to the counter. “Hey, Gretchen. Could I get two large cinnamon
lattes?” He turned his head toward me. “You like cinnamon, New
Girl?”

I nodded, surprised. “I love it.” On my own,
I probably would have ordered something simple, since it was my
first time in there. But he’d managed to pick out something I would
really enjoy, instead. Who
was
this beautiful man?

He paid for the drinks and carried them both
to a table in the corner with the hat clenched in his teeth. I
followed like a little lamb, feeling awkward and a little like I’d
swallowed a nest of baby hummingbirds.

“So,” he said, handing me my drink. “I’m
Rick. Welcome to Mount Olympus.”

I grabbed my cup with both hands to have
something to hold on to. “Thanks. I’m Wynter.”

“Pretty.” He patted the sheriff’s badge
pinned to his tasseled, suede vest. “I’m with the Dreams and
Nightmares department. Last night I had to be a cowboy for some
kid.”

“Ah.” I nodded, as if I knew what he was
talking about. “I’m a Muse.” I bit my tongue and felt my face
flush. “I didn’t mean I’m ‘amused.’ I mean I work as a Muse.”

He took a sip of his coffee, eyes sparkling
with suppressed laughter. “I knew what you meant. The belt is kind
of a giveaway.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the clock on the wall
over the counter. Freedom or not, if someone from my office saw me
sitting there when I was supposed to be out working, it wouldn’t
look very good. “It’s late. It’s my first solo mission today. I
should probably get going.” I scooted out of my seat and thrust my
hand out at him. “So, it was nice meeting you. Thanks again for the
coffee.”

He shook my hand slowly and nodded toward
the cup in my hand. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

I took a gulp, burning my mouth. Probably
would have been smarter to take a smaller sip. Still, it was
heavenly. I sighed. “Oh, that’s good. Really good.”

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He let go of
my hand and raised his paper cup in a toast. “Good luck on your
first solo, Wynter. See you around.”