Day 6
Politics at the Door
The next morning Soren had just gotten out of the shower and was in the middle of enjoying his first morning coffee on his first official day-off from customs when someone knocked on his door. He scowled and then tried not too because he’d been scowling ever since last night when he found out Rehan was working in the Pit with Mercer. He just couldn’t wrap him mind around sweet, loving Rehan working for Hades in Tartarus. It didn’t make sense on any level.
At the door were two people wearing big, bold “Vote Greek” buttons. Soren stood there, at nine in the morning, san shirt and holding his cup of coffee, waiting for one of them to speak because he sure wasn’t interested in what they were selling, and he had no intention of making it easy on them. Who interrupted a man’s day-off morning coffee to talk politics?
“Uh,” the woman blinked repeatedly and didn’t move her eyes above his naked chest. “Is Harlow here?”
“Harlow!” he called over his shoulder. He asked the guy, “You're the guy who busks near the Poseidon fountain, aren't you?”
“Sure am,” the man held up a well-used lyra. “I'm Reggie.”
“I know you, too,” Soren addressed the woman who still had not met his eyes. “You're the customs registrar.”
“Guilty.” She swallowed as he raised his coffee and took a sip. “I'm Kerin,” she said. “Will you be voting Greek?”
Soren shrugged. The movement was tracked by Kerin's eyes and Soren couldn’t help but feel like a piece of meat waiting to be devoured by a pack of hungry hyenas. An extremely hot piece of meat, but a piece of meat, nonetheless. “Or Roman,” he said after another sip. “I haven't decided.”
“Romans do better at the local levels.” Reggie said.
Sure, sure. “A well-done orgy can really sway a vote,” Soren replied.
“A bit cumbersome at the national level,” Harlow said as she came to the door. She was dressed all prissy lawyer-y like in slacks and blouse, Diego’s shoes, and her blonde hair sleek and shiny.
Soren smiled and winked. He liked her humor. “I can imagine.”
He left her to her guests. As he walked away, he felt Kerin’s eyes bore into his back and heard her say, “How long has this cozy nest been going on and why haven't you given me details yet?”
Soren smiled at the absurdity of that question—him and Harlow? Please! —until he heard Harlow guff in derision and scoff, “Please! We're just roommates. Trust me, there’s nothing going on.”
Okaaay, he didn’t much appreciate her disdainful attitude. It got his dander up. Like he was somehow lacking? Like he wasn’t good enough for her to even pretend that they were sleeping together? What the hell?
“You want me to believe you walk around that handsome male all night and you're just roommates?” He preened at Kerin's words. Pieces of meat had self-esteem needs, too.
So, just to screw with Harlow a bit, he called out, “It's your turn to make the bed.”
And that, was how a man took back his pride. Mission complete, Soren sauntered down the hall to the bedroom and got ready to play with his friends at the park.
Politics in the Park
Soren didn’t feel good. He could have blamed it on the myriad bruises he’d earned half an hour ago during the bi-weekly, take-no-prisoners, ESF Handlers vs Tartarus demons rugby match. That wasn’t the reason though. The reason was smiling at the other end of the park while wearing an Hawaiian shirt, chinos, and loafers. Soren didn’t think he’d ever witnessed anything as disturbing.
In front of him in the food line, Haero accepted the serving of potato salad a volunteer scooped onto his paper plate. “It’s seems wrong,” Haero said when they’d all gotten hot dogs and hamburgers from the grill and found several empty picnic tables, or more accurately, took the hastily abandoned tables left behind when other attendees saw a group of demons approaching and fled to safer, further removed tables, “but, he looks almost… approachable.”
“It’s making me uncomfortable,” Mercer said. Everyone at the tables, handlers and demons alike, nodded in agreement and then dug into their food as if to hide from the travesty surrounding them.
Soren did the same until Haero’s phone chimed an incoming text. Then chimed again. Then again and again for like six or seven texts in a row. Haero glared at the device. “Dude! Kid,” he snapped at the phone as he read, “stop texting me!” He shook his head and told them, “my baby brother is a smartassed little punk and I swear I’m ready to kill him. I don’t know how much longer I can work with him.” He devolved into a flurry of texting.
“Hey,” Soren growled to Mercer. “Speaking of work, what’s this I hear about you getting Rehan a job in the Pit.”
Out of everything Soren had been prepared for it wasn’t Mercer’s giant smile. “Rehan is doing just fine in the Pit. She’s settling in.
A sweetheart like Rehan? “Are you out of your mind?” Soren sputtered.
“Look,” Mercer said, “It’s not a big deal, okay. I’ve got a demon with her at all times. Magus,” he called across to a neighboring table to a particularly mean looking demon with big, menacing horns spiraling up and out of his head. A few of Soren’s bruises from this afternoon were caused by the demon’s crushing tackles.
Magus looked up from his coleslaw. “Yeah, boss?”
“You shadowed Rehan yesterday, how’d she do? Any trouble?”
“Aces, boss. No trouble. Lady is an angel.”
“See,” Mercer turned back to Soren with an arms spread wide expression of ‘you got nothin’ to worry about.’
“You didn’t have to hire her,” Soren said.
“It’s Rehan. You know I don’t say no to Rehan.”
“Yeah, like the time she saw you at the park. She went home with a dog.”
“Rus sired a litter. She thought they were cute.”
“The damn thing is a hell hound.” And it hated him. He finally stopped going to Rehan’s house because the mutt kept nipping at him and then, when it had gotten older, throwing his gargantuan self against the walls if Rehan put the beast in a separate room.
“I won’t deny that,” his friend said without remorse or any hint of guilt.
Haero broke into their conversation and said, “Isn’t that your partner over there?”
Soren looked up and saw Harlow standing amidst the flock of Greek candidates and supporters. “Yeah, her friends are volunteers or something. They picked her up this morning.”
“How's it going with her?” Haero asked.
Soren smiled. Not as bad as he’d first thought it’d be. “She's interesting I'll give you that. She's funny. Half the time she's gone anyway. I thought Rehan was social, but this one, damn. She meets friends before work, during her lunch break, and after work. At night she kicks me with her ice-cube feet and steals my blankets.” He was kind of getting used to it.
“Still no couch?”
“Please. That place. They've delivered a duplicate couch and yesterday a recliner. How hard can it be to look at the order form and send the right item?”
“Why not go down and pick it up yourself,” Mercer asked.
Soren shrugged. He'd thought about it, but it seemed like such a hassle. “I'm busy. I'm almost at level 32 in Minotaur Street Ninja and I'm organizing a staff luncheon. I've got things to do.”
“A staff luncheon? For customs?” Haero said.
Yeah, a staff luncheon for customs. He was proud of the ease in which the whole event was coming together. It was a huge undertaking considering the vast number of people customs employed. A pot-luck was clearly the way to go and the sign-up sheets were filling up with participants eager to share their favorite dishes with their colleagues.
“Apparently, I’m a genius at event planning and customs isn’t that bad,” he said a bit defensively. “I'm a faceless number with no real responsibility. I press one button countless times a day and I can't get it wrong. If I don't go to the kiosk no one waits for me or gets mad, they just go to a different kiosk. It's a dream. I gotta tell ya, I feel great. I can't remember the last time my neck got knotty. Customs is like a vacation. So long as Pine doesn't discover the switch, I'll be happy to stay.”
Both of his friends and some of the other guys who’d been listening pulled back as if scalded with boiling oil. “Who are you?” Haero asked with concern.
Soren chuckled. “It’s a surprise to me, too.” He lowered his voice and spoke only to Mercer and Haero. “Cyvarian and the Big Guys seem to think human souls are being stolen from customs.”
“That’s impossible, isn’t it?” Mercer said.
“That’s the impression I’ve been under.”
Haero leaned forward across the table and said, “The Big Guys have proof?”
“I guess Pine’s numbers don’t add up. Other than that, they’ve got nothing. Which is why I’m there. I’m supposed to find evidence of an event that can’t happen.”
Haero nodded and then gathered his dirty plate and stood. “Okay, guys, I gotta get back to the Pit. I need to beat some sense into my little brother.”