Chapter 32 - Austin

Don’t’ cry because it’s over. Grab your best friend, a bottle of tequila, and laugh because that asshole is now someone else’s problem!

~ Phoibe Cupid

“Dude,” Walker whispered. 

I ignored him and tried again to bounce the ping pong ball into the cup. When it missed, I reached for the shot glass and threw back the cheap, burning whiskey. It wasn’t any wonder I had missed the last six shots. I was fast on my way to being a little drunk.

“Dude,” Walker sighed again.

“If you say dude one more time, I will shove this ping pong ball up your ass.”

Walker scrunched up his nose. “You know, I saw a show in Tokyo where a girl did crazy shit with a ping pong ball. She shoved it way up—”

I held up a hand and belched loudly. “Stop, I get the picture, and it’s an image I could live without.”

“I can’t believe you dumped a goddess, like an actual goddess. That's just . . . I have no words.”

“I didn’t dump her,” I admitted, reaching for another ping pong ball. “She ran…or blinked out, or whatever they call that disappearing shit.”

“When the girl runs, you are supposed to chase her, dude, everyone knows that,” Walker said with a little exasperation.

“I don’t even know where she went, I checked her apartment yesterday, Elias said she hadn’t been around in days.”

“You ever hear of this nifty little invention called a cell phone?”

“Fuck you,” I growled. “Obviously I tried calling her, she won’t answer my calls.”

“I’ll call Mac over, she can haul her ass out of hiding.”

“Nope, it’s done. If she wants to hide away like a brooding teenager, let her.”

Walker let out an exaggerated sigh. “You do realize if you don’t sort this shit out, someone is going to pop in and do some voodoo shit on your brain to make you forget it all.”

“Can’t wait,” I murmured.

I didn’t really want to forget. I was acting like a miserable asshole, and I wasn’t even sure why anymore.

“Whatever, I sure as shit don’t want someone messing with my brain. You’re likely to end up clucking like a chicken every time someone claps their hands.”

I was pretty sure whatever immortal creature was in charge of stealing memories and inserting new ones had far more interesting ideas up their sleeves than clucking chickens.

“Mac is worried about her,” Walker mumbled. “She said she doesn’t look so good.”

“Immortals don’t get sick,” I reminded him, but the serious expression on his face had me worried.

“They still have feelings and immortals feel things on a whole other level. What I feel for Mac now, compared to before, man, it’s deeper, bigger, stronger . . . it’s more. While Bee’s hurting you’re indulging in some dumb-ass pity party. You need to get over it, dude. So she ran? You need to chase her ass down and spank it until it’s a pretty shade of pink. Let her know who’s boss.”

I looked at my friend, the wise-ass of this relationship, and saw nothing but sincerity in his raised brows and solemn frown.

“So, you think you’re bigger and stronger than me because you’re immortal?”

“Of course I am,” Walker replied, and I snorted, because he was probably right. He was physically stronger, immune to disease, and he’d live forever. I’d grow old, get wrinkles, probably have scrotox, start popping Viagra, and eventually die. “You’re hurting, too, brother.”

“I’m not hurting. I’m too drunk to hurt.”

“You’re drunk because you’re hurting.”

“I’m drunk because I’ve polished off three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey.” My brow creased as I observed my friend who appeared to be stone cold sober, even though he’d been hanging with me for three hours now. “Why aren’t you drunk?”

“This pity party is for one. I’m here to cheer you on and nod my head and agree.”

“So nod your head and fucking agree. Bee fucked up, she made people hurt for nothing but her own entertainment and then when she was called out on it, she bailed ship faster than a sailor with a four hour shore pass.”

Walker nodded his head and took a pull from his beer.

“Totally . . . but people make mistakes,” he murmured after a short silence.

Rolling my neck, I let my eyes roll before settling my whiskey hued gaze on him.

“I don’t want to talk about Bee.”

“You were the one who brought her up,” he said with a pointed stare. “Anyway, I’m not talking about Bee. I’m talking about you.”

I suddenly had the urge to wash away the taste of whiskey from my mouth. I needed a beer. Standing, I tripped over the empty cups from my epic beer pong battle and stumbled my way across the apartment to the fridge. My gaze lingered on the rumpled sheets of my unmade bed, and my thoughts returned to be Bee lying there, completely naked with a beautiful smile on her glowing face. Obviously, I wasn’t drunk enough. Grabbing a beer, I twisted off the top and took a long drink. Much fucking better.

“Remember that time in junior high when you took all the books out of Harry Beckinsal’s backpack and replaced them with rocks?”

“Yep, I was an asshole,” I agreed.

“What about that time you put blue food coloring in Savannah’s shampoo bottle because she told you Smurfs were for pussies?”

Grinning at the memory, I collapsed back onto the couch.

“Never heard her scream like that before, scared the shit out of me. I thought Mom was going to send me off to boarding school.”

“Let’s not forget your only other legitimate relationship with Chelsea Mayer, when you keyed her car because she cheated on you with Tony Pascal.”

“I was eighteen and prone to moments of assholism. What's your point?”

“There are also a lot of women you fucked and sent packing the next day.”

“They all knew I was only interested in a night. I was always up front with them.”

“Didn’t mean they didn’t hope to light a fire under the ass of Austin Brite and win his heart.”

“You are the worst cheerleader ever,” I mumbled.

“I’m just saying, people make mistakes. Harry forgave you. Fuck, he even invited you to his wedding. For some odd reason, Savannah still loves you. Even Chelsea got over her keyed car and gave you a parting blow job. My point is, people fuck up. They might even see something in a certain light until someone comes along and changes the fucking color of the light. People make mistakes, and most the time they are strong enough to acknowledge that and apologize, but it takes someone even stronger to forgive and move on. The way I see it, if Harry, Chelsea, Savannah, and half the female population under the age of forty in the Brooklyn and New York City area can forgive you, then hell, man, surely you can forgive your fucking soul mate.” 

“My mistakes were like ants, whereas Bee’s mistakes are the size of mountains.”

“Do you think size really matters?” Walker asked, then grinned. I couldn’t’ help but grin back at him. “Well, we all know size matters, and we all know I’m an inch bigger, but when it comes to mistakes, dude, they’re all painted with the same fucking brush.”

“You might be an inch longer, but I have you on girth.” I sighed, laying back on the couch. “There’s nothing to forgive, I’m not even mad anymore, I got over it five minutes after she blinked out. She just needed to give me a minute to wrap my head around shit but instead, she ran. How can I stay mad at her? She’s too darn cute with those pretty blue eyes that could glare a hole right through your heart when she’s angry, and those lips, and those tits, damn perfect tits.” I groaned. Fuck, I missed her.

A ping pong ball smacked into the side of my head, and I turned to look at Walker.

“Fuck this shit, wanna get drunk in Mexico?”

With his new immortal status, Walker had the ability to trace, as Bee and Mac called it. I was sick and tired of sitting around missing Bee, tequila in Mexico was just what I needed.

I measured out the length of cedar laying in front of me on the work bench and marked where I needed to cut. I’d been here for twelve hours now, alone, working in silence. It was a weekend, so the other employees were at home doing what one does on a weekend, and that’s not work. Eminem’s Love The Way You Lie filled the warehouse, the right kind of melody for my pity party. I needed this, though. I needed the distraction, something to divert my attention away from the infuriating woman who took my world and shook it up like a snow globe. Unlike those globes, though, my world hadn’t settled since Bee came blustering into my life like a rampaging tornado. My head fucking ached, and for the first time in three weeks, it wasn’t because I was hung over. I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. I had no idea if she was still ignoring me, because I’d stopped trying to call after the first week. Now I felt like shit. She ran, and I was supposed to chase. She was worth chasing, but my stubborn ass refused to. Now it felt like I’d let it go too long, I’d allowed too much time to fill the gap between us and I had no idea how to fix things. Even Walker said she’d probably curse me with dick rot at this stage in the game if I called. I thumped my head on the counter in annoyance.

“Do you need a physician?”

The question came from a tall, wide, bronzed man with perfect blonde hair and perfect white teeth. His eyes were bluer than any sky I had ever seen, his lips full, his nose perfectly straight. And he was wearing a loose fitting, pale blue button down shirt with the top buttons undone, and . . . were those harem pants? And sandals?

“Why would you knock your head on a table like that? Do you have sanity issues?”

“Mr. Cupid,” I murmured, completely awe-struck by the magnificence before me. I had never met the man—scratch that, the god—but there was no doubt in my mind this was Bee’s father. I was one hundred percent heterosexual, but even I could admit the man was beautiful. It wasn’t just his physical beauty that drew you up short; it was his power that vibrated through the air in an almost suffocating manner. He oozed it, like a damned Marvel superhero. The hair on my arms and legs stood up as if electricity coursed through the air.

“Eros,” the God of Love corrected me.

His fathomless eyes perused the workshop. “You work with your hands? That’s a worthy profession.”  He spoke with an austerity I had never heard before, and I had been surrounded by people of wealth and power for most of my life. His words were confident, clear, and laced with an edge of arrogance. I didn’t really care what people thought of my job, but I couldn’t help feeling pleased that Eros approved. “And you are a musician?”

I offered a cautious nod.

“I like music,” Eros confessed.

Suddenly, the music in the warehouse changed, and instead of Eminem, The Four Seasons Big Girls Don’t Cry filled the space, and I didn’t miss the smirk on the god’s haughty face.

“Are you here to kill me?” I blurted out. Upsetting a god’s only daughter surely had consequences.

Eros smiled, though I couldn’t tell if it was a friendly smile or a you-are-going-to-die smile.

“Maybe,” he answered cryptically.

The vague response made me feel a little sick.

“Hedone is my only child, and I love her in a way you won’t be able to comprehend until you have your own.”

“Hedone?” I said, confused for a quick moment before I realized that was Bee’s real name.

“Hedone. Her mother and I gifted her that name, and I refuse to call her anything but,” Eros roared, and I quickly raised my hands in defense.

“I’m cool with that. In fact, I love the name Hedone.”

Eros took a deep breath and gathered his composure before he offered me a slight nod and continued, “I am extremely proud of Hedone; although, I do admit she has made mistakes. I will take some of the responsibility for those mistakes,” he said on a sigh. “Hedone left me feeling a little lost for a long time. If I told her to walk forwards, she would walk backwards; if I asked her to sit, she would stand; if I asked her to speak, she would be silent. Some might call it willful. I called it tiresome.  I didn’t understand her and that frustration caused me to miss something very important.”

Eros had been walking around the workshop, looking over tools, running his hand down pieces of lumber. Finally, he stilled not far from me, his hands laced behind his back, his shoulders proudly pushed back.

“Hedone thinks deeper than others, feels things on a far more profound level, and she questions everything. When I sent her to the mortal realm with a bow and arrow, it didn’t occur to me that she wouldn’t understand the complexities of human nature. The only love she had truly known was that of her family, of my love for her mother. Our love is . . . different, perhaps more intense, binding. When Hedone was sent out into the world to do her job as a child of love, she was confronted with divorce, adultery, frivolous love. Even in the immortal realm when she began to question love, she’d find beings that sometimes played at relationships like one might a sport. We gods can be fickle beings who like to play, but my daughter was never exposed to such things. She was sheltered. I am devoted to my wife. I love her with everything I am and would never betray that love. That's what Hedone learned at a very young age. When she began working as one of love’s warriors, she didn’t understand this new world in which she was thrust, and what she witnessed hurt her deeply. To protect herself, she built a wall around her heart.” Eros glanced away. In this moment he seemed so . . . human, even vulnerable. He was simply a father who carried guilt for not being able to help his daughter.  “Hedone is not perfect, but I’ve always been a strong believer in flaws creating beauty.” He picked up a piece of wood. “Without these notches in the wood, this would be a plain piece of lumber, uninteresting in every way.” He put it down. “Flaws create curves and color, they create a being of exquisite interest, they make dull, bright. The thing about my beautifully flawed daughter is that she has the capability to learn, and an even greater capability to love.”

I ran a hand down my face and sighed. Eros knew how to pack one hell of a motivational speech.

“I know, I get it. She made mistakes, but don’t we all,” I mumbled.

Eros hummed a sound of agreement. “That she did. She has the courage to admit her mistakes, though, and the thing about the past is it can give you the wisdom to be a better person.”

Damn! He was a walking, talking book of quotes.

“Hedone needs someone with kindness and patience to help her find the path when she errs, and she will err. It isn’t in Hedone’s blood not to wander off the path. The thing is, nobody ever said it would be easy, and nobody ever said it would be this hard.”

“Did you just quote Coldplay?” I asked in disbelief.

“I told you I like music.”

The god of love was a Coldplay fan. Pretty fucking cool!

 “She’s immortal, she’ll live forever. I might get another fifty good years, if I’m lucky, and even then, I’m going to look like Hugh Heffner hanging with his Playboy bunny.”

Eros smiled patiently and nodded his head. “All I’ve ever wanted for my daughter is to love and be loved. If you are worthy, I would be willing to make you immortal.”

“If I’m worthy? How do I prove that? You’re not going to make me fight someone to the death or something, are you?”

Eros seemed to consider that for a moment, and my back stiffened.

“You love her?” he finally asked.

“Very much.”

“You can’t demand a time-out every time you have an argument. Hedone is a woman of action, she lacks patience and doesn’t understand that all relationships stumble from time to time. She is going to think the worst every time one of you raises their voice. You must be forthright with her, always. You must offer the patience she lacks, and you must never let her down, she will be expecting that. To put it simply, just love her. Can you promise me that?”

“I can do that,” I replied without hesitation, my voice husky with emotion I was unwilling to show this bold, powerful god.

“Then I can gift you the immortality you seek.”

“To do that,” I began, clearing my throat, “do I need to die?”

“There is death and rebirth,” Eros carefully explained.

Glancing around the workshop, the God of Love gave the impression he was ignoring me, but was more than likely giving me a private moment to think. What if Bee was too angry to take me back? Perhaps I’d left it too late? I should have fucking chased her!

“Yes, you should have,” Eros murmured, shocking me from my thoughts.

He could read my mind?

“Yes, I can,” he confirmed with such casual nonchalance.

Fuck! I needed to get myself a tin-foil hat or something.

“It won’t help.”

“Son of a bitch,” I quietly cursed. “I’ll never die?” I asked for confirmation after a short silence. Bee had told me such, but hearing it from the Mack-Daddy would help.

“You won’t fall ill, you will be immune from disease, and you will heal exceptionally fast. You will be immortal; however, death is still possible.”

“Beheading.” I grimaced.

“There is always beheading.”

How many immortals died grizzly deaths by beheading?

“Too many to count,” Eros calmly replied.

“Wonderful,” I muttered. “If she doesn’t want me back, if she’s too pissed, what happens then? Will I be beheaded or gifted to someone as their whipping bitch?”

“I am confident you have the wiles to gain my daughter’s favor once more. My daughter is capable of great love, as surely as the ocean meets the sea, Austin, some things are meant to be”

I groaned. For fuck’s sake. “Elvis?”

Eros grinned and nodded. “He was a great entertainer. I took my wife to see him in Vegas.”

“You know, I’m kind of pissed at you for shooting me with a funky arrow.”

“Noted.”

“If you do that again we might have words.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Your composure is beginning to freak me out.”

He smiled again. “If you’ve witnessed Hedone’s temper, imagine mine a hundred times worse. I’ve learned the hard way how to control it and find my ‘Zen’, as my wife calls it.”

I arched an incredulous brow. The god of love meditates?

 “Speaking of my wife, it is date night. Could we move things along here? You have a choice, Austin, and neither one is right or wrong. Choose to become immortal and accept Hedone as your soul mate, or if you’d prefer, I can simply remove your memories of her right now, and you will continue to live your life without any knowledge of our world. It's a simple decision, and it’s yours to make, yours to own. Sooner rather than later if you wouldn’t mind.”

I’m not sure why I was making such a big deal out of this, because at the end of the day, I just wanted Bee back. I wanted her smiles, her laughter, her witty remarks, her sexy moans when we made love . . . I glanced toward Eros to see if he picked up on that last thought. If he did, he kept it to himself. I wanted it all, forever, and the thought of another moment without Bee in my life was a physical ache that I knew would never heal unless my memories were taken. I felt protective of those memories, because they were of my first journey into love, they were all I had, and I didn’t want to lose them. Standing a little taller, I locked eyes with the god standing before me and nodded.