Aphrodite's War Read Free Page B

together.”
    Gary-with-the-beef nodded to his dark friend. “This is Ranjan.” He
indicated the blonde man closest to Poetry. “That’s Adrian. We work at
the same law firm.”
“Oh, you’re lawyers.” Jenny beamed while Poetry suppressed a sigh
of annoyance.
Lawyers. Great. Should be a fun night.
    Intuition told her the guy sitting next to her felt the same way. While
Gary and Ranjan devoted their attention to the effervescent Jenny, he
slouched and stared at his glass.
    What was his name? Adrian. Girl’s name. Not bad looking, though.
He wore his hair short and spiky. Just enough product to make it sit still.
His face had that sexy chiseled bone structure that makes for pretty
men--square jaw and high cheekbones.
But his eyes were the striking part. Such a light shade of blue they
were almost grey. Icy. He must be Scandinavian.
Not her type at all.
Especially since he wore a sport coat. No doubt it cost more than your
average off-the-rack kind. Were those pink pinstripes in his tie?
She glanced up to see him staring at her. A blush warmed her face as
she concentrated on keeping her expression neutral.
# # #
    Drinks arrived, and Adrian broke eye contact with the olive skinned
girl. He took a long pull from his Guinness and braced himself for a dull
evening.
    What was he doing here? He’d rather be at home, fixing the splintered
board in the hardwood floor he’d installed a few weeks ago. Stupid
miscalculation. His head throbbed from dwelling on it. Best think about
something else.
As the bitter brew and creamy foam washed over his teeth he
appraised the woman, as he’d seen her doing to him.
    Not much to look at. She smelled odd, like baby powder and iron.
Adrian suspected that if it wasn’t for her bubble-puppy friend over there
that she’d never set foot in a place like this. Goth girls with rainbow hair
and tattoos never did.
And he’d caught the contempt for his tie. Not that he’d do her, either.
He liked his women a tad bit thinner. And more conservative.
    She fiddled with the rhinestone embedded in her cheek. Why would
anyone do that to their face? Bet she had tribal markings across the small
of her back like he’d seen on so many hookers and junkies he’d
defended. What were they called? Oh yeah, ‘Tramp Stamps’.
    He spared a glance at his friends. Gary and Ranjan were talking over
each other, competing for the other girl’s attention. She just sat there,
smiling like an airhead.
He glanced at the misfit and experienced a pang of empathy. She
sipped and chewed at her straw, obviously uncomfortable.
    At least we have that in common. She had intelligence in her eyes, a
wariness no doubt borne from others making assumptions about her
appearance. Maybe he’d been too critical.
“What’s your name again?” he asked.
She took the straw out of her mouth, splashing him with drops of
soda. “Poetry.”
What kind of hippie names their kid ‘Poetry’? A distasteful thought
hit him. Maybe it’s a stage name.
“Uh huh, and what do you do, Poetry?” Adrian took another pull of
his beer. Not like he had anyone else to talk to. Could be interesting.
“I create jewelry,” she said with a tilt to her chin that dared him to
comment. “I’m an artist.”
Adrian almost choked on his Guinness, fizz burned the back of his
throat.
An artist. Named Poetry. Lucky him. Who breeds these people?
CHAPTER FOUR
“I choose him,” Ares rubbed his greasy hands together. “The blonde
man.”
    Aphrodite rolled her eyes. She expected no less. Ares decided on the
one person at the table who found Poetry distasteful. But brutal rogues
like Ares could not see the warm hearts of men.
“You lack subtlety,” she said. “But it does not matter. I will defeat
you.”
    “You must admit, I have a good start.” He planted his dusty sandals
on the polished floor and stretched until his joints cracked and popped
like autumn leaves.
“The champions have been chosen,” Zeus said. Mutterings and
whispers