He wipes his massive nostril with the sleeve of his shirt and looks at me with a hint of sass as he flicks back his long pink hair over his shoulder. “You’re number thirty?”
“Yes, sir,” I tell him.
“Mm-hmm.” He glances down at the paper on his desk and tsks. “Ooh, girl. You are in some trouble,” he says, his tone sounding like he sucked on some helium.
My invisible little heart plummets. “Trouble?”
He looks back up at me like he’s dying to let me in on the secret, but it’s just too juicy to actually tell me. He wags his brows with an emphatic nod. “Mm-hmm. Room number two. I’d skedaddle if I were you.”
Well, fuck. This doesn’t sound good.
“Okay, thanks.”
“Mm-hmm. Chin up, girl. Keep a power pose while you’re in there. Confidence can do wonders for your posture.”
Gnome dude might be the craziest or the wisest person I’ve ever met. I’m not sure which.
With a nod, I fly past his window and head to the doors that lead to the cupid offices. Number two is right there, so I don’t have to go far. I kind of wish I had to go farther just so I could try to gain some composure, because I’m panicking a bit.
“Power pose, power pose, power pose,” I repeat to myself outside the door as I force myself to stand up straight with my head high. There are little sparkly hearts all over the plaque surrounding the number on the door, and I count them out loud just to calm my nerves.
Before I can finish grounding my worries, the door swings open, and I come face-to-face with the supervisor.
He’s gorgeous and very notably solid. Tanned skin, thick pink hair, lush lips, and black eyebrows that set off his ridiculously long and curly lashes. The dude is just so damned beautiful, it’s ridiculous.
When he turns, I see that his red wings are tucked against his back, hiding his ass from view, which is unfortunate, because I’m sure it’s a fabulous ass.
He swoops his arm to the side like he’s in a hurry. “Well, come the fook in, yeah?” he says in a heavy accent.
He holds the door open for me, and I rush inside, flying through the massive office space. Unlike the other cupid offices I’ve been in, this one is...well, confusing.
It looks like a mash-up of about a hundred different styles and earthly decades shoved into one space. There’s an art deco painting hanging crooked on the wall, a bench made out of a slab of rock that looks like it was from the Stone Age, a Victorian era lounge, puke green shag carpet rug, a pelican fountain right smack in the middle of the floor, bookcases filled with old porn magazines, and a bench press that has a row of underwear hanging off the rods rather than weights. And that’s just what I can pick out at first glance.
I head to what I assume is his desk—a circular plastic surface that has a beanbag chair on one side and a throne on the other. To be honest, I’m not sure which one I’m expected to hover over.
“Right, let’s do this then.” He walks around the white table and sits in… Yep, the bean bag chair.
I hover over the ostentatious throne as best I can, trying not to let my limbs pass through the gold trim.
“You know why you’re here?”
I fidget slightly in my awkward hovering position. “Umm…”
Of course I know why I’m here. I can’t do shit.
He grabs a pink folder from a hidden drawer and opens it, flipping through the pages with a hint of boredom before tossing it over to me. “Here’s the thing, Triple X. You’re a real shite at being a cupid, get it?”
“W-Wow. You really didn’t sugarcoat it,” I stutter on a surprised laugh.
“Sugar is for tits and sweets—not words. I just say it like it is, luv.”
My power pose deflates. “I know. I try. I really do. But my powers...they don’t work right.”
He sighs and crosses his arms. “Aye. I read the reports. Boring bunch that was. I prefer my reading material to have pictures.”
I glance over at the porn stash. “I noticed.”
A beautiful grin takes over his face before he claps his hands in front of us. “Right. Blow some Lust at me.”