Part 76 (2/2)
”Is he?” Dean asked, glancing up from the salmon steaks and watching Jacques fly across the room with narrowed eyes.
Claire shrugged. ”I said perhaps. He's stuck working for them, I just wanted to make him feel better about it.”
He waved the spatula. ”I'm working for them.”
”Yes, but you get paid.”
With his face toward the stove, she almost missed him saying, ”I could be made to feel better about it.”
All at once she understood. ”This is the night you go out drinking with your friends from home, isn't it? And I never even thought to ask you if you'd mind staying here, I just a.s.sumed.” This dinner had nothing to do with lineage business, and she had no right to commandeer a bystander's support. ”I'm sorry. There'll be a little extra in your pay this week.”
He looked up, turned toward her, flushed slightly, and after a moment said, ”That wasn't what I meant.”
Afraid she'd missed something, Claire never got the chance to ask.
”s.e.xual tensions,” Aphrodite caroled from the doorway. ”How I do love s.e.xual tensions.”
”Not at the dinner table,” Hera snarled, pus.h.i.+ng past.
”Fish.” Dripping slightly, Poseidon wandered into the kitchen and peered nearsightedly down at the platter of salmon. ”Finally, an edible meal.” He straightened and blinked rheumy eyes in Claire's general direction. Fingers of both hands making pincer movements he moved closer. ”Wanna do the lobster dance? Pinchy, pinchy.”
”No. She doesn't.” Still holding the spatula, Dean moved to intercept. He didn't care who the old geezer was, a couple of his granddad's friends had been dirty old men and the only defense was a strong offense. The G.o.d of the Oceans b.u.mped up against his chest.
”Ow.”
”Serves you right.” Aphrodite pulled her husband from the kitchen and steered him toward his chair. ”You promised you'd behave.”
”My nose hurts.”
”Good.”
When all the G.o.ds but Zeus had a.s.sembled, Hermes cleared his throat and gestured toward the entry into the dining room, announcing, ”The Lord of Olympus!”
”Where'd the trumpet fanfare come from?” Dean murmured into Claire's ear.
Claire shrugged, an answer to both the question and the gentle lapping of warm breath against her neck.
Striding into the room like a small-town politician, Zeus clapped shoulders and paid effusive compliments as he circled the table. The recipients looked sulky, senile, or indifferent, depending on temperament and number of functioning brain cells. Finally settling into his seat at the head of the table, he lifted his sherry gla.s.s of prune nectar and tossed it back.
With the meal officially begun, everyone began b.u.t.tering buns and helping themselves to salad.
”Stupid, irritating ritual,” Hephaestus muttered as Claire set his plate in front of him.
”If it makes him happy,” Hermes cautioned.
”What's he going to do to me if he's unhappy, run over me with that domestic hunk of junk you're driving?” The G.o.d of the Forge smiled tightly and answered himself. ”Not unless he wants to trust to secular mechanics the next time it breaks down.”
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