Ethereal Temptation

4. Sweet Beginnings

We arrived at Silver Moon, my favorite local eatery, and exited the car. As we entered, the sweet smell of sourdough and melted cheese filled my nostrils. Much better than the taste of ozone.

I eagerly awaited my regular order as the three of us sat at a booth. It was a simple place that hadn't been renovated in years. It looked old. It felt old. But, that authenticity of age never failed its food. Not once. Ripping wallpaper and damaged floorboards be damned, I'd eat here until the day I died.

Amy sat on the inside booth and leaned forward. Her eyes were wide as she said, "Can I just say that this is so interesting!"

I smiled. "I suppose it is, but it's not all roses."

"Sure, but I mean, come on, James!" She looked at El, then back at me. "Like, spirits, right? Far out!"

"Goddesses," I corrected. "But yes, spirits. I suppose you could call them that."

"We are, in essence, spirits," Eleon said, resting her head on her hand. "But the terminology is more fitting when you look at what we represent."

"How do you mean?" she inquired.

"For instance, I am the Goddess of Time. I represent the passage of time and the happenstance of what takes place during and after events. My very being is in line with the ideologies that come with time. However, I do not control time, as James once thought."

"Rookie mistake," I snickered.

A familiar, yet almost forgotten voice met me at the booth. "James, wow!" His rugged tone matched with his untamed facial hair made his hobbled approach from behind the counter. "Been a long time since I've seen you! You're looking great!"

"Jarrett! Jeez, it's been a while!" I said with a smile. I rose from my booth and embraced him—or, at least, I attempted to embrace as much of him as I could. Like Tyler, his build was intimidating, to say the least. However, where Tyler was muscle, Jarrett embraced a softer side.

"Got this sick haircut, you dig it?" Jarrett said as he turned his head. It was shaved on the sides while the top was slicked back with some product. I marveled, from his hair, yes, but mostly because of the question. He had a knack for saying things off the cuff. Usually it wasn't inappropriate, but awkward, almost socially estranged. A little ironic, considering I'm the socially estranged one here. But, to put things into perspective, I couldn't care less about anyone's hair, let alone his. And, in most cases, most other men could care less about their own hair. (Tyler's hair not-with-standing. Man, his hair's great).

Jarrett was incredibly personable; he was the kind of guy who would feel comfortable telling you his life problems within an hour of meeting you. Although many people found this, in some regard, quite repelling, I enjoyed it. It was a characteristic I appreciated and was grateful to know there was someone like him who found it easy to trust others. Not only that, he was a straight up goofball. If he wasn't trying out strange hairstyles, he was nerding out over Warhammer 40K figures he'd spent hours painting. If he wasn't painting figures, he was out at Cabela's picking up an unnecessary number of knives he'd never use. He just thought they were cool 'because reasons'. Whatever that meant.

If I could limit his character to one word; genuine.

"It looks . . ." I finally started to respond, but found it difficult to give him an answer. Honestly, I thought, it's totally not your style.

"Aww, what do you mean not my style?" he responded. Stunned! Had Jarret read my mind?

"Like, it'd look great if you cleaned up the scruff." I looked at Amy, her hand brushing at an invisible beard. We must have been thinking the same thing, she was just daring enough to say it. "Otherwise, you have this rustic hillbilly look and then this greaser thing going on. It doesn't match."