"Nice view." Senator Miguel Flores stretched out his long legs, a cold beer dangling from his hand.
It was one reason Mnem lived at the beach. The unobstructed ocean view, the few steps away from sand beneath her feet, and the salty sea breeze. It was a reminder of the beautiful Aegean. A daily melody that called to her, come home, come home.
"It's not the Aegean or the Ionian Sea but it'll do." Mnem set down a chile relleno plate from Gordito's, Miguel's favorite Mexican restaurant. "Thought you'd be hungry."
Miguel grabbed Mnem's wrist and hauled her close. "There's an ocean view? You're the only thing I see." He kissed her.
"You're so corny." Mnem set down her ceviche plate.
Miguel tore open a hot sauce packet. "Your friend Naret is working out well."
Miguel—or rather one of his many assistants—hired Naret to work at RICA, the Refugee and Immigrant Careers Agency Miguel founded and funded. Or rather, fundraised for. Not just jobs, careers! That was their motto. Both the political left and right and in between had high hopes for the program.
Mnem sipped her margarita. "Naret is intelligent, multi-lingual, and has a really calming manner. I expected nothing less."
"Seriously," he said. "Naret is a godsend. God is good. He sent her at the perfect time."
"He?" Mnem arched her eyebrow.
"He. She. They." Miguel took a bite of his chile relleno.
The next half hour flew by. They chatted about their week. Mnem told Miguel about the tour with the ladies from the Pink Bonnet Society. Miguel shared his concerns about passing an upcoming bill.
"You're easy to talk to." Miguel put the Styrofoam container in a bag. "It's a nice change from the other women I've dated."
"I made flan." Mnem rose from the chair.
His eyes bugged. "You made flan? For me? Ay dios mío, I'm in love." He pressed his hands to his heart.
Mnem kicked at one leg of his chair. "I made flan for me. It's not a big deal. It's just milk, eggs, and sugar."
"I love you," Miguel shouted as Mnem walked into the house.
Mnem felt it then. There was no mistaking it. Butterflies in her stomach. Thousands. Millions, maybe.
No. No. No. I will not fall for a mortal man. Especially a smooth-talking senator.
Mnem liked Miguel. He was fun in bed. Had moves that made her forget she was no longer a goddess. In fact, he was the best sexual partner she had since...
Mnem couldn't remember.
Which set off a different kind of stomach fluttering. Panic. Her memory was going. Pushing the implications of that down deep—she'd think of that later—Mnem sliced two pieces of flan.
"I like you too," she said handing Miguel a plate.
"How much?"
"A slice of flan much." Mnem sat down. "Is my flan as good as your mother's?"
"Not a chance." He took a bite. "Damn. This is amazing. I can't tell Mom, though."
"I understand."
"I'd like you to meet her."
Mnem's throat tightened. Serious Relationship panic set in. She swallowed, forced a smile. "That's not necessary."
"It is for me." Miguel looked at her. That look. The Serious Relationship look. "I really like you."
Mnem pushed the flan around her plate.
"I want to make it public. Make us public."
Mnem lifted her head to gaze at the ocean. "That's not a good idea."
"Why not?" His senator's voice—commanding, serious, official—usurped his boyfriend tone.
Mnem pushed away the flan. The conversation soured its sweetness. "You want to be president one day."
"Yes." There was no hesitation. No wavering. His voice matched his intent.
He deserves the truth. Mnem looked him in the eye. "I'm not comfortable having to deal with that."
Miguel cocked his head, a slow smile sliding into a grin. "You don't sound a hundred percent sure. I heard wavering."
Damn. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're intelligent and personable." Miguel's voice softened, his senator voice as smooth as expensive bourbon. "You have presence. You walk into a room and command attention." He took Mnem's hand. "You're an old soul. That's what my mom calls people who have wisdom and inner peace."
Inner peace? I'm a mortal rag of wretchedness. "Like I said, you don't know me very well."
"Then let me in. Allow me to get to know you better." His finger tapped Mnem's forehead. "Let me know your mind as well as I do your body."
"My body isn't complicated. I am."
"I like complicated women."
A teasing smile tugging at her lips, Mnem pulled her hand from his grip and folded her arms. "So, this is about you."
"Always." Miguel scooped Mnem into his arms and headed inside. "But tonight, it's going to be all about you."
Much later, Mnem stared at Miguel as he softly snored in bed beside her. His face was serene, his senator-slick hair now curling around his forehead. A slight smile made him appear perfectly content. Serene. Unaffected by politics. A baby's innocent smile.
How many men had she lain with over the years? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Mnem never counted. Why count lovers when you live forever. Miguel wasn't the best lover. Wasn't even in the top twenty. Lovers from ancient times were better. They were free from the distraction of a fast-paced life. Free of instant entertainment with a tap of the finger. Hours were spent in lovemaking. Hours keeping your lover at the edge of almost. Hours frolicking and teasing.
Mnem's finger hooked around one of Miguel's curls. She recalled the first time they met. His masculine take-charge presence. He was more tempting than candy and smoother than aged bourbon. But a politician! Ugh! Politicians hadn't changed in thousands of years. Freedom, liberty, justice. Blah, blah. blah. Those abstract concepts meant different things to different people. One man's justice was another woman's horror. One culture's liberty was another's enslavement. Intangible ideals. Twisted and perverted through the ages. After thousands of years, mortals should have finally understood. Ought to have regarded the history of the ages as a guidebook, not something to be used, abused, ignored, or hidden. The world would never and could never—for countless reasons—be free of oppression and hate and injustice. Not even for a goddess.
On a whim, Mnem had tossed out a dare on the crowded yacht. Miguel took the bait. The sex—oh my—was unexpectedly wonderful. Yet, she never thought it would lead to this. To this gorgeous hunk lying beside her. To this ambitious man who wanted more than sex.
With a light touch, Mnem rang her fingers through his hair. What did she really know about this man? Nothing. She didn't believe the internet's version of him anymore than she believed the false engravings on the statues and tombs of kings and emperors.
Who are you?
Sex as a mortal was different. Mnem didn't like it. Feelings were involved. Feelings she could not control. Not that gods and goddesses were unemotional. Far from it. Their anger, jealousy, rage, and passion were the stuff of legends. But those emotions felt more pure. More purposeful. More...divine.
Mortal emotions were like those self-storage units that Americans were fond of. Full of useless things. Gaudy, cheap collectibles from grandma. Thrift store treasures. Hand me downs. Heavy boxes and over-stuffed bags of unnecessary possessions. A mishmash of collections with no real purpose.
Dazed and overwhelmed, Mnem was now trapped in the middle of this mortal emotional storage unit. Nothing made any sense. Her emotions were just as useless. Just as ineffective.
What should she do about Miguel? He added a whole new emotional storage unit. Miguel was a big handsome mortal problem. One Mnem must handle pronto.
"Hello, mi amor." Miguel opened his eyes and smiled.
Mnem tapped his nose. "You need to go."
He blinked, rubbed sleep-heavy eyes. "Now? Why? It's after two a.m. Do you have a three-a.m. appointment?"
Mnem sat up, threw her legs over the side of the bed, her back to him. "This is happening too fast. I'm not prepared for it."
"What do you mean? We've been f—"
"I hate that word. It's crude." Mnem stood, her hands on her hips. "I need space."
"Space." Miguel's voice was razor-sharp. "You want to have sex with other men? With another woman?"
"Maybe." She turned to glare at him, defiance shining in her eyes.
Miguel grinned. "Damn, Mnem, that's so hot. Look." He threw off the sheet.
Mnem looked. Impressive. "It's not the right time for us. For me."
Miguel settled himself against the headboard, interlaced his fingers behind his head. "I understand, your accountant ran off with your trust fund and you had to get a job. There are lots of worse things, you know."
Mnem took a deep breath, wished she could tell him the truth. "I'm not..." Goddess, how do I explain without sounding like a spoiled heiress? Or crazy?
"Is this about the docent job?"
"No, it's...it's you." Mnem took his pants and shirt from the chair and flung them at him.
"You're kicking me out? Me? A senator?!" He pushed the clothes off his body.
"I don't want to be a senator's girlfriend." Mnem picked up his shoes and tossed them on the floor by the bed.
"Let me see if I have this correctly." Miguel stood, grabbed his pants. "We have amazing sex, get along really great, and you're dumping me because of my career?"
"I thought I already made that obvious."
"I love it." Miguel pulled up his pants. "How long do you intend to keep me dangling?"
"Dangling? I've only ever seen you stand at attention."
Miguel laughed, adjusted his belt. "I don't accept your excuse."
"I don't care if you accept it." Mnem crossed her arms.
"You're making a rash decision based on fear."
"Fear?" Mnem bristled. "I fear nothing!" Only mortality.
"Exactly." Miguel tugged on his shirt and strode toward Mnem. He wrapped his arms around her naked body and pulled her to his bare chest. He lifted her chin, stared into her Aegean blue eyes. "Don't give me the brush off just yet."
"You still don't understand. I'm used to being my own person. I never had to worry about making a good impression. Of saying and doing the politically correct thing." Maybe, if I had, FEM wouldn't have fired me. "You're asking a lot."
Miguel pressed his lips to her forehead. "Most women would be thrilled to be my girlfriend."
"I'm not most women." She pushed out of his embrace. The skin-to-skin contact wasn't helping. His scent. His voice. His body. The feel of his skin. It was a physical sensation party. And Mnem's decision must be about reason and logic.
"I'll make you a deal." Miguel buttoned up his shirt. "I have a black-tie event on Saturday. Big players but not much press. I would very much like it if you would accompany me. No pressure. I'll introduce you as my friend."
Goddess, I love parties! At least that part about me hasn't changed. "What's the deal?"
"You go with me, and you get a chance to rub elbows with people who may advance your new career. It's all about who you know, not what you know."
"Well," Mnem stuck out her hand, "when you put it like that."
They shook. Miguel was all business. Not even a lusty grin.
"I'll pick you up at five p.m." He scooped up his shoes, shoved his keys and wallet in his trouser pocket and walked out of the bedroom.
"You're leaving?"
"You told me to." A barefoot Miguel headed for the front door.
Mnem threw on her silk robe and followed him down the hall.
At the front door Miguel turned around. "I play in bed. Not in relationships. Don't test me on this." His voice was TV news-special-guest perfect. Friendly, yet serious. "I love my life and I love politics. I understand your hesitation. It's a lot to consider. That my career concerns you is a good thing. Your worry tells me you're a logical person. Emotion is great for swaying voters but it's logic I value most."
"This is about me, not you."
"It's about me with you."
"True." Mnem was about to kiss him but didn't. It sent the wrong message.
Miguel walked halfway to his car before turning around. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."
"You're welcome." Mnem's heart tugged, she didn't want him to go. "Where is this black-tie event?"
"Gallery Hall."
~*~*~*~*~