Olympus Drive Book 3: According to Plan

Chapter 35

Omar

I have been gradually aware for some time that my life was descending into a tale of sound and fury. I was trusting that it would be gradual and that I'd get some weeks to lose all hope and semblance of sanity. It is no longer gradual.

"Hey umm---can I like chill here for a little while?" a twenty something year old man, staggering onto my boat, carrying an entire bottle of wine. He rips his shirt off as soon as possible. His skin glows almost, and he's strangely beautiful, with a slim muscled chest, shaggy gold hair, and soft grey-green eyes that are far too focused for his casual demeanor. He's wearing cargo shorts and flip flops, now no shirt though that looked like some sort of work polo. He collapses onto one of my deck chairs lazily.

"Hi," I say, looking at him as he takes a swig of wine, then down at my own plastic cup I was drinking whiskey out of it. It's now full by the way. Of whiskey. Completely full. I only ever had two fingers in it to begin with.

"Hi, yeah—so can I chill here for a minute? My mom has this entire like—thing. She wants me to 'get a job' and 'contribute to society' and now she's making my dad force me to hold a job---so I can't go back to my house where I live with my followers and my girlfriend—because my dad knows I live there and he'd come get me again. So is it cool if I like---chill here for a while?" he asks, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

"Sure," I say, staring at the full cup of whiskey then at him since I'd rather believe this isn't happening. He's quite real though.

"Cool cool thanks, sit down man--- chill---I don't know why everyone's so uptight lately, my dad's all 'get a job' 'you're an alcoholic' just because he's not alcoholic anymore I don't see why I shouldn't get to be," he says, taking another drink. In truth he truly does not seem inebriated. He's quite lucid and his eyes are clear and not bloodshot. His voice is pleasant and clear, like a boy's or a woman's though his body is that of a man and not a boy.

"Yeah—thanks for the whiskey," I say, taking a sip. It's better than the cheap stuff I was drinking. Of course it is. I immediately want another sip but I refrain. That way madness lies.

"Oh yeah no problem. Glad to help," he says, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

"What job are they trying to get you to hold?" I ask, putting the cup down. I can't imagine bar tender would be very profitable given his---gifts.

"They want me to like—I don't know deliver packages or something? It's stupid; it's for this company called Amazon ----have you heard of it?"

"Yeah," I say, flatly. By 'chill here' did he mean for like a few hours or centuries?

"Yeah, it was stupid. I only did two, then I got bored, so like if it's cool with you I'm just gonna hang out here until my dad forgets he's supposed to be managing me," he says, taking another drink.

"Two shifts? I mean that isn't much." Maybe you'd like it and would leave what is left of my boat.

"No two boxes--- what's a shift? Oh like all day, no fuck that," he sighs.

"My name's Nemo, and you are?" I ask since I highly doubt you're supposed to give a spirit such as this your real name.

"Dean, Dean Rhea---and that's not your name, you're Omar, I met some friends of yours a party once---well maybe they didn't know you they were talking about you," he says, taking a drink, "Anyway how long are you in Winfell?"

"Hopefully not long at all---I'm trying to fix my boat and go home. The sea has not been kind to me," I admit. How does he know my name? That was not specific. I realize I'm not going to get answers. It's not good to question things. I'll just let him ramble on he seems willing enough to.