GODDESSES INC

16

"Impressed?" Inna held up the phone, her eyes alight with pride.

"Two photos. One hundred followers." Duncan shrugged. "Not bad for one day."

"What?" Inna glared at him in disbelief. To a goddess, even an ex-goddess, not bad was an insult.

"Babe, stop mad-dogging me. You're new at this. There's a learning curve." He picked up his phone. "I have twenty million on InstaPic."

"Because you're famous." Inna's hands met her defiant hip drop. "You didn't even like my photo."

"I told you I'm waiting to finalize Eze Gear." Duncan flashed his wide killer smile, the one all the women swooned over.

"You're testing me." Nobody tested a goddess!

Duncan's easy grin faded into a let's-not-argue grimace. "I have to." He reached out, his long fingers ensnaring her wrist. "I'm a businessman, babe. It's not personal." He tugged, Inna falling into his lap, and kissed her like a man who wants more than a kiss.

Inna melted into his embrace, let her body enjoy the sensation of lips and tongue and the heat of his arms. She felt Duncan's strong, steady heartbeat. She had felt other heartbeats. Thousands, perhaps. Yet all those previous heartbeats were uncomplicated, a product of mortality. Duncan's heartbeat felt terribly complicated.

Inna pressed closer, her fingers settling on the pulse point under his ear. Every throb was precious. It's rhythm in tune with his emotions. Each emotion moved you forward, day after day until the end of your life.

Inna's heart tightened at sharing this brief moment with Duncan. Her own fleeting life joined with his. Inna wanted...something. Not sex. Something else. A meaningful connection. Time swallowed each hour, devoured days like a beast of prey. Inna wanted to chew the minutes slowly. Taste each delicious moment.

Duncan broke the kiss by holding his phone between them. "You didn't use enough hashtags. You need more than five. And you only have likes, no engagement."

The intimate moment soured in her mouth.

Inna leapt from his lap. "It's only the first two pictures." She stood tall. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

Duncan rose from the leather sofa, looked down from his towering height. "What are you waiting for, babe?" He walked past her.

"I need a photographer." Inna trailed him down the wide marble hall.

Duncan entered the large kitchen.

"Mister Duncan." Maria looked up from the bread she was kneading and wiped her hands on a towel. "What can I get for you?"

"Thanks, Maria, but I got this." He opened the industrial-sized refrigerator. There was enough food to feed the entire basketball team. He grabbed two bottled waters, handed one to Inna. "You don't need a professional photographer. You have friends, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

Duncan's phone pinged. "I have a meeting with possible investors right now. I want to see some serious content tomorrow." He headed for his office.

Inna stood in the hallway, felt Maria's eyes on her from the kitchen. "Are you telling me what to do?"

Duncan looked over his shoulder. "Babe, I'm your boss. That's what bosses do." He walked into his office and shut the door.

Inna bristled. A goddess did not have a boss! Except every goddess did. The mother of all bosses. Shee. Inna's nostrils flared like an angry bull.

Inna looked back at Maria, who slammed the dough on the counter with I'm-not-listening vigor. "Tell Duncan I went home."

Maria looked up, pretended surprise that Inna was still in the doorway. "Yes, Miss Inna." She returned to kneading.

Inna opened her mouth, about to ask Maria if Duncan was a good boss. Then she thought better of it, turned away and grabbed her sunflower yellow Birkin bag from the chair in the foyer.

The drive home was a blur. Ideas for InstaPic content and hashtags and photos rushed by faster than freeway traffic. Inna needed to get InstaPic savvy, and fast.

Three hours and too many how-to videos later, Inna emerged from the internet abyss, a dull thud behind her bleary eyes. This was work. And she needed a break.

Inna grabbed the phone. "Any luck finding employment?"

"None." Mnem sounded as aggravated as Inna felt. "How's your new job?"

"Duncan is a taskmaster. He demands content and results. ASAP." Inna rubbed her eyes. "Can you come over and help me take photos?"

"I'd love to. I have nothing else to do."

"Mnem..." Inna's stomach twisted, but she needed to say it. Wanted to speak the truth.

"What?"

"What you said just now, that you have nothing else to do..."

"I'm listening."

"FEM was right," said Inna. "We didn't do anything for thousands of years and lived on the divine coattails of a once relevant life."

"Ouch." Mnem's pain bounced off the cell towers with perfect clarity.

"I'm being honest. We need to be honest with each other and about our future."

Mnem's silence spurred Inna on.

"I just spent hours researching how to build an InstaPic audience and it dawned on me. My new job as social media director requires spending a lot of time and energy to grow Duncan's dream. His dream, not mine."

"That's why it's called work and not play."

"That's not my point," said Inna. "Why didn't I—why didn't we do that when we were goddesses? Why didn't we grow our dream?"

The silence stretched, each second as taut as a drawn back bow string. Honest self-reflection was a pointed arrow. The bullseye their heart.

"I'm thinking." Her voice was stiff. Mnem's throat seized up, crushed by a flood of memories. "I don't remember ever having a goal. I merely...".

"Existed," said Inna.

"Exactly. Why did I need ambition when I lived forever? FEM made us too comfortable. Shee made it too easy for us to live without a goal. There was our mission, our purpose on earth, but that wasn't a goal, was it?"

"You're blaming FEM."

"Yes I am." Mnem's voice tensed with anger. "FEM should have given us fair warning."

"Life isn't fair." Inna spoke these words millions of times to her disciples.

"Yes, but divinity should be."

Did Inna agree? Fair was a loaded word. As emotionally loaded as words like justice and virtue. "I'm moving forward, Mnem. I won't dwell on the unfairness of what happened to us. If I do, I'm liable to do a very bad thing."

"Fair enough." Mnem laughed. "I'll be over to help you with photos in a half hour."

"Thank you." Inna ended the call, then swiped to Eze Gear's InstaPic account. As the ex-goddess of the harvest, she knew the diligent farmer produced the best crops. Like growing yams, Inna needed to weed out the bad and stake tall strong poles to secure an abundant yield.

~*~*~*~*~*~