GODDESSES INC

21

"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."