“You almost married Zeus?”

“Married? No, not married. Hera wouldn’t have been very happy about that. But he did offer to buy me a condo on Mount Olympus along with a generous allowance.”

Bonnie cracked a smile. “You’re telling me you were almost a kept goddess?”

“It was a very generous offer. I didn’t consider it. Not seriously. But it was nice to be asked.”

The storm dissolved. The sun beamed. As much as Bonnie hated to ruin the goddess’s mood and the weather, she still needed answers.

“Why don’t you tell me about this guy?”

She braced herself for the worst, but it wasn’t as bad as she expected. That small cloud covered the sun, and her remaining fries were suddenly covered in a fuzzy orange fungus.

“Why do you want to know?” asked Syph.

“Maybe because it will make you feel better to talk about it.” And when you feel better, Bonnie added to herself, I feel better.

She spent the remainder of her lunch hour listening to Syph reminisce about her lost love. When the memories were good, the sky was clear and the birds sang. When they were bad, those same birds would fall silent and car accidents would happen in the nearby intersection. Nobody was seriously hurt, though at one point a blind man had his foot run over. Bonnie felt bad about that, but she encouraged Syph to continue.

The not-party went until three in the morning, but Teri and Phil went to bed around midnight. They didn’t get much sleep, but she awoke refreshed to the smell of frying bacon.

Phil was in the shower.

“Honey, who’s cooking?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Lucky?”

She doubted that. He didn’t seem the type.

Phil was half-right. It wasn’t their new god but one of his friends. The giant rainbow serpent puttered around their kitchen.

“Hi, Teri. I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed a couple of bucks out of your wallet and found a twenty-four-hour market. Thought I’d whip up some of my special sun god omelets. Just my way of saying thanks for letting me crash on your couch last night.”

“Yeah,” she said. “No problem.”

“It’ll just be a minute,” Quick said. “I hope you like’ em spicy. I couldn’t find any reasonably priced human flesh, so I had to substitute ham.”

“Uh-huh,” said Teri as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“That was a joke,” said Quick. “I realize it’s not always easy to tell with gods.”

“No, that’s fine. It was funny.” She forced a smile and took a sip.

“Loosen up, Teri. I promise I’m not going to swallow you whole. I’m not that kind of god anymore. Plus, you’re Lucky’s follower, and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

He smiled, and it was ingratiating. Surprising, considering sharp fangs filled his maw.

Phil, toweling dry his hair, appeared at her side. “Shower is ready. What smells so good?”

“Eggs à la sun god,” she said, “minus the human flesh.”

Quick chuckled.

Teri excused herself, but she heard the shower running. The door to Lucky’s room was open a crack. He must have been an early riser. She hadn’t seen him as that type. Raccoons were nocturnal. Then again, Quick was a giant serpent monster, and he didn’t eat people. Or so he claimed.

Teri went back to the dining room. Quick urged her and Phil to have a seat as he served them breakfast.

“What’s the verdict?” asked Quick.

“A little spicy,” said Phil, “but thank you. They’re good.”

“De nada. I’ll get some milk.” Quick slithered into the kitchen.

“Why is he still here?” asked Teri.

Phil shrugged. “Lucky said he’s in a rough spot right now.”

“When I agreed to this,” she said, “I agreed to one god. One.” She held up her index finger to illustrate the point.

“He’s not really our god,” replied Phil. “It’s not like we owe him any tribute. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that there’s a giant snake serving us breakfast.”

“A good breakfast,” said Phil.

She glared. “Doesn’t he have a human form, at least?”

“Lucky said he doesn’t like to wear it anymore.”

Before she could ask why, Quick slipped out of the kitchen and laid two tall glasses of milk before them.

Teri excused herself again. The shower wasn’t running, so she knocked on the bathroom door. “I hate to be a pest, but I really need to get ready for work.” She added a hastily mumbled, “M’lord.”

Janet opened the bathroom door. “No problem, hon. Though you can ease up on the titles. It’s your bathroom after all.”

By the time Teri took her shower, Janet had already left. Work was hectic, so they had to put off any confrontation until lunch. Teri wasn’t sure if Janet would be waiting at their usual deli table, but she was there, looking innocent.

“Hi, hon.”

Teri slammed her tray onto the table. “You had sexual intercourse with my god.”

“Yeah?” said Janet. “So?”

“Sex. With my god.”

“Is that a problem?”

Teri’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Janet.

Teri tried to verbalize it, but she realized she didn’t know what the problem was.

“It just seems like a bad idea,” she finally said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s my god. It could make things complicated.”

Janet laughed. “Oh, hon, you really are new to this, aren’t you? It’s not complicated. That’s one of the things I love about god sex. It’s no strings attached.”

“Wait a second.” Teri lowered her voice. “You’ve done this before.”

“Sure. All the time.”

“All the time?”

“Well, not all the time.” Janet counted off on her fingers. “Six times.”

Teri leaned forward. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’m careful. I use protection. I don’t care if Xochipilli himself appeared to me, all oiled up and ready for a night of sensual delights, no glove, no love. That’s my policy.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I promise not to see him again,” said Janet.

“Thanks.”

Teri struggled to wrap her mind around this.

“What if he wants to see you again?”

“You don’t have to worry, hon,” said Janet. “Gods mastered the art of casual sex thousands of years ago. Lucky was a one-night thing. He said he’d call, but they never do.”

Her cell phone rang. Janet excused herself to take the call. She returned two minutes later and had a seat.

“Well… this is awkward.”

“What?” asked Teri. “What is it?”

Janet sucked on her soda with a guilty look.

“Oh no,” said Teri. “That was him. It was him, wasn’t it?”

Janet averted her eyes and nodded.

“You just said they never call. You just said that. They never call!”

“They don’t.”

Teri glared.

“They don’t. Not normally. Not ever before.” Janet smiled. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“Whatever. It’s not important,” said Teri. “What did you tell him? I hope you came up with a good excuse.”

Janet chewed her lip.

“You told him you couldn’t see him again, right?” asked Teri. “Right?”

“About that…”

“You agreed to go out with him again?”

Janet nodded. Once. She slurped her empty soda.

“I don’t believe you. You promised you wouldn’t see him anymore. You promised.”

“And I meant it,” said Janet, “but I thought about it. Wouldn’t it be better for me to go out with him one or two times more and let him get bored with me rather than risk insulting him? Look what happened to you yesterday. I couldn’t be responsible for another curse of lousy luck again, could I?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” said Teri. “If you’d been thinking about me you wouldn’t have slept with Lucky in the first place.”

“Hey, now. Let’s not start saying things we could end up regretting. In fact-and I wasn’t going to tell you this-I slept with Lucky to put him in a better mood after you insulted him. You really should be thanking me. I don’t think some gratitude is uncalled-for.”