Page 6 of Lovesick Gods


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“Still having trouble with the whole ‘only discuss illicit business in the back’ part of the job, Hart?” a new voice spoke just before Arty appeared from out of the curtain leading into the workshop. He had auburn hair and scruff along his face and wore jeans and a flannel shirt that Priestly sneered at as if the fabric offended his senses.

“You know it’s two minutes to closing?” he complained to the man who was more his boss than Mal was.

“So I’m not late then,” Arty said.

“Not late is being fifteen minutesearly.”

“That what they taught you in prep school?” Arty turned to Mal as he reached him, ignoring the affronted scoff Priestly offered, and extended his hand. “Mr. Cho, always a pleasure.”

Standing up straighter, Mal accepted the gesture. Most of the business owners around the area didn’t bother, either because they knew him too well or not well enough to know where his boundaries lay, but Arty always initiated a handshake. Even though Mal wasn’t much for unnecessary physical touch, he appreciated the man’s boldness. Light leaning people tended to like the spotlight; optimistic, confident. Arty’s teal eyes positively glittered.

He was about the age of Mal’s sister, Lucy; around thirty, so a few years younger than Mal and a few years older than Priestly, not that Mal thought that would stop either of them if—

Glancing between the two as he shook Arty’s hand, he realized why his thoughts had headed that direction—the way Priestly looked away, biting his lip petulantly as he feigned working on the radio again, said enough. They weren’t sleeping together, but the kid was interested. Arty might be interested too, or just liked to tease Priestly as an easy target. His jabs were never mean-spirited though, more congenial, playful.

Mal filed the information away for later. “Regretting your decision to hire my young protégé, Arty? Perhaps I shouldn’t have recommended him if he’s giving you so much trouble.”

“Nah, he’s better than slave labor with his perfectionism. Good thing I don’t pay overtime.”

“You do too,” Priestly grumbled. “Good thingI’mthe one keeping all of your clients happy by actually getting things back to them in a timely manner and in better working order than you could ever manage.”

“He’s so modest too,” Arty grinned. He and Mal chuckled as Priestly muttered something in Russian.

The kid spoke at least five languages. Mal hadn’t yet admitted to him that he spoke most of the same ones, but he figured for now he could refrain from giving away that Priestly had just called Arty abeautiful idiot.

“Anything I can do for you today, Mr. Cho?” Arty asked.

“Thanks, Arty, but Priestly has me covered.”

With a deep sigh of exasperation, Priestly left the radio and moved out from behind the worktable to gesture Mal into the back. “Come on. You,” he pointed at Arty, “close the shop already. I am not going to be sorry if your dad decides to leave this place to me instead of you.”

“He’s threatened it enough times since you started working here,” Arty snickered, not at all perturbed by the sentiment. “Who am I to deny a better option? Maybe you’ll take pity on me and still let me work here.”

“Please, I’d kick your ass to the curb so fast, you’d have road rash.”

Arty just laughed louder as he headed for the door to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and Priestly turned away in a huff.

Mal followed behind him with a barely contained grin. He liked Priestly. Kid had a lot of potential. Definitely deserved better than some 9-5 minimum wage paycheck and commission on the side for illegal business. Circumstance, bad luck, and scum for a father had led him here instead.

Just like Mal.

ß

“A deal?” Mal repeated, eyeing the man across from him with more scrutiny. If he didn’t know this was Zeus in front of him, he’d worry about a wire. “Strapped for cash,Danny? Didn’t takeyou for dirty, but I suppose the hero business doesn’t include dental, and I doubt the OCPD’s much better.”

Danny took a breath, resigned but unfazed by Mal’s mocking. His eyes were hypnotic this close, more so than any Lightning person Mal had ever met, now that he could actually see them instead of just the glowing lenses of the Zeus costume.

“We’ve been doing this dance for six months, Cho,” Danny said, “since the moment I got my powers. But you’ve never been my focus. You’re…fun,” he glanced away with a twitch to his smile that drew Mal’s gaze to the curve of his lips. “You’re a break. A relief. The real threat to this city is Thanatos, and it’s time someone put a stop to him once and for all.”

Talk of Thanatos always put Mal off his lunch, and he pushed his plate into the middle of the table. The man had style but no finesse. He killed indiscriminately simply because he could. That wasn’t good business. Mal had been lucky so far that the Dark Elemental hadn’t crossed his threshold yet.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked. “Take care of him. Your no kill policy is cute and all, Sparky, but you can’t hold back with people like this.”

“You have a no kill policy too,” Danny frowned.

“I don’t mix bystanders up in my business, no. Bad form. But if you think my hands are squeaky clean, kid, don’t misunderstand me.”

“Kid? I’m not—”