Story a Day: [Untitled Hephaestus Story]
Been tinkering with Greek mythology lately, so this kind of came from that. Just a reminder, this is for Story a Day in May. Because I'm not doing this every day, I thought I'd take the time to give it a once-over for any glaring mistakes. But you're still looking at an early draft--it doesn't even have a title.
Fellow authors, are you doing Story a Day? I want to know!
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Hephaestus’s hand slipped, pain biting the meat of his palm. He hissed a curse.
“You all right?” his boss Imani asked, coming around the car to get a closer look. “Let me see.”
Hephaestus quickly covered the injury with a rag, covering the thin line of golden blood with the rough, oil-stained cloth. “F-Fine. Fine. I’m fine. I just need…bandage.”
“Make sure you clean it out, first. Can’t believe you’re using that rag, Hep.”
It’s not like I have to worry about infection,Hephaestus thought, but didn’t say. As far as everyone here was concerned, he was a regular mortal.
Except for the customer who just walked into their garage.
The woman stood out like a delicate flower in an unforgiving desert, yet she strolled in on her high heels like she owned the place. The pink fabric of her dress swished dangerously close to their tools and unwashed cars, lips painted blood red pulled back in a predatory smile.
Imani, assured that Hephaestus was fine, noticed their new customer, too. “’Morning, ma’am. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I have an appointment. My car’s been making funny noises, I was hoping you could look into it.”
Imani looked her up and down, clearly noting the expensive heels, designer dress, and pearls that were probably worth more than her entire auto shop. She was as bad as Hephaestus in keeping the what the hell is this girl doing here look off her face. Except to her, the mystery was more mundane. She only saw a woman who could likely afford to get her car fixed in a much more upscale part of town, and not Harlem’s underbelly.
She was quick to switch gears, though, smiling her customer service smile that made her eyes crinkle and freckles stand out. “Of course. Ms. Johnson, was it? Give me just a second.”
“Take your time.”
Imani disappeared into the tiny office in the back corner, with the computer that had probably seen the rise and fall of more ancient empires than Hephaestus. Hephaestus limped to the garage’s other corner to get the first aid kid, which put him closer to “Ms. Johnson,” who was busy inspecting the tools and cables on the walls like they were art in a museum.
“What are you doing here, Aphrodite?” he asked, putting the bandage on his wide, calloused hand.
“Can’t a girl check in on her ex-husband from time to time?” she asked innocently.
He glared at her. They hadn’t spoken in decades, not since finally ending their marriage—such as it was—in the late ‘60s. They should’ve ended it much sooner, but Hera had forbidden it. It had taken centuries to wear her down, and even then, Hephaestus had made sure Zeus had been the one to authorize and sign the legal paperwork in case she went back on her word.
Once all the papers had been signed, Aphrodite—who had gone to that meeting dressed in white, like a wedding dress—had looked at Hephaestus only long enough to blow him a kiss before leaving on the arm of some minor deity he didn’t even know. Hephaestus himself had done what he’d always done: holed himself up in Olympus’s forge and worked, until he’d needed to leave and find something else to keep his hands busy.
Now here she was: strolling into his space like no time had passed.
“Besides, I ought to be asking what you’re doing here,” Aphrodite countered. “You haven’t been to Olympus in over a year.”
“Who—Who cares?” he asked, cursing his stutter. And his limp. And his entire physical appearance. Being anywhere near the goddess of beauty always made Hephaestus feel inadequate, even if he was cleaned up. And he was not cleaned up. He hadn’t shaved in days, his overalls were ripped and stained in a dozen different places, and all the sweat, motor oil, and dirt were combined on his skin like a thin layer of frosting.
Aphrodite gave an elegant shrug. “No one, really. Mostly because you’re still delivering your inventions and repairs on time. But I’m getting worried.”
Hephaestus laughed. “You’ve never—never worried about me a day in your life. Why now?”
“Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean I never cared about you.”
Hephaestus snorted and turned away.
“I like the shop,” she said.
He glared at her. “Do not insult me.”
“I’m serious,” Aphrodite defended. She motioned to the tiny auto shop: the garage just big enough for four cars, the radio Hephaestus had fixed his first week playing Lil’ Kim in the corner, the skinny hallway beside the office with two worn green chairs for the customers who chose to wait for repairs rather than leave and come back. Through the windows they could see a glimpse of the rest of the neighborhood: the hair salon across the street, a group of kids playing basketball with a broken hoop, someone arguing with the hot dog vendor from Brooklyn. “It’s not pretty, but it’s…homey. Loved. I can see why you like it. Even if I can’t see why you’ve been here for more than a month or two.”
Hephaestus shrugged his lopsided shoulders. “I like it here. Good place. Good people.”
She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Good people, huh?”
Imani’s boots broke the conversation. Even with the goddess of beauty right next to him, Hephaestus couldn’t keep his eyes off of the mortal. She wore her faded work overalls and crop-top t-shirt like she was born to them. He’d seen pictures of her with long, near-untamable hair, but that was all shaved off. She said it made her life much easier and enjoyable without having to worry about such a high-maintenance part of her body. A bit of motor oil was smudged across her cheekbone, and the sweat of the hot summer day—even with all the doors and windows open and fans blasting in every corner of the ‘shop—made her dark skin glisten.
It wasn’t about physical appearance. It was confidence. She owned her space, and while she respected Aphrodite’s personal bubble, there was no hesitation in meeting her eyes as she held up the paperwork. “All right, I found you. You told my man you were hearing some sort of grinding noise? Can you tell me where and in what capacity?”
“Uh…near the front? And when I’m going fast?” Aphrodite said, the uncertainty in her voice authentic. “I’m sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless when it comes to cars and anything mechanical.”
Imani’s smile was reassuring, not smug. “That’s what we’re here for. Let’s go check it out. Hephaestus, keep on this one.” She jerked a thumb to the truck they’d been working on when Aphrodite had shown up.
“He’s named Hephaestus?” Aphrodite asked, as if surprised, as she followed Imani to the parking lot.
“Lots of people are named for the gods. I know eight Zeuses alone…”
Hephaestus went back to work on the truck, but strained his hearing to eavesdrop. One of the perks of being a god was heightened senses.
He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop. But he didn’t trust Aphrodite alone with any mortal, never mind a woman he…cared about.
There was the pop of a front lid opening, then Imani grunting as she lifted it. “Let’s see what we…dear gods. Your transmission and engine are both shot to Hades!”
“Is it that bad?” Aphrodite asked innocently. Hephaestus snorted. She must’ve conjured up some damage to justify the visit and probably went overboard.
“How did you even drive this here?”
“I’m blessed.”
“Well…I can take a closer look, but I guarantee you’re going to need at least a new transmission andengine. Probably a bunch of new wiring, too. Actually, you might want to get a whole new car.”
Aphrodite sighed. “I’d rather not. This was my grandfather’s, and I know we’re supposed to throw out obsolete technology to usher in the new, but…”
She’d always been a skilled actress. Hephaestus resisted the urge to smash the truck in front of him. Stop with the acting and just tell us why you’re here!
“I understand,” Imani said. “My grandparents started this shop decades ago. All of my friends told me to sell it once it passed to me, but I just couldn’t do that.”
“I’m glad you’ve been able to keep it running.”
“Well, it hasn’t been easy. We almost had to shut it down last year. No customers, a fire burned half the place down, my brother’s medical bills…”
“Sounds like you needed a miracle.”
Hephaestus held his breath.
“More like a dozen miracles,” Imani grumbled. “But, we got them. Didn’t think Olympus would listen. They almost never do, unless someone’s giving ‘em insults. But pleas for help? Oh, we’re on our own for that one.”
Hephaestus loved Imani’s attitude. But he really wished she wasn’t saying this to one of the prickliest deities in the world.
“Clearly you weren’t,” Aphrodite said, just a hint of warning in her voice.
“No, we weren’t,” Imani agreed, softening. “Not this time. I prayed hard as I could to Hephaestus, and suddenly got a stream of customers, an insurance payout from the fire, and a great man actually named Hephaestus who helps keep everything running so I don’t drown. We’re paying off the last of the debt this month, get to start an actual savings next month. I could cry.”
“A great man, huh?”
Hephaestus dropped his head against the open lid of the trunk. Trust Aphrodite to find the leastrelevant part of that entire speech.
“You, shush,” Imani scolded.
“Oh, come on. He might not be much to look at, but I saw you looking.”
He lifted his head. Really?
Imani hissed. “He is my employee,” she said, so low he almost missed it. “We’re friends, but there are some boundaries you just don’t cross in this type of relationship.”
There was a beat, then she said, annoyed, “I don’t know why I’m spilling all my guts out to a stranger. Come on. Let’s get this busted thing in the shop.”
“Hephaestus isn’t the only god you’ve been praying to these days.”
The sudden firmness in Aphrodite’s tone sent alarm bells ringing in Hephaestus’s very core. He limped out of the garage and into the parking lot as fast as he could.
They hadn’t drawn attention yet, for which Hephaestus was grateful. The kids across the street still played basketball. Cars honked and crawled through New York traffic. The city moved around them while the parking lot was frozen. Aphrodite’s arms were crossed, her face smug. Imani stared at her, wide-eyed.
Then she glared. “All right. What do you want?”
“Imani,” Hephaestus warned.
“Oh, she’s fine. Hasn’t crossed any lines yet,” Aphrodite soothed. “You asked me what I’m doing here, Hephaestus. I’m doing the same as you: answering prayers. Except this will hopefully take less than a year.”
He closed his eyes, pained. He’d never wanted Imani to know who he really was. She would’ve stopped treating him like Hep, would have pulled back more than she already was.
If all he could have was a friendship, then so be it. But Aphrodite was ruining even that.
Because Imani was going to figure it all out in seconds, if she hadn’t already.
Aphrodite turned to the mortal, still looking smug. “You see, dear—”
“You’re both Olympians,” Imani interrupted. “Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Good for you. And you’re here to, what, terrorize your ex-husband?”
The goddess blinked at the interruption. Then groaned. “Why does everyone assume I’m here to ruin things?”
Hephaestus coughed. Imani gave her a deadpan look.
Aphrodite sighed. “I’m not here to ruin this. I’m here because I noticed Hephaestus growing infatuated with a mortal and I got curious. He’s never done this type of thing before.” She beamed. “Your restraint is admirable, dear, but wholly unnecessary. I’m pretty sure he finds the boss angle rather attractive, actually.”
“Aphrodite!” Hephaestus squawked. Just because something was true didn’t mean it needed to be said.
“Anyway, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. Don’t worry about the car; it’s not even real.”
With that, she—and the car—vanished in a puff of white smoke.
Imani stared at the space the goddess had been in for a long moment. Just as Hephaestus was about to ask if she was okay, she said, “Honestly, I was kind of looking forward to fixing that.”
He burst out laughing, almost falling over on the pavement. He didn’t know why; nothing about this was remotely funny.
She grabbed a hold of the strap of his overalls and pulled him back into the garage. “Come on. The Wilsons will be back for the truck in half an hour. We need to get this done by then. Thank you guys that nobody noticed the actual deity vanishing into thin air in broad daylight.”
“Wa—wait,” he wheezed, getting himself under control. “What just…you know…”
“That you’re a god? Well, yes, nowI do.” She focused on the machine in front of her. “Honestly, it makes sense. I’ve always thought you were supernaturally good at this. And any time I mentioned a problem concerning to shop to you, it’d be fixed within a week. You’ve been helping me this whole time.”
Hephaestus felt his cheeks heat.
“Why?”
He swallowed. “Well…first I-I heard the prayers for help. And wanted to…leave Olympus. For a bit. A break. So I came to help. Work. Clear my head. Pretended to be a mortal to fit in. But then I…after meeting you, I…stayed.”
Now they were both staring down at the truck. Machines made a lot more sense than people did. They were less scary, too.
“I can go,” Hephaestus said, the same time Imani said, “So, can I take you out?”
They both jolted, staring at each other.
Imani found her courage, first. “I wanted ask you out months ago. You’re sweet, and smart, and have terrible taste in music but I love your passion. I don’t care that you’re a god, but I did care that you were my employee and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. That’s why I was…uh…praying to your ex for help,” she finished with a wince. “Gods, that sounds weird.”
“She probably laughed,” he grumbled.
“Well, you did.”
He snickered. It was kind of funny. Imani rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder. Her total ease, the fact that she wasn’t treating him any different even though she knew, made him feel warm and brave.
“The Mexican place?” he suggested. “Down the street? For lunch. As a date, I mean.”
She grinned. “I’d love that.”