Jake, Son Of Zeus 22 Chapter Twenty-One

The third time Jake tripped over Hephaestus's hammer that week, E. E. said, "You can officially no longer complain when I leave my socks in the living room." Jake managed a laugh. "When is he coming to get that thing?"

"I have no idea," Jake said. What if it just sat there forever? What if Hephaestus had others, and hadn't even noticed that one was missing? The thought of staying at home thinking about these questions, dreading the arrival of an angry G.o.d, sitting on the couch and staring alternately at the hammer and the TV all day for the fourth day in a row, depressed Jake. The day of waiting for news from the Fates now seemed like a day at the beach with a Frisbee and a six pack in comparison to hanging out with the hammer.

"Let's go do something," Jake said. "I think the new Will Smith movie is playing at the Cinemark."

"Can't. I'm having lunch with Polly."

"Polly? When did you get a Polly?"

"Couple weeks ago. Polly Orr," E. E. said with a grin, but it wasn't the normal what-stud-am-I? grin. It was a how-could-I-be-this-lucky grin that Jake had never seen on E. E.

"How did I not know?"

"You've been a little busy." There was nothing accusatory in E. E.'s voice, but Jake felt bad all the same. They weren't self-proclaimed best friends or anything, but considering that neither of them had much of anyone else…. He just should have noticed that something was different, especially because, now that he thought about, the signs were neon and a story high. E. E. wasn't at the apartment as much. His sarcasm had leveled off, and he had been downright serious on more than one occasion. And he'd been writing a lot. Jake mentally slapped his forehead. Every morning for well over a week, Jake had gone into the dining room to find E. E. already awake, with his notebook out and a pencil scratching across the page as fast as thought. This was a man whose previous writings wouldn't fill an index card. Of course something had changed to change him so much, and for the first time all week, something hurt more than his little toe. He hadn't noticed a thing.

"So. When do I get to meet her?" Jake asked quietly.

E. E.'s eyebrows rose in surprise. "You want to?"

"Of course."

"Well. Okay. Come to lunch with us."

"Are you sure?" Much as Jake looked forward to being away from the hammer that sucked every bit of joy from the atmosphere as effectively as a dementor, an uncomfortable hour with his roommate's new girlfriend didn't sound much better.

"Yeah. It's not a date, really. Just lunch. I'll call her and let her know."

Jake, E. E., and the inimitable Polly Orr had an early lunch at Paolo Fuentes's MexItaly Restaurant. Carvings of unnaturally vibrant birds adorned the backs of the chairs (Jake counted seven species on the way to their table), and something he was sure was a MIDI version of a Disney song beeped from the speakers in the corners of the room.

Polly shook Jake's hand and smiled when she met him, returning the usual pleasantries—nice to meet you, he's told me so much about you, glad you could join us. She was plain, or maybe she was pretty in an inconspicuous kind of way. There was nothing about her either ugly or striking, but Jake forgot about it almost as soon as he realized it. There was so much confidence and ease in her every word and movement that he was thinking how incredibly beautiful she was before their food arrived.

"Did E. E. tell you how we met? There's this poetry reading at a shabby little pub on Seventh Street every Thursday night. I've been going forever because my sister Clio has a thing for a history professor who's there every week. I even saw E. E. a couple of times there before he read his Ode to the Muses, and after I heard it, I knew I had to talk to him. It was beautiful, like a love poem."

"It was trash," said E. E. with a grin.

"It was honest," Polly protested. "There's a serious lack of honest poetry in the world."

"Are you a writer, too?" Jake asked.

Polly gave a small laugh. "No. I'm just an appreciator. And I'm an amateur at that. My real, forty-hour job is at the zoo."

"You're a zebra?"

"I'm an Aquarist."

"You're a seahorse?"

E. E. threw a tortilla at Jake. "You're trying to break into the hammer appraisal field, right, Jake?"

"An Aquarist?" Jake said with a cough. "You're in charge of the aquariums?"

"Not in charge, exactly. I do a lot of water testing, a lot of paperwork, that sort of thing," she said. Polly took E. E.'s hand, and Jake was amazed to see E. E.'s smile widen. He's been twitterpated. He's completely lost his head.

Jake took a long drink of his root beer. "Do you ever get to swim with the manatees?"

"When my boss isn't around. What do you do?"

"I work with hyenas."

"Jake teaches soph.o.m.ore lit at Bee Caves High School," E. E. said.

"Hyenas," Polly said, and she laughed.

"By the way, Jake," E. E. said, "Elspeth Mader called for you yesterday."

"Really?" Jake wheezed.

E. E. looked at him with concern. "No, I was just messing with you. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Jake tried to say.

E. E. grinned. "Is she that pretty?"

"Who?" Jake asked, focusing in on his sopapilla.