Fallen From Olympus

When Eros read the combination eviction–employee-termination notice, he had to wonder if Hermes was pulling another prank on him. But there it was in print not even fine enough to warrant putting on his lens-free reading glasses.

Due to a failure to meet the Happily Ever After quota discussed during our couple's tourism meeting, your seat at Club Olympus has been revoked. You have one day to vacate.

Eros considered having Auntie Athena check over his contract for any nullifiable clauses. But even without consultation from a goddess of wisdom, the love god knew the writing was on the wall after his last client left in tears and took a vow of celibacy.

All I said was that her lipstick shade made her look as desperate as Lamia. I can’t help it if mortals refuse to take constructive criticism anymore, Eros thought.

Everywhere he looked, he saw the same sentiment: romance was dead. Some meddling middle man with a bow couldn’t change that mortals weren’t interested in love that’d be sung about through the ages. The best he could do was introduce them to well-sculpted rears that were fun to look at while hitting the door on the way out.

After retraining from tearing the paper, Eros looked up at Hermes. “I’ll have one of my mother’s cherubs collect my furniture.”

The messenger god gave a sheepish smile. “Send my best regards to Aphrodite. Her perfumes and make-up line do well with our clientele! And I hope there won’t be any… hard feelings impacting future business arrangements?”

Eros’ jaw clenched, but he steeled himself. “No hard feelings at all.”

###

“Stupid, repulsive manlet!” Eros screeched as he pointed his bow over the bridge.

He loosed an arrow into the park below, striking yet another unsuspecting passerby. The man squealed and dropped his gyro.

As the hapless victim searched for his fallen lunch, he gazed upon a vision of perfection: long, wispy whiskers, plush fur, and a blemish-free tail. For rat standards, she was quite possibly the most beautiful critter in existence. If Aphrodite was in the business of blessing rats, this creature was clearly one of her champions.

Human and animal relations had long gone out of fashion since the last millennium. But that was a trivial matter and something for the mortal courts to squabble about. The important part was that, after loosing over one hundred arrows, Eros proved himself still capable of helping a lonely pair find love.

He grinned as he savored the fruit of his effort. But as Eros sifted through his pockets in search of his cellphone to snap a photo, his efforts came undone.

The man crouched on all fours and sniffed his beloved, and the rat responded with indifference—a positive sign by all accounts. But after a sigh and a shrug, the man picked his gyro off the dirt and continued on his way.

Grinding his teeth, Eros spat, “She was the most attractive rat in Olympos, you fool! You’d have been lucky to fall in love with someone so beautiful. I hope that gyro gives you diarrhea.”

Eros examined his bow. He maintained it well. Uncle Apollo would never let him hear the end of it otherwise. His golden arrows were the same he used ever since he melted the frozen heart of Hades. No, it wasn’t the tools at his disposal that were the problem…

“It’s these damned mortals! Fickle creatures! They’re the ones who’ve changed. They’re the ones who receive a divine blessing and only hold their hand out for more! They’re lucky I don’t demand Grandpa Zeus to smite every one of their entitled—”

Feeling the presence of a trembling man, Eros turned.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, lord Eros.” The police officer bowed. “Would you like me to close the park while you— Uh, well, a mortal like me wouldn’t claim to understand your godly ways. It’s just…”

The officer motioned to a group of terrified tourists, and Eros nodded.

“I had just finished. If you see a man with a gyro, arrest him on sight.”

He had enough of that park anyway. There were far more romantic locations. Like the beach. Or that new taverna that had that coral shellfish agnolotti he had been meaning to try.

Not another step towards his seafood delight, however, and a bright flash stopped him in his tracks. For a moment, he might have thought Helios had blown up the sun in one of his fits. But after several blinks, a broad-shouldered man in a plaid trench coat carrying a camera came into view.

“A god fallen from Olympus. Not a story we mortals get to report on every day.” The cameraman snapped another photo without the flash. “I’m Yiannis Kamizoe with The Argus Eye. I wanted to get a statement about your recent departure.”

For someone who worked behind a camera, he wouldn’t have looked too bad in front of it either. Deep Mediterranean skin, black hair tied up neatly, and Japanese features: the type of beauty that begot immortality.

Shame he’s a mortal.

“I don’t deal with the paparazzi,” Eros said as he waved his hand to dismiss him. “And you’d do well not to address a god so boldly.”

“Or what?” A grin of pearly whites emerged from the Yiannis’ lips.

Eros’ eyelid twitched before he brandished his bow, but the only response he received was laughter.

“I’m familiar with the legends. A golden arrow to bring lovers together. A lead arrow to repel. Although, watching your handiwork for the past hour, I have to wonder if that magic has worn off.”

“It’s not magic. My power is divine. Those like yourself ought to learn the difference.”

Yiannis shrugged. “To err is human. What’s it called when gods do it?”

Before Eros could harrumph away, the cameraman retrieved a bejeweled smartphone from his pocket. “Found it by the bridge. Seems you had a few missed calls.”

Eros snatched it and commenced his harrumphing towards the taverna. Sure enough, his notifications were in the thousands. But one name in particular caught his eye. Eros redialed ‘Daddy♥’.

After counting each dial tone, Eros cleared his throat and said, “Did you call me?”

“I just saw the news, boy. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re better off on your own anyway. All those rules and quotas over at Club Olympus are why I left too.”

From Eros’ recollection, Ares had been kicked during a doping scandal. Apparently, helping athletes achieve immortality was perfectly legal, but juicing them with the testosterone levels of an eastern lowland gorilla was not.

“I’m flattered for the pep talk, father. But we both know you don’t call unless you want something.”

After a long pause, Ares continued. “It’s mutually beneficial. You’re out of a job and a home. And my dojo is in need of a little, uh, tender love and care, if you catch my drift.”

“Are we talking interior decorating or… janitorial work?”

“Both. But Bellerophontes just left for some extended business. The pent house suite is all yours.”

Eros did like the sound of a pent house suite, even if it was attached to his father’s sweaty dojo. And the extent of that mutual benefit ran deep. A training facility full of centuries old heroes and upstart immortals alike was a breeding ground for pent-up romantic frustration.

Still, he couldn’t sound too desperate. Especially not to his father.

“Mm. I’ll think about it. I was going to stay with this guy I’ve been seeing on and off, Paschalis. It’s nothing too serious, but he’ll let me stay with him in Athens.”

“You mean Pallas’ boy? He’s here at the dojo with me. We’ve been training for the Olympic Games for at least a year now. He hasn’t mentioned you.”

“Oh, did I say Paschalis? Uh, slip of the tongue. I meant…”

Think, Eros, think. If I say any son of a Titan, he’ll know them. Ugh, but I can’t let him think I date nobodies either.

Breaking the silence, Ares said, “We just renovated the saunas too.”

Eros’ eyes lit up. “I require paid siestas and an allowance for food and fashion.”

###

Eros stepped through the dojo’s doors with a gaggle of his mother’s cherubs in tow. Their tiny wings fluttered like hummingbirds hyped up on caffeine, and with each pant, they were dangerously close to dropping two-hundred pounds of luggage.

“Leave it here. Father’s attendants will take care of the rest.”

As Eros removed his sunglasses, he grimaced. “I knew design was never father’s forte, but this is dire.”

He wrapped his knuckles against a pillar. “White marble. The foundation isn’t wholly unsalvageable, but the lighting is giving me an aneurysm.”

Before the cherubs could catch their breaths, he accosted them. “Contact Medusa and see if she has any new statues for sale. This place is in need of a conversation piece. And tell my mother to call me the moment she returns from Sicily. At this rate, I’ll have missed calls from over a thousand cousins before I hear from her.”

A rumble like Zeus’ thunder echoed through the vestibule. And a muscular man with a potent post-workout musk stomped through the archway.

Daddy! Eros thought but squelched any external excitement.

Ares opened his arms wide. “Come give your old man a hug!”

“You’re sweaty,” Eros said as he scrunched his nose.

Caring little for his son’s disgust, Ares hugged him anyway.

“This was suede…” Eros muttered to himself as he wrung out his jacket.

“Lemme have one of my guys carry your bags to your room. Manolis!”

The statuesque man who entered helped Eros forget about the jacket, if only for a moment. Manolis was a giant among men, but too short to actually be a giant.

More than simply size, he had a mane of dark red hair drenched in sweat that dripped down his pulsing pecs. And once Eros made a mental calculation of the circumference of Manolis’ biceps, he knew they were the perfect size to be locked around his body.

“I beat his old man, Mimon, back in the day. But now I’m helping him get the gold in badminton.”

Ugh. Son of some third-rate giant, and badminton, really?

“Did you need me to carry something?” Manolis asked emptily.

At the sound of his bassy voice, Eros was once again intrigued.

###

“He’s a spoiled nepo baby living in the shadow of his parents. Of course he’s talentless!” one pundit laughed.

“A shadow of what?” a second responded. “Ares is a washed-up fitness coach, and Aphrodite is so fixated on taking ‘me time’ trips that she makes Narcissus look humble.”

Eros was ready to swipe away. A hit piece about me, and they’re hardly talking about me at all. How embarrassing…

Doomscrolling before bed was already a bad habit. Searching his own name after a scandal was even worse. But before his finger touched the screen, he noticed a familiar broad-shouldered man in a plaid trench coat.

“Failure to use his divine power aside, let's just think about his own track record.” Yiannis shook his head before looking into the camera. “How can Eros help others find love if he can’t even find it himself? Let’s face it, he’s unlovable.”

Eros put his phone away. For a brief moment, he racked his brain for the perfect retort to put those know-nothing mortals in their place. But when nothing came to mind, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Talk was cheap anyway. If Eros ever wanted to return to the marbled halls of Club Olympus, he’d have to prove it by feats that were undeniable. And hopefully with someone easy on the eyes.