Chapter 20

Hep had been married once. To Aphrodite, no less. She fooled around a lot, and he once caught her and Ares mid-coitus. To be honest, he caught her that way many times, but this particular time he caught them in a net he had made out of tiny metal threads. He put them out on display for a while.

When he’d left Greece and Olympus to see the world and find out how other gods were getting on, he told her “So long, and have a good time.” That was the last time they saw each other.

She had indeed had a good time since he’d left. Unknown to Hep, she too went out and explored the world. Recently, she had settled in the United States as well. She wasn’t especially interested in seeing Hep again, however, so she stayed low-key.

At least, she stayed low-key for Aphrodite. She ran an upscale adult bookstore and voodoo shop in New Orleans. Business was brisk, as in addition to the usual dirty magazines, movies, devices and bongs, she also sold a variety of love and sex potions to tourists. The love potions didn’t work very well, but her sex potions were more effective than certain famous blue pills.
***
Jeb had somehow managed to free himself from the stalagmite that had impaled him, and he focused intently on healing himself. Soon enough it was impossible to tell he had ever been injured, except for the tears in his clothes.

He now knew how to get out of the cave, so he found the rope that would lead him out, and started walking along it. As he got out of the cave and into the open again, he heard a voice behind him.

“Leaving so soon?” Seth asked. “I had hoped you might do another job for me. A job that even you with your bad luck can’t mess up.”

***
Hep and the rest of the band of misfits checked into a motel in downtown Atlanta. It was so run down that none of them would have been surprised to find out that rooms were available by the hour. In fact, had they asked, the rooms were indeed available by the hour. The owners felt that theirs was a class establishment, however, and did not advertise that fact.

The rooms were clean, but worn looking. The beds had caved in the middle, and the furniture was threadbare and scratched.

“Well, you should feel right at home, Scroat,” Hep said.

“Hey, worn is comfy. At least, when I know it was my ass that did the wearing, and not some slumming businessman’s,” Scroat said. He looked at the brochure on top of the tv. “Hey look! Cheap pay-per-view porn!”

“Yeah, you enjoy that. I’m going to go see Atlanta.” Hep said.

“Later, pal. I’ve got a date with Dirty Debutants one through seven.” Scroat said.

Hep soon found himself riding through the Buckhead area of Atlanta. It was a neighborhood made just for him, with a gigantic bronze fish, two statues of Atlas, and a bizarre statue of a man with a buck’s head. By the time Hep had left the area his mood had improved significantly.

He stopped at the Landmark Diner. He looked around to see who was inside and was surprised to see a familiar face. He walked over to the table and said hello to a strange, bird-like man.

“Hello Hep.” The man said.

“Mind if I join you?” Hep asked.

“Ok.”

Hep examined his menu and decided to get a chili cheese hot dog. He’d been craving one for days. He put down his menu and looked at the man sitting across from him.

“So what’s your name, pal?” Hep asked.

“Cesear,” he said.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to properly meet you Cesear. So what are you doing here in Atlanta?” Hep asked.

“Meeting Elvis.”

“Oh really? What’s he doing out this way?” Hep asked.

“Not important.” Cesear said.

“Uh huh. Ok, then. So what are you having to eat?” Hep asked.

“Cesear Salad.” Cesear said.

“Right. I should have known,” Hep said. He stopped trying to make conversation then. The waiter brought their food out soon, and they ate in silence. Hep didn’t mind, and he wanted to be sure and enjoy every last bite of his chili cheese hot dog. After he ate, he paid his share of the check and tipped an imaginary hat to Cesear.

“See ya round, Cesear.” Hep said.

“Have a good day,” Cesear said.

Hep rode back to the motel. He didn’t notice the low-slung, black car following him. He pulled into the motel’s parking lot, shut off his bike and went inside. The car following him drove around the block twice, and then parked in the motel’s lot where the driver had a good view of all the bikes.

The driver cracked his window open and lit a cigarette. He also had a supply of coffee and donuts. He didn’t actually like donuts much, but people on stakeouts on tv always had donuts in their car, so he figured he’d better get some.

He waited, and watched.
***
Tommy was in New Orleans, and he drove past Aphrodite’s Voodoo Shop and Adult Emporium. On a whim, he pulled in and went into the shop. He wasn’t expecting to actually meet Aphrodite.

He went through the front door, down a hallway, and through a heavy beaded curtain to enter the store. It smelled strongly of incense inside.

“Hi there, looking for anything special?” the woman behind the counter asked him.

“No, just looking,” Tommy said, and smiled at her. He looked away for a moment, then looked back at her. “Say, are you Aphrodite?”

The woman behind the counter smiled. “Why, yes I am, and this is my humble shop.”

“No, I mean, are you the Aphrodite?” Tommy asked.

Her smile faltered a bit, “Well, whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, I’m Tommy, and I’m an old friend of Hep’s. I thought you might be his wife, Aphrodite.” Tommy said.

Aphrodite was no longer smiling. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a coincidence. So, I don’t know if you know this, but he’s on the run from Seth right now. Actually, I am too. Hep’s trying to catch up to me, but he’s not quite as quick as I am. Probably because he’s dragging that shithead Scroat along with him.” Tommy said.

“Seth is after him? Why? Hep was never one to go looking for trouble.” Aphrodite said.

“Well, that’s kind of my fault. I left something at Hep’s place, and he’s just trying to return it to me.” Tommy said. “Well, I’d better go. Nice to meet you!” Tommy walked back through the curtain.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Aphrodite yelled, but Tommy was already outside. She ran after him, but by the time she got outside he had already pulled his car into traffic.

“What the fuck was that?” she said to herself.
***
Outside the motel, the man in the car lit another cigarette, and coughed. He didn’t really smoke but, dammit, the detectives on tv and in the movies smoked, so he was going to as well. He became annoyed as the fedora he was wearing caught the smoke and directed it into his eyes.

“TV detectives must be fucking tough,” he thought to himself.

He sat forward as one of the UTMC crew came outside and began tinkering with his bike. He sat back, as it didn’t look like anything important was going on. A little later, the biker went back inside.

He heard a buzzing sound outside. Soon, an old vespa pulled into the parking lot. The rider was wearing a red shirt. The scooterist stopped right by all the bikes.

“Oh no you don’t” the man in the car said to himself. He got out of his car and pulled at pistol out of his trench coat. The scooterist just had time to look over and see the man level his pistol and shoot.

The tranquilizer dart hit him in the leg. He just had time to pluck the dart out of his leg and put his side stand down before he collapsed.

The man from the car grabbed the scooterist, dragged him over to the car and threw him in the trunk. He slammed the lid of the trunk shut, then he went and hid the scooter back by the motel’s dumpster.

Then he got back into the car, lit a new cigarette and had some coffee.

Inside the motel, Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Dave were playing cards. Jim was in with the rest of the UTMC crew, listening to them tell stories about past adventures and laughing along. Minerva and Athena were sleeping. Eventually the rest of them turned in for the night. Jim, as usual, drifted around the hotel. There were a lot of interesting things for him to watch in this particular hotel.

The man outside, meanwhile, tried to resist fidgeting and eventually started listening to Christian Talk Radio to fend off boredom. He didn’t know why there was a children’s radio program on 3:00 a.m., but he had to laugh when the runaway child who decided he didn’t need God bumped into the kindly Irish beat cop who knew more scripture than most priests.

The night otherwise passed uneventfully, though the man in the car could have sworn he saw a local politician leaving the hotel just ahead of a scantily clad lady of the night. He wished he’d remembered to bring a camera. TV detectives had them, how could he have forgotten? Oh well, the politician wasn’t who he was interested in right now.

He lit another cigarette and slumped back against the seat. He began to get a bit drowsy, but perked up again when he remembered what happens to people who fall asleep while smoking.

Eventually the sun came up, and he was shocked to hear someone yell “You turd-biting son of a leperous goat whore!” from inside the hotel. So far, it was the most interesting thing that had happened since he’d stashed the scooterist in his trunk.

Soon after, one of the UTMCers came outside and started strapping things to his bike. The man in the car got out, tossed his cigarette on the ground, crushed it under his heel, and walked off.