“That’s because it’s the best color, obviously.”
The two stand there grinning at each other—it doesn’t take a genius to see a mutual admiration society is forming right before my eyes—so I take the moment to sit down on the bed closest to the bathroom, kick off my destroyed shoes, and take a deep breath as I open my envelope to find out the name of my muse.
Calliope.
I wait, looking around the room, expecting her to just appear like Frankie did.
But several moments go by, and she still doesn’t show up. Maybe there’s a step I don’t know about yet?
I wait several more seconds, then say, “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, Frankie, but do you mind telling me how I can get my own muse here?” My cheeks burn. “It’s been a rough couple of hours—”
He seems horrified as he takes in my appearance. “Allthathappened in a couple of hours?”
“Never mind that,” I say, self-consciously running my hands over my out-of-control hair. “I was asking if you cantell me how I am supposed to summon my muse. I opened my envelope, and she didn’t just show up like you did.”
“Hang on a minute before we get to that,” Fifi says in a serious voice.
She crosses her arms over her chest and gives Frankie a look that could freeze ice. “You were about to apologize to Ellie for being mean to her.”
19.It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Bling
FRANKIE REARS BACK, OBVIOUSLY ASshocked by her demand as I am. “I wasn’t mean—”
“Yes, you were.” She narrows her eyes. “Ellie’s my friend, and she’s obviously had a rough day. There’s no reason to make fun of her for that.”
I start to tell her it’s okay, that it’s no big deal. But there’s suddenly a giant lump in my throat that makes it impossible for me to get any words out.
No one’s ever stuck up for me like this before. Not even Paris.
Frankie starts to grow huffy, but as Fifi continues to glare at him, his huffiness turns to discomfort. And this time when his hand goes to his neck, it isn’t to clutch his pearls. It’s to run a finger under his collar, as if his brightly patterned tie has suddenly become way too tight for him.
In fact, he seems so uncertain that I’d be tempted to laugh if I wasn’t still reeling over the way Fifi is defending me. Are all Aphrodites like this or just my roommate?
“Fine, I’m sorry, Ellie. You look…” Frankie looks pained as he struggles to find something kind to say about my appearance.
Whichdoesmake me laugh, because I know exactly how bad I look right now—especially compared to the two of them. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I know I need a shower.”
We both glance at Fifi to see if she’s satisfied with his apology. Apparently, she is, because her arms are back by her sides and a huge smile has replaced her frown as she tells me, “Now hurry up and call your muse, Ellie! Then we can get our labors together.”
“I thought I had called her.” I hold up the letter in my hand. “That’s what I was trying to ask Frankie. What else do I need to do?”
“That should be enough.” Frankie nods to the letter. “Who does it say you got?”
“It says her name is Calliope.” I turn the letter to show him the name written in sparkly gold letters across the center of the paper.
His eyes go wide. “Calliope?” he repeats in a whisper.
My stomach sinks at his reaction. “Is that bad? Who is she?”
“Are you kidding?” Fifi exclaims as she claps her hands in obvious glee. “It’s thebest. Calliope is, like, the OG of muses.”
“Really?” I meet Frankie’s suddenly cautious gaze with my own. Fifi may be happy with this turn of events, but I’mreserving judgment until I can figure out what has Frankie so shocked.
“Well, I wouldn’t call her the OG,” he says after several long seconds of silence. “But she’s definitely one of the Big Nine.”
“Not just one of the Big Nine!” Fifi crows. “The most important of the Big Nine!”
I feel my own eyes grow big as I realize who she’s talking about. “You don’t actually mean my muse is…”
