Stepping off the plane was a long awaited mercy for Hayden Styx. He hated airplanes. Not because the people were loud or because the babies and children cried constantly but because he had no control over his own life. He had entrusted his well-being to the pilot and the Fates as soon as he boarded the craft. Although not overly religious, Hayden had prayed to each and every god he thought might exist – especially Hades from whose name his employees had nicknamed him. Hayden "Hades" Styx. It sounded corny. However, he couldn't say it wasn't justified. His younger brothers used to always comment on how boring Hayden was (he complained about it every once in a while), just like how the Greek gods Poseidon and Zeus whined about Hades, and Hayden wore a lot of black suits that could be somewhat compared to Hades' black robes. Both Hayden and Hades shared the same dark hair, pale skin, and liquid black eyes, but Hayden had never kidnapped any gorgeous flower goddesses and caused the world's worst famine. His assistant, Chance, sometimes brought one-step-above-pornographic posters of blonde and blue-eyed women along with Hayden's morning coffee. Chance would wink and say, "Well? This one float your boat?"
In fact, it was Chance who called Hayden right as he got off the plane. "Hey, Hades. Did you make it in one piece?" Chance asked, barely withholding a chuckle.
"Now that you mention it, I left my stomach back in Turkish airspace," Hayden mumbled. "I was trying not to think about how I nearly threw up four times."
"Come on, the Taj Mahal would have loved to have another priceless artifact. Your barf is legendary. Big bad ol' Hades finally has a weakness."
"The Taj Mahal is in India, not Turkey, Chance. It's located on the Yamuna River in the city of Agra. Also, it's a mausoleum, not a museum." Hayden grabbed a shrink-wrapped sandwich in a small shop and paid for it, the woman at the counter smiling at him kindly. He nodded to her and then moved his carry-on bag strap farther up his shoulder.
Chance huffed, static crackling through the line as Hayden stepped through a bad patch. "They sound the same," he murmured, sounding like a pouting child.
"Not really. Please, Chance, remind me why I hired you," Hayden said, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth. He reached the baggage claim and searched for the number that corresponded with the one on the baggage receipt.
"I'm handsome and my ass is perky," Chance replied, and Hayden could practically hear the wink in his voice.
"The reason changes every time I ask that question. Last time, it was, 'When aliens abducted me, they gave me the power to control people's free will.'" Hayden grabbed his suitcase from the conveyor rack and wheeled it out the door to a waiting taxi. "And before that, it was, 'The moon goddess told me I should work for a business mogul who's super hot and loves me for who I am.'"
Hayden could just see Chance shrugging and sitting in Hayden's office chair although Theodore should be the temporary CEO of Styx Law Firms and Justice Practices. "Where's Theodore?" Hayden asked before Chance could say something stupid like No homo, bro.
"Theo! Boss wants ya!" Chance yelled, not even bothering to pull his mouth away from the receiver. Hayden yanked his ear away from the phone, and the taxi driver who was helping him put his bag in the car gave him a weird look.
Hayden was about to growl at Chance for jumping the gun like always, but then Theo's brisk voice said, "Yes, boss? I'm sorry, I was checking up on the new employee we just hired when you called."
"No, Theodore. I'm sorry. Chance shouldn't have pulled you away from work. How is the new employee?" Hayden said, sliding into the backseat of the taxi cab. Greece's late afternoon spring heat beat down on him even inside the car, and he realized it didn't have an air conditioner. Great, he thought.
"Boss, we shouldn't discuss work while you're on vacation. Did you manage to get to Greece safely?"
"Yes, Theodore. Thank you for asking."
Hayden's chest constricted when Theodore said they couldn't discuss work. What if something went wrong? No, trust Theodore, a voice in his head whispered. Theodore is trustworthy. He's very smart and can keep Chance in line better than even you.
Right. Trust Theodore. Easier said than done.
"You're welcome, boss," Theodore said, his professional tone hedging toward awkwardness.
"Okay, well, I should go," Hayden said. "Don't put Chance back on the phone, please. I will be back in a week." One long, long week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. "Goodbye."
Hayden hung up.
"So you are Mr. Styx, correct?" the taxi driver said. Hayden suddenly realized they hadn't moved at all; the car wasn't even on.
"Yes. Your sign was for a Mr. Hayden Styx, wasn't it?"
The taxi driver chuckled. "Know what Styx is?"
"Yes, it's the river that flowed in the Underworld in Greek mythology."
"Actually, there were three rivers. One for the preservation of memory and one for forgetfulness. The Styx was the one Charon ferried souls across."
"Thank you for the information, sir. You speak English very well."
The taxi driver ignored Hayden's compliment and continued on as he finally started the engine. "I think the river of memory was called Mnemosyne, and the river of forgetfulness was Lethe."
"Oh," Hayden said. He lost interest quickly and let the driver go on and on about Hades and the Underworld and Persephone and pomegranate seeds and Zeus and his obsession with sex. Sounds like my youngest brother Zach, he thought.
The crowded Grecian streets choked any cool breeze out of the air, and Hayden felt like dying by the time he arrived at the resort. Two fountains splattered water and cool breezes over the arriving guests as they walked into the front entrance. Vibrant flowers – roses, violets, irises, lilies, and some he didn't recognize – sprouted magnificently along the staircase leading up to the doors. A garden peeked out from behind the main building, and Hayden saw even more colorful, blooming flowers overflowing into hedges and bubbling springs.
After shaking off his awe, he walked up to the front desk. Shit, they had air conditioning in here. Hayden thought he was in heaven.
The receptionist behind the front desk gave him a big, welcoming smile. "Hello, sir!" she chirped. "What is the name for the reservation?"
"Styx. S-t-y-x," he said slowly to make sure she caught it all.
She smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir," she said. She muttered to herself in Greek before grabbing a card from under the desk. "Here is your key card, sir, for room 203 on the second floor. You will have to check out next Monday at eleven in the morning. There is a free continental breakfast every morning from seven to ten. If you have any questions, there is a phone in your room that can be used to contact guest services. Just dial the number one. Thank you for choosing Harvest Resort and Day Spa!"
Hayden took the card key and thanked the woman. A bellhop came to take his suitcase, but Hayden insisted he could take them. The bellhop gave him an unsatisfactory look before moving to help another customer that had come in. Apparently, although the vacation season started in April, this place wasn't all that popular. Or maybe too expensive. It had come at a hefty price. Ten thousand dollars per night for an economic suite. But they had saunas and mud baths and massages and toe scrapings and "mani-pedis" which Zach's wife liked to get. They also had hot lava rocks and cocktail lounges and a weekly shuffleboard tournament. Hayden liked shuffleboard; it came more naturally to him than golf. Or any other rich people sport his friends sought to learn before their early retirements.
Once Hayden made it up to his room, he sat down on the bed and nearly groaned at the softness of it. Even first class airplane seats had nothing on soft, fresh mattresses. That a thousand people have slept on before you, he suddenly thought.
"Okay. Time for a massage," he whispered to himself. He checked the map on the night desks and located the spa on the fourth floor. He hoped they would have a spot for him, but he could wait until tomorrow for a massage if necessary. He just needed to get out of this room. Though he would never admit it, raw aching loneliness had had crept in the moment he walked into the hotel room. This was a vacation, but he had nobody to spend it with. No one at all. His only friends were back in London, tending to his business. He cursed Zach and Xander for worrying about his stress levels and whatever other mid-life-crisis crap they occupied their below-average minds with.
Just go to the spa, Hayden, he told himself. He scraped his hands through his hair before stuffing his card key in his pocket and heading down the hallway. I won't think about how miserable I am. I won't think about how miserable I am.
The chant felt like a punch to the stomach.
Never mind.