Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

grinned a devilish one, a mischievous one. Rebecca remembered that Hermes was a cunning god and had a premonition of trouble. “Come along.”
    She followed him to the living room where he sat down.
    “Uh—?”
    He grabbed the remote and the wall above the fireplace flipped and a monster TV came out; she guessed it to be around the ninety inch range.
    It was actually 105 inches and said to be the clearest picture on planet Earth—none had the pleasure of enjoying it until now.
    “I hope you can explain some shows to me.” He saw the look of worry that crossed her face and reassured her. “Just a few minutes. . . Before we go.”

THIS IS A PROBLEM, ISN’T IT?
    A simple definition of addiction by Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary as follows:
    a strong and harmful need to regularly have something or do something
    Rebecca had an uncanny ability of spotting a developing addict. The term “uncanny” should be used loosely, as her father was addicted to porn—she once found him in a closet when she was nine playing hide-and-go-seek. When she questioned why the people on his laptop were moaning and playing together, he simply said, “They are performing for me.”
    Her mother was addicted to knowing the unknowable. What that meant was she sought guidance in horoscopes, fortune tellers, tarot card readers, ghost whispers and that sort of lot. Rebecca’s home had been a flood of mystical merchants coming to and fro who helped raise her as a young child—her father at work, or away in a closet. . . somewhere.
    Both addictions were left untamed through their mutual agreement that Rebecca could only infer at. And since such addictions were kept unchecked, they grew into behemoths, uncontrollable beasts that her parents paid more attention to than her, or themselves, for that matter.
    They ended up divorced and broken and to such an extent that Rebecca did not have a relationship with either—she merely identified them with their respective addictions. She did not perceive them as parents and called them by their names, Amena and Charles. Nothing else. No love. No respect. Relationships doomed by the power of staying silent.
    Hermes had the signs of an addict. The glassy look, the shushing, the desire for more and more and more. The minutes that turned into hours and the hours that turned into days, a thirst that could never be quenched.
    He was fascinated particularly with the Bravo reality TV shows—Housewives of this and that.
    “You going to be okay?”
    “I am a god, of course, I will be okay.”
    “Have you ever been addicted to something?”
    He glanced at her then back at the TV. “It is impossible for me to get addicted to something.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because I said it’s impossible.”
    “So that makes it true?”
    “The Greeks thought so.”
    “Well, I don’t.”
    He snorted.
    “What happens when I come back and you’re still watching?”
    “Then I will be watching.”
    “And if I try to leave again?”
    “Someone will stop you.”
    “Isn’t that your job?”
    “Hmmm”—he thought for a moment—“this character seems to lack morality, how peculiar in a mortal.”
    She sighed. “Is this your first time watching TV?”
    He nodded absently. “No one would let me.”
    “No one would let you?”
    “Messages. Tasks. Commerce. Places to be. The old man said I couldn’t be distracted.”
    “But you are being distracted.”
    He nodded.
    “This is a problem, isn’t it?”
    He nodded again.
    “Is this my task?”
    He said distantly, “One never knows.”
    Exasperated, she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. A beam of light gushed from it.
    Apollo’s voice boomed through, “Your shift starts now.”
    Startled but finding her voice, she answered, “I don’t know how to get there.”
    “Step inside.”
    “Step inside the fridge?”
    “Step inside.”
    She took a deep breath. A god sat on her couch eyes glazed over, watching TV, while another commanded her to step inside a