Unfinished Muse by R.L. Naquin

have to deal
with it, here, though. No more walking away from things when they
got tough. I’d signed a contract. I was stuck.
    I followed her to another room where she
pointed at a wall of gold belts in various sizes hanging from
hooks. Most of the hooks had names written on small wipe-off boards
above them. One of the boards was had a black smear across it, the
name no longer legible. Audrey snatched a cloth hanging from a hook
and wiped the board clean, her face scrunched into a frown.
    She turned away from the board and eyed my
figure for a moment, then chose a belt and handed it to me. “Try
this one.”
    The gold was warm and lighter than I
expected, as if it were woven of spun-gold thread rather than
crafted of solid metal. I wrapped it around my waist and clicked it
in place. It settled over my hips like it was made for me.
“Perfect.”
    She nodded. “Thought so.” She wrote my name
above the empty slot. “From now on, you’re responsible for that
belt. Make sure you always hang it up before you leave every
day.”
    I ran my fingers over it. “It’s beautiful.
What does it do?”
    She led me to a storage closet on the other
side of the room. “Your belt holds your supplies, renders you
invisible, and modifies your voice. It’s what makes a human into a
Muse.”
    This was going to be the craziest job
ever.
    Audrey pulled out a large plastic bottle and
a silver can, then showed me how to hook them to my belt. I was a
little disappointed. The belt went from a stylish accessory to a
piece of utilitarian equipment. The containers weren’t too big,
though, so the belt didn’t drag much.
    “There’s more of everything in this closet.
When you return your supplies, refill them for the next person.
Nobody likes to get to an assignment and find out they’re out of
juice.” She grabbed her own belt and loaded it, then led me out of
the supply room.
    Back in the main office, we found our way
blocked by two men standing in the middle of the hallway, talking
to each other and oblivious to our attempts to get past.
    Audrey tapped their shoulders. “Step aside,
boys. I have new meat to tenderize.”
    They turned slowly to face us, apparently in
no rush to comply. The one on the left was taller with a round
face, thick lips, and squinty brown eyes. The shorter man on the
right had blue eyes that were a little too wide apart on his face,
flat cheekbones, and a sparse attempt at a soul patch on his cleft
chin. Neither was terribly attractive, but the shorter one seemed
to think he was.
    “Well, hello.” He scanned me up and down and
licked his lips. “New meat is always welcome in this place. I’m
Dave.” He tipped his head at the other guy. “And that’s Jeremy.
We’re the only foxes in this henhouse. What’s your name,
chicky?”
    My skin felt like it was physically drawing
away from him. The guy next to this waste of air didn’t seem the
least bit embarrassed by his friend, either. In fact, Jeremy looked
as if he wanted me to answer and move on so they could resume their
conversation.
    While I tried to decide on a pithy comment
that would smack this guy down, Audrey groaned and pushed him out
of the way.
    “Her name’s Wynter. And we’ve warned you
about that henhouse shit before, Dave. Don’t make me call HR again.
They’re running out of sexual harassment videos for you to watch.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me past the two guys and out into
the lobby. “I have no idea why those guys are still here. Dave’s an
ass and Jeremy’s just plain creepy. Ignore them.”
    I shivered. “Hard to believe they’re out
there inspiring people.”
    She shook her head in disgust as she hit the
down button for the elevator. “They get the job done, apparently. I
don’t know how.”
    We stepped into the elevator and she pressed
the L button. A moment later, we were back in the atrium where I’d
started.
    Audrey led me through the busy lobby, past a
man with a bull head, two arguing satyrs, and dozens of