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“Well, you’re gorgeous,” Annabeth said.
That seemed to cheer up the god, though it didn’t do much for my mood.
“Thank you,” he said.
“And Ganymede was supposed to be the most beautiful of the gods,” Annabeth continued. “Along with Aphrodite, of course.”
Ganymede bobbed his head like he was weighing the comparison. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”
“You used to be mortal,” she went on. “You were so beautiful that Zeus turned into an eagle and snatched you away, brought you to Olympus.”
Ganymede flinched. “Yes. Long ago, but it still stings....”
Grover reappeared with a tray of smoothies. “I got you a Mighty Mead,” he told Ganymede. “Hope that’s okay. What did I miss?”
“He’s a god,” I said.
“I knowthat,” Grover said. “He’s Ganymede.”
“How did you—?” Ganymede stopped himself. “Never mind.”
“We were just about to hear why Ganymede came to find me,” I said.
Grover passed around the smoothies. Salty Sailor for me, obviously—just a hint of salted caramel with apples and bananas. The Fiji Fro-Yo was Grover’s. The Golden Eagle was Annabeth’s: turmeric, ginger, coconut milk, and a bunch of brain-food-type stuff, as if she needed any help in that department.
Ganymede thoughtfully stirred his Mighty Mead, occasionally eying Annabeth’s smoothie like it might grow claws and snatch him into the heavens. “I saw your ad on the bulletin board,” he began. “It... it also seemed too good to be true.”
“Thanks?”
“And all I have to do to reward you is write a letter of recommendation?”
I bit my tongue to keep from making several comments:Tips are appreciated. Actually, our surge pricing is in effect.“That’s the deal. And what is itIhave to do?”
“We,”Annabeth and Grover corrected me in unison.
Ganymede squeaked his straw in his smoothie lid. I hated that sound. “I have to be sure this iscompletelydiscreet,” he said, dropping his voice and peering around nervously, even though none of the other patrons were paying us any attention. “You cannot tell anyone else. Is that understood?”
“Discreet is what we do,” said Grover, who had once blindly dive-bombed Medusa in a pair of flying shoes while screaming at the top of his lungs.
Ganymede sat up a little straighter. “How much do you know about my responsibilities on Mount Olympus?”
“You’re the cupbearer of the gods,” Annabeth said.
“Must be a sweet job,” Grover said dreamily. “Immortality, godly power, and you just have to serve drinks?”
Ganymede scowled. “It’s a horrible job.”
“Yeah, must be horrible.” Grover nodded. “All that... drink-pouring.”
“When it was just at feasts,” Ganymede said, “that was one thing. But now ninety percent of my orders are deliveries. Ares wants his nectar delivered on the battlefield. Aphrodite wants her usual with extra crushed ice and two maraschino cherries delivered to a sauna in Helsinki in fifteen minutes or less. Hephaestus... Don’t get me started on Hephaestus. This gig economy is killing me.”
“Okay,” I said. “How can we help?”
I was afraid he’d subcontract his delivery business to me, and I’d end up bearing cups all over the world.
“My most important symbol of office...” Ganymede said. “Can you guess what it is?”
I figured this must be a trick question. “Since you’re cupbearer of the gods, I’m going to guess... a cup?”
