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jar, I walked Amon to an empty bench and put my bag between us as he began fiddling with the hot dog wrapper.
    Amon took a bite and seemed to like what he tasted, but when I unscrewed the top of the soda bottle things really got interesting. He chugged a mouthful of soda and a second later he was choking on CO 2 , soda spraying everywhere as his eyes watered.
    I grabbed some napkins from the vendor and began cleaning the soda from Amon’s chest and arms.
    He was looking at me with a half-frustrated, half-amused expression. “I can take care of it, Young Lily.”
    Cupping my hand, he wriggled the wad of napkins from between my fingers while I blushed violently and apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
    He took both the sticky soda and my fumbling words in stride. Still, I forced myself to look away as he finished cleaning up because I was enjoying the process just a little too much. Being physically attracted to Mr. Almost-King/Non-Pharaoh just wasn’t acceptable, and I refused to allow even a glimmer of interest to take root.
    When he was done cleaning his chest, Amon thrust the soda bottle into my hands. “This drink is vile. Is there no juice of the grape, or perhaps water?”
    “Hold on.” I left and returned a moment later with some bottled water. “Here. Now, why don’t you tell me how you came to be in New York and yet have never heard of the place?” Instead of answering me, he drained his beverage.
    Raising the empty bottle, he exclaimed, “This water is more delicious than the soft kisses from the daubed lips of a dozen nubile maidens.”
    Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what I’d just asked him. Seeing that my only response was to stare at him like I’d forgotten how to think, which, incidentally, wasn’t too far from the truth, he waved a hand to get my attention. “May I have more, Lily? My throat is as dry as a sandstorm in the desert.”
    What a coincidence. My throat had suddenly gone dry, too. “Uh…sure.”
    Leaving my bag on the bench beside him, I pulled out some cash and headed back to the vendor. When I turned around, my hands full of bottles, I saw a man in a hoodie grab my backpack and begin to run.
Seriously? Is this the day I’m having? Surely I’m being punked!
    “Hey!” I shouted, and immediately dropped the bottles, two of which split, spraying their contents on my legs. Without a second thought, I ran after the thief.
    “Stop him!” I called out, and was pleased to see several pedestrians make an effort to slow the thief down. Before I reached him, the man abruptly halted in his tracks, as if he had no control over his body. He turned around to face me as a voice behind me said, “You will return her belongings.”
    I grunted, “Not now, Amon. I can handle this.” To the thief, I proclaimed, “Give it back and I won’t call the cops.”
    The thief nodded, his eyes glazed over, and passed me my bag. Afterward, he started as if jerking awake and lunged through the crowd, desperate to get away. Glancing briefly at Amon, I shook my head in disbelief and unzipped my bag to check its contents.
    Once again a crowd had gathered around us, and Amon played to the masses. Some people even cheered, and Amon raised his hands, seeming to enjoy the praise.
    Everything accounted for, I angrily zipped my bag closed and swung it over my shoulder. “Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself. “I mean, really. Un-freaking-believable! Craziest day
ever
!”
    I spun around, very much needing to get away from everyone. Amon quickly caught up. “Where are we going, Young Lily?”
    “I don’t know where you’re going, but I’m going home.”
    “To
your
home?”
    “Yes.”
    He matched my stride easily even though I was practically running by now. At the corner, I raised my hand to hail a cab and one immediately pulled over.
    As I yanked open the door, Amon said warily, “I do not trust the golden chariots.”
    I sighed and turned back around. “Look, the best thing for you to