Matching Wits with Venus

by Therese Gilardi

  Venus moved closer to Mercury and laid her head on his chest. She began to caress his neck, running her finger along his Adam’s apple. She was about to reach up to kiss him when she felt his leg vibrate.

  “You’ve got your cell phone on?” She grimaced as she recoiled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Venus stood up.

  “Wait, Vee! I’ve got to take this. I can’t very well ignore urgent calls when I’m the one who said we need to modernize with our own network down here.”

  Mercury held up a perfectly proportioned finger as he fished the phone from his pocket.

  “Si, si. Grazie. Ciao.”

  “Making a date for tonight?” Venus asked as she straightened her robe.

  “That was from an associate of Bacchus. She’s here, Venus. The matchmaker is here.”

  The color fell from Venus’s face. Mercury grabbed her hand and pulled her to the edge of the terrace. He motioned for his chariot. There was no need to tell Venus that Grissella had called as a way to win him over; it was not her business that he’d noticed her tilting her lithe body in his direction every time she bent over him at Bacchus’s place.

  Mercury smiled to himself as he put his arm around Venus.

  ****

  “Concordia! Hold on!”

  “Help! I’m afraid I’m going to be swallowed.”

  Concordia lurched from side to side as the ground to her left cracked. The noise was deafening, like a train barreling at her. She grabbed at a rosebush. The plant broke away, leaving her with only a fistful of thorns.

  Cupid raced toward his sister. The earth’s quakes were so violent he had trouble keeping his balance. By the time he’d zigzagged around all of the downed plants and trees and reached Concordia, the shaking had stopped.

  “You all right?”

  “I think so. I just need to pick these thorns out of my hands.”

  Cupid used leaves from a fallen tree like they were cotton gauze. Carefully he extracted each thorn from his shaking sister’s palm then cleaned the flesh with the moist underside of the leaves. When he was done he held her hand gently in a shallow brook. As he straightened up from the water, he smelled Amelia’s scent once more. He shook his head with relief; at least she was safe, since she was not on the spot of the quake like he and Concordia had been.

  “What was that?” Concordia asked. “It felt like thunder fell to the ground.”

  “I’ve only seen it once before.”

  A shadow passed over Cupid’s face despite the fact that the sun was still sitting high in the sky.

  “You’re too young to remember. But about a thousand years after we won control from the Greeks, Zeus launched an insurrection.”

  “You mean there was an underworld turf war? How come I never read about it in any of my school books?”

  Cupid smirked.

  “You know what they say. History is written by the winners.”

  Concordia grunted.

  “This is exhausting,” she said after ten minutes of climbing over toppled tree trunks and snagging the hem of her robe on all of the brambles now strewn across their path. “It’s going to take us hours to reach the gate.”

  “No. We’ll get there quickly if I carry you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Hey, how many piggy back rides did I give you when we raced Inuus and Flauna?” Cupid asked with a laugh. “I can do it. Hop on.”

  Concordia hoisted herself onto Cupid’s back, and he hurried through the garden. He didn’t want to alarm Concordia so he didn’t tell her he’d seen a similar scene recently. It was when he and Amelia had taken the Universal Studios back lot tour. The tram had rolled them past the “War of the Worlds” set, a scene of annihilation that looked frighteningly like the garden.

  ****

  Bacchus was lying back in his favorite chaise lounge, sunning himself as Grissella rubbed coconut oil on his neck. His guests had left shortly after he’d sent Amelia off for her meeting with Carmenta. He had his eyes closed, so he didn’t see the trees upending themselves in the distance as the earth shook in the walled garden. He was listening to the birds singing as they hovered above his flowers, wondering what he’d have for his evening meal, when he heard Venus’s staccato footsteps falling along the stone path that led up to the terrace. He put his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun and stared out: she was climbing up to see him, accompanied by Mercury.

  “If I hadn’t reigned myself in during my aperitivo, I’d swear I was hallucinating. Venus and Mercury, carrying each other’s hands instead of each other’s heads on a string.”

  Venus smiled as she leaned down to kiss her old friend’s furry cheek.

  “Come now, surely we haven’t been that bad?”

  “Not that bad?” Bacchus crowed. “I’ve seen warring armies that fought less than you two.”

  “I was wrong. We all know it,” Mercury said as Venus smiled and touched his shoulder.

  “So what brings you here? Wanted to share news of your reconciliation with me?”

  “Grissella called,” Mercury replied, glancing at Venus. “Told me you’d had a mortal visitor.”

  “Ah, the petite,” Bacchus said as he stroked his chin. “An errant wanderer in search of refreshment.”

  “Are you sure that’s all she wanted?” Venus asked, running her hand across the top of a fat chaise lounge cushion.

  “I think so,” Bacchus replied, evading her gaze.

  “So,” Venus said as she leaned forward, “Where is she now?”

  Bacchus shrugged his massive shoulders and held up his hand.

  “I don’t know. Why are you looking for her?”

  “Oh you know, she’s a fellow Californian,” Venus replied. “That’s the way these Americans are, always friendly with one and other. Surely you’ve seen them.”

  Although he pretended to gaze at his fingertips, Bacchus studied Venus’s face. Her cheeks were taut even though he knew she hadn’t succumbed to that Los Angeles habit of having everything tightened. He knew that could only mean one thing - she was holding in a lot of repressed rage. Bacchus envisioned Amelia’s delicate face and her tiny bones. For an instant, he was very afraid for her.

  “Grissella!” He called out.

  The lithe young woman appeared on the terrace, shaking her hips ever so slightly.

  “Please bring some wine and nuts for Venus and Mercury.”

  Venus watched as Grissella stared at Mercury. Her ex-husband blushed, aware of her intent scrutiny. Venus stepped closer to Mercury and pressed her lips to his ear.

  “Follow her into the kitchen and find out where the matchmaker is,” she hissed.

  “Vee, I….”

  “Do it!”

  Venus smiled at Bacchus as she settled into the chair to his left.

  Mercury followed Grissella inside. He returned for a moment and motioned for Venus to join him at the edge of the terrace.

  “Just want to show Vee the view of the garden,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Well?”

  “Apparently Bac arranged for her to meet with Carmenta,” he whispered.

  “Carmenta!” Venus squealed. “So now she’s come down here to usurp childbirth and prophecy as well. That whole American notion of one-stop shopping. She’s unbelievable! And she’s got to be stopped.”

  “Venus!”

  Bacchus pulled himself to his feet.

  “I caution you not to jump to conclusions. And whatever you do promise me you won’t hurt her.”

  Venus strode past Bacchus, Mercury trailing behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Is this really necessary?” Jennie asked.

  Mr. Ataria shrugged. A sheriff’s deputy stood on his right side. Half a block away Samantha Yolandez and her cameraman were climbing out of a dark blue van.

  “I expect trouble, I bring protection,” Mr. Ataria replied.

  “Yeah right. We’ve paid our rent on time, keep the place much cleaner than
we found it, and have made improvements that have increased the value of your property and this is how you treat us?” Jennie scoffed.

  “You’re right, we’re the kind of tenants you really have to expect will give you trouble.”

  “Miss Coillard has disappeared and her father is locked in the psychiatric ward after trying to carrying out a plot to re-order the natural world. These are not the kind of people I want on my property.”

  Jennie glared at the sheriff’s deputy.

  “You have one hour to vacate the premises,” he said. “You’ve already received your seventy-two hour notice from what I understand.”

  He pointed at the legal document taped to the front door.

  Jennie looked beyond him, to Samantha Yolandez, who was walking briskly up the pavement.

  “Do you always cover landlord tenant issues?”

  “We do when the tenant is possibly involved in a crime,” Samantha replied crisply, smoothing a wrinkle out of her safari jacket.

  “A crime?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Why else would Dr. Coillard’s daughter have disappeared while he’s in the hospital? You’d think she would want to stick around and clear up his name, not to mention check up on his health. Unless she was involved in some sort of scheme. That’s why,” Samantha said as she shoved her microphone in front of Mr. Ataria and nodded at her crew, “I’m filing this investigative report.”

  A trim, young woman with a spray bottle appeared at Samantha’s side and began working on her hair. A small crowd including some of the homeless men Justin knew from the shelter had gathered, along with a handful of curious tourists, cameras at the ready, certain they’d stumbled upon a film shoot.

  “You’re on in three, two, one,” a male voice rang out as Samantha licked her teeth and assumed a false smile.

  “Forget your hair, you need someone from wardrobe to get you a new jacket!” Jennie called out over her shoulder as she entered Happily Ever After By Amelia.

  Two homeless men applauded as Samantha scowled and the director yelled, “CUT!”.

  Once inside, Jennie gave the storefront a quick once-over. She felt badly about leaving the pine sideboard and settee Amelia had been so thrilled to purchase at a little antique shop in Agoura Hills but there was nothing she could do. She’d already removed all of the files and the computer from the premises.

  She turned around for one last look. The pink and purple wooden hearts Amelia had hung as a symbol of everlasting love still hung from the door. Carefully, Jennie freed them from their wooden hooks. As Samantha Yolandez began interviewing Mr. Ataria, Jennie placed the hearts in her pocket and walked away, her fingers wrapped around what was left of Happily Ever After By Amelia.

  ****

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you,” the thin goddess in flowing pink robes said softly. “We’re in what you mortals call uncharted waters here – I’ve no experience with a mortal-god matchup.”

  “Thank you, anyway. I appreciate your time,” Amelia replied.

  “I suggest you take good care of yourself and don’t worry. These things have a way of sorting themselves out.”

  Carmenta reached over and patted Amelia’s arm.

  “So there’s nothing special I need to do to ensure the health of my baby?” Amelia asked as she stood up. “And you really have no idea whether my child will be mortal?”

  Carmenta shrugged her shoulders.

  “There are some aspects of childbirth that remain a mystery to even me. Legend has it that it is the dominant partner who dictates the form the child will take,” Carmenta said, then coughed.

  “What does that mean?”

  Carmenta looked at a point in the distance.

  “That the baby will be mortal if the mortal is the dominant partner in the relationship. Otherwise, the child is born a god.”

  “You mean a mortal can be dominant over a god?”

  Carmenta shrugged her slender shoulders once more. “Theoretically it is possible. Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. Just look after yourself the usual way. Take plenty of folic acid and lots and lots of fruits and vegetables.”

  “Thanks again.” Amelia said as she extended her hand.

  “By the way,” Carmenta said, “You never did tell me who the father of your baby is. You understand I am merely curious, I don’t mean to pry….”

  Amelia pursed her lips.

  “No, that’s all right. I don’t suppose it will hurt. I have faith you’ll keep my secret.”

  “Of course.”

  Amelia laughed when Carmenta crossed her heart with her index finger.

  “My baby’s father is Cupid.”

  Carmenta gasped.

  ****

  “At least Amelia’s not seeing what’s become of her business,” Stella said as she plunked a pitcher of margaritas down on her teal tea table. “She’d be devastated.”

  Jennie licked her finger and ran it around the rim of Stella’s Palm Springs souvenir glass. She stared at the salt on her fingertip then plopped it into her mouth. The bitter granules smarted.

  “I really didn’t think it was going to come to this. She’s always paid her rent ahead of time and treated all of her clients like they were friends. A lot of good it did her. You know not even one of them came by after they ran that news story.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  Stella sipped her drink through a bendable chartreuse straw.

  “That evil Samantha Yolandez,” Jennie continued.

  “I know,” Stella replied. “I remember her back in the day. She had her heart set on becoming a character actress.”

  “Pretty ironic since the one thing that woman lacks is character.”

  Stella raised her glass.

  “Here! Here! You know she’s even tried to get Fernando’s people to go on camera saying something against me.”

  “She’s pure evil, I tell you. At least he didn’t play along.”

  “Of course not. The only interview she’s gotten is with a few of Gerard’s crazy neighbors, who refuse to give their names. And the social worker.”

  “The social worker?”

  “Yes. She’s the ‘source’ who leaked the story about Gerard’s transfer to the psych ward.”

  Stella looked down at her drink.

  Jennie noticed several white hairs mixed among the highlighted blond extensions. Stella had apparently forgotten to touch up her roots. Jennie sighed heavily. Stella’s lack of attention to her grooming rituals proved that the situation was even worse than she’d allowed herself to acknowledge.

  “Like I was saying.”

  Stella gave Jennie a sharp look as she reached up and fluffed her hair.

  “That evil woman didn’t say Gerard was in the psych ward. Rather it was one of these anonymous sources who told that whack job in the safari jacket that he’d been moved to a secure floor. Disgusting. I’d like to take her out on safari and turn her loose in the jungle.”

  “I know,” Jennie said, frowning. “At least Amelia’s missing that.”

  Stella stared at Jennie.

  “I’m getting worried about her. She should’ve been back by now; it’s been over a week. How do we know she’s not trapped down there?”

  Jennie studied Stella’s face. Tiny bags of excess skin now lined her lower eyelids. A handful of blemishes had appeared on her normally flawless décolletage. Her hands were rough and raw from frequent scrubs at the hospital sink. She was sorry Amelia was unable to see her mother finally embracing her maternal role.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I went by Venus’s villa and spoke with Enrique. Amelia’s just fine.”

  Stella’s shoulders dropped back into place.

  Jennie drew her glass to her mouth and drained its bright contents with one long sip.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Amelia!”

  She was certain she was hallucinating. How else could she explain the sensation someone was calling her name. She shivered. Wh
y, she asked herself, should she be surprised? She’d read many stories over the years about people who’d become lost in the deserts of southern California or Nevada whose minds began to go.

  Although she’d never had a keen sense of time, Amelia had realized shortly after her arrival that the underworld didn’t operate on the twenty-four hour day. Her body told her that this sunny “day” had certainly stretched on for what she was beginning to fear was a long time. After all, her stomach was now bulging ever so slightly under her hand. If her girth continued to increase at this pace she was going to have to find a way to let her clothing out.