“Justin said you’ve got an empty cubby hole of a room out back,” Jennie cut in. “May we rent it from you? We can pay a little bit now and then give you some proceeds once we get back up running again.”
Esmeralda drew her lips together in mock consideration. Of course she would rent out any available space, especially to someone who might bring in potential clients. After all, wouldn’t the women and men seeking Amelia’s services be interested in finding out what they could do to make their matches work?
“Come on,” Jennie said. “Justin said you’d be interested.”
“I’ll do it for him,” Esmeralda responded. “You know that one’s got a lot of good ideas.”
Amelia looked over at Jennie, who nodded.
“Guess he’s walking proof that you never know what the future holds,” Esmeralda mumbled.
Amelia and Jennie exchanged slight smiles as they pretended not to hear the fortune-teller admit that the future could not be divined.
“Come on,” Esmeralda said, her cheeks red. “Let’s get you set up.”
As Amelia, Jennie and Esmeralda recreated a pocket version of Happily Ever After By Amelia, complete with the hanging pink and purple hearts that banged the front door daily, Esmeralda noticed that Amelia’s shoulders seemed to be relaxing and her posture improving. It sounded at one point like Amelia was even humming to herself.
“You know what I think?” Amelia asked, her hands on her slightly wider hips, “My business isn’t just coming back, it’s being reborn.”
Jennie pretended to squat and cover her head.
“Look out world! Lia’s back!”
****
With Petal curled up at her feet, Amelia ate the burrito she’d picked up on the way home and wrote out her new ideas for a twenty-five minute matching program on one of the pastel pads she kept stashed in the small space beneath her coffee table. When she was done with her plan, Amelia opened her notebook and penned several lines for a new sestina. She exhaled happily; finally she felt like she could write again. She reached over and grabbed a handful of the tortilla chips Carlos always threw into her take-out bags.
The little dog began to whimper.
“Do you want some chips?” She asked.
Petal walked toward the window and tucked her tail beneath her body. When she was almost to the glass she began to cry and walk backward. Amelia stood, scooped the little dog under her arm, and headed outside.
“Come on,” She whispered, as they stepped into the darkness. “I’ve gone to the underworld and lived to tell the tale. A dog scavenging for food in our trash can isn’t about to scare me.”
Amelia’s nostrils twitched. Her already superior sense of smell, which had become even more heightened during pregnancy–she could now detect when fruit was about to ripen even before its skin softened–told her what she already suspected.
“I know you’re here. And I want you to leave me alone.”
“How’d you know I was here?” Cupid asked.
“Why? Do you want to know my secret so you can figure out how to outwit me and stand in my yard again?”
“Of course not! Look, I’m sorry,” Cupid said as he made himself visible. “About the spying.”
Amelia cocked her head.
“You’ve done this before haven’t you?”
Cupid looked down at two small weeds that were beginning to push their way up through the stones on Amelia’s little patio.
“Uh, yeah.” He said, as he pointed at the cracked flowerpot. “I knocked it over trying to read your computer screen.”
“So that's what this has always been about for you?” Amelia cried. “A chance to steal my matchmaking methods?”
Amelia began shaking so violently she was afraid she was going to drop Petal.
“Look, I’ve wanted to tell you since that first night in the restaurant. I tried, right before the earthquake, then when we were in the square in front of the Vatican. And a million other times. Colin Cumin, he was a fraud. Someone I invented while listening to my mother go on and on about how you were the best. She’d been watching you, through a telescope up in her house in the Hills.”
Amelia’s knees began to buckle. She backed up and eased herself into the wrought iron chair that stood against her stucco wall.
“I don’t believe this! And all that talk you gave me about being your mother’s advisor! That was an act too…I should have known.”
“I know it sounds bad. But listen. You are the best at matchmaking. That’s why she was watching. That’s why I visited you that first time; I wanted to learn your methods. Try them out for myself, so I could stop being just my mother’s arrow boy. It seemed to be the only way I could ever raise in the ranks as you say around here. That stuff I said to you about my mother, it was the way I was figuring it would be.”
“Once you’d stolen my methods.”
Cupid hung his head.
Amelia gasped.
“I know, it was wrong. And after I met you, I felt terrible about what I’d tried to do. But I was afraid if I told you I’d lose you. Come on, think about it. You know I tried to tell you.”
Amelia’s eyes were so full of tears she could no longer see Petal in her lap.
“Get away from me! Leave me alone!”
She hugged Petal close to her chest and waited for some sort of sound that would tell her Cupid had left. After about two minutes she opened her eyes. He was still there, in front of her.
“I asked you to leave!”
“I can’t. I need your help.”
Amelia began to laugh. A note of hysteria crept into her voice as she threw her head back.
“Help you. Help you? I didn’t think it was in you to surprise me any further, but congratulations.”
She stood up and slowly began to shuffle toward the house.
“Amelia! You forget. I was there when Rome fell. I’ve witnessed every single societal implosion since the beginning of time. I know what I’m talking about. You’re standing on a precipice. You’ve got to help. Besides, it’s the only way to save your father.”
Amelia stopped walking.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Amelia and Cupid didn’t speak the next morning as they walked swiftly toward Venus’s villa, past the magnolia trees and bougainvillea bushes, which seemed to mock the severity of their situation with their chirpy bright blooms turned toward the sun. Amelia’s throat was tight and her eyes were dry from the hysterical sobbing that had overtaken her once Cupid left the bungalow. Next to her, Cupid no longer wore his usual carefree expression; small lines had been etched along his cheeks, and his eyes were also dry.
“I …”
Amelia held up her hand. “I told you. No talking.”
Even Enrique seemed to pick up on the glum mood, delivering them silently to a second entrance to the underworld, a secret recess used only in case of emergency. They exited onto a shadow filled platform which led to a maze of tunnels whose ceilings were so low Cupid had to keep his head bent. Amelia held a handkerchief over her nose to block the smell of damp mold, which seemed to rise into the air with every step onto the uneven pathway.
“We’re here,” Cupid said at last as they reached a massive set of wooden double doors.
Cupid led Amelia into a long chamber whose tall walls were lined with thick, red velvet drapes. A massive carved banquet table stood in the center of the room, beneath three heavy medieval chandeliers laden with flickering candles. Amelia sniffed the air. The room smelled of almonds.
Dozens of gods and goddesses clad in ivory and white togas sat against high backed heavily brocade chairs, sets of small, golden hand bells in front of them. Several of the women wore garlands of flowers in their hair. At the far end of the table, a white haired man in purple robes trimmed in gold sat on a slightly elevated platform.
“Greetings,” he called out in his deep voice. “Please sit. We have no time to waste.”
“I feel like I’ve stepped back in time,” Amelia whispered as
Cupid helped her into her seat.
“Not back in time, rather out of time,” he replied in a low voice as he seated himself to her left.
The old man nodded in their direction and picked up the hand bells in front of him.
“Once again, welcome,” he said, as he rang the bells.
Up and down the table the gods and goddesses had also joined him. The noise was so overwhelming Amelia had the sensation of being trapped inside a bell tower. It was all she could do to keep from covering her ears with her hands. She clenched her fists and sat on her fingers to be sure her hands did not betray her.
“Young lady, we are honored you have heeded our call. You are one of only a handful of mortals whose expertise we have sought, and humbly ask for your assistance in restoring our rightful place in the universe. Do you accept our request?”
The old man and the gods and goddesses picked up and rang their bells once more.
Amelia looked at the man. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. A collective gasp arose around the table, followed by the sound of chairs scraping the stone floor as two enormous gods pushed their seats back. The old man held up his hands and they resumed their places.
“Please explain yourself.”
“I am a mere Hollywood matchmaker. I have no way in which to help you.”
The old man smiled.
“You are too humble, my dear. But you see, as the king of the Roman gods, I know better. You are exactly what we need.”
Amelia’s mouth gaped open as it dawned on her that she was sitting across the table from Jupiter, the character she’d studied in mythology class and written about in her poems.
“Perhaps you are not aware of the current unrest here in the underworld. It’s bubbled up into your world, but I understand that the mortals are slow to comprehend. Maybe you see no relationship between the shifting grounds beneath Rome and Athens and our situation.”
Amelia felt her chest muscles tighten. Hadn’t her father been sent to the psychiatric ward for making that very connection?
The old man shook his head.
“A pity, that. Especially after all the hard work undertaken by Roman historians and preservationists. But no matter.”
Amelia leaned forward ever so slightly.
“Anyway, it is the latest battle in an old war. Thousands of years ago, our Greek counterparts engaged us in a fight for control of the universe. It was a long and bloody struggle; many gods were sacrificed.”
Jupiter winced.
“But eventually we knew victory,” he continued, pounding the table as he spoke. “With our triumph came the ultimate privilege, the ultimate responsibility: the duty to create the universe. It became our destiny to design the natural and mortal worlds. We did this through my daughter, Venus.”
Next to Amelia, Cupid flinched. Amelia reached for her belly. She ran her hand across herself slowly, wondering if the baby on the other side realized it was the great-grandchild of the god now speaking. She wondered if the old man knew she was carrying his flesh and blood.
“Our system worked for centuries. The mortal and natural worlds prospered as a result of the matches Venus made, and we lived in peace here in the underworld. But one day, not long ago, Venus became remiss in her duties and an opening, an opportunity, arose for Aphrodite to seize this control back for the Greeks. You see, Aphrodite has kidnapped Venus.”
A gasp went around the room.
“Order, order!” Jupiter yelled as he held up his hands.
“Aphrodite holds Venus and Mercury hostage somewhere here in the underworld, while our troops shake Athens and the Greeks toss Rome and her ruins like tourists pitching coins into the Fontana Trevi.”
Jupiter leaned forward and said, “We must reclaim the opportunity to make the matches again, or we will lose control of the world. With Venus gone, you are our only hope.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I am a failed matchmaker. I’ve even lost my business.”
“But you have the talent. You must at least try.”
Amelia looked at the gods and goddess, their eager faces pointed in her direction. A small, black-haired goddess appeared to mouth the words, “You can do it,” as she nodded at Amelia. She turned to Cupid.
“It’s the only hope for exonerating your father. If the animals mate again, these accusations that he somehow attempted to destroy the order of the natural world through selective breeding of the species he allegedly hoarded will fade away. Otherwise, he will no doubt be tried and convicted of being an eco-terrorist.”
Amelia knew what Cupid said was true. She looked at Jupiter and nodded.
Jupiter and the gods and goddesses rang their hand bells once more.
****
“The fate of the world, not to mention my father, hangs over my head. But no pressure,” Amelia groaned as she lay across her white sofa, her small feet elevated.
“I know you can do it. Ever since you were a baby you’ve been able to achieve whatever you set your mind to,” Stella said, stroking Amelia’s hair.
Amelia reached up and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”
Amelia sat up.
“I have to see Dad. He’s the only one who understands what’s at stake here.”
Stella frowned.
“I don’t know if that’ll be possible,” she said, biting her cracked lower lip.
“They’ve got him under lock and key up there in that psych ward. There is no visitation without a doctor present.”
Amelia groaned.
“I can’t do this on my own.”
Stella exhaled. She studied her daughter’s face. Finally she snapped her fingers.
“Don’t you worry, Amelia. I’ve got this covered. You rest up and I’ll be back in a few hours to take you to see your father.”
****
“There’s nothing you can do,” Concordia said as she patted Cupid’s arm. “Honest. I asked Inuus. I asked Bacchus. I even asked Jupiter.”
“You’re calling our grandfather by his first name now?”
“Only behind his back, I assure you,” Concordia replied. “Seriously, you’re just going to have to wait. Have a little faith. Amelia’s capable and a lot stronger than she looks. You said so yourself.”
“I know.”
Cupid stood up and resumed his pacing, back and forth between the French doors that looked out over the Hollywood Hills. He knew Amelia was somewhere out there, though no longer at her shop, since that Mr. Ataria had tossed her and Jennie off the premises. He clenched his hands as he thought of how much he’d like to pay the landlord a visit.
He picked up Venus’s telescope and trained it on the streets below. He saw Justin hurrying along Hollywood Boulevard, past the taco truck, Jennie at his side. They were looking around, scanning the pavement as though they were afraid they were being followed.
“Maybe I could just go out and keep an eye on them,” he began.
Concordia held up her hand.
“You want Amelia back don’t you? Well then the last thing you want to do is act like she can’t handle this herself. She was the one asked to save the planet, not you. Wait until she asks for your help. And big brother, don’t worry. This isn’t over yet.”
****
Trudie Jaxson loathed the new psych ward floor supervisor. The woman had positively refused to consider Trudie’s perfectly reasonable request to have off every afternoon that her son was scheduled to pitch at his Little League games. Didn’t the woman understand? Arturo was going to be a professional player someday; the assistant to his traveling team coach had told her so just last month.
But no, Trudie recalled with anger as she bit into one of the jelly filled granola bars the lab techs had dropped off at lunchtime, some people had no respect. Her supervisor had even laughed at her when she’d stated how important it was for her to be present so Arturo could really get into the frame of mind he needed to pitch a winning game. Yet here Trudie was, manning the nurses’ station herself while
the supervisor cut out to purchase a shower gift for her niece.
The elevator doors across from Trudie’s desk slid open. Out walked a tall, ever so slightly stooped woman with blonde hair extensions that didn’t quite match her graying roots, and a pale petite woman who looked like she’d stepped off one of those billboards on Sunset Boulevard where they advertise the latest romantic movie releases.
“Hey there, sugar, I’m Dr. Rasmullin from the Birmingham Institute. My assistant and I,” the blonde said as she nodded in the direction of her companion, “are here to examine a patient of yours, a Mr. Coillard…”
She looked at the redhead, who was wearing a loose scarlet smock and carrying a perky pink clipboard.
Matching Wits with Venus Page 26