by Kim Baldwin
“Deal. A year’s compensation.”
Alex sat in the chaise next to hers.
“I’m sorry about yesterday’s debacle, by the way.” She tucked her book back into her bag.
“Debacle?”
“My friends can be obnoxious, though they mean well.”
“I think they’re fun.” Alex snickered. “I, for one, had a great time.”
“Melina can be pushy.”
“She’s just enjoying the summer.”
“She likes you.”
“I gathered.” He seemed, from his casual demeanor, to dismiss the attention as insignificant.
“I mean, a lot.”
“Oh.” Alex frowned. “That’s not good.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Ariadne smiled. “Just tell her the truth.”
“The truth being?”
“That you’re not into women.”
“That would be lying,” Alex replied.
Ariadne sat up. “You mean you’re attracted to women?”
“Absolutely.” Alex didn’t sound at all offended. “You insinuated otherwise yesterday when we got interrupted.”
“I just assumed you were…Never mind. I was wrong.”
“Disappointed?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly.
“Hmm. I’m sorry. If you need a gay bosun to talk to, I can get you Manos.” Alex was clearly kidding.
“Don’t be silly. I have plenty of gay male friends.” She smiled. “But in my defense, Manos thought you were pitching for his team, too.”
“Nope. I’m all about women.”
“So, what’s wrong with Melina?” Ariadne had no idea why she was pushing the topic. She wanted to hear something from him, but she wasn’t sure what.
“Nothing, nothing at all. She’s attractive, witty, and very sexy.”
Ariadne shrugged. “I guess. So what’s the problem?”
“There’s…” He paused, as though deciding how to answer.
“Oh, how insensitive,” she said. “It didn’t even cross my mind you might be involved.”
“Because I’m young?”
“Yeah. No…I mean…I don’t really know why,” Ariadne muttered, frustrated over why she seemed incapable of expressing herself at the moment with any reasonable eloquence.
“But you’re right. I’m not currently involved,” Alex said.
Ariadne found that information uplifting for some reason. “And Melina, then?”
“You don’t give up, do you?” Alex chuckled. “Are you trying to set me up with your friend?”
“Maybe,” Ariadne lied. “Interested?”
“It would be wrong.”
That wasn’t a no. “Because you work here?”
“Among other reasons.” Alex gazed out at the sea. “I’m interested in art, though.”
A not very subtle change of topic.
“You sound like my father,” Ariadne said.
“Is that bad?”
“It’s just him, and I love everything about him.”
“He has a world-renowned private collection, and boy, what I wouldn’t give to see it,” Alex said wistfully. He seemed as passionate about art as she was about the family business.
Ariadne could deal with any fault in a friend or partner except one. She could not handle anyone who lacked passion about something, anything. “Hey, I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
“I can show you some of his private collection,” she offered. “If you don’t mind my company, that is.”
“Only a fool would mind your company.” Alex’s penetrating blue eyes remained fixed on hers, with a familiar softness that didn’t make sense. This wasn’t about a guy trying to get laid. This was about being unable to say what you want. Alex was different than any man Ariadne had ever met.
“So, anyway…” She snatched up her bag and pretended to fish for her book. “Just say when.”
“I have a break in forty-five minutes,” Alex replied at once.
“It’s a da…see you then.”
Alex stood. “I look forward to your company,” he said seriously, and started to go.
Was he hitting on her? Was Melina right? “Hey, Alex,” Ariadne called out when he was still a few feet away.
He turned. “Yes?”
“I’m…you know I’m gay, right?” She needed to hear herself say that.
“So am I.” He laughed. “And I’m especially cheerful about our date.”
“No, I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” Alex smiled.
Chapter Ten
Forty-five minutes later, Switch found Ariadne dressed and waiting for her where she’d left her by the pool. She’d apparently gone back to her room to ditch her bag and change into shorts and a polo. She managed to look amazing in everything, and that was worrisome. Ariadne was the type of woman Switch had always wanted but never managed to meet. Not because she didn’t go out enough, or because the women she occasionally saw were inferior; Ariadne was the full package. She was beautiful, dynamic, determined, and so far seemed to be the type who would not only endure Switch’s need for adventure but also seek it out herself. None of the women Switch had dated were the whole package, and the fact that Ariadne was depressed her, to say the least. The woman was unattainable, and Switch was in the wrong body at the wrong time. If only they had met under different circumstances, she could have at least pursued a long sexy evening, maybe even a whole weekend with her. That was usually enough to get any flirtation out of her system, though she wasn’t sure even that would work with Ariadne.
Ariadne looked at her watch. “On time.”
“Always.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go.” Ariadne led the way to the forward suites. “I say we start with my room.”
“You keep art there?”
“Sure. Dad’s collection is just too much to fit in one place, and he loves to be surrounded regardless of where he is.”
“I like him.” Switch truly admired anyone who had as big an appetite for art as she.
Ariadne inserted her red keycard into the door and led the way inside.
“Impressive.” Switch hardly knew where to look first. She was surrounded by paintings and sculptures representing many of the best-regarded artists of the twentieth century: Picasso and Matisse, Warhol and Pollock, Chagall and Klimt, Dali and Miró. Many of the pieces depicted women, and Switch recognized most of them. Some had gone for record prices at Sotheby’s or Christie’s and made headlines worldwide. Others were lesser-known works that only serious collectors or art historians would be familiar with, since they’d never been well publicized. Lykourgos had no doubt acquired these from another private collector or through some other means.
She approached an oil on canvas painted by Modigliani. “This is Nude Sitting on a Divan, if I’m not mistaken.”
Ariadne came to stand beside her. “You do know your art. Dad acquired it a few years ago at Sotheby’s, along with…” She glanced around and pointed to a bronze sculpture of two naked figures embracing. “That Matisse.”
“And I recognize this Picasso,” Switch said as she stepped to the next painting, which was more than five feet tall. “But I can’t recall its name.” In fact, she knew a lot about Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, one of the artist’s major works, except who’d acquired it. The buyer, who bid by telephone, had wanted to remain anonymous. “What can you tell me about it?”
“This one I know well,” Ariadne said. “Picasso painted this in 1932 and called it Nude, Green Leaves and Bust. It’s one of a series he did of his mistress, and it was in a private collection for several decades until it was sold at Christie’s three or four years ago. For a while, it held the record as highest price paid at auction for a piece of art.”
“You make a wonderful tour guide.” Switch smiled and glanced at the next painting. “What do you know about the Warhol?”
“This one has a great story behind it,” Ariadne replied, excitement in her voice.
“It’s Turquoise Marilyn, and it’s one of five Marilyn Monroe canvases he did in 1964, each with a different colored background. What separates this from the others is that it’s the only one without a bullet hole in the forehead.”
Switch knew the story but feigned ignorance. She had to refrain from volunteering more than an art-loving bosun would know. “Bullet hole?”
“A woman named Dorothy Podber saw the paintings stacked against each other—except for this one—at Warhol’s studio in Manhattan and asked if she could shoot them. Warhol thought she meant, you know, with a camera, so he agreed. Instead, she put on white gloves, pulled out a revolver, and…pow, right between the eyes.” Ariadne laughed. “The other four are known as the Shot Marilyns.”
Switch laughed, too. “More, please.”
Ariadne took her around the room, regaling her with what she knew about each piece.
Though she wasn’t any closer to finding the icon, she was enjoying every minute of the tour. Letting Ariadne take the lead gave Switch a good excuse to gaze at her, to stare at her mouth, her mannerisms, the way she touched her hair when she got excited. “I see your father’s enthusiasm has rubbed off.”
“Stories about artifacts and paintings were my bedtime stories,” Ariadne replied. “I grew up hearing about what he’d just purchased, of course, but mostly he talked about the elusive treasures he hoped to find. He’d make up such remarkable stories about those, since very little is known about them.”
“I’d have killed for stories like that growing up.”
“What were yours like?”
I had none, because they don’t tell you stories in orphanages and certainly not at the EOO. “Oh, you know, the boring Snow White and Red Riding Hood variety.”
Ariadne smiled. “Hey, those aren’t bad. As a matter of fact, I’ve read and watched the Disney versions of them all.”
“So, you’re into damsels in distress, knights in shining armor, princes and princesses.” Switch was surprised.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You just don’t seem the type who needs saving.”
“I need it, all right. I just don’t care to admit it.”
Switch crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you need to be protected from?”
Ariadne didn’t answer for several seconds. “It’s more a matter of wanting. I want someone who’ll fight for me and go out of their way to defend me, even when I’m wrong.”
“I’d think there would be a line of volunteers backed up all the way to Athens.”
“And there is. Only they’re there because of who my dad is, not because of who I am.”
“You’re a beautiful, bright woman.”
“Who hasn’t proved herself, yet.” Ariadne shrugged. “But my time will come.”
“So you think you have to prove yourself before you can deserve what you ne…want.”
“Of course,” Ariadne replied, matter-of-factly.
“Interesting and…futile,” Switch said.
“Is it?”
“Very few get what they deserve, and even fewer deserve what they get.”
Ariadne frowned. “Are you saying I’ll never find the right person?”
“I’m saying the right kind of love doesn’t have to be earned or deserved. It just happens. Call it chemistry or destiny.”
“Right kind of love. Is there a wrong kind?”
“The wrong person can never give you the kind of love you want. Even if they love you to the moon and back, it’ll never suffice because you don’t want to see it.”
Ariadne nodded. “You’re a romantic.”
“I am.”
“It figures. Anyone who loves art this much must be.”
“That makes you a romantic, too.”
Ariadne appeared skeptical. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly. You don’t know it yet.”
Ariadne looked pensive as she gazed around the room and then back to Switch. “For once, Melina might be right.”
Switch, confused, raised an eyebrow.
“You could be exactly what she’s been waiting for,” Ariadne said.
“The question is,” Switch met her eyes, “is she what I’ve been waiting for?”
Ariadne looked away. “Ready for the next room?”
“Lead on.”
As they headed out of the suite, Ariadne paused momentarily to open a drawer of her desk. Switch saw her slip a blue keycard into her pocket.
“My brother’s in his room,” Ariadne said as they headed to the next door down the hallway. “I gave him a heads-up we were coming.” She knocked twice and the door opened almost immediately.
Nikolaos waved them both inside and went to fetch his sunglasses off his desk. “I was just heading out. Good timing.” He nodded hello to Alex as he left.
Nikolaos’s room was just as impressive as his sister’s, with a wide collection of art and artifacts, mostly Byzantine icons, crosses, mosaics, and relics.
“My brother isn’t a fan, but he endures it for my father’s sake.”
“Yes, well. Not everyone gets it.”
“He thinks art and collectors are pretentious.”
“Some are,” Switch replied. “But others love it in earnest.”
“What turned you onto art?”
“The world around me. I can see art everywhere. It’s just that, sometimes…” Switch laughed.
“What?” Ariadne pressed her.
“Sometimes I want to fix it,” she explained. “Rearrange things, like leaves or stones, even trees, to make the end result perfect.”
Ariadne smiled. “People as well?”
Switch looked at Ariadne. “Yup.”
“A perfectionist, too.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Is anything ever perfect for you?” Ariadne stopped smiling and locked eyes with Switch.
“Yes.” They were stuck looking intently at each other and she couldn’t break away. “You. You’re perfect,” Switch finally whispered. Fuck, did I just say that? “I mean, perfectly okay.”
Ariadne eyed Switch suspiciously. “Thanks, I guess.”
“So, where to next?”
Ariadne led her to the master suite. “My parents’.” She knocked on the door, and when no one answered, she inserted the blue keycard she’d taken from her desk.
“I hope we don’t get in trouble.”
“You worry too much,” Ariadne said.
The master suite was amazing, but she’d already scoped out the living room area while talking to the maid. What she couldn’t wait to see was the bedroom.
After perfunctory aahs and wows over the pieces she’d already seen, Switch looked over to the closed door. “What’s in there?”
“The bedroom. That’s next on our tour.” Ariadne opened the door, and a world Switch thought existed only in secret museums was unveiled.
The massive room, nearly as large as the outer living area, was filled with rare and spectacular paintings and artifacts. Most of them she’d only heard rumors about. “This is…it’s…” Switch was at a loss for words, and she had to concentrate hard to remember what she was there for.
“You should see what’s still back at the house.”
“Does he usually travel with so much?”
“Not like this, but since he decided to spend the summer on the yacht, he moved a lot of the pieces here.” Ariadne stood a few feet in front of her.
“Lots of icons.”
“He’s quite religious.”
“Clearly.”
“He bought another one the other day, one virtually unknown to everyone.”
Jackpot. “Oh?”
“Yeah the, the…um.” Ariadne snapped her fingers. “I can’t come up with it right now.”
I can. “Which one is it?” Switch asked casually.
“I don’t see it here…or anywhere, for that matter.” Her puzzled expression told Switch this was an unusual occurrence.
“Huh. Maybe he resold it, or…had
it taken back to his house.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Ariadne looked around again, as if refusing to believe it wasn’t there. “But I doubt it. He’d want to have it here, since he went completely gaga over it and just acquired it.”
“Maybe he has a secret room?” Switch joked and hoped she wasn’t pushing her luck.
“Who knows?” Ariadne replied, as though the idea wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for her father. “I wonder why he doesn’t have it on display. He tells me everything.” She scanned the room again to make sure the Theotokos wasn’t there.
“Everyone has secrets,” Switch said, more to herself than to Ariadne as she looked around as well.
“Well, I’ve shown you all there is,” Ariadne mumbled, her back to Switch.
If it wasn’t here, and it wasn’t in the previous bedrooms, and Lykourgos needed to see the icon to have it cure him, then where the hell could—? Switch felt before she saw Ariadne in her arms.
Ariadne had apparently backed up into her, and Switch had instinctively put her arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” Ariadne said, but didn’t move.
“No problem.” Switch knew she should release her, but her hands seemed unwilling to let go. Their bodies fit perfectly together.
Ariadne tilted her head back to look at Switch. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Neither was I.”
Ariadne smelled so good that Switch was tempted to nuzzle her hair.
“So, uh…” Ariadne pulled away and Switch felt a cold void. “This concludes the tour.” She moved toward the door.
“You have no idea how much this has meant to me.” Switch followed her out of the room.
They walked silently back to the upper deck. Switch should’ve been concentrating on where else the Theotokos might be, but instead she couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of Ariadne against her.
“Well,” Ariadne said when they reached the deck. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Thank you.” Switch avoided eye contact, too afraid Ariadne would see her thoughts. “You were the perfect guide.” She straightened her collar.
“Thanks.” Ariadne scratched her nose, a sign she felt uncomfortable.
“I have to get back to work,” Switch said abruptly, and walked past Ariadne. She kept going until she was alone in her quarters.