by SR Jones
Spiros is old-fashioned food, served in a cozy, down to earth setting, but the food is so damn good there’s a waiting list. I don’t worry about things like that. One call to Spiros, the owner, and I’ll get a table.
“Get some beauty sleep, gorgeous,” I say as I kiss her forehead.
“I need to come put the latch on,” she replies.
I get dressed and then Rhea trails me to the door. “Well,” she says, looking down at her feet, unsure again. “Goodnight.”
“Until tomorrow.” I kiss her cheek, and she flushes as she closes the door.
When I reach my car, I’m surprised to realize I’m whistling. What the fuck? I’m not a man who whistles. Ever. Once in my car, I turn on some music, and awful upbeat pop assaults my ears. Damn Helena has been driving my car again and fucking with the radio stations. I change from the radio to stream from my iPhone and get some metal roaring out. I turn it up and drive way too fast down the highway, feeling free for the first time in ages.
CHAPTER SIX
Rhea
I need to call Maya, but I hesitate. I want some more clothes, and I bet she’d help me, but then she’d be helping me find clothes to go meet her father for a lunch date, unknowingly. It isn’t right of me to do that. Instead, I pick up my phone and call my daughter, my heart speeding up.
One of these days I need to talk to Star and tell her how deeply sorry I am, but that’s not a conversation for today. We need time and space to sit and really discuss things, and I’m a coward, so I keep putting it off.
“Hello, Mother,” Star says.
She’s friendly enough, but there’s always a coolness, and who can blame her?
“Hi, honey. Listen, if you’re busy it’s fine, but if not, can you meet me about eleven? In town. I want to buy a few more clothes.”
I have a very limited budget, so I won’t be able to splash out like Maya did, but I’m sure I’ll still find something nice to wear.
“Erm … okay.” She’s so unsure.
“Look, it’s fine; we can meet another time.”
“No, Mom, it’s okay. I’ll meet you. Whereabouts? Syntagma Square?”
“Yes, that’s good.”
I hang up the phone, a huge grin on my face. She called me mom again.
I rush to the bathroom and take a long shower. Afterward, I blow-dry my hair, making it as thick as I can, and apply some subtle make-up. I’m not very good at it, so I stick to the basics—a slick of gloss, some mascara, and a dusting of bronzer. Maya does this whole smoky eye, sexy siren thing, but I can’t do that. I can, however, apply red lipstick, but today choose not to.
Ready and wearing my Chanel suit because I can’t go clothes shopping in the dowdy dresses I wore in the commune, I leave my flat and head to the bus stop.
Once on the bus, I sit back and watch the world go by as we head into town. There’s an old woman sitting near me, and every time we pass a church she lifts her gold cross and kisses it.
I have no faith now, none. I believed, but it was all a lie. I let myself be led by a false prophet, and now I don’t trust myself to find the right one. Sighing, I look down at my hands. They’re plain hands. Hands of a woman who spent many of her days doing manual work. Cooking, cleaning, sewing and mending. It shows in the cracked skin, in the veins crisscrossing the backs of my hands, making them look so much older.
When we reach Syntagma Square, I disembark and immediately see Star. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt, and her long hair is flowing golden brown in the breeze. She’s beautiful, and my heart fills with love for her and pride for her strength. She’s stronger than I am, this daughter of mine. She faced her demons head on in America, while I prevaricated and made excuses.
“Mother,” she says with a smile as she sees me. It’s warm, but nothing like the smile she gives Markos, or even her friend Maya. One day, I hope to earn a smile like Maya gets.
Maybe if I can be the world’s best grandmother, I can earn the love and respect of my daughter. It’s crazy thinking I might be a grandmother when I’m not even forty. It feels far too young an age to become such a thing, but I can’t lie—it’s exciting to think I’ll have a grandchild to love soon.
Star is young to be having a child compared to most women these days, but she’s in love, and happy with Markos. They can fend for themselves, unlike me and her father, Papan, when we were expecting. It makes me hope she has a much easier time of it than we did.
“So what are we shopping for?” she asks. “You know Maya is better at this than me.”
I don’t tell her why I can’t ask Maya. I don’t want more secrets between me and my daughter, but I also need time to see if this blossoming … thing, between Stamatis and I becomes anything deeper.
Last night, he blew me away. What is that saying we used to have when I was younger? Oh, yeah—he rocked my world. I giggle at the thought.
“Mother?” Star gives me an appraising glance. “You’re giggling, and you’re all … glowy.”
“Glowy?”
“Yeah, you look happy, and it’s not something I’m used to seeing you wearing.”
“I am happy.” I smile at her. “You’re happy, and that makes me happy.”
I stop. “Look, Star, now is not the time for the talk we need to have one day, but I need you to know. I’m so very sorry for what I did to you, and I know I can never make it right, not ever. But I’m so grateful you’re letting me in your life.”
I blink away the tears.
“Mom,” she says with a sad smile. “I don’t blame you, not entirely. Dad, yes, I blame him, and do I wish you’d stood up to him. Yes, I do. But also, don’t forget, I wanted to do it. I thought it was an honor to be an Offering.”
She refers to the horrific practice the cult had of auctioning off the most beautiful and handsome young men and women. How we all went along with it, so many of us, I don’t know. It makes me understand how things like the Nazis happened. You don’t join a cult realizing that’s what you’re doing. At first, they keep the things you know limited, and over time slowly, slowly, drip feed you their propaganda. Until, like the proverbial frog boiling in water, you don’t realize you’re being boiled alive. It’s been done to whole societies before, where enough people followed a madman for the whole nation to be irrevocably changed.
It gives me no peace at all to know that I wouldn’t have simply been one of those Germans who stayed quiet during Hitler’s reign of terror; oh, no. I’d have probably been a fully paid-up cult member. My therapist says I was young and vulnerable, and not to blame myself, but to take responsibility without blame. I don’t know how to do that.
“We can move past it, okay?” Star says, and it sounds to me as if she’s asking herself rather than me.
“I’m not the one who has to move on, darling,” I tell her. “You are, and you have every right not to. It would break my heart, but I’d understand. I want you to have me in your life because you want to, not because you feel you ought to. I want you to find peace,” I say. I mean it too. I want Star’s happiness more than my own. It’s the least she deserves, and I deserve nothing but purgatory and hell.
We have reached the main shopping area, and Star points to a dress in a window. “That would look lovely on you for a date … maybe with Stamatis.”
I swallow, feel my face heat, swallow and again, and find myself lost for words.
“I’m not … we’re not … it’s…”
“Mother.” She puts her hands on her hips and levels me with a stern look. “If we’re going to get along, don’t you think you owe it to me to be honest with me? I know you two have the raging hots for one another, and I doubt you wanted to clothes shop for the sheer fun of it as you don’t seem to enjoy it much. You’re no Maya, shopping addict that she is; bless her.”
“It’s only a lunch,” I whisper.
“Good, I hope you get along and you have some fun. Mom, you wasted your life in that cult, and with Dad. He can’t see it was wrong, won’t admit
anything even now, so I don’t see how the pair of you can make it work. To be honest, he might be my father, but I’ve lost all respect for him. The way he acted since the cult … let’s call it what it was, shall we, was disbanded. We all make mistakes, and some of us make huge mistakes, but it is how we fix them that counts. Now, let’s go look at this dress.”
In the end, I don’t buy the dress. Instead, I buy a pair of so-called skinny jeans, which flatter my long legs, a light cotton top, and some sneakers with a platform. I think it looks casual, comfortable, but stylish, and most of all it’s a million miles away from anything I’d have worn in that place.
I wear the clothes and put my other clothes in the bag the store gives me.
“You know, Mom, Stamatis isn’t exactly the best bet for a solid long-term relationship, but you could have some fun.”
“He’s married,” I whisper as we walk down the street in bright sunshine.
“Not for long. He told the boys he’s kicking Lena out and getting a divorce.”
I don’t admit he’s told me as much because I don’t want Star to know the depth of where Stamatis and I are at. It’s a little something I want to keep all for me at the moment. A delicious secret I’m hugging to my chest, reluctant to share. Instead, I shrug. “Even if he does get a divorce, he’s still officially married right now, as am I.”
“Are you?” Star asks, surprising me.
“What do you mean? I married your father when we were accepted by Leader Zeus.”
She pauses and takes hold of my arm, getting my full attention. “Yes, and so you married him as part of the cult; I doubt it was legal.”
With those words, my whole world shifts on its axis. I might not be married? Might never have been married.
Instead of dismay or fear, I’m filled with a bubbling excitement. A sense of freedom almost. I’d been dreading trying to speak to Papan and convince him of the need for us to divorce. The idea of finding a lawyer all seemed too much for me at the moment. Now I don’t have to do those things if what Star says is true.
“I hope you’re right,” I tell her. “That sounds so bad, but I hope you’re right.”
“It doesn’t sound bad. I’ve got to go, but I’m proud of you, Mom. We were surrounded by other people all our lives in the commune. We did most things as one big community. I left there and went from the commune, to staying with Markos, to the center in America, to being with Markos again. I might have supposedly lived on my own, but I still stayed with Markos most nights. You? You’re staying on your own now, just you and Gus, and you’re responsible for him on your own. It’s got to be scary. Yet, you’re doing it. You’re brave, Mom.”
She leans in and kisses me right on the cheek, in this street with the sunlight streaming down on us, and I know I’ll always remember this. It will go into that precious photo album we all carry internally of amazing moments filed away as loved memories.
I hug her and then pull away before I start crying and ruin my makeup.
“Enjoy your lunch” she says with a wink.
“Don’t mention anything to Maya. It’s only lunch, and I don’t want to cause trouble between her and Stamatis,” I say.
“I won’t, but if it becomes more than lunch you ought to tell her, or rather he should. I doubt she’ll mind, to be honest. I think she hates Lena; she’s just too nice to say it. She’d probably pay you to get Stamatis away from that woman.”
I smile at her and wave as she walks off. I don’t think it’s right that everyone seems to hate Helena. From what Stamatis told me, and what little I know from Star and other sources, the woman has faced some difficult times. She might be horrible now, but surely life has made her that way? She’s hardly had an easy ride of it with Stamatis, and she’s lost her son. The thought of losing either Star or Gus has my stomach in knots. I can see how she’d come to hate the man she blames for her loss.
I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m crazy agreeing to see Stamatis. He’s hardly a nice guy, or a good guy. Markos, Damen, and Alesso aren’t either, of course, but they aren’t the ones in charge; he is. He makes the decisions and does the things he does to keep on top, and they are his foot soldiers.
I’ve gone from being in a cult to having sex with a cartel kingpin. I’m not sure it’s a good life trajectory, but part of me doesn’t care. I realized this morning that I’ve lived on autopilot for so long that feeling is addictive.
I approach the cafe with trepidation. I debate turning around, heading home, and telling Stamatis we can’t do this.
A breeze blows my hair, and a man walking by whistles at me. It shocks me as I’m not used to male approval, not overt anyway. Not knowing how to react, I glance at the ground and feel someone take my elbow. Thinking it might be the man who whistled, I turn to say something and lose my words as the imposing figure of Stamatis enters my vision.
He’s wearing a suit, and his dark hair shines in the sun.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me as he guides me to a table. I sit, compliant in my shock at his presence.
It makes no sense for me to be flummoxed like this, since I knew we were meeting, but this is the way he makes me feel all the time. Like I imagine a schoolgirl would behave if her favorite popstar took her out.
Stamatis takes the seat next to me and angles his chair so he’s facing me before he leans back. He studies me, his gaze bold, and it makes me want to hide.
“You’re an unusual beauty,” he says, almost as if to himself. “I bet if you’d not ended up in that cult, you could have been a movie star or a model.”
“I doubt it,” I say with a shake of my head.
He leans forward, tips my chin up with one knuckle, and his dark eyes skewer me. “You don’t see it, do you? The way all the men around here have watched as you walked by. I was watching you too, Rhea. I’m an observant man, and I noticed a lot of things. You walk with your head down, but it only piques their interest. You’re not confident, but that doesn’t stop the stares. It’s almost as if you’ve put the shutters up, which makes these fuckers want to break them down even more.”
He indicates the men around us, none of whom are looking our way or staring at me with ravenous hunger.
I laugh and gesture around us with my hand. “No one’s staring at me, Stamatis,” I say. “I think you’ve got an overactive imagination.”
“They’re not staring because I’m with you. Trust me, they were before. Like I say, you’ve got this disinterested, almost untouchable air about you, and it makes some men want to touch more.”
My heart is pounding so hard, I think I might faint. Last night I let this man into my body, but today, without the boost of alcohol in my blood, I’m all nervous around him again. “Does that include you?” I ask, sucking in a breath.
He narrows his eyes. “Oh, it most definitely includes me. I’m a natural born predator, and you, you act like prey that doesn’t want to get caught. It only makes you more alluring.”
His words are crazy, messed up, and hot as Hades.
He takes my hand in his and smooths his thumb over the back of it. “You know what the real kicker is, though?”
I shake my head, almost afraid to hear his views on it.
He smiles at me, and it’s gorgeous. His smile is as confident and arrogant as you’d expect from a man like him. It doesn’t soften him any, not in the way Damen’s smile does; for example, he’s still as hard as granite even when he grins at me, like a wolf.
“It’s that it is entirely genuine. A lot of women feign disinterest as they stroll around, but they’re aware of every single gaze on them. You are not.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him truthfully. “I don’t want men to look at me.”
“Why?”
“It’s … wrong. Vain.”
“What about me?” he asks. “Do you want me to look at you?”
“Yes,” I admit.
The waiter reaches our table. He dips his head at Stamatis and calls him sir.
My
stomach is in knots and I don’t think I can eat. “Do you mind if we just have a drink, for now?” I ask. “I’m not particularly hungry.”
“That’s fine by me,” Stamatis says.
He orders a latte, and then asks what I would like.
“Latte too please,” I say, “but with hazelnut syrup if you have any?”
Hazelnut lattes are my new addiction. I keep meaning to buy some of the syrup for my apartment, but then I wonder if it will taste the same in a normal cup of coffee? Star has a very fancy coffee maker in the kitchen of the house she shares with Maya. They might stay there, she’s said, for now. She’s having the baby, so it makes sense, I suppose, as Maya has a housekeeper who has said she’ll help out with the baby.
I’d love to move in and help out, but I have to focus on Gus now. He’s still the baby of the family, and he deserves a good upbringing.
“So you’ve been shopping,” Stamatis says and points to my bag, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Buy anything nice?”
“Oh, just some clothes.” I shrug and hope he doesn’t ask to look at them because then I’ll have to admit I only own the few things Maya has bought me, and my ratty dresses.”
Luckily for me, he doesn’t ask to see them, and I suppose a man like Stamatis isn’t interested in women’s clothes shopping. Thankfully.
“You look smart,” I tell him because he does. Gorgeous, in fact, in a deep blue suit, with a big steel watch on his wrist. His tie is deep orange with horses on it. The man is stylish as well as devilishly handsome.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
I glance up at the voice to see a middle-aged homely looking woman staring at me with such venom in her gaze, and I know who it is immediately.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stamatis
I stare at Lena, and my heart sinks. How the fuck? This is either the worst coincidence, or this bitch followed me this morning.
“Why don’t I join you two?” she says with a poisonous smile.
“Why don’t you not?” I drawl.
She barely glances at me, all her focus on Rhea as she takes a seat.