The Rose

by Tiffany Reisz

  “I did.”

  “And you are interested in selling it to me?”

  “For the right price,” she said.

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Guess not,” he said, though his searching eyes said otherwise. “Let’s go up to my office.”

  He led her down the front hallway and past a reception room. Crisp white-painted walls and pale gray tile floors. He led her to the front room, and she found the furniture all the same shade of elegant blue gray. Clean lines. Square tables. Many right angles.

  “I hope you approve,” he said on the stairs going up.

  “Very nice,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to go so modern, though. Antiques collectors usually have museums for houses.”

  “You know what they called the Pantheon when it was first built?” August asked.

  “What?”

  “Modern architecture.”

  Lia harrumphed. “We are amused.”

  They walked down a short hallway. August paused outside an open door and ushered her inside. She started to enter but stopped on the threshold.

  Lia looked at him. “You said your office.”

  “This bedroom is my office.”

  They stood inches apart from each other. He wore a too-innocent look on his too-handsome face.

  She pointed her finger at that face. “We are not amused.”

  Lia entered his bedroom, keeping one eye on him the entire time.

  Luckily, she wouldn’t have to sit on the bed. Not that it wasn’t a nice bed. It was a very nice bed. Not a king-size like she’d expected. A double only. An elegant low platform bed with a deep mattress and a thick gray suede comforter. A black metal frame surrounded it, like a canopy bed without the canopy. Very modern, almost space-age. And at each side sat two perfect black cubes for nightstands, bearing identical silver lamps. In front of the bed sat two tufted leather club chairs in front of a long gas fireplace. The whole setup put her in mind of a hotel room, a high-priced five-star modernist hotel room, tailor-made for deviant yet impersonal sex.

  “You like it?” August asked.

  “It’s quite...symmetrical.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “This is where I have a lot of serious private conversations. The walls are soundproof.”

  “Because of all the private conversations?”

  “And the screaming orgasms.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly that Lia knew he hadn’t made a joke. Well, she admired a man who was good at his work.

  Lia sat down in one of the two club chairs. He sat, too, but on the opposite chair arm, not in the seat. Trying to take the high ground in negotiations? She appreciated the tactic.

  “Is that a real fireplace?” She eyed the long black rectangle that seemed built into the wall. “Or a fish tank...full of fire?”

  “It’s an electric landscape fireplace. Marvelous invention. It’s blue fire. I love blue fire.” He sounded positively delighted.

  “Is that what you spend your sacred prostitution money on? Blue fires?”

  “If I push a button I can turn it purple or orange, if you prefer,” August said.

  “Blue will do.”

  “Blue it is, then,” he said. “My business is your pleasure.”

  “You’re making this less easy,” she said.

  “Harder?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that word around you.”

  “Wise woman,” he said. “I suppose you’d like to talk about what happened between us Saturday night?”

  “I would like to do that, yes,” she said. “Could you explain to me exactly what happened in terms I will understand and will not cause me to go mad?”

  August didn’t answer at first. “I’ll try,” he finally said. “But I can’t promise either of those things.”

  “Do your best.”

  “First,” he said, “I have to ask if you can accept the possibility that you are living in a world where the Olympic gods—Zeus, Hera, Apollo, Aphrodite, Artemis, the whole crew—were real gods who existed in a very real way and wielded very real power. If you can, that’s the answer. If you can’t, this conversation won’t go very well.”

  Lia took a deep breath. “I rode the Pegasus bareback. I’ve never ridden a horse bareback, always with a saddle. But now I know how it feels, and I think if I had to do it again I’d know how to hold my knees...” she said. “Let’s just say I’m willing to suspend disbelief for the time being.”

  “All I ask,” he said.

  “What about the sex?”

  “What about it?”

  “Did we have it?” she asked, wincing slightly.

  “Not in the traditional sense of the word.”

  “You didn’t put any bits of yours into any bits of mine?”

  “Apart from when I kissed you and put my tongue in your mouth.”

  “I didn’t think we did,” she said. “I didn’t feel like it after. It just felt like I’d...” She waved her hand.

  “Had an orgasm?” August asked.

  “That. You?” He held up two fingers. “Twice?” He nodded. “Nice.”

  “I’ll send you my dry-cleaning bill,” he said.

  “We didn’t have sex, but we both came,” she said.

  “Mind over matter.” August shrugged. “Ask any teenage boy about that phenomenon.”

  Lia had teenage brothers. She didn’t have to ask.

  “The power of the Rose Kylix,” he said simply and with another shrug. “The Greeks have always believed in other realms of existence. Plato’s world of the ‘forms’ where the ideal form of all things exist. The physical Mount Olympus and the Olympus where the gods lived and reigned. And a realm of fantasy—Arcadia, as the Renaissance painters have called that world.”

  “We were in Arcadia?” she asked. Next, he’d tell her they’d taken a detour through Narnia.

  “In a way, yes. In mind,” he said. “Not in body. It’s like a dreamworld except a million billion times more real, more vivid. Literally we experienced a metanoia—going beyond one’s mind.”

  “And we had sex there...?”

  “Andromeda and Perseus did,” he said. “And in that world, you were Andromeda, and I was Perseus.”

  “I was her, August,” she breathed. “I really was. Everything I said was in Andromeda’s voice, her words, her thoughts. Everything I did was her. It wasn’t me. But it was me.” She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head, still lost in the wonder of it all. “It was incredible.”

  “I enjoyed it, too,” August said. “More than I can say.”

  “So this is all...magic?” she asked. “That’s your theory?”

  “The gods aren’t magicians,” he corrected. “They’re gods. But even gods have toys. Word of advice: don’t play with a god’s toy without permission.”

  “But you played with it.”

  “I have permission,” he said. “Do you believe me?”

  “No. But I believe you believe it, so I won’t accuse you of lying.”

  “How do you explain it, then?”

  “Greek fire,” she said. “There are accounts of it being used, historical accounts, but the formula for Greek fire is lost to history. Discoveries and inventions get made and sometimes lost over time, yes?”

  “This is true,” August said.

  “I would assume,” Lia continued, trying to sound as scientific and rational as she could, “that the ancient followers of Eros discovered a flower or an herb or a combination of them, maybe now extinct, that had hallucinogenic and aphrodisiac powers and there’s residue of it in the cup. Or perhaps it’s a drug that puts you into a highly suggestible state. I know you’re good at telling stories. I was drugged and suggestible and you whispered in my ear what you wanted me to see and feel an
d think...like you did when you were looking at my tapestry.”

  “So, your theory on what happened Saturday night was simply...”

  “I was tripping balls,” Lia said.

  August politely applauded. “You feel better now that you’ve completely explained away the most incredible experience of your life?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Much.”

  “You’re wrong, by the way, but if you need to tell yourself that rational nonsense to avoid a break with reality, it’s fine.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “Should I assume that you were terrified by the experience and that’s why you want to get rid of the kylix?”

  She held up her hands. “We’re not negotiating yet.”

  “We aren’t?”

  “First, I need to ask you some questions, and I’d like you to not ask me why I’m asking them. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll try,” he said.

  “Do you like what you do?” she asked.

  “You mean...buy antiques, go to parties, travel, read, keep up with my archery and see what’s new on Netflix?”

  “Your ‘work,’” she said. “Do you like it?”

  “Selling my body?”

  “Yes, that was the work to which I was referring.” The man did violence to her syntax.

  “Enough that it rarely feels like work,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t agreed to not ask why you want to know, because I really do want to know.”

  “I’m not telling you. Yet. What about your clients? Who are they?”

  “We’re a religion, not a business,” August said. “They’re not ‘clients’ to me. They’re patrons.”

  “Who are your patrons, then?”

  “There are a few people left in this world who still worship the Olympians. Like you, for example, with your statue of Aphrodite on your mantel. And others who still believe. We find each other.”

  “Just women?”

  “Men and women. Both. Neither.”

  “Like androgynous and nonbinary people?”

  He shrugged. “Them, too. But also fawns, satyrs, nymphs, one particularly amorous cloud.”

  “I am going to proceed,” she said, “on the assumption that you are a sane person who occasionally says insane things like ‘the Greek gods exist’ and ‘I’ve had sex with a cloud.’”

  “A safe assumption,” he said.

  She wasn’t entirely sure about that.

  “So...you have sex with worshippers of Eros?”

  “Correct.”

  “And your patrons pay you in tribute to Eros, and you use that money to buy, among other things, cubist furniture and fish tank fireplaces.”

  “And lost, missing and stolen Greek artifacts,” he said. “Especially anything related to the Cult of Eros. The bulk of them were destroyed when the temples were torn down, but sometimes they turn up at the auction houses or in museums.”

  “Noble,” she said. “I can certainly respect wanting your treasures returned to your country.”

  “Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned conquering, Lia? Finders keepers, stealers reapers, and all that?” he said, his tone mocking but not cruel.

  “When I was a little girl, I thought the Elgin Marbles were toy marbles that a security guard at the British Museum had confiscated from a Greek boy named Elgin. I could never figure out why there was an international incident over a little boy’s marbles. I felt like an idiot when I got older and learned the Elgin Marbles were stolen Greek statues.”

  “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard,” August said. “Is it strange that’s given me an erection?”

  Sane man. Insane statements. Lia pressed on.

  “Are you careful with your patrons?”

  “Do you mean do I break them, lose them in airports or spill wine on their white trousers?” he asked.

  She stared at him, lips in a straight line.

  “I have no venereal diseases,” he assured. “Wait. That’s not what they’re called anymore, is it? I assume that was your question.”

  “That was my question.”

  “Any other questions about my genitals?” he asked. “I’m happy to discuss them with you. Display them. Show you pictures. Work up a PowerPoint presentation.”

  “No more questions there, thank you. As for money, you have it, I assume?”

  “I’m comfortable.”

  She raised her eyebrow.

  “It’s safe to say I won’t need to be visiting the employment office anytime soon.”

  “Thank you for answering my questions. I would now like to begin negotiations.”

  “Yes, let’s. Please.”

  He sounded hopeful, eager. She liked eager. She needed eager.

  “I have settled on a price. The price is not negotiable, though other aspects of this transaction are.”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “One million pounds.”

  August’s eyes widened but he didn’t laugh, gasp or kick her right out on her tailbone.

  “One million,” he said. “That’s a lot of money, Lia.”

  “I know, and I am sorry,” she said. She did know and she was sorry.

  “Hmm...” He raised a dark eyebrow, pointed a finger at her, wagged it. “Sudden change of heart about selling. Nonnegotiable money. Deer in the headlights look in your eyes. You’re being blackmailed, aren’t you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Does to me,” he said. “I’m a sacred prostitute. You’re a madam. It’s all the same game. When someone comes at one of us, they come at all of us.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said, and was surprised to find she did truly appreciate his allegiance. “Let’s say you’re right, and I am being blackmailed. What of it? You want the Rose Kylix. I need the money.”

  “You should reconsider paying off your blackmailer. They can keep coming at you even after you’ve kept up your end of the bargain.”

  “I have no other choice.” Not if she wanted to protect Rani, Georgy and Jane.

  “Can’t you talk to your parents?”

  “Absolutely not and for reasons I won’t discuss with you.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Forget I mentioned it.”

  “What about the deal?” she asked. “I don’t have a lot of time. If you don’t want to buy the kylix, I’ll find someone who will.”

  He sighed. “Considering I spent nearly that much on antiques at Christie’s two weeks ago, I can hardly complain that you’re pricing yourself out of the market. I suppose we have a deal,” he said, and held out his hand to shake.

  She did not shake his hand. “That’s not all I want.”

  “There’s more?” Now she’d gotten to him. Finally, he sat down in the chair opposite her and leaned forward as if he hadn’t quite heard her right. “Your father paid fifty grand for the cup. Now you want twenty times that, and you’re saying there’s more?”

  “Yes.” Lia carried on, ignoring his protest. She sat up straighter in her chair and casually, too casually, twirled the little silver ring she wore around her index finger. “In addition to the one million, I would like to employ your services.”

  “My services?” August repeated. He blinked. Twice.

  “Yes,” she said. “Specifically, I would like us to repeat Saturday night’s...event. I want us to drink from the kylix again. And again. And again. Really, as often as we safely can in the next week before we make our trade. Do you agree to that?”

  “Of course,” he said. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “And also...” Lia cleared her throat. “I would like us to, you know.”

  “I know?”

  “You know...”

  August sat back, rested his elbow on the chair arm and stroked his chin.

  He h
ad lovely fingers. Made for stroking.

  She was going to pretend she hadn’t noticed that.

  “Lia, Lia, Lia,” he said. “You do surprise me.”

  He had the audacity to grin at her, smugly. As if he’d been expecting her request.

  “You’re a male escort,” she reminded him. “I don’t believe for one second you’re surprised that someone wants to employ you for that purpose.”

  “Employ me for that purpose? You really are the prissiest madam I’ve ever met. And I’ve met my fair share of madams.”

  “We’re negotiating,” Lia said. “I take my negotiations seriously.”

  “You do. I respect that. And you are certainly your father’s daughter at the negotiating table. Quite ruthless. I’m shivering in my shoes.”

  “You’re barefoot.”

  He held out his naked foot and wiggled his toes. “You noticed.”

  She was very tired of his dancing around the subject.

  “Do we have a deal or not?” she asked.

  “On Friday, you give me the Rose Kylix for good, and I give you one million pounds. Until then, you wish to drink from the kylix and explore your fantasies—with me. And you want us to make love all week, in this world, as well. I have all that correct?”

  “That’s correct,” she said. “Before you say yes or no, let me remind you that all I have to do is take the Rose Kylix to any one of Daddy’s wealthy art collector friends and show them what it can do. I’ll have offers of five, six, seven million or more by end of business on Tuesday. Once they feel its effects like I did.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “They’d try to understand why it does what it does, and they might destroy it while analyzing it.”

  “Very likely,” August said.

  “And it’s a Greek artifact and you’re Greek. It belonged to the religion you profess to be a member of. It should go to you and your...church? If at all possible, I mean. Good form and all that.”

  “Very good form. And you definitely want me to make love to you?”

  “If you don’t mind,” she said. “I was thinking it might be...therapeutic.”

  “I can’t say I’d mind that at all. I’d say we have a deal.”

  He held out his hand again, and Lia shook it. When she tried to pull hers back, he held on to it.