Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 125681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
West’s singing rose over the music—loud, fast, and angry.
We strolled through the massive living room. It boasted crystal chandeliers and two fireplaces. Tons of marble and gold. Plush carpet and floor-to-ceiling windows. There were two huge book shelves stuffed with leather bound classics.
I stopped Phoenix in the center of the living room, not ready for her to be free and out in the open yet.
She looked at me. “What?”
Maybe, I should change my mind. She’s smart. Perhaps, this was a trick.
“Cain?”
I tightened my grip on her hand. “Give me a minute.”
She turned her view to the large painting on the wall. “That’s pretty. . .yet odd.”
“It’s called the Birth of Venus.”
“The goddess of love and beauty.”
I smiled. “Exactly. Although she’s the Roman goddess of love. I’m starting to think the owners of this house just love all gods and goddess.”
“Or they don’t know the difference between Roman and Greek ones.”
“Very true.” I studied the panting.
The newly-born goddess Venus stands nude in a giant scallop shell that had just been blown to the island of Cyprus. She was completely naked and used the end of her long blonde hair to cover her bare crotch. She is met by a young woman, holding out a cloak covered in flowers.
At the left of the painting, the wind god Zephyr floated in the air. There was suggestion that he was blowing at her due to the wind shown by lines radiating from his mouth. He carried a young female, who was also blowing. Both had wings.
Phoenix pointed at them. “Who are they?”
“Wind god Zephyr and the woman is a minor deity named, Aura which means breeze.”
Phoenix glanced my way. “But this can’t be Venus’s actual birth right? She’s a full grown woman.”
“She is and this is supposedly how she was born.”
“Born as an adult. Alrighty then.”
“The artist, Sandro Botticelli was presenting the highest level of love and beauty.”
“A skinny blonde woman?”
“Beauty standards in that time were just as outrageous as it is now. If you look at Ancient Greece, society believed that an absolutely beautiful woman possessed very pale white skin. Most women would smear white lead make-up all over their olive complexions just to get that look.”
“Yikes. Color was a thing even back then.”
“Yeah. And in the end, the makeup would give them scars and skin ruptures. Many became infertile due to it. Others went mad.”
“That’s why I don’t let society tell me what is beautiful.”
I nodded. “To each his own.”
“How much do you think this painting is worth?”
“Of course it’s not the original. That’s in a museum somewhere.” I walked her closer to it.
“Yeah, but this isn’t a print either.”
“It isn’t. The owners probably paid an expert painter to do a reproduction. The canvas is artist-level linen canvas.”
“The frame is gold.”
I nodded. “You could probably get a couple thousand for it.”
“Thousands to put on a wall.” Phoenix smiled. “It must be nice.”
“It must be.”
She looked back at me. “Why are you stalling?”
“I’m nervous about you not having handcuffs.”
“And I’m nervous about being with you period, but I’m pushing through it for now.”
“And so you suggest, I push through also?”
“Damn right.” She tugged at my hand. “Let’s go.”
Groaning, I led us past the living room and toward the large glass wall. The closer we got the louder the music sounded. Drums boomed and filled the air. West singing faded out, yet the electrical guitar zoomed in with an angry riff that stabbed at not only my ears, but my chest.
“Is this one of your brother’s songs?”
I nodded. “West not only sings on his songs, but he plays the guitar and drums.”
I’d redone one of the extra rooms in the big house on our property. There, I installed the basics of a studio, including putting in soundproof walls. I’d hoped to give my brother a space to escape since West usually remained quiet. He liked to hold pain inside of him. He especially didn’t like to talk about the Reverend’s wrongdoings and what he’d done with his sisters.
When he sang, his thoughts spilled into his music. His notes soared out like a flock of angry birds desperate for revenge and slamming their wings against the sky. His lyrics were always dark. He sang about demons gnawing at innocent souls and monsters hiding within the shadows eager to rape the pure.
Whenever I listened to his music, my mind entered into darkness and my heart roared with rage and my fingers itched to hurt something.
This might not be the best thing to hear while dealing with Pandora.
When we approached the large glass wall, I spotted West, Griff, and Pandora.
What the fuck?
I frowned.
Phoenix raised her eyebrows. “O-kay. It’s a party.”
The sky was a vast ocean of blue, slowly darkening as evening approached. West rolled a blunt on the side of the pool. Griff sat on the edge, drooling down at Pandora as she swam naked in the center of the pool.