CHAPTER NINE
Paige sat in the courtyard and pulled weeds, which were promptly chewed up by a visiting cow. The cow didn’t have a lot to say, but it seemed to like dancing. It took one step forward and then two steps back over and over again. When it got close enough, it ate the long weeds Paige offered it with what might have been a sideways smile, or it might have been cow-speak for, “You think this will stop me from eating your flowers after you go into the house?”
Paige sighed.
Harrison had left that morning to pick up Zaphier, Fallon, and the stylist in the chocker. Fallon’s assistant had been making himself at home in the downstairs bedroom since Harrison had picked him up the day before with all the company equipment. Paige was left to do the finishing touches on her bedroom—which Zaphier would be sleeping in during his stay—and preparing the food. Paige was rather loath to do either of those things, so she was hiding in the yard.
For starters, she knew that Zaphier would not like the tower no matter what she did to it. The man was a millionaire and a snob. It wouldn’t suit him to sleep in a bedroom with a springy mattress and a faulty paint job. Paige planned to make it as luxurious as she could by burning flavored bees’ wax and replacing the sheets and blankets with new things. She had already unloaded all her personal items into two plastic boxes and brought them downstairs to Harrison’s room. That was the only room that wouldn’t be seen during their guest’s visit, or so Paige thought.
She would have to start preparing the food, which she knew Zaphier wouldn’t like either. He was the type of man to sneak illegal meat on the side and anyone who didn’t serve it to him chopped really fine was below the standard. Well, Harrison didn’t do that sort of thing.
Now Paige could feel the cow’s breath on the side of her neck, but when she turned to look at it, it jumped eight steps back.
Paige stood up and watched the cow head back to the fields. It was getting fat because it ate off the green hills. Paige was like that cow, too. Her hair was long enough to fall on her forehead, and she’d become so comfortable with Harrison that she’d forgotten all about what she wanted and why she couldn’t have it. Unfortunately, what she wanted was coming for a visit.
Unlike the cow, she couldn’t run away.
***
Harrison believed he would be able to master his feelings of unease as he waited on the astroturf. He felt fine until he saw Zaphier, and then he felt immediately queasy. Zaphier stood a whole head taller than him. Harrison had to look up to him! Zaphier’s height wasn’t the only thing; everything else about him was hyper annoying. He was anorexic in his skinniness. His straight blond hair fell to his waist. His skin was white and flawless without a speck of stubble, almost as though he could never grow a beard. He was wearing a fish scale coat that was barely legal and what for? Who was there to impress? They were in the middle of nowhere!
Annoying.
Harrison swallowed it and shook hands with Fallon.
Zaphier removed his smoky purple sunglasses and looked around the flight pad like a bored goddess, for lack of a better description. Harrison felt a whole new level of revulsion creep up his throat.
Then he introduced himself.
“Yes. I’ve heard,” Zaphier said breezily, staring out at the expanse of prairie before him. “About everything, so you don’t need to tell me how much effort has gone into my accommodations. I’m sure they’ll be below standard and that I’ll wish for death before I’m gone.”
“I’m sure I will, too,” Harrison mumbled to himself as he stepped toward the chocker.
“What was that?” Zaphier said, turning to face Harrison for the first time.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Harrison amended. “We can lift off whenever you're ready.”
Zaphier opened his mouth to answer, but Fallon spoke up first. “That’s great. Let’s go.”
Once he started the chocker blades, conversation was difficult, and Harrison couldn’t have been more grateful. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they touched down outside the house. Harrison helped everyone down and Fallon said something about how they should all go on one of Harrison’s ice tours before they left if there was time.
“There won’t be,” Zaphier said, moving ahead of Fallon and the stylist. “I need every last minute to achieve perfection.”
Harrison caught up to Zaphier and walked a few paces in front of him, but to Harrison’s surprise, it seemed Zaphier couldn’t stand for Harrison to walk ahead of him and he sped up his steps so that Harrison was behind him. Harrison twitched and went ahead, but Zaphier jumped ahead of him again.
“You’re acting like you can’t wait to see her,” Harrison said, suddenly stepping right beside Zaphier.
“Who gave you permission to stand this close to me?” Zaphier spat. “And who can’t I wait to see? No one I know could possibly be in this hell hole.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Harrison exhaled and said sharply, “Listen, I don’t care if you want to act like this. That’s up to you, but I want to make something clear to you before you go into the house.”
Zaphier stopped in front of the door and brushed his coat away from his hip so that he could rest his hand haughtily on it. “What’s that?”
“Even if you used to own her, you don’t anymore, so don’t take any liberties. Am I making myself clear?”
When Zaphier heard that, he slowed right down. His face went from pale to bluish and clammy. Harrison moved to open the door, but Zaphier grabbed his arm. “What do you mean? I only ever bought Paige. Are you saying you’re her new owner?”
Harrison flicked Zaphier’s hand off his arm and said, “That’s what I’m saying.”
Inside, Harrison and Zaphier walked into the fragrance that could only be Paige preparing afternoon tea. Harrison loved the smell of bread baking, and he loved it even more when it was coming from his kitchen.
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Paige came out when she heard them come in. When she saw Zaphier, her face fell. Harrison knew that was her shy face. It didn’t mean anything.
Instead of introducing them, he went up and put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, “Why don’t I show them to their rooms while you finish up in the kitchen? You can meet everyone later.”
Paige ducked her head obediently and went back to work.
Zaphier clenched his jaw and watched her go like he wanted to say something to her.
But Harrison stepped in front of him. “Shall I show you where your room is?”
Zaphier nodded, and Harrison led him past the kitchen and up the tower steps.
Harrison was expecting Zaphier to comment about how shabby the place was, but he was utterly silent as he moved behind Harrison, making occasional checks on the banister or the top of a picture frame for dust. He seemed satisfied that there wasn’t any.
“This is my room?” the model asked dully at the top of the stairs.
“Yes. The bathroom is through there. I apologize, but we didn’t think it would be right to unpack your luggage ourselves, so we’ve left it for your stylist to do.”
“That’s fine,” Zaphier said tightly.
“Luncheon will be served in about half an hour if you’d care to eat. Please make yourself at home,” Harrison said with a fake smile before turning to leave.
***
Paige watched their guests eat the luncheon she prepared from the safety of the kitchen.
Harrison stood next to her in front of the counter.
“How am I doing?” she asked nervously.
“Fine. They’re eating, aren’t they?”
“I guess,” Paige said, biting her thumb.
Harrison put a hand on her shoulder and said, “There’s no reason to be this nervous, is there?”
“We’ll see,” Paige replied. She knew dinner would be a difficult event. After all, Zaphier wasn’t even eating lunch. He was pacing in the conservatory.
When dinner finally came, Harrison didn’t force himself or Paige to eat in the kitchen. After they had served their guests soup and salad and offered them their main course, Harrison and Paige took their plates and sat down in the armchairs on either side of the hearth.
Once there, Zaphier took particular interest in a bottle of wine, which he had brought himself. He drank without tasting the food, refilling his glass over and over. After the third glass was emptied, he turned to reminisce with his long-lost slave.
“Paige,” he said, not sounding remotely drunk. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what happened to you? I’ve spent days and nights searching the internet and wondering where you might have gone. It seemed like you’d dropped off the face of the world.”
Paige colored, and after a glance at Harrison, answered, “Sorry, it was impossible for me to keep in touch.”
“Why?”
Paige didn’t even think before she answered. The fruits of years of training with her father to answer truthfully and immediately when asked a question were coming to bear. “I have been in cryostasis the past three years at SBI.” She turned it into an acronym hoping that then he wouldn’t know what she was talking about.
“Oh, I see,” Zaphier said, understanding completely as he swirled the wine in his glass. “You sold yourself to Sleeping Beauty Inc. That’s a fairly good company. My father had my aunt sent there for cryostasis treatment after my uncle died. She was so tragic, but they kept her well for over ten years to my understanding. She was in the Cinderella category. What were you, Paige?”
She answered stiffly. “I was a Rose Red.”
“Huh? How interesting. Do you know the story of Rose Red? It’s not as famous as the story of Cinderella or Rapunzel. Would you like to hear me tell it?”
Zaphier didn’t wait for anyone in the room to say if they wanted to hear a spoiled model tell them a bedtime story and started telling it. “Once upon a time,” Zaphier said. His voice was low and practiced like an actor’s. “There was a beautiful young woman who lived in a prosperous kingdom. Her name was Rose Red. The king was wise and proud and the queen was the possessor of the most wondrous beauty and though I know it will surprise none of you—she was the fairest in the land. Rose Red was a serving wench in the castle, and the proud king began to have eyes for her as his queen aged. Time passed and soon there was nothing left to the old man but his desire for Rose Red. Naturally, this didn’t please the queen and she sent her most loyal general to kill the wench. When he took her into the forest, he intended to cut out her heart, just as the queen commanded, but as he stood with his knife poised over her breast—he found that he couldn’t do it. Instead, he sought to ravage her on the forest floor.”
Paige gasped.
“That was a fate worse than death for a virgin in those times, but luckily Rose Red’s screams brought help. A troll wielding a club found them and recognizing the situation, slammed the general with his club, shattering his skull against a tree.” Zaphier picked up an olive from his plate and dropped it into his wine. “Rose Red thanked the troll and asked him if there was anything she could do to show her gratitude to him for his kindness to her. Can any of you guess what he asked her to do?”
“Be his wife?” the stylist suggested with a tinny giggle.
“No. Though that was what he wanted, he lacked the courage to ask her to be his bride. Instead, he asked her to clean and repair his home, so that he might live more comfortably.”
“How does the story end? Does she fall in love with the troll?” the stylist asked.
“Alas, she does not. While cleaning his house, she finds a cellar full of gold. Seeking her independence, she steals the gold and leaves the troll with no companionship and no treasure. On her way home, she hears that the old queen has died and travels back to marry the old king who once lusted after her. She lives happily ever after.”
Paige sucked in her breath. That wasn’t the story of Rose Red. Rose Red didn’t have a story by herself. She shared her story with Snow White. It was about two girls who helped a dwarf get his beard out of a log. Zaphier wasn’t talking about fairy tales. He was talking about something else, but it wasn’t much of a riddle. Paige thought she knew what his story meant. It was obvious and insulting that he was casting Harrison in the role of the troll, but who were the other characters? Paige remembered a certain princess with blonde hair and knew that Zaphier was making her the queen and himself into the old king. If that were the case, who was the general? Paige didn’t know. That must be someone from the part of her life that she didn’t remember.
The meaning of the story made Paige shudder uncomfortably.
***
On the other side of the hearth, Harrison couldn’t stand it any longer. He knew that Zaphier had made all that up. “That’s not how the story goes,” he said severely, flicking something off his pant leg into the fire. “You invented that just now. In the story, Rose Red and Snow White take money from a wicked dwarf who won’t pay them for their services. There's none of the stank you suggest. Rose Red’s story is as pure as a bar of soap.”
Zaphier laughed heartily and swirled his wine again. “Who knew you’d be so well versed in fairy tales? Aren't you a fighter pilot?”
Harrison only knew the fairy tale because he had read it especially because of Paige, but he didn’t find it to be a very spellbinding tale. There wasn’t any romance or action in it. It was about forcing a cruel little rich man to pay what was due. Rather than admit any of that, he simply responded with, “Excuse me for being well-read.”
After that, Zaphier tried to pick Harrison’s brains about exactly how well-read he was, but Harrison excused himself by helping Paige clear away the dishes.
“Your friend is delightful,” Harrison said to Paige when they were alone in the kitchen. “Was he always so charming?”
Paige forced a smile as she replied. “He’s behaving better than I remember. He hasn’t complained about the food and he brought his own liquor, so there was no whining about the fact that we don’t have a liquor license. He hasn’t sneered about the room, has he?”
“No, but that reminds me,” Harrison said, siding toward her so he could whisper in her ear. “I’ve decided to give Fallon my room to sleep in. He plans to let the stylist bunk up in the downstairs bedroom and he packed two cots with his gear so he’ll have his man sleep in the front room on a cot.”
“So, where are we going to sleep?”
Harrison winced. “In the hangar. Sounds cozy, doesn’t it?”