saw on the internet. What’s with all the shaving? In my day--"
"Mom!"
"What?"
"No underwear?"
"The lines showed too much, Gwennie. It ruined the whole look. I wish I’d thought ahead and brought my tummy controller, but if wishes were horses we’d all ride."
Gwen stood in the kitchen, the smell of lamb and brimstone around her and studied her mother’s long flowing blonde wig and sparkly outfit, a black appliqué guitar on the overly tight T-shirt. "Is that a child’s costume?"
"Yes. The women’s outfits were all so suggestive."
"Oh, sure, because that one’s not."
"And I couldn’t wear a bra with any of the other costumes. They were like yours."
Her mom pointed to the top of her Venus robe, where the only thing between her and the gods was a sheet. It wasn’t like she had a choice. The boys had given it to her, and she didn’t want to hurt their feelings or their chances of getting into the fraternity, plus who owned a strapless bra beyond the prom years? "The straps showed."
"I know, dear. That’s why I didn’t get one myself. Or the girl devil costume. Even the angel one had feathery strings holding the top up. At my age you need a bra or you’re tucking them in your waistband."
Gwen grimaced. "Really?"
"No, honey, momma made a joke. You come from sturdy stock. My grandmother kept her breasts well above her navel until she was ninety-five. And look at yours. Middle-aged and they are just served up on a plate." She put her palms beneath her own breasts to demonstrate.
Her mom’s breasts were pretty good in her little t-shirt. Gwen shifted the laurel leaf around her middle and glanced down at her own. Not bad. "It’s the belt. I can’t lower it or it cuts into my hip bone."
She heard Max’s voice behind her, "On you, it works."
She closed her eyes and didn’t turn to face him. "Quit doing that. Why do you always do that?"
"I don’t do anything but exactly what I’m told to do. Don’t I, Mrs. Ciarrochi?"
"Yes, you do. You’re a good boy, Max."
"Thank you, Mrs. Ciarrochi."
Of course she’d been worried that Bryan would find Missy. The one who'd found her at eighteen was the prototype for all the Bryans of the world, all the charming and nice-enough boys, who would still leave you in a heartbeat.
Ellen motioned to the platters that were already filled and garnished. "Can we start taking these out?"
It brought Gwen's attention back to the job at hand. "Yeah, that would be great." She watched her mother leave and turned to Max, who was dressed in his own flowing robe and laurel leaf crown. "You let the boys pick out your costume, didn’t you?"
"I actually had this little number in my closet and thought it would be perfect for the evening. It’s like the tuxedo you never get to wear."
"Julius Caesar was murdered, you know."
"I am Mark Antony, who, I believe had way more sex with Cleopatra."
"I’m not Cleopatra."
"I know." He gazed longingly toward the door and sighed. "But she’s out there somewhere."
"Find her with a tray in your hand." She motioned to an ornate silver platter stacked with skewers of golden lamb studded with cherry tomatoes and green zucchini. "Just follow Mrs. Montana. You know the yes, Mrs. Montana, whatever you say, Mrs. Montana. I’m just the nicest boy that ever walked the planet, Mrs. Montana."
Max closed the distance between them in a blink, and she backed into the stove, considered for a second what burners had been on. She hoped the front ones had cooled because if she didn't lean back she'd be toga to toga with the man.
He bent his knees just enough to lower his face eye level with her throat, and she felt his deep breath in. "The cardamom is making me crazy."
She drew her eyebrows together and looked at the top of his head. "You know cardamom?"
"It’s one of the major spices in Greek cooking."
"Yeah, but--"
"We’re in a Greek house and… Oh, my god. You’re not wearing a bra are you?" He slipped his finger under the lone shoulder strap.
"I beg your--"
"If you beg then we are definitely not going to be serving any food this evening." He tipped his head to the right. "Pantry, now."
"Ha." She hoped he didn’t hear the little wobble in her voice. Ha was a pretty good bluff, and she didn't really have a choice. She’d stick a skewer in her eye before she let him know how much he affected her.