The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,80
garlic and ginger. Familiar smells filled the air as I stir-fried the Kung Pao shrimp one ingredient at a time, concentrating to remember the exact technique Li had shown me. I got out a package of special Sichuan tea and put a few scoops in the pot to steep, finally piling everything onto a bamboo tray to bring out to Ethan.
I laid everything out on the coffee table, lighting the candles and kneeling to pour the tea, finally announcing, “Li Wei’s famous Kung Pao Shrimp.”
I plunked down next to him on the couch and started to dish up two plates. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, “I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” he looked suspicious.
“No,” I faced him, “As I recall, I said, I didn’t cook.”
He laughed, “It smells good.”
I tasted the dish, satisfied it would earn Li’s subtle nod of approval. Thinking of her reminded me of Evie and I frowned, wishing she’d hurry up and get home so I could tell her what happened. I needed to know more about Marissa and Olivia. I had to find out which one was lying.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, “This is great!”
“Thanks,” I smiled, putting all unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.
“So who’s Li Wei?” he asked.
We took our time eating, and I told him all about the formidable Li, as well as some of the other five-star chefs that would fly in for Evie’s lavish parties. Evie was renowned for her gracious hospitality, and she liked to arrange the food, entertainment, and decor around different themes. Whether it was an evening in a Moroccan bazaar, or springtime in Paris, her dinner parties always made the society pages.
Invitations to these affairs were coveted among the arts community, and looking back, I realized just how deftly she wielded her power, using those occasions to introduce her latest protégées to the kinds of people that would further their careers. Evie operated with a deliberateness born of an undisputed faith in her own judgment.
I questioned everything about my muse powers much more, especially after what happened with Joe and Kimo. In my experience, people were too complex to toy with in such a fashion. How could you be certain the people you championed didn’t harbor a secret dark side?
We finished eating and kicked back on the couch, drinking tea and talking about the looming school year. Ethan was on scholarship, and he planned to take the dorm room that came with it until we were married in January. He talked about looking for an apartment close to the campus that we could afford while he saved up to build our house.
“You could always come hang out here,” I said with a smile.
“Does Abby know you have this place?” he asked.
“No, just you… and Shayla… and Megan…”
He rolled his eyes and looked around skeptically, setting his cup down and patting the couch next to him invitingly. I scooted over with a smile and snuggled in under his arm.
“That was great food,” he said, stroking my hair, “Do you have any other hidden talents I don’t know about yet?”
I turned my face up and kissed his cheek, “I don’t know,” I said, “Possibly.”
He rolled towards me, wincing a little.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, “I just tweaked my shoulder a little yesterday.”
“How?” I asked, sitting up.
“I was planting a pretty big tree.”
“Let’s see,” I squeezed his knotted muscle and he gasped.
“It’s just a little sore,” he said, turning back to me for another kiss.
“Take off your shirt,” I commanded, “I’ll give you a back rub.”
He stood up and stripped his T-shirt off, exposing his lean and muscular torso. I gestured for him to sit and climbed behind him on the couch. I started kneading his muscles the way I’d seen Evie’s masseuse work her over so many times. He groaned and grunted, shifting around uncomfortably.
“Am I hurting you?”
“In a good way,” he sighed, “Don’t stop.” He looked over at the big paintings, “That’s Hawaii, right?”
“Yeah,” I described the warm blue waters as best I could, all the while using my thumbs and palms to massage every solid spot firmly until the tension dissolved. I could feel him relax under my hands and fought the urge to start kissing his neck. “We have to go there together someday… maybe when I sell that painting I’ll take you.”
He stiffened ever so slightly, and I started kneading up his neck, combing my fingers across his scalp. He let out his breath with a long sigh,