Page 2 of Playing With Matches
“Aren’t they?” Emily’s smile extends to the corners of her eyes. “And you should smell them,” she closes her eyes and inhales dreamily. “My guy did well.”
“Whatever.” Jackson takes his place in the empty armchair beside Emily. “You do know that the red roses are a remnant from the pagan blood rituals that were part of the origin of Valentine’s Day?”
“There’s no real evidence that Lupercalia and Valentine’s Day are directly connected,” I reply. “It’s probably more of a coincidence related to the dates and not a direct cultural link.”
Jackson glances up at me, looking a bit surprised to hear me mention the ancient pagan event. I see his face properly now. His hair is a tawny, streaked brown. Shiny and thick. He has high cheekbones. Excellently arched brows, if a bit haughty. And a straight, classic Patrician nose. It’s hard to tell what his jawline is like under all that facial hair though. I’m guessing he hasn’t grown it to hide a weak jaw. His eyes look dark and smoky in the firelight. Something is pleasing about his face. It’s unusually symmetrical and balanced. He’s got such a classical look that he could be a marble bust in one of the many architectural gardens here in Rome.
For a moment, I like him. Then he has to ruin it by speaking. “So, Isla, you’ve heard of Lupercalia,” he says, all cocked, locked, and loaded, ready to mansplain. “Did you read about it on Wikipedia?”
“I live in Rome,” I say, pointing out the sunrise behind me. “The day is dawning on the city where the pagan ritual happened. Plus, I’ve studied it. I have a degree in anthropology.”
“Right…interesting,” Jackson drawls dismissively. I don’t think he’s listening to me. He is looking down now, reviewing his notes. He lifts a copy of my book and fans the pages, then wrinkles his nose as if he’s unintentionally stirred up something smelly and unpleasant. “Well, we should probably get this session done and in the bag. I have an early class tomorrow and an even earlier meeting with my investors. What’s the trope of the week, Chels?”
“Matchmaking,” Chelsea says.
“Okay then, everyone’s all mic’d up here. You all know the drill. Isla, I’m going to hit record in a moment and do the intro - then we can all just sit back and have a conversation. Thirty minutes tops. Alexis, try not to say anything too scandalous this time. I’m still getting emails about your graphic rundown of BDSM terms from the last episode.”
“Sheesh. People are such prudes.” Alexis rolls her eyes. “Most of that stuff is common knowledge.”
He stands, walks over, and leans into the computer screen to hit record. I catch a flash of a neck chain and a small green medallion of some kind tucked into his collar, resting in the hollow of his throat. Jackson squints at me again. His whole face fills my screen. “I really did think you’d be older. Plus, I didn’t picture you as a redhead,” he shakes his head and shrugs like he’s shaking off a bad idea. “Here we go.”
As soon as Jackson is seated again, he launches into the introductions and thanks his sponsors. Then Chelsea announces the trope of the week.
“We thought it would be fun to talk about matchmaking this week since that is Isla Fairfax’s specialty,” Chelsea says. “We are so lucky to have the bestselling author with us this week. Her series,The Mystic Matchmaker, is a must for anyone who is a fan of this trope. Want to tell us a little more about it, Isla?”
I take a breath before speaking. Even though I’m used to the pitch and have written nine books, I still get nervous every time I have to give it.
“The Mystic Matchmakerseries is about a gifted psychic who, with the help of friendly ghosts and spirits, can psychically find the perfect matches for even the most difficult singles. The only catch is that she’s cursed and can’t find love for herself.”
Just like me.I take a sip of my tea, before going on, which isn’t necessary, thanks to Chelsea.
“The matchmaker can’t find love for herself…until she makes one hundred true love matches!” Chelsea breathes out excitedly. “And the last book ended on the ninety-ninth match! We’re all dying to see what happens in the final book of the series!”
We sure are. All I have to do is write it.
“I guess that remains to be seen,”I smile enigmatically.
“So, Lupercalia!” Jackson announces, apropos of nothing. He leans forward. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and we’re chatting about matchmaking, so it makes sense to talk about the ancient bloody rituals that took place on this very same date in Rome, the very city where Isla resides. Many would argue that Valentine’s Day is just a pallid, cleansed, and commercialized version of Lupercalia.”
“Actually there’s never been a direct link established between the two events, but sure, let’s explore that if you like,” I say. I can see the firelight gleaming in Jackson’s eyes as he gazes up at my face on the screen on the mantle. I imagine from his point of view it must look like the fire is licking at my feet. I’m literally in the hot seat.
“What the heck is Lupercali-fragilistic-whatnot?” Alexis sits up and toys with the tassel on the corner of her afghan.
“Well, Isla, apparently you’re quite the scholar. You want to take this?” Jackson says. There’s an edge in his voice. A reserve. He’s like a father who’s handed the butter knife to his toddler and asked him to cut the bread. He’s willing to stand back while the child makes the motions but intends to finish the job himself.
“Why don’t you share your knowledge first, since you seem so anxious to chat about it?” I suggest.
“What does any of this have to do with matchmaking?” Chelsea shakes her head impatiently, looking from her brother to me. I can see the resemblance in their bone structure, but Chelsea is finer-featured and fairer. Her hair cascades in soft, highlighted-blond waves over her shoulders.
“We’re getting to that,” Jackson says. “Fine, I’ll explain. Lupercalia was a pagan ritual that involved the slaying of multiple goats and possibly a dog.”
“Gross!” Alexis exclaims. “That’s horrible.”
“I agree,” I say. “That part does seem awful. But it’s important to remember that ritual sacrifices were not uncommon at the time. Goat sacrifices were done to ensure male fertility, and the dog was an offering to the she-wolf who raised the infant twins Romulus and Remus, who were the founders of Rome.”
“But all that was already ancient history by the time the festival of Lupercalia peaked,” Jackson interrupts. “This annual bloody ritual sacrifice would kick off two days of feasting and coupling. The young virile men would run naked through the city, strutting their stuff, whipping willing women with leather thongs cut from the hides of the sacrificed goats.”
“Oh my,” Alexis sits up, whipping the tassel back and forth. “This is going in an interesting direction. Do tell me more about the naked dudes with the whips?” She raises her eyebrows hopefully.
