“Of course, Pantelis is happy. He is nineteen and happy to get away from his mother. Look at this face.” She cupped her son’s chin and pressed his cheeks until his lips pursed. “Some girl will steal his heart and he’ll never come back to me. Ftou, ftou, ftou.” She spit on the ground three times to ward off evil spirits. “Come with me.” She grabbed Alex’s arm. “I made all the food myself.” She exchanged a sly look with the rest of the table. “I must get him a plate, yes?”
Pantelis tried to get Alex’s attention, but the rest of the table cheered her on. “Yamas!”
“I’ll be right back with something to eat,” Alex said before Dimitra swept him away.
He wasn’t gone long when a sun-grizzled man with a shock of gray hair took his seat.
“You came with Alexandros?” He gave me a leathery handshake when I nodded. “I am Vasilis.”
“Moti,” I replied.
“Good, good.”
Nothing good about the way he stared at my hair. He reached out to touch it, but I leaned away.
Okayyyy. Creepy old dude.
“Don’t be afraid. I just need a little snip.” He pulled out a pair of scissors from his jacket.
Oh hell, no.I looked around the table, thinking that perhaps no one noticed Edward Scissorhands beside me, but they were all watching. And smiling.
“Yamas!” They saluted me.
Shit.Now I was getting serious cult-like vibes.
Vasilis snipped the air with his scissors, as if testing the blades, and stood.
Where the hell is Alex?My eyes darted around.How can he leave me with the Folegandros Fetish Society? Wait. Is he in on it? Did he lure me here as some kind of offering? What better offering to bring to an island than someone who can’t swim, right?
My fingers tightened around a fork. One step closer and I was going to stick it in Vasilis’ jugular.
“Mpampa!” Alex dropped two plates on the table and rendered Vasilis scissor-less. A string of curses followed between the two. If hand gestures had been punches, they would have knocked each other out. And then, just as fiercely as they’d clashed, they were laughing.
“Moti, this is my father, Vasilis. Sorry he came at you with his scissors. He’s a barber, but he thinks he’s a doctor. Give him a lock of your hair and he’ll give you a full medical report. If you’re getting enough sleep. If you have enough iron…”
“If you have a good womb for Alexandros’ children,” Vasilis said.
“He’s had a go at everyone on the island,” Alex said, unfazed. “Every time he sees someone new, out come his scissors.”
That would explain why everyone was smiling at me. Sympathy-smiling. They’d all endured his antics.
“Yes?” Vasilis approached me once again.
“Mpampa!”
“Bah.” Vasilis was clearly disappointed at having fathered someone who didn’t indulge his whims. “You, eat,” he said to me, absolving me of the responsibility. If his own son didn’t support him, how could he expect a stranger to do so? He lit a cigarette and sighed, contemplating his misfortune.
“We should listen to him.” Alex grinned and pushed a plate toward me—tomatoes cut into flowers, fresh goat’s cheese, pasta topped with red sauce, string beans, grilled lamb. On another platter was a pile of assorted bread and some pies with a wonderful, smoky aroma. “Let’s eat.”
Dimitra watched as Alex and I dug in. “Good?”
Alex took a few bites and squinted. No answer.
“Good?” Dimitra turned to me.
The pasta was sweet. Maybe it was the sauce. I switched to the lamb. Delicious, but also sweet. Puzzled but wanting to say something nice, I reached for the bread, dunked it in olive oil, and tried again.
“It’s…” It tasted like cake, coated with olive oil. “It’s different.”
