Chapter 8
The Keys
"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
-Lao Tzu
"Oh you have GOT to be kidding me."
The Lamborghini Murcielago's metallic orange carbon fiber body shimmered in a ray of blinding sunlight, blazing as if composed of millions of yards of undulating silk. It's surface zinged as if thousands of electric currents were running across it. And it sparkled, as if billions of ambers had been embedded in it's methyl colored facade.
I stared, unblinkingly into the trapezoidal head lights, my lower jaw hanging out some 16 feet below sea level.
This was beyond insane.
No. This was...
DEMENTED.
"Jez is everything read--oh my God!" my mother, who, until two seconds ago, had been in the processes of helping me drag the last of my luggage out of the house, came to an abrupt standstill beside me and gawked unceremoniously at the outrageous sight in the driveway. "What--where--how?"
At that precise moment, an enormous brown bird descended from the sky and landed gracefully in front of the car, it's mammoth wings spreading out in a delicate arc as it stretched out it's muscular golden legs and grasped at the ground with deeply curved, razor sharp talons.
My jaw dropped another couple of feet, bringing the total down to 21 feet below sea level, which, living in Florida, was really saying something.
The bird walked with elegance, with it's golden head held high and its beautiful brown spotted tail swishing gently up and down with each regal step. I heard the distinct scraping sound it's long, glossy black talons made with the tiles and I ogled at the formidable looking, bone crushing beak.
I turned to my mother, who seemed to be lost deep in thought as she sized up the newcomer, and gave her an incredulous look.
Was I going crazy or was all this really happening?
The falcon, as I realized upon closer inspection, studied me with it's brilliant amber eyes, as if deciding whether or not I was worthy of it's presence. Having a falconer for an aunt, my eyes immediately traveled to the falcon’s feet. And just like I'd expected, there was a tiny scroll attached to the ankle, bound in a blue ribbon.
Sensing my gaze the falcon lifted it's foot and nipped at the ribbon, releasing the scroll.
Without delay, Mom rushed up to it and held it up to her face, her eyes roving the paper anxiously. "The NERVE of that man!" she hissed a minute later, emerging from the depths of the scroll with her mouth screwed up in horror. "How DARE he?"
"What?!" I asked, utterly confused by the circumstances.
First the Lambo, then the falcon, and now THIS?
I snatched the scroll out of my mother’s hand and scanned it, my nose hovering an inch from it's surface. The handwriting was minuscule and elegant, as if it belonged to a nineteenth century English gentleman.
Dear Jezebel,
I'm sorry I could not be with you on your birthday and therefore send my sincerest regards. I'm trapped here in Istanbul and cannot escape the seductive temptation of business expansion that allures me from the depths of the desert sand. I do, however, regret my absence and offer a peace offering as a means of placating the fine young woman I know you have grown up to be. Accept the Lamborghini as my present to you and forgive me for being such an elusive figure in your life. I have had the car custom made in Italy and hope that it will satisfy your needs. I have always had your best interests in mind and it breaks my heart to be so far away.
