Mona Lisa My Love

Chapter Fifty-two

The meeting with Anwar lasted just over an hour. Anwar was the gallery curator. He was astonished by the painting and asked two or three times if I was indeed the one who had painted it. He could not believe I hadn't done any other work. He was very excited and rambled on and on about the painting. I had quit listening to Anwar a long time ago. I remembered something that Wes, an old friend of mine, used to say when we were kids. Something like, "He has grossly overestimated my interest in the subject at hand." It made me chuckle to myself.

After lunch, as we walked to the entrance of the Catacombs, I realized why the French people are so slim. Everything I had for breakfast, added to what I had for lunch, wouldn't even be considered a snack in the States. I chuckled again. I was in a great mood.

Our private tour of the Catacombs took four hours, and it was phenomenal. Now I understood why my mother talked about it so much. Once you got past all the human skulls, that is. It was hard to imagine that all those skulls were once living people. Six million was the figure the guide said. Six million people are buried in these tunnels. That police guy, Mr. Lenior, must have had a warped mind like mine. Only a warped brain could come up with a solution like that. It was a fantastic place to see.

Throughout the week, we had a meeting or two every day, but thankfully every day I also got to see another part of the city. Sometimes I was with Brad, sometimes with Kitty, but the time I spent alone was my favorite time. I would imagine my mother and I strolling through the streets of Paris arm in arm with her showing me the sights. I spent a fair amount of time with Kitty. She would show me the day's purchases, and I would watch her model her new outfits. God, she was beautiful. I began to wonder why she never modeled.

One evening, after a long day of walking the streets of Paris, as we were riding the elevator to her room, I decided to ask her about it.

"You are so beautiful, and your dad is so connected, why is it you never became a model?"

She smiled a sad smile, "My mother was a model. Did you know that?" I shook my head no. "My father always spoke of how beautiful she was. I think that is why he married her. He might have loved her, in his way, but I think it was her beauty that captured him. I never felt I was good enough, or pretty enough, to compete with her. I want to model, I think. I have had offers, but father never approved."

"Well, I think you would be very good at modeling. I think you are gorgeous and smart and you would be good at anything you put your mind to."

Kitty opened the door to her room and after we entered she gave me a queer look, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How come you have never tried to get in my pants or sleep with me? I know you are not gay, but here we are in this beautiful city, and you haven't hit on me once."

I sat on the bed, and said quietly, "Does that disappoint you?"

"No. I think it turns me on. Most guys only want to sleep with the hot one. No one sees me for me, but you do. I like that. You see me as beautiful but not just a 'hot piece of ass.' Why is that?"

I was laughing, "It's not because I haven't thought about it or I am a saint or anything like that. And believe me, there was a time when that is just what I would have tried to do. No, I respect you. I think I respect women now. At least, much more than I did before. I think you want more, too. I think you need more than a quickie or a one-night stand. I think you are still looking for Prince Charming to come to your rescue, but you may want even more than that."

Mona flopped on the bed facing me with her feet up behind her, "You mean like in the movie. You know the one with that hot Richard Gere. What was the name of it?"

"Do you mean Petty Woman?" I said smiling.

"Yes, that's it." She was resting her chin on her hands with her fingers on the side of her face looking at me. Her hair hung loosely over her hands, and her eyes were as big and deep as the ocean. God, she was beautiful, I thought.

"The only trouble is, I am not Richard Gere," I said.

"Maybe not, but all dressed up you are that hot!" Sarah said smiling. She touched her finger to her hip and hissed.

Blushing I said, "How much did you have to drink today? I think you are hallucinating."

"No. I mean it. You are a wonderful guy and very handsome. And a little too smart for your own good. I'm great in bed; you should see." Mona was lightly bouncing on the bed without getting up from her prone position.

"I believe you are and it is all I can do not to get up and show you a good time, or at least give you my very best, but now is not the right time," I said sadly.

"You are right, of course. But it would be a good time." Mona Lisa was smiling, but it was a sad smile just the same.

"An all-nighter, to say the least. Good night, Mona Lisa. Sleep well, my love," I blew her a kiss.

"Do you know that is the first time you have called me by my real name? I like it, coming from you."

"Good night, my sweet Mona Lisa."

I bowed and left. I went to the Pont des Invalides and walked across the bridge for my mother and, true to my word, I thought of Sarah the whole way across.