The Vesuvius Isotope (The Katrina Stone Novels) by Kristen Elise Ph.D. Page A

Pompeii, I realized I was looking at the pagan equivalent, and Dante Giordano’s flesh was the canvas. My eyes took in the mythical stories running down his arms. Every square inch was covered. No, not covered. Layered. The images blended into one another so flawlessly as to create a global appearance of pattern, but it took more than a passing glance to notice the purpose. And there was movement within the images. His tattoo artist is a genius , I thought. I wondered with some degree of embarrassment how many more stories were hidden beneath his clothes.
    Only some of the figures were familiar to me. I recognized Mercury, with his winged sandals and helmet, floating up the young man’s forearm. Poseidon was perched on his shoulder, surrounded by an intricate network of sea creatures and flowing water. A chubby, naked little boy fluttering around a wrist with wings and a bow could only have been Cupid. Many of the others were a mystery.
    “What…” I began, not really knowing what to ask.
    “It started as a way to cheat my way through mythology classes,” Dante stated with a proud smile.
    I laughed. “Didn’t any of your professors catch on?”
    “ You didn’t,” he observed.
    “Pagan theology is hardly a subject I spend much time thinking about,” I said, “and, no offense, I wasn’t really looking.”
    “Actually,” he said, “one of my professors did catch on. He called me into his office to kick me out of his class.”
    “And?”
    “And I left five hours later, after a giant theological debate, with an honor’s thesis project. I guess he decided he liked me.”
    “So you kept inking yourself and he still let you pass the class?”
    “Yep.” He beamed. “And graduate with honors. He is now my Ph.D. advisor.”
    I smiled at the notion, but then my purse chirped, indicating a new voicemail. The call must have come in while we were on the train. I withdrew my cell phone. No message. I checked Jeff’s cell phone.
    With one hand, I paid for tickets to the Pompeii ruins for Dante and myself. With the other, I held Jeff’s cell phone to my ear and listened to the message. It was from my daughter.
    “Jeff, it’s Lexi,” Alexis said. “I need to talk to you, badly. I’ve been trying to call. I texted you a couple of times, too. Just… call me back… as soon as you can. Please…”
     

    It is the last day of Alexis’ freshman year. Jeff and I are still technically living apart, but we spend every evening together.
    Jeff’s SUV rolls slowly onto the campus of U.C. Berkeley. From behind the steering wheel, he peers at street signs directing him toward Alexis’ dorm. His eyes track a sign on the right hand side of the car before straying to meet mine. He winks.
    I am both excited and nervous. I cannot wait for my new boyfriend and my daughter to finally meet in person.
    We round a corner near Alexis’ dorm, and there she is. Lexi is standing on the curb with a group of her classmates. Between two fingers, she holds a lit cigarette. She glances up toward our car and smiles at seeing me in the passenger seat. Nonchalantly, she hands the cigarette to one of the girls standing beside her. Then she runs toward the car.
    As Jeff pulls the SUV to the curb, Alexis lays her upper body across its hood in front of my seat as if embracing the car in advance of embracing the occupants inside. I roll down the window, and she hugs me fiercely through it.
    “You’ve grown again,” I say as I return her hug. “And when did you start smoking?”
    She ignores me.
    Jeff and I step out of the car, and my daughter sizes him up.
    “So…” she says, feigning suspicion. “THIS is the guy who has turned my mother from a logical, hard-assed scientist into a blushing, giggling teenager!” As if to prove her correct, I feel myself blush and cannot control a slight giggle. Jeff, too, smiles and reddens slightly.
    “Seriously!” Alexis continues, laughing at her own wit. “You have no idea what a feat this is!