Voodoo Eyes
“It was a three-floor red-and-white villa with stuccoed walls, dolphins and conch shells etched into the plaster, balconies hung with bright flowers, recessed windows framed by arches, a shamrock keystone over each. He supposed it was one of the first residential properties in the area. The architecture was of the same Mediterranean Revival style as the first Coral Gables buildings. The place had both the solidity and the discreet opulence of a bygone era about it; a monument to a time when clas...s was something you couldn’t buy or acquire, you either had it or you didn’t. Shame, then, about its current owner.Who wasn’t coming to the door.He tried the bell a third time. Those ding-dong chimes again, faintly, their resonance soaked up by the thick walls. He looked through the windows into a vestibule with a shamrock mosaic floor. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. The only piece of standing furniture was an eight-foot-tall wooden object to the right, one he originally mistook for a grandfather clock, until his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and what he had thought were edges and lines became the hourglass contours of a varnished sculpture of a woman, her face to the wall and big, high round ass to the world.MoreLess
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