All of the rose gardens in the world would wither and dry up if they saw this place. And all the rose horticultural societies in the world would throw in the trowel.
Row upon row of red, pink, and yellow blooms greet us, turning their smiling faces up to the sun. The perfume would make Coco Chanel green with envy.
A slender young woman with arms and legs as spindly as a deer's kneels among the roses, feeding them from a familiar-looking bottle, and also an ironic one.
"She's really using Green Goddess?" I whisper to Daji.
She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure Zeus didn't notice when he gave that to her."
A musical feminine voice interrupts our private chat. "I always use Green Goddess. And what's that about Zeus?"
OUCH.
I don't notice the thorns in my temporary imperial rear until I step back, startled. Trying too be cool, I say, "I didn't realize we were being loud."
