I clarified: “Miss Van Lark, with absolutely all due respect… I don’t deserve a spot, but I want one. It’s all I’ve wanted for years… and I feel that I can earn it, if I haven’t already.”
It was only then that I noticed a few other patrons in the gallery, perusing my art. They appeared to recognize me, which wasn’t difficult, given that my face was on a nearby wall-mounted foam board with a short biography. It was a few small groups of people: one, a lithe, elderly woman, was speaking to a younger couple in a hushed tone and watching me.
Gloria Van Lark leaned in closely with a crisp, cold smile, so that only I could hear her response: “I will be in touch, Miss Ricketts.”
With that, she lifted her chin and strolled from the room, leaving me stone-faced and defeated. I knew what that meant. I’d heard the stories.
The legendary curator had turned me down.
My shoulders rose as I took in a deep, hectic breath, struggling to come to grips with the opportunity that had just sailed past me.
“What a bitch,” an old voice whispered quietly to me. I turned my head, snapping back to reality, and noticed the lithe, elderly woman at my side. “Who was that, anyway?”
“Her name is Gloria Van Lark,” I answered mechanically, feeling the life start to slip back into my veins. “She’s a powerful and influential curator… she headhunts for one of the most prestigious museums in the country.”
The old woman chuckled. “She didn’t look all that impressive to me. All that black? Bah. What is it with people and black? You’re in a museum, not a godforsaken funeral! Chirp up!”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“That’s right, that’s a good girl,” the woman smiled softly. “You’re the one who painted all of this, aren’t you? What was it… Riley Ricketts?”
“That’s me,” I nodded. “Do you like it?”
She gave the room another glance. “If you want an old crone’s opinion… I certainly think you’ve got a knack for this. How long have you been painting?”
“Since I was old enough to hold a paintbrush.”
“Heh. Good answer. A little cliché, but it gets the point across,” she winked. “Anyway… don’t get your hopes down. Sounded like you really respected that woman… I’m sure you’ll get another chance down the line. You never know. Maybe it’s just not your time yet.”
I smiled fondly at her. “You’re very kind.”
“I’m told that sometimes,” she laughed. “Well… I’ve got to get back to my grandson.” She indicated the male half of the younger couple, standing over to the side, near the exit of the room. They didn’t appear to be watching for her. “But before I go, why don’t we look at this one together?”
She pointed me towards one of my earlier pieces, the painting of an arguing couple on a bridge during noon. I had been experimenting with a post-modern influenced style at the time. I wasn’t terribly fond of this one anymore, but it was considered a classic in the circles who appreciated my work.
“Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking when you painted this one?” She whispered behind me.
I fell into a small trance, thinking back on that time in my life. It was before I had won the Finland scholarship, and taken the artist’s retreat. It was from a more chaotic time, when I still struggled with my foster parents and their wishes for the direction I was going to take in life.
I snapped out of my thoughts. “I don’t think very much when I paint,” I answered. “But this comes from a rough time in my teenage years… at the time, I was conflicted over–”
Glancing back over my shoulder, I noticed that the three of them – elderly museum patron included – were completely gone.
With a soft, recollecting smile, I silently thanked the stranger for her tenderness and her kindnesses, and I turned back to silently regard my old painting once again.
Lex
I got it into my head that I wanted Riley to see a little more of the kind of lifestyle I usually led. That’s why I booked a private suite in one of the most expensive hotels around, surprising her in her apartment with a room pass.
“The Frione?” She asked, tilting her head as she studied the small, plastic card on its lanyard. “You booked us a room at the freaking Frione?”
“I did,” I chuckled, crossing my arms. “Room is already prepared and everything.”
“But that’s such an exclusivist hotel,” she thought aloud, turning back to face me. “How did you afford that?” Her gaze changed, and she stiffened up a little. “How much money do you have, Lex?
“Enough to cover my bases,” I answered conservatively, cocking my eyebrow. “Are you coming along, or are you going to just sit there and gawk at that card?”
“Give me half an hour,” she replied, dashing towards her bedroom.
I made myself comfortable as I heard her rummage through her room, slapping together a bag of the “essentials.” When she eventually came back out, dressed in a sleek dress with a small suitcase, I couldn’t help but stare openly at her.
“What’s the matter?” Riley asked.
“You… look absolutely beautiful.”
For the first time, I watched her blush. “Th-thank you,” she murmured, before composing herself and carrying the case straight past me. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.”
I stood up from her couch, straightening my tailored suit and running my fingers through my thick hair. “Thanks, buttercup,” I grinned. “Shall we be off?”
I followed her downstairs and hailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later, we were strolling through the lobby of the lavish Frione hotel, taking in the sights of the beautiful smoked marble and Grecian columns.
One of the delights to this hotel was the glass elevator to the private upper suites. Running up the outside of the building, we were treated to a phenomenal view of Downtown New Orleans as the elevator ascended. Night had just fallen across the port city – the sea of lights and extravagance beneath us stretched in every direction. In the distance, we spotted the pair of parallel Crescent City Connection bridges that crossed the Mississippi River, stretching far and rising high into the sky from the twirling tangle of Interstate highways.
“It’s so beautiful up here,” Riley purred.
“Only with you here,” I whispered in her ear. I could practically sense the light hairs standing up on the back of her neck, and she turned to face me with vulnerable but hungry eyes.
We still had several floors to go, but the view wasn’t going anywhere. Our lips locked as I pulled her into my warm embrace, and Riley’s wrists dangled together around the back of my neck.
“Oh, Lex,” she murmured between kisses. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I told her.
It was true. My time with her was better than I could have possibly dreamed. When I’d come to America, I’d hoped for a few good lays, keeping my head down and trying some of the local New Orleans flavour…
But none of that mattered now.
Riley Ricketts fulfilled me. She drew my attention and swelled to occupy my every waking thought. The more time we spent together, the less willing I was to part… and I knew, painfully so, that we didn’t have more than a few weeks together.
I heard Jess’s thoughts in the b
ack of my head.
Find a nice American girl.
Bring her back.
Show Brett Barker you can settle.
Sure, that had been part of the plan… but now my fixation on gaining the sponsorship through playing the part became more intimately involved with a different objective altogether.
I sensed something new and very much alive, curling up from the bottom of my heart like smoke in the dark.
Do I dare admit it to myself?
We parted lips, and I realized how primal our breathing had become. Our chests heaved together as we watched one another, gazing deep and passionately into each other’s eyes.
I only barely noticed that we’d arrived at our floor… and that an older, immaculately dressed couple was gazing impatiently at us, just on the other side of the elevator doorway.
“A thousand pardons,” I murmured to them, taking my woman by the arm and leading her between them.
Riley and I chuckled as we pulled ourselves down the hall and towards our room, paying the faintest attention to the suite numbers. As I tugged my card out and slid it into the doorknob reader, Riley’s lips were more or less glued to my neck…
Until we stepped into the room, that was.
“…Holy shit,” she blurted out.
The suite was a blend of contemporary sophistication and historical elegance, featuring dark wood tones with contrasting mocha and cream carpeting.
Along the wall above the magnificently deConnort king-sized bed, a backlit aquarium recessed into the wall, filled with beautiful tropical fish of extraordinary colours and breeds.
The thick, luscious drapes on the opposing wall were pulled aside and roped to the edges, revealing a large and jaw-dropping view of the very same nightlife we’d witnessed from the glass elevator.
Turning the corner, a luxury kitchen stood at attention, filled with various superfluous touches and leading down a couple of steps to a small spa area. Inside, I observed a steam room, a sauna, and a private Jacuzzi tub.
The bathroom was on the opposite side of the kitchen, up several steps and featuring an oversized glass shower room – with overhead recessed faucets to simulate perfect rainfall – and a lavish mirror above a marble sink countertop with Italian-style bowl sink.