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“Come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret,” I pushed.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Never! Well, maybe I will . . . if it’s funny.”
Xavier playfully looked away and shut his eyes like he was expecting a slap in the face after he let the words come from his mouth. “I want to open an art gallery.” He peeked at me through one eye.
“Art?” I laughed before I could stop myself—it wasn’t that opening an art gallery was so absurd, more that it was Xavier who’d mentioned doing it.
“Why is that funny?” Xavier asked, chuckling, too.
“Art? Come on! You don’t exactly strike me as an art lover. Unless you count that Lil’ Kim poster you had over your bed in college.”
“For your information, Ms. Rachel, I’m an avid collector.”
“Of Lil’ Kim posters?”
“Of art! Fine art. Paintings. Sculptures. Sketches.”
“Really?”
“I took this art history course senior year and I’ve been collecting ever since. I have two Kara Walker silhouettes.”
“Walker? I love her. I have a print of one of her silhouettes over my couch.”
“She’s awesome. A little dark, but rather magical,” he said. “I also have a Bearden. An Alexander.”
“Larry Alexander? I love his work, too. I have one in my office. Well . . . it’s a print.” I shrugged.
“Lately, I’ve been getting into some of the newer guys in Chicago. I back a few.”
“You’re a benefactor?” I was almost sure I wasn’t speaking to the same person I’d known at FAMU.
“Whoa! Nothing as big as a benefactor,” Xavier said. “I just make sure cats are eating. Might pay rent. Let someone stay at one of my lofts downtown.”
“That’s amazing. I never would’ve thought . . .”
Xavier smiled at me so openly that I just stopped talking.
“So a gallery is the next step?” I said.
“Been thinking about it. The Chicago scene is so swamped, though. Got my eyes on ATL. Know anything about the art scene there?”
“Ashamed to say I don’t. For me, art is one of those things I always wished I knew more about but didn’t. Guess I’ve been waiting to meet someone to teach me more about it.”
“Maybe we could find out more about it together.” His voice went deep. His eyes were as soft as his smile. Xavier was flirting with me.
“We?” I’d known him too long to pretend I wasn’t clear on where he was going. I laughed and scrunched up my face. I wasn’t about to be another name on X’s list.
“I mean . . . like I could come visit and you could show me around. Help me get my feet wet. What? I meant that strictly in a professional way. However you took it in your dirty little mind is on you.” He placed his empty champagne flute on a little table beside the ledge. Straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, and then I wasn’t sure if I’d read him correctly. My champagne flute was almost empty, too. Was the alcohol making me see what I wanted to see? What did I want to see?
The foursome must’ve gotten tired of the heat. They went inside, and through the open door there was the sound of Mr. Dupree’s band playing.
“I just wouldn’t think you’d need me to show you around. I’m sure one of your many FAMU concubines would love to hear you’re coming to town,” I said to Xavier. “Hell, half of them flocked to GA after graduation.”
“Rattlers are everywhere,” Xavier said, nodding. “But maybe I don’t want just anyone’s company.” His voice slowed and he moved in closer to me. This time, it was obvious that he was flirting and he wasn’t bothering to cover anything up. He took my empty champagne glass and slid it onto the table close enough to kiss his. The moon was out now and daylight was swallowed whole. The white lights overhead were so bright. “Maybe I want yours.” He looked back into my eyes and just the two of us breathing seemed to collapse every inch of air between us. We were drawing closer.
The moonlight in his eyes. The throbbing of the band from inside the ballroom beneath our feet. The champagne tickling my heart. I closed my eyes. I breathed him in like all those other girls. I waited, too. Waited for his lips to touch mine.
