So I had gone out with him.
“There’s something wrong with him,” Connor confided over a half-eaten stack of pancakes and some bacon slices. “What’s he doing, hanging around here anyway?”
“Will…” I muttered. “Don’t do this.” The conversation had been going so well. We’d been talking about his record business and my paintings, but inevitably…
“Don’t do what?” He asked, almost accusingly. “He doesn’t have a day job, he lives out of some cheap hotel, he was just sitting and drinking every night until you showed up… he goes and visits around the city, but why is he here?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean, I never bothered to really ask him most of those details,” I answered defensively. “He’s some kind of football player on vacation here. What’s to know?”
“He wears high-end suits and disguises how loaded he probably is,” Connor stated, remaining on the offensive. “It’s suspicious.”
“It’s pissing me off,” I replied.
“You too, huh? I knew you weren’t that dense.” He grinned, swallowing down another bite. “Let’s see what we can dig up on this guy. Have you even googled him?”
“No, Will, you’re pissing me off,” I told him. “Just fucking drop it, okay? If there’s something there, he’ll tell me, alright? I trust him. I don’t need this to get complicated. I like that it’s something simple… something easy. There’s a hard deadline set, and he’ll be gone soon. Just let me fucking have this while it’s here to be had.”
Connor looked positively wounded. “But Riley, I just don’t want you to be–”
“To be hurt?” I hissed. “I’ll be fine. You’ve known me for a long time, Will. I’ve got thicker skin than most. I’ll manage.”
“Speaking of that…”
I noticed him take a deep breath.
Oh, no. Not now. Don’t do this.
“Riley… I tried to keep it to myself, but I can’t help it anymore,” he began, clearly lowering himself to the point of complete vulnerability in front of my eyes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Ever since we were kids, and I fought off that bully for you–”
“This isn’t the time,” I insisted.
“When is the time, Riley?” He demanded. “It’s never the right time, is it? Because you don’t want to hear it. And that’s fine for you and all, but I can’t help the way that I feel–”
“Will, please stop,” I pressed. “You know that I’m with Lex. If you had to let this out now, you could have waited another month or so–”
“That’s not good enough,” he told me under no uncertain terms. “I know that you’re falling for him. God, Riley, it’s so fucking obvious. And I’ve seen how he looks at you, too. You’re both going to hurt each other, and that’s all there is to it.
“And then I’m going to have to come in and scoop you up, just like I always do when you get too attached to a guy.”
I paused warningly, raising an eyebrow.
“…Excuse me?”
Connor realized his mistake, but it was too late for him to back out of the corner he’d painted himself into. “Wait… that’s not what I meant. Riley, you know that I’ll always be there for you–”
“We’re finished,” I told him, rising up from the seat and tossing down a ten and a five onto the table in front of him. “I’m taking a few days. I’ll contact you first. Leave me alone.”
I didn’t look over my shoulder as I left the restaurant, abandoning him to the rest of his meal alone.
But that was yesterday.
I checked on the painting again. It wasn’t just good… It was perfect. I couldn’t let Connor get under my skin. Things were going well for the first time in a long time…
After changing into some casual clothes, I heard my ringtone pinging from the living room. Kicking back into a chair, I snatched up my phone and glanced at the caller ID.
It was one of the local galleries, which I considered odd, but they usually only reached out to me if there was a substantially good reason.
“Hello, Miss Ricketts?”
“Adam!” I grinned to myself affably. “How are you, my love?” Of all the others, it was incredibly rare that the Pulliam Museum reached out to me, let alone the head curator. “I hope all is well down there.”
“Things are splendid,” he responded in his usual, casual tone… although I sensed something just beneath the surface. “In fact, things are a little better than splendid… I just received a rather interesting phone call.”
“Sounds curious. Do tell.”
His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “We are apparently about to host a rather distinguished guest, Ms. Ricketts… I just got off the phone with one Gloria Van Lark.”
My heart stopped in my chest.
“Miss Ricketts? Are you there, Miss Ricketts?”
I swallowed the burst of emotion that threatened to surge out of my throat. “I am absolutely, definitely here, Adam.”
“Good. You are in New Orleans, I trust?”
“I’m at my apartment now, just thirty or forty minutes away.”
“Excellent. She was rather particular about an artist’s work that she wanted to peruse… and indicated that she had already scoured a few other galleries in the last couple of days. I sincerely think that you should get down here immediately.”
Gloria Van Lark was here?
And she was looking at my work?
WHY AM I JUST HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW.
“Absolutely. Oh god, Adam, thank you so much for contacting me. I had no idea that she was here!”
“Neither did I, truthfully,” he receded back into his typical casual tone. “I have excellent working relationships with the other galleries in town, but it would appear that none of them saw fit to indicate this… delicate matter to me. Oh well. She is expected within the hour. It might serve you to represent yourself…”
“I’m heading out the door as we speak,” I lied, glancing over towards my closet and already running clothing options through my head.
“See to it that you are, my dear. Bonne chance, mon amie!”
“Merci, monsieur!”
With that, I haphazardly dove towards the closet, quickly settling on a conservative yet trendy outfit that highlighted a prim, subtle sense of style.
As I locked the door and darted down the stairs towards the streets of New Orleans, I dug out my phone and sent a group text to Reiko and Will.
Yes, even Will.
He was one of the very few people in the world who understood the gravity of what was happening here… and how utterly important this moment was to me.
“Gloria Van Lark is here, and she’s prowling the local galleries featuring my art as we speak.”
A few minutes later, Reiko responded:
“GET IT, GIRL.”
And then Will:
“I knew this day would come :) Good luck!”
Unsurprisingly, he was just happy that I was talking to him again, even if only in passing.
The massive smile stayed glued to my face all the way down to the Pulliam Museum, where I flashed my
Gallery Pass to the front attendant and strolled into the building.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, or what kind of signal to expect that would indicate her presence, so I went ahead and walked towards the exhibit that carried some of my signature work.
Ascending up the white tile stairs, I took in the surroundings of the Pulliam Museum. It was a rather modern piece of architectural elegance, built to emphasize light and luminescence.