Chocolate Dove (14 page)
Authors: Cas Sigers
“I would love to come,” he said.
That was just the response she didn't want. “It's private. I will see if I can get you on the list though.”
“Please do. I'm an avid collector.”
“I will.”
Basra smiled but knew she could not invite him to the show. There was no way she could explain that to Grayson, and who knew what he would say about their relationship.
“So, if you're ready to leave, maybe we can have lunch tomorrow before I go back.”
“I don't know, my schedule is very busy.”
“How many men do you see a week?” he asked candidly.
“Excuse me?”
“In work. How many men? Do you have several regulars you see weekly?”
“Actually, I don't.”
“Ballpark figure,” he pressed.
“Uhhm. I don't know. I go when I get calls. I might get three calls a month.”
“Do you sleep with the others?”
“My business with other men is private. You wouldn't want me sharing our details.”
Richard stared at her with a blank expression.
“You're my only regular. I'm new in this industry and I don't want a lot of clients. I'm only doing this to help my family.”
“Your family back in Somalia?”
“Yes.”
“So if you were to marry someone who could take care of you and your family, you would stop this business.”
“Yes, but I wouldn't marry someone unless I loved them,” she said.
“Love is such a broad term.”
“That's conversation for another day, my dear Richard. I have to go.”
“Of course, Dove,” he said.
They rose and left the restaurant. He offered to escort her in the cab ride home, but Basra didn't want him knowing her address, and so she hailed her own cab, kissed his cheek, and left.
En route home, she checked her voice mail and heard a call from Hollis, who wanted to inform her of Adam's visit next week. He bragged to Hollis about how much he loved her company, and couldn't wait to see her again. Of course, this thrilled Hollis, for she loved satisfied customers. Basra called her the next morning to confirm his date, which was Friday afternoon. The day before the big art show. Basra knew that would be cutting it close but she couldn't disappoint Hollis. If she continued to see Richard for a few months and kept her regular visits with Adam, she could easily save $8,000 a month. She didn't want to take on any new clients and as long as she could keep this situation going, along with her occasional modeling gigs, her finances would continue to mount.
That evening Basra continued to think about her conversation with Richard and decided to look up information on Nietzsche. He was a very interesting character who was also diagnosed as mentally ill. However, he had a plethora of quotes that Basra began writing down in her journal. Interesting characters fascinated her, and she kept a log of them for study purposes. Getting a psychology degree required her to write many papers and she already had a long list of potential subjects. Nietzsche was going on the list.
Early Saturday morning, while Basra was still in bed, her buzzer rang. She thought it was a dream at first, but realized after the third ring that it was concierge. She crawled from the bed and stumbled into the front room to answer.
“I have a Grayson Charles here to see you.”
“Send him up,” she said.
Basra ran like lightening to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and simultaneously washed the sleep from her eyes. As she was spitting into the sink, her doorbell rang. She rushed to the door and answered. Grayson greeted her with a big hug.
“I have missed you,” she said.
“I've missed you.”
Grayson stopped and stared at Basra. “You don't have any makeup on.”
“It's seven o'clock in the morning. I don't sleep in makeup.”
“No, but it's the first time I've seen you without it. You're fucking beautiful.”
“Dropping f-bombs so early, how sexy is that.” She giggled.
“I don't mean to offend but, baby, you're covering all of your beauty.”
“Stop it, Gray. I like my makeup, end of conversation.”
Grayson continued to stare as he spoke about the show. “The new pieces are at the framer's, and we shoot the video today, right?”
“Yes, at four. You ready?”
“I am. I'm going to wear just a plain black shirt; since my pieces have so much color I don't want to be too distracting.”
“Good idea.”
“I'm sorry, you are really beautiful,” he said once again.
“You're embarrassing me, stop it. So, how much are the last pieces?”
Grayson and Basra continued to talk business until her stomach began to growl.
“You're hungry. Let's do breakfast.”
“I was going to cook something here,” she mentioned.
“Let's just grab something out. Throw on something.”
“I haven't showered.”
Grayson sniffed her neck and then close to her crotch. “You smell clean.”
“You're nasty.” She laughed, pushing him away.
Grayson moved close and kissed her. “And your breath is minty fresh. Let's go.”
“Fine.”
Basra threw on a T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap to calm her wooly hair that was normally all over her head until she applied mousse.
“What was stiff shirt's name again?” Grayson asked as they walked through the lobby.
“Who?”
“The guy from the Boathouse?”
“Oh, Richard.”
“I could have sworn I saw him outside your building smoking a cigarette.”
“He doesn't smoke and he lives in Philadelphia.”
“Well, it was guy who looked just like him. Oh, we can eat at the café down the street. We can walk.”
Basra lowered her shades as the morning sun beat on her skin. She looked to the right and left of the building as she exited just to be sure Grayson was mistaken, and they walked over a few blocks and into the Breakfast Nook. Over eggs and coffee they chatted about the show, and the excitement was seeping from every pore of Grayson's body. Basra was equally excited as she shared some of the invitees.
In the middle of her conversation, Grayson blurted, “I told Sophie about us.”
“Sophie, your ex?”
“Yep.”
“What did you say? What did she say?”
“I told her I was seeing someone special and that she didn't need to keep calling because I wasn't going to get back with her.” Basra's eyes widened. “She said she wished me well.”
“That was it?”
“Yep, but then Guppie called and told me that I had a month to get out of the space.”
“Can she just put you out like that?”
“Yeah, her family owns the space; I'm not in a formal contract. It's cool because I want to go anyway.”
“Well, I have a feeling that after this show, you will be able to afford your own space.”
“So how do you feel about that?”
“About what?” Basra answered, completely clueless.
“About me telling her that I was seeing someone special,” he said sincerely.
“I'm flattered, and I'm excited about us. I think we'd make an awesome couple.”
“So, you're ready to call us a couple?” he asked.
“I hate titles but I don't want to be with anyone else, and I think about you all of the time, so yeah, I guess. But we've only known each other a few weeks. This is so fast. Are we crazy?”
“Who cares?” he said.
“Have you ever heard of Friedrich Nietzsche?”
“No. That's random.”
“Well, he's this philosopher from Germany. And I was recently introduced to some of his works, and he has this quote: âOne ought to hold on to one's heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.'”
“I believe that to be true. But what's wrong with losing control? What is love if it's controlled?”
“I just want to be careful.”
Suddenly Basra began coughing uncontrollably. Her eyes watered and she could barely breathe.
“You okay?”
She pounded her chest and tried catch her breath. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the door to the table. Grayson came from around his side of the booth and sat next to her. His attention was also drawn to the front door and the man approaching them.
“Richard! What are you doing here?” Basra said as her voice pitch rose from alto to soprano.
“Good seeing you again.”
“What's up, man?” said Grayson.
“The waiter, yes. How convenient. You two have a good breakfast.”
Richard sat down at the bar right in front of them. Basra took a few sips of her water. “I'm okay. It just went down the wrong pipe.”
“I told you I saw him,” Grayson said.
“It's weird, he doesn't live here so I have no idea what he's doing in Brooklyn this time of morning.”
Grayson was instantly suspicious. “When is the last time you saw him?”
“You mean before just now?”
“Don't be funny.”
“I haven't seen him since the restaurant,” she said, thinking that it wasn't a complete lie since she didn't say what restaurant.
“Yeah, okay,” said Grayson.
She knew by his tone that he wasn't buying it, but even more distressing was the fact that Richard was in her neighborhood. Did he know where she lived? She looked up from the table and noticed him peering in her direction. At that moment, she knew then that she couldn't ever see him again.
Chapter 12
The art installation took place that Wednesday, but Grayson was so obsessed with everything being perfect he practically slept in the space from that day until Friday, the day before the show. The video turned out great and they looped it on a thirty-inch plasma at the front of the space. Basra ordered flowers and Grayson called on many of his art friends to fill the gift bags with a mixture of trinkets from handmade jewelry to sunglasses and books. Normally, clientele of this nature liked high-end designer swag but this night was about the artist and the passion behind the art, so it was perfect. Basra went over the guest list. Amazingly, there were close to one hundred confirmations. There was a mixture of social and economic levels. However, the bulk of patrons were people in Lawson's influential circle. She even asked Hollis to toss in a few names. She didn't want to mix circles but she had no choice. The average person didn't spend $5,000 on art, especially in these economic times. Lawson swore that no one in his circle knew about her, and Choice was such an underground world, people wouldn't dare talk about how they were invited. Hence, Basra figured she'd be covered.
By Friday everything for the show was done. She'd suggested on the invite that people take cabs because of limited parking, but also met with a valet and secured a parking lot a few blocks away. Basra had thought about everything, down to the smallest detail of little red sold dots printed with Grayson's name. Basra had never planned a big event before but she was a natural. They'd picked out Grayson's outfit on that Thursday and there was nothing else to do. This left Friday free and clear to spend some time with Adam and then see Grayson that evening. She spent Friday getting her nails done and hair straightened. She wanted to dedicate Saturday for any impending emergencies and so her grooming had to be complete the day before. She was done with all of her errands by three that afternoon, and was supposed to link with Adam at four. By 5: 15, he hadn't called. By 6:00, no Adam. She had plans to meet with Grayson at eight and his inconsideration for her time was making her angry. Like clockwork, at 7:00 Grayson called.
“Hey, babe, I had to push the reservations to nine.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to take you somewhere special.”
“Okay, where do you want me to meet you?
“At the studio at 8:30.”
“Cool.”
Basra looked at the time; it was 7:10. She decided that she was going to call Hollis and cancel her date with Adam. However, as soon as she began to dial Hollis, he called.
“You're late!” she stated.
“Just get your pretty ass over here,” he demanded and hung up the phone.
Basra was more enraged and for split second was going to dismiss him. Then suddenly her rage turned to sheer excitement. She grabbed her things, rushed from her place, and was at his home by 7:45. She walked in his front door and punched him dead in the face.
“How dare you make me late! Do you know who I am! Do you!”
He cowardly folded into a fetal position and whimpered. To hold in the laughter, Basra held her breath so tight, she thought she'd pee on herself. She stripped down to her bustier and pulled out a small whip that Lucia had given her months ago. She commenced to whip Adam on the back. Finally, he turned over and tried to get a little aggressive. But she regulated and refused to allow him to have an ounce of control. She was hoping he would take his beating and she could walk away, but of course he wanted to have sex. But this time she made him lie down on his back and she did all of the work. She managed to disconnect from the act and immerse herself in the foul words and the occasional bitch slap. By 8:15 she was in the bathroom, washing up. She even yelled at him from the bathroom and dared him to move from the corner she'd placed him in before she went in. When she walked back in his room, she was dressed and ready for her date.
“You leaving?” he said.
“I am. You made me wait for you and I don't appreciate it. So you only get a little of my time. Maybe next time, you'll be more considerate.”
“Butâ”
Basra pulled her whip out, marched across the room, and slashed it across his back.
“Shut up!” she yelled.
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied.
“Next time, respect my time.” Basra strutted out of the room and slammed the door. Before she got to the elevator she was boiling over with laughter. She could hardly catch her breath long enough to call Grayson and tell him she was on the way. She arrived to him by 8:35 and he surprised her by having dinner reservations at Liberty View. Basra had mentioned that she hadn't done any tourist things since she lived in New York, and she was so excited.
“I love this view,” she kept saying during dinner.
Grayson was so happy to see her happy, he grinned the entire night. Basra enjoyed Grayson so much, she didn't even think about Adam or that fact that she'd just slept with him minutes ago. She felt like two people trapped in one body, but living completely different lives.
“Tomorrow is going to be so nice,” he said, looking out at the Statue of Libery.
“This is truly the land of opportunity. You know, I think anything is possible if you put your mind to it.”
“When you think like that, it is.” A few seconds passed and Grayson placed down his fork and grabbed Basra's hands.
“My mom is coming,” he said, excited.
“Your mom? You don't talk that much about your family. And when I asked you about them, you said you didn't want to talk about it.”
“I know. My dad and I don't get along, and my mom is so scared of him that she always go along with whatever he says. I invited her not thinking she would come, but she called and said she'd be there.”
“So this is a good thing?”
“It is. My parents don't support what I do. They think I'm wasting my time and they decided awhile back that if I wanted to throw my life away then they wouldn't support it.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“I'm used to it. You'd think I was a drug dealer or a gigolo.” Basra nearly choked on her rice. “You okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said, clearing her throat.
The remainder of dinner was spent talking about the show. Afterward, she and Grayson went back to Brooklyn and Basra gave him a fashion preview of potential outfits for Saturday. She pranced up and down her living room floor as though it were Fashion Week, and finally decided on a pink silk shift dress. It was very understated but with the right accessories it was simply perfect. He continued to playfully flirt with and kiss on her, and Basra's hormones were in an uproar. She kept having visions of sleeping with Grayson, and it was becoming hard to resist. Outside of her magnanimous lie, their relationship was pure. In so many ways she wanted him, but Basra held such shame that she also wanted Grayson to have what no one else had, which was her innocence. That was the only thing she clung to. She knew she was a lying hypocrite, but she couldn't stop. The money and the taste of the power had drawn her completely in and giving that up wasn't something she was willing to do at that moment.
I need to at least save $50,000,
she thought as she watched Grayson strip down to his boxers. $50,000 was her magic number. Once she achieved that amount in her savings, she would quit and then continue to see Grayson guilt free.
I need to at least save $50,000,
she thought as she watched Grayson strip down to his boxers. $50,000 was her magic number. Once she achieved that amount in her savings, she would quit and then continue to see Grayson guilt free.
“I promise I won't touch you,” he said, sliding in bed beside her.
“I can't promise a thing,” she cooed, looking at his bare chest.
“Well, hey, let me get these shorts off just in case.”
“No, stop it. I was just playing. Oh, I need to charge my phone,” Basra said.
She retrieved her phone from deep within her purse and saw that she had seven missed calls. They were all from Richard. In the excitement, she forgot that she had missed her Friday night date. She couldn't take the time to listen to all of the messages and so she turned her phone off and plugged it in. Her energy shifted from anticipation to nervousness. After Richard showed up at the Breakfast Nook, she called him and left him a message stating that they needed to talk. But after that she was so absorbed with the show, she'd forgotten completely about him.
“You okay?” Grayson asked about her sudden quietness.
“I'm good, just tired,” she explained.
Basra settled in next to Grayson and flipped on her television. She landed on Bravo and they watched back-to-back episodes of
Top Chef
until they went to sleep.
Top Chef
until they went to sleep.
Saturday evening came quickly. It seemed that as soon as they got up that morning, it was time for the art show. Basra and Grayson went to check out the preparations at four, but neither was dressed for the evening yet since it didn't start until six. Basra wanted to go alone, but he insisted on going with her. He'd been with her all day, and she hadn't had a moment to reach out to Richard. Thankfully, he hadn't called. Unfortunately, he had her so nervous she was careful to look around the corner and across the street everywhere she walked. When they got to the art space, the flowers had just been delivered and the caterers were setting up. With the small lights glowing around the ceiling of the room, his work looked magnificent.
“You're going to be a superstar!” she exclaimed, walking around the room.
“Artists don't become famous until they die.”
“Well, make sure I'm in your will.” She laughed.
Grayson took Basra in his arms and wouldn't let go. He was filled with emotion. “This would not be possible without you.”
She could hear the crackle in his voice. “You're going to make me cry, please stop,” she said.
He leaned back. “I just want you to know how much I appreciate you.”
“I know. Now come on, we have a show to do. We have to meet back here at six. Don't be late,” she stated.
After a short kiss, Grayson left the place and headed home. Basra stayed behind a few minutes and talked with the caterer about the servers and then went to the back to settle business with Amelia. As they were finishing her paperwork, one of Amelia's assistants came to the back and spoke.
“There's a guy near the front looking for Dove.”
Basra's heart skipped three beats. Amelia saw the fear-stricken look on her face and became concerned.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Basra couldn't speak and could hardly walk as she rose from the desk and took a few steps toward the gallery space. She stopped at the door to catch her breath. She hadn't had time to listen to the seven messages but her gut told her that he was crazed. Basra took several deep breaths and walked to greet her stalker.
“You stood me up yesterday,” he said loudly across the gallery.
She rushed over to quiet him down.
“Why are you stalking me?”
“Why did you stand me up? Never mind, I already know that answer. I thought I was your only regular.”
“You are. Could you lower your voice?” Basra pushed him over to a corner as they were gathering prying glances. “I left you a message saying that we needed to talk and you didn't call me back. I can't keep seeing you.”
“That's unacceptable.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Why would we stop seeing each other? We have so much in common.”
“No, we do not, and you have to stop following me,” she demanded.
“I'm not following you. I'm in the city and I saw you come in here.”
“Bullshit. You were outside of my building. You showed up at the Breakfast Nook, and now here. I'm going to call the police if you keep it up. I know your name and they will find you.”
“Are you sure? Meet me tomorrow at the Breakfast Nook.”
“I can't.”
“'Til tomorrow.” Richard blew Basra a kiss and walked out.
Her flesh began to itch from the inside out. She walked out of the space moments after, gathered her composure, and combed the streets. There was no sign of him. As she continued to look, the faces of the people blended together, her head became so light that she nearly passed out upon walking back to the entrance of the door. If it weren't for the caterer passing by, she would have hit the concrete when her knees buckled underneath her. He brought her inside and placed her in a chair and slid an ottoman underneath her feet. “You need to take a break. Have you eaten today?”
Basra nodded and placed her head on the back of the chair. After thirty minutes, she was composed enough to get into a cab and go home. She immediately called Sloan, who didn't answer, and then Lucia, who picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, baby, your thing is tonight, right?”
“Yes, are you coming?”
“Of course.”
“That guy Richard is stalking me.”
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