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.”
“But—”
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 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.
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.”
“Who?”
“The dinner once a week guy. Sloan’s customer.”
“Oh him. Are you sure?”
Basra detailed the events to Lucia,who gasped in and out of each sentence.
“He’s definitely stalking you.”
“What do I do?”
“If you call the police, you will have to be explicit about your relationship.”
“Can’t I just say that he’s my ex-boyfriend?”
“Yeah, but if he tries to hurt or kill you or something like that, and you have to go to court, it will all come out.”
“Kill me?”
“Calm down, I was just using that as an example. He’s not going to kill you. What did Sloan say about him?”
“I can’t get in touch with her.”
“Okay, well let’s wait until we talk with her. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure she can talk to him.”
“Okay. What happened to the girl who was seeing him before me?”
“I don’t know. I think she just stopped calling. Oooh, what if he killed her!” Lucia dramatically suggested.
“Oh my God!”
“I’m joking. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.”
Basra was downright unnerved. She could barely get dressed and get her makeup on. She was so out of sorts that she arrived to the show twenty minutes after six. She couldn’t take two steps without wondering if Richard was around the corner. When Grayson walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, Basra nearly jumped from her skin.
“You scared me,” she said.
“You okay?”
Basra slowly nodded.
“You look amazing,” he expressed with a big smile.
“Thank you, so do you,” she said.
There were about ten people mingling and viewing his work. Basra immediately went to work talking about the artist and theme. Grayson wasn’t used to talking about himself and he was worse at marketing his work. Basra quickly realized why he was an undiscovered, struggling artist. She made up for what he lacked. Acting had become her second career and she was a whiz. She placed on the big smile and went into sales mode. However, by eight-thirty, not one red dot had been used. Grayson was becoming a bit discouraged because the room was filled with people, but they were socializing and drinking, not buying. Lawson strolled in close to nine o’clock. Grayson spotted him and quickly approached.
“I just want to thank you so much for investing in this show,” he said.
Lawson looked around at the walls. “You’re talented, and I’d do whatever your pretty little girlfriend asks of me.”
Grayson didn’t like Lawson’s tone but had no time to address it, because Lawson quickly moved him across the room to make introductions. One of Lawson’s invited guests was Arthur Cossington, a European billionaire hotel mogul with a taste for fine art. Basra had spoken to him but she had no idea who he was. Lawson introduced Grayson to Arthur and he immediately inquired about three pieces. Once Grayson explained his motivation behind the series of works, Arthur made an offer for all three. As soon as Amelia placed the red dots on the works, others began inquiring and making offers. By ten o’clock half of his works were sold. Grayson was like a kid stepping over the threshold of Disney for the first time. He couldn’t walk without a skip, and couldn’t talk without laughing, and to add to his thrill his mom showed up a few minutes past ten.
“Mom!” he called out. He grabbed Basra’s hand and pulled her over to meet his mom. She was a petite woman, only five foot three. Her complexion was similar to Basra’s due to her East Indian ancestry. She spoke with an accent.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Basra. She’s the one who made all of this possible. This is my mother, Hansa.”
“So nice to meet you, Basra. I’m sorry I’m late; your father had me out at dinner. I told him I had to come here but you know how he is. He thought if he kept me out late enough that I wouldn’t come, but I didn’t want to miss your first show.”
Grayson hugged his mom again and grabbed her hand. “Let me show you everything. I’ve already sold some stuff.” He whisked her off and Basra stood in the background like a proud parent. She looked around for Lucia but she never showed. Thankfully, neither did Richard, even though his antics still had her shaken.
As she watched Grayson grow into his position as this overnight success, Lawson walked up beside her.
“You did good, kid,” he said.
“Appreciate that, old man.”
He burst into laughter. “Your guy has talent. I think Arthur is going to commission him to do some pieces for a few of his hotels. This was a good investment. I should have asked for interest.”
“Too late.”
“Next time you bring me an idea, I will remember that.”
They stood at the front and watched more red dots go up. By eleven o’clock Grayson had sold seventeen of his twenty-five pieces. The show was a huge success and Basra began getting questions about other artists that she represented.
“I didn’t even know that this could be a job,” she told Lawson.
“It’s something you should think about,” Lawson said, seemingly distracted.
“What are you looking at?” Basra asked.
“Who’s that lady with your guy?”
“Stop calling him my guy. His name is Grayson, and that’s his mom.”
“She’s a cutie pie. She married?”
“Yes.”
“Good, that way she won’t get all attached. Introduce me,” he said with a sneaky gleam in his eye.
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” Lawson said, walking in their direction.
“Lawson, wait! Don’t you say anything to her.”
Basra followed close behind.
Lawson flirted with Hansa, but she completely ignored his subtle advances. Basra continued to step in and move the conversation forward, so that Lawson had few words as possible. He eventually got the point, and the remainder of the evening went off without a hitch.