Painting became my refuge again when I walked out of Tre’s life. I submerged myself in art, determined to not break down or regret my decision to leave him, especially because I’d always envisioned Tre leaving me. He had political aspirations that went far beyond being the mayor of a small, albeit well-known, city. With me by his side he would be crucified over and over.
My father’s past deeds were brought to light once again and splashed across every news channel and made the front page of the major newspapers. He’d been arrested for possession and intent to sell, assault, and even attempted murder all before the age of eighteen, which should have never been released to the public because of his juvenile status during the times of his crimes. Tre’s judgment was questioned by the media, which insisted that if a prominent mayor chose a street artist whose father was a criminal to be his girlfriend, what did that say about his ability to make major decisions for the city? I’d finally turned away from all media because I couldn’t take how his once bright political future appeared dim because of his association with me.
“Ya back to the sad pictures again, just as magnificent as your happy ones, but I prefer the yellows.”
“Me too, Pierre. Me too.”
Lila lamented, “I can’t believe LaSalle broke up with ya over what happened to ya father. I thought more highly of him than that.”
“I ended the relationship.”
They both looked alarmed.
Pierre asked, “Why, sis?”
“I didn’t want him to resent me. You see how he’s being attacked. Once people realize that we’re no longer together, then this will all die down.”
Before Lila could retort, Devin Toussaint walked up with a smile.
I rolled my eyes, already annoyed by his appearance, which ironically reminded me of Tre. “What do you want?” I asked.
If my attitude bothered him, he didn’t seem fazed. “I have a friend who saw the piece you did for my office, and they want to do an exhibit of your art.”
I folded my arms. “Based solely on that painting, seriously? I don’t have time for this.”
“No, I had him come out to see your work himself. He bought some art from you a week ago. His name is Blair Townsend and he’s parking his car now. Please hear him out.”
An older black man, dressed in probably his Sunday’s best and hat, walked briskly toward us. I remembered him from last week because he’d asked me so many questions I knew he understood art. And he did buy one of my more expensive paintings.
Mr. Townsend smiled and extended his hand for me to shake before he even reached me. “I’m so glad I saw your painting in Mr. Toussaint’s office. I’d visited him on another matter but couldn’t stop being drawn to your work. He told me where to find you and when I saw the rest of what you’ve done, I was blown away. You have a gift, Ms. Blue. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was when I visited here last week, but I needed to discuss my idea with my partners. We are showcasing new artists and we would love to have you. We only want twenty percent of what you sell. We will appraise your work and suggest prices, do the advertising, and display your work in our gallery exactly how you want it. We anticipate your paintings will be popular and we can do future shows, even lowering the percentage we take, if the exhibit will be as successful as we believe it will be.”
I smiled, finally putting two and two together. “You’re with the Townsend Gallery?”
“Yes.”
“I wander through that gallery every chance I get. It’s easily my favorite.”
Mr. Townsend beamed. “Wonderful, dear. We would like to do an exhibit of your work about a month from now on the last Saturday in October. We would love for you to create two or three more pieces along with whatever you want to choose from here. Everything I’ve seen can easily sell in our gallery for thousands. Here’s my card. If you decide you want to do the exhibit, give me a call and we’ll get a contract out to you. Get a lawyer to review it, and I’m sure you’ll see what we’re offering is fair.”
I shook his hand again. “Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity. I need to think about it, but I’ll get back to you.”
He tipped his hat. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
Devin, who had been silently listening, shook the man’s hand and spoke to Mr. Townsend. “I need a moment with Ms. Blue. I’ll be in touch with you later today.”
Once Mr. Townsend walked away, Devin moved closer to me. “Call him and at least get Royalty to check out the contract. Unfortunately, you don’t have a poker face, and honestly you would be a fool to turn this down.”
“What do you get out of this? I know you’re not really interested in me, so is this a way to get back at Tre? He told me why you and he stopped being friends in the first place.”
Devin put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “All I can say is that I’m trying to make amends. You’re a talented artist, like so many others who never get the chance. It’s sheer luck or who you know that opens the door. I’m opening the door.”
“It’ll only be something to hold over Tre’s head that you helped me, especially because I wouldn’t let him help me. You don’t think he wanted to do the same thing for me?”
He held both hands up placatingly. “You don’t have to tell him anything or tell him everything, I have no other motives except to help an incredibly gifted woman whose father helped me out once, and I’m returning the favor.” Devin glanced at Pierre and Lila who had been listening the whole time. “You do know it’s your showing and you can negotiate the terms of the contract to work in your favor? Include whatever artwork or artist you want. Royalty can help you make sure the contract is tight. Please take him up on his offer. We need more black artists and galleries, period.”
“You knew my father?”
Devin looked at me. “Yes. Maybe one day I’ll tell you how I knew him and what happened, if Tre doesn’t bite my head off.” His smile was so genuine, I finally believed he had no ulterior motive. “Mr. Deaux was a good man, no matter how the media depicts him. We have all made mistakes that we wish we could take back, and if we’re smart, we make amends by apologizing to the people we hurt or pay it forward by helping others.”
“Thank you.” I blinked back tears at hearing the nickname all the youth that he mentored would call him. “You knew who I was all this time?”
He shook his head. “Not at first. Once I did, I wanted you to know that I didn’t or wouldn’t judge you by your past.” Devin backed away with his bright smile. “I hope you take Mr. Townsend up on his offer and tell that gorgeous friend of yours to stop playing hard to get.”
The moment he left, Lila approached me. “Raini, I’ve often wondered why you’ve been content to be out here? There have been others who thought you should connect with the galleries, but you always found an excuse not to. You can pretend to everyone else that you’re still waiting for your big break, but I know.” She came to stand in front of me. “Pierre and I are your family, and you’re afraid of losing us. Dear heart, that doesn’t change if you move your work to a gallery.”
I sniffed. “I’m sure it’s only a one-time show if I do it. So, I’ll still be out here.”
“No, you don’t belong out here anymore. You have the talent and the connections with some powerful people. Your ex is the mayor and the man that just left is the former mayor’s son and one of the best lawyers in New Orleans. Once you’re in that gallery, you won’t need to return here, and it’s okay.” She touched my face. “Raini, we’ll always be there for you no matter where you are. We love you.”
I whined, hating my shrill voice, “It won’t be the same.” The thought of not seeing Pierre and Lila every week saddened me. I couldn’t handle another loss. They had become more than fellow struggling artists and friends. They had become my parents, guiding me every step of the way.
“Life is not supposed to stay the same. Or you’ll always be stuck, stagnant. The world deserves to see your art, and they can’t see it if you remain here on the streets of the French Market. We only know Basquiat not because he did profound graffiti in the streets of New York, but because his art has been exhibited in galleries around the world.”
Pierre stood up and simply opened his arms, and I went into them and in his strong fatherly arms. I cried for everything I’d lost over the years, the mother I’d never had, my family that was forever changed by my father’s death, my father who’d loved me unconditionally, my sweet, sweet Tracie, and finally Tre, the love of my life.