HINDSIGHT IS CRYSTAL
It’s February and Derrick’s show is packed. Suki has pulled out all the stops. That, along with the piece in Shades on Derrick and his exhibit, Urban Landscapes, has put the art world and fashion cognoscenti on call.
The opening has been scheduled from six to ten, but by six forty-five the scene inside is controlled chaos: black town cars three vehicles deep line the curb; paparazzi and several camera crews are out to catch sight of the models, socialites, art-world scions, and celebrities who’ve turned out to fete an unknown artist. The atmosphere inside is even more frenzied.
“What a scene,” Precious says to Bella as they fight their way out of their cab and to the sidewalk.
“Is this mob all for the opening? Is that a velvet rope?” Precious asks, pointing to the gallery entrance. “Where are we, the Waverly?”
Bella elbows a fashionista out of her way.
“We’re gonna have to stage a coup to get in,” she says.
“We’re on the list, silly, and we know the curator.”
“List shmist, I’m not standing on any line,” Bella answers, texting Suki that they’re outside. A moment later Suki appears at the door and waves them over as the crowd parts like the Red Sea.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Suki.” Bella grins.
Precious hugs her. “Only you could pull this off.”
Suki laughs and holds up her hand for a high five.
“Off the chain, yes?”
Suki is rocking a madras pencil skirt, white high-necked Edwardian blouse with exquisite lace detail, white tights, and black Mary Jane pumps. On top of her messy updo is perched a straw fedora. She looks like a postmodern Mary Poppins. Elbowing the crowd out of the way, she pulls them past Harumi, who is flanked by two burly guys as she checks names on her clipboard.
Zenobia arrives a few moments later with Portia. The bruise on Portia’s cheek has faded. Not knowing what else to do, Portia had called Zenobia after what happened with Rey. Both Zenobia and David had rushed uptown and helped to handle the chaos. The next day Rey was out of their apartment and lucky not to be in jail, but he was never to contact Luz, Portia, or Lulu again, and was now a registered sex offender. As Z pulls Portia toward the gallery, the phalanx of photographers yell Zenobia’s name, their cameras flashing almost as rapidly as their requests.
“This way, Z.” “One smile, please.” “Gorgeous.” “Who’s the beauty?” Pausing for a moment, Z poses with Portia, making sure that everyone gets a picture of her new star.
“Portia, P-o-r-t-i-a,” she yells out for them. “She’s NOW’s top girl. You’ll be seeing a lot of her.” She gives another show-stopping smile, then pulls Portia through the velvet ropes.
“I bet you’re glad now I plied you with so much makeup and that knockout Galliano,” she says, appraising the clinging, floor-length, black cashmere-and-lace dress, which is topped with a tight leather motorcycle jacket.
Portia is dazed. “I still feel like this is some kind of a dream.” Zenobia pinches her. “Well, snap out of it. The whole room just turned to watch you walk in, so let’s walk,” Z says, strutting with Portia across the room toward Hope and Derrick.
“Congratulations to the happy couple.” Zenobia kisses Hope on both cheeks, then Derrick, who is looking like he might bolt at any moment.
“You better keep a firm arm on him. He looks like he might try to escape.”
Hope laughs, her arm firmly through his. “Don’t worry, he isn’t going anywhere.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Zenobia laughs, seeing the way Derrick is looking at Hope.
“Hope, this is Portia. Portia, Hope Harris, one of my best friends and the editor of Shades who’s going to be calling me to book you for editorial work very soon.”
Hope laughs. “I’d better or you’ll be all booked up.” As Portia blushes, Hope introduces Derrick.
“This is Derrick Reynolds. Thanks for coming to his show.” Portia is awed. “That’s some fly shit you got up in here,” she says, looking at the canvases lining the walls.
Derrick smiles. “You can say that again, Portia.”
“No, please don’t encourage her, Derrick,” Zenobia laughs.
A moment later, Zenobia sees David fighting his way through the crowd at the door. She feels a warm sensation when he stops close to her. Their usual teasing relationship has become oddly strained after she ran into him in Brooklyn. They never talk about it, but Zenobia is thinking about David in a very different way after seeing Alana kiss him. She feels something almost like possessiveness grip her whenever Alana stops by the agency to visit.
“Heavens, what a turnout,” David says, kissing Hope. He turns to Derrick. “You must be the artist. Congratulations—your work is quite remarkable. And from the looks of things I’m not the only person who thinks so.”
Zenobia introduces them. “Derrick Reynolds, David Black; he’s my partner at NOW.”
Derrick shakes his hand. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you coming.” He shakes his head. “Every few moments I gotta pinch myself to make sure it’s real.” He smiles at David. “I’m completely overwhelmed.”
David winks at him. “Careful what you wish for, eh?”
Derrick smiles. “Nah man, I’m overwhelmed in a good way.”
David turns to Portia. “You look wonderful, Portia. I hope you’ve fully recovered.”
“Yeah, mostly because of you guys.” Portia smiles thankfully at David and Z. “Thanks again. You and Z really came through for us.”
She whispers to David, “Lulu has a huge crush on you, by the way.”
“And I have one on her as well.” David winks.
David then gives Zenobia’s white silk halter pantsuit and creamy mink shrug an appreciative look. “Z, you’re gorgeous, as always.”
“You’re looking rather dapper yourself, Davie. Is Alana here?”
David looks uncomfortable. “No, she’s a friend, not much else.”
“Friend with benefits—you’re more Americanized than you think, David.” Zenobia smiles even though her heart feels constricted at the thought of him and Alana together.
David leans in close to Zenobia and whispers, “That really doesn’t matter, as I have eyes only for one woman.”
Zenobia’s flushes. “Yes, well . . .” She looks hastily around. Taking Portia’s and David’s arms, she excuses them. “I see a couple agents we should introduce Portia to.”
“Do you ever stop working, Z?” Hope asks.
“Oh, that’s precious coming from you, Hope,” she says before making her way across the room with Portia and David in tow.
After depositing Precious and Bella inside, Suki floats through the crowd with graceful expertise, fielding air kisses and accolades as she makes her way around the room.
Pushing through the crowd Precious nudges Bella. “Who the hell are all these people?”
“They’re all people wondering who the hell we are.” Bella points. “I see at least two Gossip Girls, a former American Idol, and a couple vampires from True Blood.”
“Is that Michael Stipe?” Precious elbows her.
Bella turns casually to look. “Mmm-hmm, with Terry R ichardson.”
The throng of fashion editors now includes smug hedge-fund types and colorful eurotrash. A waiter who has somehow managed not to spill his tray of flutes in the packed room makes his way to Precious. Precious looks at Bella.
“Is there any sparkling water?” she asks the waiter. Nodding, he offers her two glasses. Then he snakes his way carefully through the crowd. Before he gets a few steps away his tray is empty.
Precious hands Bella a glass. “To sobriety and to you.”
Bella looks glum. “I won’t lie—I don’t like not drinking or doing drugs, but I don’t like the person I was before I stopped,” she says solemnly.
“You weren’t that bad. . . . Well, actually you were, but I’m very proud of you for manning up and getting on the wagon.”
“I felt terrible about that night. I took advantage of you and I made a fool of myself, and for Julius?” Bella cringes.
“Please, don’t even mention his name. I’m just so glad he’s gone. It’s a long time coming.”
“You should have seen him scurry off when Miriam gave him the heave-ho. She was spectacular.”
“I wish I had.” Precious hugs her. “I’m just glad you’re here and he’s not.”
“Oh, cut it out. They’ll think we’re lesbians.” She flushes, pulling away.
“So what? Half the crowd here is. They buy the most art, you know.”
Bella laughs. “So how’s Darius handling your new career?”
“Mmm, he’s being extremely amenable.” Precious smiles, remembering last night.
“Amazing—he’s so used to having all your attention I would have figured he’d be between somebody else’s legs by now.”
“You never can be sure, but I don’t think so. He couldn’t be any more understanding. He even calls before he comes over.”
“To get into your pants,” Bella snorts.
“After dinner he draws me a bath and then—get this—he leaves.”
“Really? I’m impressed. You know it’s probably because you’re showing a little backbone. You were always at his beck and call. Men eventually start to hate what’s too available.”
Precious looks at her. “I think the not drinking and drugging is helping your synapses to fire. You’re actually giving me good advice about men.”
“That’s because hindsight is crystal,” Bella says sagely.
“No kidding. I’m kinda liking this new power. It’s funny how guys like you when you’re a bitch and dog you when you’re nice,” Precious says.
“Women do it too. Humans are fucked up that way.” Bella sips her sparkling water and makes a face. “God I wish this was champagne.”
“It’ll pass. Just think about how you felt the morning after your meltdown.”
“Well, I hope it passes quickly or I may have to go back to Rhinebeck.”
Precious turns to her. “You just did ninety days.”
“Did I ever,” Bella says. “I’m just kidding. I think I like rehab less than not drinking.” She rolls her eyes. “The endless therapy, and soul searching—”
“Oh stop it,” Precious interrupts. “I told you this before, but I’m really proud of you. It took a lot of courage to get clean.”
Bella gives a weak smile, “And this is where the hard parts starts.” Feeling like she might actually cry, Bella turns and points. “Look, those two pieces have stickers. That means they’ve sold.”
Precious takes a closer look. “Oh my God, is that the price?”
Bella raises her glass in the direction of Hope and Derrick, who are giving an interview. Glad to get Precious onto another topic, Bella leans into her. “So how is Hope going to explain her support of Derrick Reynolds, whom I’m sure everybody knows by now she’s fucking?”
“You know, I don’t think anybody will care.”
At nine o’clock there is less of a crush at the gallery when Malcolm arrives. He’s late on purpose because he feels out of place with Zenobia’s friends. When he first came to New York, he had so many ambitions and dreams, but he still feels as out of place here as he had in Holland. He wonders if it was such a good idea making Z move back. To make matters worse, he didn’t know how to communicate his insecurities to Z. They just ended up arguing, which they do more and more. When Malcolm sees David standing close to Z, he feels himself getting angry. He knows it’s irrational but he feels like Z has kept David a secret from him. He can tell David has feelings for Zenobia—anyone with eyes can see that. He wonders how Zenobia feels about David, though he’s not so sure he really wants to know. Taking a deep breath, Malcolm makes his way to Zenobia.
Malcolm doesn’t return Zenobia’s hug. Barely acknowledging David, he leans toward her and whispers, “So I’m here—when can we leave? We need to talk.”
“Thanks for coming, Malcolm. You just got here. It ends at ten—can you manage an hour?”
He looks at Zenobia, annoyed.
David says drily, “Being an artist, I’d think you’d be more interested in meeting many of the people here. The curator is a friend of Zenobia’s.”
“When I’m ready I’ll take care of my own art. Either way, you think too much about me and about Zenobia.” He then turns on his heels and strides away.
“Fucking wanker,” David mutters after him.
“I’m sorry, David. I don’t know why he’s like that.”
David turns to Z. “I do. It’s because he’s insecure, immature, and threatened by your success and beauty, I’d wager.”
“No, don’t hold back—tell me what you really think.” Zenobia says, taken aback.
“I really think you deserve someone far better than that sulky chap. You deserve someone who appreciates all the wonderful parts of you. Someone who respects you and cherishes you. Someone who has loved you since he first set eyes on you and changed his entire life to keep you in it.”
Zenobia stands there looking at David, who is now inches away from her. His scent is vaguely musky and his face is so caring and open. It would be so easy to lean into him. Just as she is about to rest her hands on his shoulders, someone bumps her and she regains her composure.
“How you two doing?” Suki asks, eyeing them. “Looking very cozy, yes. Took long enough,” she says. “She beautiful girl, David, yes?”
“Very,” he replies huskily.
“David very dashing tonight, Z, yes?” Suki presses shamelessly.
“Yes,” Zenobia whispers.
“Good, back to what you doing.” She mock whispers to Zenobia, “I have office if you two need a minute.”
Zenobia laughs nervously, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as Suki is pulled away.