I still let him lead me into the dark, whatever this was. The indicator was creaking floorboards under my heels, an aged smell, earthy and maybe the brick around me. Once inside and out of the chill, he stole my coat away from me, the room warm. He still urged me to keep my eyes closed, and I laughed while he did something with my coat. I stayed in the middle of wherever we were.
His hand came to my eyes again, a gentle press as he loomed near. “I’m going to stay behind you.”
“Why?”
Laughter in his voice. “It’s the only way I’m brave enough to show you this.”
So, he had his weak points, too? I knew that. He’d shown me on multiple occasions.
We kept showing each other parts of ourselves we didn’t necessarily want to expose. That was the big reason why we’d become friends, as short as that’d been.
My throat jumped.
“I’d never laugh at you.” And I wouldn’t. “Whatever this is. I wouldn’t laugh.”
His soft chuckle hit the air. Even still, he stayed behind while he lifted his hand from my eyes. I kept them closed until he told me it was okay to open.
“What do you think?” he gruffed, still behind me. “I want your opinion.”
Honestly, I was still focused on his presence behind me. How he smelled so familiar, all heat and solid man. He remained that close, but I did open my eyes, and well, I was surprised.
My eyes adjusted to dim light, low-hanging light fixtures above. On that aged brick hung works of art, paintings.
And so many.
Countless pieces decorated the room, many spotlighted, which was why the actual room’s lights shined so dimly. Too much light would distract from the main pieces, and there were sculptures as well.
Mostly metal, they were displayed about the room and reminded me of pieces I’d seen before.
I cuffed my elbows. “It’s an art gallery,” I said, obvious. He was still behind me, and I faced him. “You’re showing me an art gallery?”
Curious indeed, Ramses with few words. In fact, his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his heels.
As if he was nervous.
Ramses wasn’t a nervous person. At least, never in front of me. He bumped his big shoulders. “What do you think of it? The place and the setup of everything, I mean.”
Well, it was nice, I suppose. I’d been in quite a few art galleries. I’d actually lived in Manhattan for a time with my ex. In fact, most of our marriage.
I wondered why Ramses wanted my opinion on this place now, but since I was curious, I played along. The place was stunning really, very modern and classy.
“It’s lovely,” I said, and he visibly sighed. I almost chuckled, but I’d promised him I wouldn’t laugh. “Why?”
“Well, I bought it,” he stated—he bought it, like that was obvious. He shrugged. “You’re the first to see it.”
I was?
And he’d bought an… art gallery?
I didn’t know why or, well, any of this, but Ramses broke the tension when he laughed. He scratched a finger behind his neck. “But you like it?”
“I do.” I shook my head with a smile. “But I thought you were working for your family.”
“I am. I do.” He put his hands out, stressing the fact. He pocketed them. “I suppose this is a passion project. I hope the first of many.”
I thought he’d expand on this, but before I knew it, he was taking my hands.
“Come on.” He backed up, guiding me in front of him. “I wanna show you the best part.”
The best part turned out to be in the back, a studio of sorts when Ramses flicked on the lights. In fact, it was a studio. Both what appeared to be finished and unfinished pieces were situated across the room. Many he had under tarps, but the ones he didn’t were all done in metal. He had power tools around and the materials used to create the works. Quite a few of them sat in various stages, and I realized how quiet it’d gotten since we came into this room.
“You’re making these.” He wasn’t just making them. He made them. I studied him. “Did you make everything out there…”
“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “I acquired most of the pieces on the main floor. I’m completely amateur, but yes, I made all this stuff in here. I dabble. Art’s my minor. Business, my major.”
This was more than dabbling. This was passion, and just like he’d stated out on the showroom.
I ventured toward one of his pieces, his style abstract. I knew a lot of people who’d buy work such as this. Hell, I’d bought work like this to decorate our brownstone in Manhattan. Of course, the purchases had been frivolous and the first to go in the divorce. I had money like that, so I spent it.
If I had these, though, what Ramses had made, I wouldn’t have sold any of it. “This isn’t amateur.”
“Go on.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, seriously go on. It’s all I can do not to freak that I’m actually showing you this.” His laughter was light as it hit the air, and I realized his cheeks were red. I’d never seen shy or vulnerable Ramses like this. It was completely flooring him that he was showing himself in this way.
And I liked it.
I didn’t know why, but I did. I guess I liked that he was showing me this part about himself. That I was the first he showed.
I studied the room a bit before he joined me at my side. “So, you’re going to sell your art here?”
“I’m going to feature it. The point of this place was to get into the game, though, and the only way my financial advisors didn’t completely look at me like I was crazy. My family does real estate and development. We have a few small businesses too, but nothing quite like this. This isn’t even in the same ball park.”
“So why did you do it?” Why did he show me he was doing it? Something like this seemed very special to him and basically confirmed what I’d seen at his place on campus. Ramses lived the secret life of an artist, and people like that, it wasn’t always easy to show that part of themselves.
“I suppose to prove that I could.” He faced me. “I have a tendency of not going toward the things that speak to me. I’m trying to not default to that. To take chances. At least more of them.”
“And the reason for the change of heart?” I asked the question upon a glance of the room, so bouncing back, my gaze collided with his. It stopped me in my tracks as it always had.
Even from day one.
The first day he’d stood in front of me in a suit, brave enough to challenge me to a dare. I won, and he’d leave me. He’d actually said that like the odds weren’t stacked in his favor. I think he’d known the probability of his chances to win.
He directed his gaze down on me from above, his jacket tight with his thick shoulders. He hadn’t come in with his coat on at all, bearing the cold and this man physically stunned in front of me. Without his hair, I could see his eyes, his soul, too, probably if I looked hard enough. He took a step forward, but before he could speak, I asked for the rest of the tour. He hadn’t shown it all.
We should see it all.
“Of course,” he said. I noticed he was slow to retreat. He struck off the lights behind me, leaving the room dark, then I followed his big frame through the rest of the place. I guess the studio was someplace he could work since he came to the city a lot. He explained his family also had properties out here too.