What Happens in Miami... by Nadine Gonzalez

Author:Nadine Gonzalez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-04-12T14:03:21+00:00

Fourteen

Art Basel, closing night...

Someone ripped the banana straight off the wall, peeled it and gobbled it down to the great consternation of the crowd. There went the most photographed banana in the world. It was instantly proclaimed performance art.

Paloma sold YOLO to a young gay couple from Lisbon.

Justine was feeling well enough to attend the night’s big party, albeit with a foot in an orthopedic boot. Which meant Angel had the night off. As soon as she learned the news, she called Alessandro.

He answered on the second ring. “Tell me you were there when that guy ate the banana.”

“Ugh! I didn’t make it in time.” She’d heard the commotion, but Gallery Six’s viewing room was halfway across the convention center. “I got a picture of the duct tape on the wall. It’s posted on Instagram.”

“Good job,” he said. “So, what’s on the agenda tonight?”

“Nothing! I have the night off.”

“Angel...” he said in his teasing way. “Don’t play with my emotions.”

“I wouldn’t!”

She had made it to the break area: an indoor park complete with artificial trees and a spread of fake grass. She took a seat on a bench.

“I’m taking you out,” he said. “What would you like to do? Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

Angel turned the question in her mind. “There’s one thing.”

“What?”

“We’d have to move beyond Basel,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Only the top one percent of artists gets the chance to show here. For the rest, it’s every man for himself.”

“Or woman,” he said.

“No,” she said. “It’s even worse for women. Say nothing of the nonbinary! Nobody cares!”

“I care,” he said. “And I can’t go to another Basel party, I swear to God. I’m done. Let’s branch out. Want to go to Wynwood?”

She was always taken aback at how well he knew the city. She had half expected him to suggest Ocean Drive. “And Little Haiti. There’s an art scene there, too.”

“Just you, me and my driver,” he said. “Is that alright?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you sure you want to be out with someone as basic as me?”

She heard him snap to attention, or had he dropped the phone? “Why would you say that?”

“It was a joke,” she said. “Someone left a comment on an Instagram post and—”

“No me digas, Angel!” he said. “What are you doing reading comments?”

Increasingly, he broke out in Spanish. Angel wondered if this meant that he was more comfortable around her. She hoped that was the case, even though now he was clearly exasperated.

“It was right there. There was no missing it.”

“I pay someone to monitor social media,” he said. “It doesn’t look like I’m missing out on much. Who would call you basic? You’re so beautiful, half the time I can’t even look at you.”

Angel hadn’t been fishing for a compliment, but Lord, she’d caught Moby Dick. “It didn’t bother me, really. My self-esteem is rock solid.”

“Alright,” he said, although he didn’t sound convinced. “So...you, me and my driver. Sounds good?”

She rose from the bench.

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