Chapter 35
I had to leave so early for the aiport that I was a zombie during boarding and slept for most of the flight to Miami. But as I get into the car to take me to the hotel a blast of warm air engulfs me and it’s clear I’m not in New York City anymore. I put on my sunglasses and let the rays penetrate my face as I roll down the window to smell the distant sea air.
It’s been a week since I saw Finn at Thanksgiving. He flew down the day after the holiday to have some time with the artists he knows before the weekend kick-off for Art Week. We’ve had a few texts but nothing more.
Before the car is even out of the airport, I see that my mother has texted me at least a dozen times. It’s a small opera in alphanumeric. It starts with: Landed? And then: Where are you!!!??? Finally: OMG WHAT HAPPENED? I call her to make sure she doesn’t have a heart attack. ‘Hi, Mom. I’m fine. The plane didn’t crash.’
She doesn’t answer me. I can hear her put the phone to her bosom and say, ‘Kai, he’s fine. He’s not dead.’
‘Tell him not to give you such a scare,’ I hear Kai say in the background.
‘Is Finn with you?’ she asks, her voice full of mischief.
‘No, I told you he came down earlier.’
‘When will you see him? At the hotel? I wish you were sharing a room. I called the hotel to see if maybe they were overbooked and you two would have to squeeze into a single together.’ I should not have told her where we are staying.
‘Mom, this is not It Happened One Night ,’ I say, although I’d love to be in that movie. It’s one of my favorites. ‘For the millionth time, this is not a romantic weekend.’ I kept the fact that Finn would be down here at the same time a secret for as long as I could, but the truth came out forty-eight hours before my flight. ‘This is a work event,’ I say but I’m sure she’s not listening.
‘Did you bring enough sunblock? You’re so pale I’m worried the gamma rays will go right through you. I slid some extra Pepto tablets into your carry-on when you came down with your luggage this morning. The liquid is better, but sometimes the chewables are more convenient. Also, some condoms because you never know. I got the big ones. For Finn, of course, not for you. I got you the regular ones but I didn’t get ribbed because—’
‘Mom, you know the rules. Any references to my penis or anyone else’s, and I hang up. Goodbye,’ I say, and as I put the phone back in my pocket, I notice the driver looking at me suspiciously in the rearview mirror. I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s overheard someone in his car talking about penis size, although less likely that the person was talking to their mother.
After a few minutes of highways and palm trees, we zoom past the high-rises of downtown Miami and across the intercoastal to Miami Beach. New York is a vintage black-and-white photo but Miami is a dayglow pinball machine. Each Art Deco building is more stunning than the next, with pastel embellishments and geometric windows that make them look like ocean liners from another century. We pull up to The Lafayette, a bright yellow-and-pink building across from the beach where massive white tents for Art Week are already set up.
A front desk clerk with way more muscles than a front desk clerk needs checks me in and chats me up in a way that simply does not happen in New York. ‘Enjoy your stay,’ he finally says and hands me my key card. ‘You’re in 403.’
‘Look at that. We’re neighbors,’ I hear and don’t have to turn around to see who it is. ‘I’m in 405.’
‘Finn. Hello,’ I say. He’s wearing bright neon green sunglasses to hold back his hair, cut-off shorts and a tank top. I haven’t seen this much of his body before. He’s only been here a few days but his skin is already bronzed to perfection.
He looks at what I’m wearing and frowns. ‘No, no, no. This will not do. You’re in Miami. Enough with these heavy jeans and your coat. Get on some trunks and flip-flops and meet me at the pool bar.’
‘Thanks, Finn, but I just landed. I should catch up on some emails and maybe take a nap before I…’ It’s a nice offer but I want to keep this purely professional. ‘Art Week starts tomorrow, and the gallery booth will be open in the afternoon. I want to proofread the catalog again. We have press events in the morning,’ I say, and then I open the side pocket of my bag where I packed a printout of the schedule for the weekend the night before. I zip open the pocket without looking and pull out the schedule, but when I do I realize the pocket is fuller than I remember. I yank out the paper and over a dozen condoms that fall to the floor.
‘Whoa. Buddy, slow down. Didn’t know you were going so hardcore this weekend,’ Finn says as we both bend down to pick them up so the hotel guests don’t trip over them.
‘These are not mine,’ I say. ‘My mother put them in here.’
‘Sure, she did,’ he says teasing me. He holds up one of the XXXL ones.
‘Those aren’t for me. Those are for you,’ I say, flustered and remembering my conversation with her in the car.
‘Excuse me?’ A devilish grin crosses his lips.
‘I mean she packed them for me – I mean for you – I mean—’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ he says as we both stand. ‘You go up and change and meet me at the pool. And I won’t spend the weekend making you explain why you have enough condoms for all of Provincetown during Bear Week in your carry-on, deal?’
‘Fine,’ I say and head up to my room to change.
Thirty minutes later, I’m staring at myself in the mirror of the elevator wishing I had thought about a tanning salon or maybe a bronzer before I left. I’m not just pale, I’m almost translucent. I’m gripping a printout of the events for the weekend, hoping I can use the schedule to emphasize the fact that this is a business trip.
The pool at The Lafayette is a small kidney-shaped puddle of glittering aqua tiles surrounded by a jungle of lush tropical plants and a sea of gorgeous people. They recline on loungers, sip cocktails at the bar and push their sunglasses down their noses so they can check out the people who are checking them out. My immediate reaction is to want to flee to my room, hide under the covers, watch an episode of The Golden Girls , and wait for work to begin.
Unfortunately, before I can make my escape Finn spots me and waves. He’s changed into a square-cut Lycra swimsuit in sea-foam green. Whatever was left to the imagination seeing him in a tank top in the lobby has now evaporated. I can’t help staring. I hate to admit it, but my mother was right about the condom sizing.
I clutch the papers in my hand tightly, reminding myself that I’m here for a work event as I walk over to him at the bar.
‘Sam, you made it.’ He kisses me on both cheeks. It’s a friendly greeting and not uncommon, but still having his lips anywhere near my face when he’s so naked is not a good idea. I wonder if I will need to adjust my trunks.
‘Just wanted to go over some of the details for tomorrow.’
‘That’s tomorrow. Right, now I want you to meet Luis.’ He points to a table under an umbrella on the far side of the pool. ‘Do you want a margarita or a mojito?’
I notice a server carrying a tray with glasses of fizzy clear liquid and green leaves floating on top, so I order a mojito and take a big sip before I follow Finn over to the table.
‘Luis, this is Sam. The writer in New York I told you about.’
His intro is false advertising at best but I smile and extend my hand to Luis, who is a bit younger than my mom with a thick black beard that covers his neck, covered in faded but still beautiful mermaid and octopus tattoos.
‘So nice to meet you.’ I’m expecting a handshake but he gives me a big hug so I hug him back. I step out of the hug and Luis nods his head toward Finn. ‘This one says you are something else.’ I immediately see Finn shoot him a look.
‘Does he?’ I ask. I’m so used to being on alert with my mother around back in New York, I’m enjoying Finn being the one on the back foot for a change. I take a sip of my drink and the mint leaves tickle my nose. I can feel the rum starting a gentle buzz and I let the pulsating music flow over me. The three of us hang out by the pool talking about Art Week some, but also movies, music and where to get the best fried catfish in Dade County. I begin to feel some of my overall stress melt. I offer to get the next round of drinks and head up to the bar. When I return, Luis asks Finn, ‘You’ll be at Art Barn this spring?’ Finn nods as I hand him his drink. ‘The board bought the property next to the studios on the hill so there’ll be a lot more people. I think it’ll be stimulating.’ Luis strokes his beard and takes a sip of his beer. I sit back down under the umbrella.
Finn turns to me and says, ‘You should go.’
‘That’s the artists’ retreat upstate, right?’ I remember him mentioning it that day at Brands but one and a half mojitos in, everything is a bit fuzzy. ‘Sure, I could do a day trip to visit you up there. I’m sure your gallery would love the coverage.’
‘No, not to visit. You should come up and do a residency,’ Finn says, swirling his drink with the swivel stick and grinning at me.
‘You should,’ Luis says nodding. ‘Too many visual artists complaining about the light and needing enormous rooms for their canvases.’ He points at Finn who pretends he has no idea what he’s talking about. ‘We need more writers.’ Luis looks at me. ‘They’re so easy up there. They only need a room and a place to be.’
‘I think Luis forgot to mention that he’s on the board,’ Finn adds.
‘Actually, I’m the chair,’ he says sticking his chest out in pretend formality. ‘But Finn is very involved in the organization, too. He’s on the artist advisory panel. I’ll introduce you to Beverly. She works with the writers.’
Finn nods and puts his hand on my back. I hear Luis’ words in my head again – a room and a place to be. Usually, a conversation like this makes me want to run away. I can’t tell if it’s the sunshine, the music, the mojitos, or the fact that Finn has his hand touching me, but at this moment, I don’t want to go anywhere.