4. Tomorrow
A Night to Remember . . .
I knew from the second that Kyro mentioned that he wanted to go out that I would.
Hell, if he didn’t ask, I might have. My personality wasn’t shy or scary.
If I wanted something, I did what I had to do to get it.
When you’d lived the life that I did, then you knew that there was no time for bashfulness when it came to what you wanted. Closed mouths didn’t get fed.
When it came to relationships, I had the same mindset.
I wanted what I wanted, and I wasn’t shy when it came time to admit it.
I was particular about the men that I entertained.
Just like men loved to say, . . . I knew the men that were only worth the dick and those that were worth more. Kyro was worth more.
The conversations that we had during my tattoo session and after confirmed that he was.
Our conversations weren’t forced. They flowed organically.
There were days that I would text him in the middle of the day just to tell him something interesting that happened.
He always responded. If he were in the middle of a tattoo, he would send me a voice note since he could do that without touching his phone.
Oh, and the lunch pop-ups at my center had me all warm and cozy inside. Kyro knew all the right moves and things to say that would burst my heart. I prayed it wasn’t an act, because I wanted to act a fool on his dick later.
A few days ago, I asked him what he had planned for this date. He refused to tell me. I was annoyed at first because, yes, I was nosy. Now that we were here, I was so happy that he didn’t. The surprise was well worth it.
Break The Fourth Wall Art Gallery was one of the most prominent Black-owned galleries in the city.
Outside of a few galleries in Atlanta, this one was the one.
The artists whose work hung on the walls or sculptures throughout the gallery were artists who I admired.
Some I even idolized. This was my first time in the gallery, and I felt so privileged to be here.
The fact that Kyro made it happen locked in the decision that I planned to get that dick.
On the back wall of the gallery, there was a mural that took my breath away.
Under the name of the gallery the mural depicted a brick wall that was being knocked down by sledgehammers.
Black men, women, and children banged at the wall.
On the other side of the broken wall, it appeared to be a utopia of black love.
I wanted to touch the breathtaking mural, but I knew better.
When my eyes scanned the mural to find the artist, I wasn’t surprised to see Danielle Goings. God, she’s so fucking phenomenal!
“Mr. Goings, Miss Bennett, dinner is ready to be served,” Amanda announced as we looked at a painting that was on the top level of the gallery. “While you two eat dinner, I will check with the owner about the new painting.”
The galvanized energy that coursed through my body was noticeable by the little shimmy that I did. It pulled a laugh from Amanda and Kyro. To know that we could be the first to see a piece before its public reveal was a big damn deal.
It was one thing to visit an art gallery. It was completely different to have dinner in one. It had to be understood that most, if not all, art galleries didn’t even allow you to bring food or drinks in them. Somehow, Kyro convinced these folks to let us have a full dinner.
He pulled my chair out like the gentleman that he was. The dinner table was set up in front of the beautiful mural on the back wall. “How are you liking the night so far?” Kyro asked once we were settled in our seats.
“This is the best date ever. I can’t believe I’m here.” I took a sip of my drink. “Sir, you are definitely getting a passionate kiss tonight.”
His head bucked back a little. “Damn, well I’m a man that likes to eat the frog first.” He stood from his seat, walked over to me, then stood at my side. “Why don’t we just get that first kiss out of the way.”
He used his finger under my chin to tilt my head up.
I let his lips connect with mine after he leaned down.
I took it upon myself to deepen the kiss when my tongue slipped into his mouth.
A moan slipped from my lips involuntarily before I pulled back from the kiss.
I needed to stop before I got taken down on top of this table. That man there can kiss!
Just as he sat back down, a server came out with two glasses in his hand.
There was already water and chilled wine on the table.
“Good evening. Tonight, we are going to start you with a small palette cleaner. Here we have what we call The First Brushstroke. It is chilled cucumber, watermelon, and mint granita served in a frosted coupe glass with a delicate edible orchid.”
He set the glasses in front of us. I took it all in and loved it. The colors in the glass were so vibrant. The color of the edible orchid and the mint leaves offset the color of whatever was underneath. I assumed it was the watermelon, cucumber part of the dish.
The server left after he set the glasses down. I picked up the spoon, dug it shallowly into the glass, then lifted some onto the spoon. I smelled it before I placed it into my mouth. It tastes so good! My eyes were closed as I savored the flavor profile.
“You like it, love?” Kyro’s question knocked me out of my mind. He was so handsome.
“It tastes amazing. Kyro, was the name of the dish your idea . . . The First Brushstroke?” If this was the themed road that he wanted us to travel down, then it would end with a pot of gold.
He finally tasted the palette cleanser himself. After his mouth was empty, he spoke. “That is good. Um, the dish were my idea, but I ran them by my auntie and the caterer. I didn’t want to just bring you to dinner. I wanted to bring you to an experience.”
“Well, this is definitely an experience. I really appreciate it. You are speaking to my artistic heart. I love that you can find the art in life.” That was a hard thing to do for a lot of people, even artistic ones.
We talked about the palette cleanser and other things until the server came out to clear the table for the first course. It felt like I sat on pins and needles as we waited. I had never been this excited on a date. Add that I loved to eat good food, I was in heaven.
“I know you’re going to like this next one,” Kyro said with a smile. During our phone and video conversations, he asked a lot about what I liked to eat. Now I got it.
The server came out again with a smile and two plates. “Ma’am and sir, your first course, Negative Space, is an appetizing blue crab, lump crab cake, lemon aioli with charred corn succotash and finished with pickled watermelon radish and fresh herbs.”
My eyes moved between the plate that the server set in front of us and Kyro. “It’s like edible art. I almost don’t want to eat it.”
“Girl, you better eat that crab cake. I paid good money for that blue crab,” he said with a titter.
I giggled. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to eat it. I’m about to tear this up! It smells so good. Extra points for the crab cake since you know that I love crabs.”
The crab cake was as good as it smelled. It was seasoned perfectly, and you could tell the herbs and spices were fresh. So much pussy! I am going to give him so much pussy.
At this rate, I would be full before the main course.
Who was I kidding? I could eat a whole crab boil and would still want dessert.
We talked about the art around us as we enjoyed the first course.
About ten minutes after it was brought out, a different server came out to clear the table and refresh our drinks.
Kyro leaned forward on the table. “I need to sketch you so that I can hang you on my wall. Beauty like yours needs to be captured in every way.”
I leaned forward to match his energy. “I’ll let you sketch me if you let me sketch you. That sounds like a fair trade.”
“Yeah, that’s the shit I love to hear. We can do that,” he said with vigor. His hand reached across the table and grabbed mine.
Our stare was intense. We had a conversation with our eyes; no words needed to be uttered. The smell of brown sugar invaded my senses and pulled me back to the date at hand. The server’s eyes were bright as if he carried the bell of the ball in his hands.
“Mr. Goings, based on the flavor profiles that you sent over for each of you, our chef thought that it was best to create separate masterpieces for each of you. You also mentioned that you two will more than likely share.”
He chuckled quietly. More than likely, he saw my reaction to the whole share nonsense. I was not a fan of sharing food, especially if it was good food. This is our first date, so I guess I can share . . . maybe.
He continued once he got himself together.
“Mr. Goings, for your masterpiece . . .” He lowered the plate in front of him.
“You have two herb-crusted filet medallions. They are accompanied by a cloud of whipped garlic mashed potatoes. The charred asparagus is graciously spread across the plate as intentional as brushstrokes on a Tomorrow Bennett’s piece. ”
Again, he paused. My cheeks warmed and my ear tilted toward my shoulder. He knew who I was. When my attention connected with Kyro, he smiled with a wink.
“The glossy red wine reduction adds the added flavor that enhances the dish to perfection,” the server concluded.
I stared at Kyro’s plate. Maybe sharing isn’t such a bad idea. I surely planned to ask for a piece of that steak.