“I prefer lord savior, but Jesus is fine,” he said with no trace of humor.
“Ha ha. Why are we up so early?”
“I’m taking you somewhere special before I have to meet with the label.”
“Where, where? Tell me. I hate surprises.”
“Not telling, but I’ll give you hint… Irises.”
I jumped out of bed. “We’re going to the Getty?”
He hugged me from behind and trailed kisses up my neck. “Or we could stay in bed all morning?” It was a tempting offer…
The Getty Museum is a palatial spread that sits atop a massive hill overlooking the 405 Freeway in Los Angeles. When you arrive in the parking lot at the bottom, people in white shirts usher you onto a white tram that zigzags up to the top of the hill. It reminded me of the movie Defending Your Life where Meryl Streep and Albert Brooks ride a white tram to heaven. I pretended that Will was my angel and that he was going to give me a guided tour. Inside the museum all the dead artists would stand next to their works to answer my questions, except their answers would be void of any artist narcissism. I would ask Van Gogh why there is one white flower in Irises and he might say something like he ran out of blue paint. Will caught me spacing out.
“Penny for your thoughts, kitten.”
“Meow.”
“That’s it? I thought you were deep,” he said, shaking his head with mock-disappointment.
“Is that song about me?”
“Which one?”
“’Lost on You.’”
“Not anymore.” He kissed me and then pulled me toward the Man Ray exhibit.
We stared at Le Violon d’Ingres for ten minutes. It’s a photograph of f-holes superimposed on a woman named Kiki’s naked back; her arms are folded in front so that you can’t see them in the photo. The armless shape of her body is that of a violin and it’s hard not to consider for a moment that Man Ray liked to play with Kiki in the same way. I pondered whether or not the photo was an example of female objectification or if it was simply admiration of the female form. “I totally get that,” Will said. There was my answer.
We moved from exhibit to exhibit, agreeing on everything. It was refreshing and a far cry from my time with Robert or visiting the Guggenheim with my mother. It was like we saw everything through the same lens.
Back at the hotel, Will said he thought the meeting would be boring. “Why don’t you just stay here and relax? I have to finish up the studio stuff anyway.”
“So you’ve made up your mind?”
“Yes. It was an easy decision.” His gaze moved to my lips.
“Did you think there would be a better deal out there from another label?”
“No, there’s not going to be another deal.” He kissed my nose. “I’ll see you later, sweet thing.”
After he left, I took a walk on the beach and found myself wandering into the boutique shops located off the boardwalk. I found a store with European lingerie, really beautiful, elegant, lacy pieces. I was more of a T-shirt kinda girl, but I thought it would be nice to give Will a treat, so I picked up a delicate black satin and lace camisole set. Back at the hotel, I took a long bath in the oversized tub. I thought about Will signing the paperwork, being a bona fide professional musician, not that he wasn’t already, but the world was going to know his amazing talent and for the first time, I was genuinely excited for him. I was with a man whose dreams were coming true and I would get to be right by his side through it all. I sat on the veranda looking out at the ocean, savoring the peace I felt for what seemed like hours. Seven turned into ten and when he still wasn’t back, I decided to lie down. I dozed off to the sublime sound of the waves crashing against the beach.
I was startled awake and glanced at the clock; it was two a.m. The bright moonlight shone through the wall of windows that looked out onto the ocean. My eyes darted around the room until I saw Will, who looked to be asleep in the chair next to the bed. He was shirtless but still wearing the jeans and boots. His head was resting on the back of the chair, his legs were spread, and he was slouching. His hand sat on the arm, clutching a highball glass with brown liquid—whiskey I assumed. His face was completely shadowed so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I thought he was sleeping because he didn’t make a sound or movement and his posture was thoroughly relaxed. I sat up and kicked my legs over the side of the bed, then pushed my thick mane of hair away from my face. I took a breath looked down at my lacy, satin piece and thought Oh well, there’s always next time.