“Can’t have that, now can we?”
She delivered a shy smile. “Well, Darrius, I suppose not.”
He got her drift, smiled and turned to the Koshari clown painting he had singled out. The black and white clown, wearing only a breechcloth and a funny matching hat with tassels, had been painted against a bluish-gray background. He held a watermelon half in his hands, and one foot was raised in a dance movement. A funny smile was on his highly decorated face. “This is one of my best pieces; it was modeled after my brother during one of his dances.”
Justine studied the painting, admiring the muscle tone of the dancer. She lightly touched the raised oil paint strokes. “It’s beautiful. How much?”
“This one’s five thousand, but I can sell it to you for three point five. Here’s another one on the back wall. It’s more expensive, though, close to seven thousand dollars.”
Justine knew instantly why the price was higher; turquoise and other precious stones embedded in the oil paint. Blocks of jet were mixed in with the black paint on sections of the dancer’s legs, arms and chest. They shone against the paint, making it look almost surreal. “Wow, this is gorgeous!” she exclaimed.
Justine went from painting to painting of the Koshari. Darrius loved her enthusiasm, loved how her expression changed from happy to almost ecstatic just from the sight of a dancing trickster. Mostly, he was intrigued by her beauty, her questions, her desire to know a culture so different from her own. He couldn’t recall when he’d seen a woman who made a faded pair of jeans, a dusty orange-and-blue peasant blouse, hobo bag and backpack look mind-blowingly sexy. She filled out everything in provocative, desert-heat ways. And he loved it. The thickness in his groin was a sign that it was time to move on and show her other things, because he, too, had to remember he was done with relationships. Explaining more merchandise from his collection would divert attention from a female body he’d love to stroke.
“I have Koshari clowns carved of the highest quality cottonwood.”
“Where?” Her excitement overflowed at the sight of seeing so many beautiful things in one store. And that included the owner. She could see Darrius Red Sky dancing nude in black and white paint, his shiny black hair whipping fiercely across his face, carrying her to an erotic high. She wondered if he ever danced, but she hadn’t the nerve to ask. She wasn’t supposed to like him, anyway, yet the cards were tumbling in his direction.
Darrius walked her to a corner of the same room to a set displaying the funny clowns, handing her one. “This one is by an exceptional carver, Frederic K. I love his detail. Feel how light the wood is. He uses real fur on his pieces.”
Their hands touched again, and erotic images invaded Justine’s mind: she saw him dancing with just a breechcloth covering the juice and girth of everything she knew he had. She took the clown, checked it out, and then handed it back to him. “I like it,” she said simply.
“I have cheaper ones.” He handed her another beautiful clown, which cost sixty dollars.
Her smile lit his world. It was apparent she liked the smaller cottonwood Koshari with suede and leather accents. “You like him, huh?”
“Yeah! He kind of reminds me of you in some way. I need a memento of my visit here other than my photographs and this bracelet.” Right! As if you won’t have images of Darrius embedded in the deepest recesses of your mind for the rest of your life!
Darrius cradled the doll in his hand. “You’ll be back, won’t you—just to look around, I mean?”
“Love to, but what I have on tap for today will take all day, believe me.”
“I mean back to New Mexico.”
“Every chance I get. What I’ve seen so far is…miraculous.”
“Good then. What is planned for today?”
“I don’t have a hotel room yet, Mr. Red Sky.”
“Call me Darrius.”
“Good, I will. Anyway, my train was late from Albuquerque, where I had been helping with the mission schools.”
“You did that? You’ve really been a busy girl. Was it for the article?”
“Partly. I love children, though. I love showing them new things, bringing them into another world other than the limited ones they’re accustomed to in certain low-income areas. I even gave a photography lesson or two. At home, I volunteer in very impoverished areas. Those children deserve chances to see another side of life, too. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course.” Darrius smiled approvingly. A woman who loved children had to have a heart of gold. Yes, Justine Roberts-Paretti was definitely an enigma, and he was beginning to like her more and more with each passing minute. “We have mission schools in the area if you have time on your hands to help out more children.”
“That would be great if I can find the time. Anyway, the Super-8 gave my room away when I called to tell them my train was late. When I arrived in Gallup, I rented a car, had something to eat and then came to see your store.”
“I’m flattered you think so much of the place.”
“Right. The store.” What is it about this man that makes me act like such a fool?
Darrius got the hint, and it made him feel good. “I’ve got an idea. A friend of mine is the manager of the Best Western Red Rock. They may have something, like suites or something. This ceremonial really packs people in, and they take the less expensive rooms very quickly. José’s been known to pull strings before.”
“I sure hope so. Sleeping on the streets wouldn’t exactly be the highlight of my trip.”
“I’d let you sleep here before letting that happen. It’s down the street from Red Rock State Park, where most of the ceremonial events will take place. Easy access, so let’s try it.”
“That would be great.”
“Just let me get Bob to watch the counter and then we can go.”
“You could call the hotel instead of leaving your store. I’m sure you have other things to do besides taking some silly girl to a hotel.” That didn’t exactly come out right.
“That sounds like a good idea, but no, let me take you and introduce you to José. Besides, there are only a few minutes before closing time. I won’t start my ceremonial store hours until Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“Ceremonial hours?”
“Staying open later due to the Intertribal Ceremonial.”
“Oh, I see.” She pointed to the doll. “I have to pay for him.”
“Right.”
They walked back into the main showroom and to the register; Darrius rang up the Koshari purchase and handed her the bag.
