Page 12 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

He smiled back at her. “Now, let’s talk about your work.”

Feyi groaned. “Do we have to?”

Nasir’s face had lit up as soon as he’d switched the topic to art. “I wanna know! My dad’s a big collector; he’s actually the one who got me into it. Said it was never too early to start.”

“Oh, word? Who’re you into?”

The waiter came by with their plates, duck breast with risotto for Feyi and a glazed pork chop on a bed of veggies for Nasir, who twirled his steak knife as he thought about her question.

“I mean, definitely Kehinde Wiley.”

“Of course.” Feyi laughed. “I bet you’d like a wall-size painting of yourself reclining in velvet and silk.”

“Um, obviously. Hang that shit above my bed with a quickness.”

“That’s sexy right there.”

Nasir grinned at her, his eyes crinkling. “I like you,” he said. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding the question about your work.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask a question about my work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Touché. What do you make? Painting, sculpture, collage?”

“Eh.” Feyi cut into her duck, and a caper rolled to the edge of her plate, small and dark and green. It felt odd to be talking about her work on a date. She was used to keeping it in a whole separate world. “Little bit of everything.”

A stiff shirt splashed in dry brown, the jagged tears. A gold ring spinning. Another, then another, then another. It was better if it all stayed in that other world.

“You’ll see it one day,” she lied. “It’s always better to see the work than to hear about it.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied. “I’m still down to do that studio visit if you’re up for it.”

Feyi paused, startled. He wasn’t supposed to do that, keep following up like he meant it.

“How about next week?” he continued. “Where’s your studio?”

“Brooklyn,” she replied automatically. “Not far from my place.”

Nasir smiled. “It’s a date.”

Feyi’s smile mirrored his, even as her mind raced, trying to find somewhere else to shift things to. “Is your sister still in town?”

“Nah, she flew back to the islands a coupla days ago.”

“Oh, that’s home for y’all?”

“Yeah, my dad lives there. Runs a restaurant.”

“Nice. With your mom?”

Nasir paused and moved some veggies around on his plate. “Um, no. She died when I was a kid.”

Feyi stopped eating. “Oh.” So he knew death, too. “I’m so sorry, Nasir.”

He looked up and smiled. “It’s all good. It was a long time ago. What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re up in Cambridge. Professors. You know how Nigerians are.”

Nasir laughed as their waiter started to clear their plates. “Y’all overachievers are everywhere.”