“That sounds incredible. Maybe I’ll come with you.”
As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. First, because they assumed an intimacy that she didn’t mean to imply. And second, because even though she wasn’t from the States, she knew a Black man and a white woman wouldn’t get far in the South before running into trouble.
“I think we both know that’s not possible,” said Joshua quietly.
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Back in London, her father’s mates would gather on weekends to watch West Ham United on the telly, and make all sorts of nasty comments about John Charles, the football team’s first Black player. While her father hadn’t added to the racist vitriol, he hadn’t put a stop to it, either. “But maybe one day it will be.”
“That day is a long way away. In any event, I appreciate the offer.”
She’d been wanting to say something to him since they’d first found each other, and now there was finally an opening. She took a breath. “I’m sorry about the way Barnaby treated you, when you first appeared.”
“You mean mistaking me for the janitor? Not the first time it’s happened. The first day of my Intro to Art History class, the professor asked if I was in the wrong room. As if a Black person studying art wouldn’t even cross his mind.”
“That’s awful.”
“I agree. And one day I will mount a show of Black artists that will make them reconsider everything, I can promise you that.” His confidence in his abilities impressed Veronica to no end. Here was a man who was unafraid of asking for what he wanted out of life.
“Now can I ask you a question?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Two questions, actually. Did you always want to be a model? And what’s with your hair?”
She let out a laugh. “My hair was a terrible mistake that launched a fiery but brief modeling career.”
“I like the way it swings.”
“Thanks. And to answer your other question, no, I didn’t plan on modeling at all.”
A gust of wind rattled the window. With a loud bang, it swung open, the snow and wind penetrating the room in a flood of cold. They both ran to it, but Joshua got there first and secured the latch.
“Do you think that set off the alarm?” she asked, shivering in the remaining draft.
“It’s only for the ground floor. Too bad we don’t have a ladder.” He placed an index finger on the pane of glass. “He heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end.”
“Upon all the living and the dead,” she answered.
He looked at her in surprise. “You know James Joyce?”
“Sure, like I’ve told you, models can read.”
“So you’re not just a pretty face.”
The way he stared, as if she were some exotic species of bird or something, made her blush. She’d had a couple of boyfriends in London, but no one serious, just boys who took her to dances or to the pub for a drink. She still lived with her parents, as did all of the boys she still knew from school—the few who had left to go to university rarely came back. “I suppose not. My guess is we’re both often underestimated.”
“Probably right.”
“What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?” she asked.
“I’d like to go to Columbia for my master’s degree, but since my father works at Brooklyn College, that makes better economic sense. Also, he’ll be able to keep an eye on me, make sure I’m living up to my potential.”
She thought of the diamond. How that might solve both of their problems. “Is Columbia expensive?”
“Very.”
She was tempted to pull out the diamond again, show him, but before she could do so, he changed the subject.
“What will you do, once we’re freed?” he asked.
“Head to the airport and fly home. Ignore my agent’s calls berating me for my bad behavior.”
“What if money was no object?” asked Joshua. “What then?”
It was almost as if he knew what she’d done. “I don’t know,” she said airily. “Never really thought about it.”
“Would you go to college?”
“In England, there’s one track for those who go to university and another for those who have to go out and get jobs. After my father’s death, I was placed on the latter track.”
“The fact that you use words like latter makes me think you should have remained on the first track. To be honest, I’m jealous. Sometimes, the pressure from my parents to make them proud makes me want to do what you did at the photo shoot. Stand up to authority and blow it all up.”