Manhattan Dreaming (13 page)

I loved Century 21 the minute I walked in the doors. It was so much better than DFO and the Canberra Centre and I didn't know where to begin. I looked in awe at all the designer handbags and wallets and glasses and make-up. Everything was discounted. With the Australian dollar around ninety-five cents it was easy to calculate the exchange in my head. I felt like I'd died and gone to shopping heaven, and I couldn't wait to email Libby about it. I was choking with the excitement of it all.

I headed up a floor and there was hosiery and hats and designer dresses, skirts, pants, tops, jeans, jackets, underwear and swimwear. It was packed with tourists with different accents comparing the prices in their home countries. But some of the women rummaging through rack after rack of discounted items were no doubt locals, also seeking that great sale. I did a lap of the floor before getting serious about looking for a dress. It helped that some racks were arranged by size, and then others by label. I picked up a few pairs of jeans but put them back because a dress for the opening was what I needed urgently. I found myself a black silk Calvin Klein dress with sequins on the neckline. It was classy and elegant, but not overdone. It would be perfect for the opening and any others that were coming up at the Smithsonian. I also grabbed a black suit for meetings and two tops for the gym. I wanted to get more but the change rooms were a chore and I was too claustrophobic to go back for seconds. My Lonely Planet guide had said the store was the worst-kept secret in New York, and it surely was.

‘Nervous?' I asked Tony as we left the hotel for the UN and the opening of his exhibition.

‘Nah, sis, it's all about me – I'm cool. You look hot.'

‘Thanks. I got it at Century 21 – it's great for shopping.' I sensed that Tony wasn't that interested in the dress as he touched the silk slip against my thigh.

‘Silk, on sale,' I said, stepping away obviously. I didn't want him to touch me, not like that. He was a client.

‘We're going out tonight, sis, right?'

‘We'll see. I'm still recovering from last night. I've got a whole twelve months here, remember? I can't be wearing myself out in the first week.'

‘Don't go soft on me, sis, you promised.'

I handed my passport to the security guard as I entered the grounds of the UN and we were met by our guide from the Australian consulate. The crowd was already strong – chatting, drinking Australian wine and champagne, exchanging business cards and viewing the exhibition. There was a lot of interest in the earthy-coloured lino-cuts telling stories of Tony's country back home. There were red dots on more than half the prints, indicating they had been sold, even though it wasn't meant to be a selling exhibit.

I found the bar, picked up a mineral water and looked around the massive foyer, straining my neck to see if I could find Kirsten. I spotted her in the middle of a group, where she kept everyone enthralled with an animated face and hand gestures. She wore a red jersey dress that showed off her lean figure. Her long black hair went down the length of her back to her bum and she had a red flower pinned behind her left ear, matching her dress and matt lipstick. I admired her style, which looked effortlessly glamorous. I walked slowly towards the group, listening to her voice get louder the closer I got. I hovered, waiting patiently for an opportunity to introduce myself. A waiter came by to offer people a choice of drinks from his tray and I cut in.

‘Kirsten?' I smiled, extending my hand, ‘I'm –'

‘Lauren.' She grabbed me and hugged me like I was a long-lost relative coming home to the fold. ‘It's so good to meet you finally. I'm so sorry I haven't called the hotel – I was going to drop in but I've been working flat-out and finishing too late. Come let me introduce you to some people.' Kirsten talked fast.

For the next thirty minutes before the speeches began Kirsten swept me across the room, introducing me to ambassadors and journalists, Aussie expats, local artists and consulate staff.

‘And Lauren, this is Maria – your new boss – from the National Museum of the American Indian. I think you might know each other, yes?' Kirsten smiled.

Maria had short dyed red hair, green eyes and olive skin and looked very professional in a navy suit. Her plump face forced out any wrinkles she may have had and so I couldn't gauge her age.

‘Oh, it's great to meet you! Your email said you couldn't come tonight.'

‘Our meeting in Maryland finished early. It was a rush, but we're here.'

‘I'm really glad we got to meet before I start work on Monday.'

Maria kissed my cheek, and waved someone over. ‘I'll introduce you to Wyatt – you'll be working with him on the main exhibits and he'll show you around the NMAI on Monday.'

A dark guy with a huge white smile sauntered towards us. He wore black jeans and a black jacket, but underneath I could see a T-shirt with a purple and white flag on it. He had pointed boots and he looked like the city-styled cowboy.

‘Wyatt, this is Lauren, from Australia.'

Wyatt shook my hand gently but firmly. ‘Hey, it's awesome you're here. I'm looking forward to working with you. I checked out the NAG website – you guys have a lot of great stuff going on.'

‘Thanks, I can't wait to get to the museum on Monday too. I've got part of an exhibit already mapped out that I want to talk through with you …'

‘Okay, you two, talk shop later. Right now, go check out Tony's exhibition,' Maria said, waving us away.

Wyatt and I walked through the exhibition together.

‘I'm Mohawk, and so is Maria,' Wyatt said. ‘Actually, there's quite a few Mohawks in New York, and much of the city was built by the labour of Mohawk iron workers.'

‘Why Mohawks?'

‘There's two communities of Mohawks not far from here. Akwesasne straddles Ontario, Quebec and New York State, so it makes sense to travel here for work, just like other workers come to New York. The other community is Kahnawake near Montreal, and that's a six-hour drive, and so lots of men would come and work the week and go home on weekends.'

‘Is that your flag?' I asked, pointing to his T-shirt.

‘This is the flag of the Iroquois Confederacy.' He ushered me forward as he talked. ‘It's made up of the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca and Tuscarora nations. As a group we're also known as Six Nations. We're pretty much the nations of upstate New York.'

‘The Haudenosaunee,' I said eagerly.

‘That's right, how'd you know?'

‘I Googled the traditional owners to pay respects when I speak. It all makes sense now.'

I was enjoying the history lesson as we walked through the exhibition. And there was no break in the conversation – as soon as Wyatt stopped, I started. As we looked at the art we talked constantly. I explained some of the nuances of Aboriginal art and the different regions and reasons for art; from the Papunya Tula artists to the aesthetics of Arnhem Land right through to contemporary urban ‘Blak' art, including photography and installation art, which I was particularly interested in.

I liked Wyatt immediately – he was down to earth, smart, funny and well dressed, and he was a good sort. I felt at ease with him straight away. Libby had taught me about ‘gaydar' since her last boyfriend, Paul, dumped her for a man. She said I should watch out for men wearing a ring on their right middle finger, and that gay men were nearly
always
better dressed and groomed than straight men. She also said that a man will make a sleazy or flirtatious come-on to you in the first few minutes if he is straight, even if he's married. Wyatt had the ring, was very well presented and hadn't flirted with me at all, so I assumed he must be gay and knew that I was ‘safe' around him.

We emerged from the exhibition when the speeches began. I listened carefully to the opening words of the guest speakers, to see what level of respect was paid to the Indigenous people of New York City. I expected to hear an acknowledgement of country like we did back home, but there was no mention of the Haudenosaunee at all.

Tony walked up to us after the speeches and I introduced him to Wyatt. They did the brotherhood handshake, but Tony turned straight to me.

‘So, we going out, sis? You promised, eh?' he said, looking no more the worse for wear after last night.

Before I had a chance to respond, Kirsten appeared and started organising everyone, just like Libby did back home. ‘Okay, you mob, you're all coming to the Manchester for a couple of drinks and some music.' I knew straight away that Kirsten and I would get on well.

I was happy to be going somewhere close to my hotel, but I smiled, knowing Libby would've cringed at the thought of going to an English pub. ‘I'm not drinking the coloniser's brew,' she would've said.

As it turned out, the Manchester was really an English pub with an identity crisis, with American rock songs playing on the jukebox when we arrived, then an Irish singer taking to the stage, and a bar full of people from across the globe, including a handful of Aboriginal Australians. It really was a United Nations kind of venue, but compared to the places I went in Canberra it wasn't very fancy or flash, and nowhere near as big.

‘This is where we come after all our major meetings,' Kirsten bellowed across the noise. ‘All the Blackfellas from home drink here and other Indij people come here too, because it's pretty friendly most of the time.'

Friendly it was. I stood at the bar and got talking to Cooper, a local who lived in Trump Towers.

‘Here, have a seat.' He pulled out a stool for me.

‘Thanks heaps. My feet are killing me from walking in these heels and standing for hours at an exhibition tonight.' I sat, grateful to take the weight off my feet.

‘What brings you here?'

‘To New York or the pub?'

‘Both.'

‘Well, I've just been to an exhibition tonight and everyone wanted to come here, so I was dragged in with the tide, but long-term I'm working as a curator at the NMAI at the Smithsonian.' I was already tired of saying the whole name and I hadn't even started work yet.

‘Let me buy you a drink. You look like a cosmopolitan kind of girl.'

Not really being a drinker I'd never had a cosmopolitan, but I didn't want to sound like the country bumpkin, so I just said, ‘Actually, I prefer a mojito.'

‘Oooh, mojito. You're my kinda girl.' And he started to rub my thigh. I panicked, not wanting to make a scene in front of one of my artists and my new flatmate, only a few metres away. While Cooper tried to get the barman's attention, his hand still on my knee, I looked desperately around the room, and before I knew it Wyatt was next to me. I pulled a face and mouthed the words ‘Help me' and he put his arm around me. ‘Lauren, everyone's waiting for you at the table.'

I smiled at him, thankful, hoping I didn't also look pathetic.

‘Right, of course, I'll be right there.' And he walked off.

I turned to Cooper. ‘Thanks for the offer of a drink, but I really need to get back to the group.'

‘Are you with
him
?' Cooper said in disbelief.

‘Yes,' I said, not clarifying that I was with Wyatt for work.

‘Really? He looks …'

‘He looks what?'

‘Like a really nice gay …. I mean guy.'

‘He
is
a nice guy.'

‘I'm sorry – I didn't mean to cause any offence.'

‘I've got to go.'

I got up and walked back to the table, embarrassed that within hours of meeting my colleague I had made an idiot of myself and looked unprofessional.

‘I'm sorry about that,' I said.

‘Not a problem at all. I saw him' – Wyatt looked and nodded towards Cooper – ‘watching you from the minute we walked in.'

‘Really?'

‘It's a guy thing,' Wyatt said. I wondered if guys behaved the same way with other guys.

I tried to glance at my watch casually, so I didn't appear rude, and then looked around the bar. Everyone looked like they were settling in for the night, but I was feeling jet-lagged. ‘I really think I should go back to my hotel and sleep,' I said to Wyatt, who leaned in to hear me properly. ‘I've had a massive week with all the travel and I move into my new place tomorrow, with Kirsten in Chelsea.' Wyatt just nodded approval and looked over at Tony, who was doing his best with her.

‘I live in Chelsea as well,' Wyatt said, resuming the conversation. ‘You'll love it, there's plenty of galleries there and lots of interesting bars and restaurants.'

‘My best friend, Libby, she also works at NAG, she would've loved to see me in Greenwich Village, but a move from Canberra to Chelsea is more manageable for me, I reckon.'

I said goodbye to Wyatt, feeling we'd set a good foundation for an easy first day at work on Monday. I slid around the table and said goodbye to Kirsten and we planned for me to arrive at 11 am the next day.