Talon leads me to the next image and the next, all of them photographs his mother took from various homes and projects his father had designed over the years. Some of them are familiar—I swear these images have been used in textbooks of mine.
We make our way to the next section—mostly 3D renderings of various world-famous buildings, some of which have been reimagined in the style of Picasso or Dali.
“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this exhibition before,” I say when we get to the next section—oil paintings of local bungalows. “You’d think somewhere along the lines, one of my professors would’ve mentioned it.”
“They hold it every year. Same place. Same week.”
“And you always go?”
“Always.” He tosses back the final sip of his champagne and I realize I’ve been so entranced with my surroundings I’ve barely touched mine. “I don’t remember much about my father. In a way, this makes me feel closer to him.”
“Did you ever think about getting into architecture?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t an option for me. The architecture program at PVU is pretty intense. It wouldn’t have worked with my football schedule.”
“Talon?” An older woman with cherry red lipstick and thick glasses strides up to us. “I thought that was you!” She embraces him in a hug before reaching to cup his face in her hands. “It’s so wonderful to see you. Gosh, you look more and more like your father every year.”
“Irie, this is Lindee Harris. She was my father’s partner at Gold-Harris,” he says. “Lindee, this is Irie Davenport. She’s an interior design student at PVU.”
My jaw drops as she extends her hand toward mine.
“Oh, my goodness. I’m a huge fan of your work,” I tell her. “The conceptual city hall design you did for the Stockton project blew my mind. And your residential work is incredible, the way you brought timeless style and modern edge to new construction was lightyears ahead of its time.”
“Why, thank you, Irie. You’re far too kind,” she says, clasping her fingers around the diamond pendant on her neck and gifting me a humble smile. Turning to Talon, she adds, “Theodore was a major inspiration in my early days. My work wouldn’t be what it is without his brutally honest guidance. Interning with him completely changed the way I approached my work and being able to start a firm with him completely changed the course of my career.” Her attention skips past our shoulders and from behind, I hear someone calling for her. “Anyway, it was so good seeing you Talon, and Irie, a pleasure to meet you. If you ever want to talk shop, Talon can give you my number. Shaping young minds is a bit of a pet passion of mine.”
She places a gentle hand on my shoulder before making her way to another corner of the room.
The instant she’s gone, I turn to Talon, flushed and speechless.
“Are you starstruck right now?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Um, yes,” I finally manage. “That’s Lindee Harris. Lindee Harris.”
Talon laughs. “I know who it is.”
“She’s an architectural legend,” I say. “Gold and Harris are the Simon and Garfunkel of the modern architectural movement.”
“Which one’s Simon and which one’s Garfunkel?” he asks. “Answer carefully.”
I give him a playful nudge. “Stop. You know what I mean. I’m too flustered right now to come up with a better analogy. How’d you get tickets to this on such short notice anyway? I saw a sign up front that said tonight was sold out.”
“Made a phone call to one of my father’s old friends …”
We make our way down a hallway, toward another section of the show which has small exhibits set up like various rooms, all of them showcasing the importance of the marriage of functional design and interior style.
“I’m geeking out so hard right now,” I say as I release my hand from his arm and grab my phone to snap a few pictures.
He stands back, hands digging in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes full of amusement as he watches my inner design nerd take the wheel.
When I’m done, he checks his watch. “We’ve only got a few more minutes then we need to head out. I got us a spot at the Ultra lounge.”
“Wait. Ultra? As in ultra-exclusive, impossible-to-get-into Ultra?” I ask. It’s not that I’m impressed by these sorts of things, but I’ve heard all about this place and the man must have sold the rights to his firstborn child to get us a spot there.
“That’s the one.” Talon hooks his arm around my waist, steering us to the next exhibit, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “Told you it’d be the best date of your life.”
There’s a reason the Ultra lounge is impossible to get into.
Plush seats that swallow you whole.
Celebrity DJ imported from Sweden.
Top shelf liquor.
Cozy, ambient lighting.