Page 18 of The Noisemaker

“No!” Laughing, I shook my head. “It’s a Spanish tradition. You’re supposed to eat twelve grapes starting after the clock strikes twelve. You have to eat them in twelve seconds.”

“What’s the significance of that?”

“The twelve grapes are for good luck for the upcoming twelve months. Sometimes people will try to eat them in tune with the twelve bell strikes at midnight,” I explained as we made our way to a black car waiting for us.

We pulled off, heading to the Tully Museum of Art. And at ten forty-five, we had just dropped our coats off at coat check and we were strolling into the Black Hollywood Masquerade Ball.

“Oh wow,” I gushed as I took in the environment.

The museum was breathtaking.

Everything was breathtaking—the décor, the lighting, the setup, the people.

The music that pulsed through the main foyer and traveled down the halls of the museum had a great beat. The array of food that lined the walls looked incredible and were being served by staff wearing domino masks. There were people dancing in the middle of the floor, people eating and talking in small groups at the tables, and people checking out the exhibits and observing the art. There was so much vibrancy in the air. It didn’t just look like a good time. It felt like a good time.

“I hope this makes up for me not taking you anywhere nice the last six months,” Desmond remarked, slipping his arm around my shoulders.

“This more than makes up for it.” I looked around in wonder.

“What do you want to do first?”

The throbbing beat of a classic hip-hop song came on and almost everyone in the building reacted.

“Oh shit!” Desmond’s head started bobbing in tune with the music before he started rapping the lyrics.

Spinning out of his grasp, I grabbed his hand. “Let’s dance!”

We made our way through the crowd and when we found a good spot, the song changed to the upbeat song we did the bear dance to.

I gasped. “I love this song!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “As long as you don’t do that dance you did at home.”

I let my head fall back and I cackled. “You didn’t like that?”

“It was… unique.”

We danced for a bit before heading to the bar to get drinks. After spotting grapes on the fruit tray and listening to Des give me a hard time, we made our way back to the dance floor.

“Ay yo, Desi Des!” a deep voice called out before grabbing Desmond from behind. “What’s up, boy?”

Desmond pushed the good-looking man with the fade and the warm smile off him. “Yo!”

“I see you made it finally!” he cheered jovially, running his hand down his goatee.

The man was 90s R&B fine and the woman beside him looked like a supermodel. Her straightened hair was styled in a high ponytail. Her dark brown skin glowed against her expensive looking white gown.

“Of course we made it,” Desmond responded. Looking over at me, he extended his arm until I came and took my place at his side. “This is—”

“This must be your lady,” the man interrupted excitedly, holding his hand out to me. He had the biggest smile on his face. “I’m Braxton.”

I reached for his hand and shook it. “Aria.”

Desmond squeezed my shoulder. “Brax, this is my girlfriend, Aria. Aria, this is Braxton—my frat brother. And this”—he gestured to the woman— “is Jamila. Braxton’s girlfriend and one of the organizers of the event.”

We shook hands.

“Hi,” I greeted her.

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