The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3) Read online

  “If you push me away, it’s going to ruin us. I’m in love with you, Max, and I know you love me. Don’t I deserve to be treated better than this? I didn’t go looking for this job, they came to me, and I’m still in shock and trying to figure out what to do. I need you to help me work this out.”

  He turns and looks at me. The unending silence is a slap in the face.

  “Okay, I get the message…never mind. I’m out of here. You can have more time to process all of this, but I’m not giving up. I’ll always fight for us, even if you can’t.”

  He looks at me with an empty expression.

  “When you’re done with your work, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

  I tear across the lawn, and once I’m in the car, I speed up the driveway, almost taking out the security gate. I don’t know if I’m being melodramatic or if this is a true deal-breaking crisis. I just need to get to a safe place and hide from the idea that Max is falling away from me.

  I’ve crossed a large minefield littered with hidden explosives. And even though I’ve been able to keep my limbs intact, my heart has been blown apart, and I fear nothing will ever be the same.

  Chapter Nine / The Deal Breaker

  All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

  ~Anatole France

  I pick up my phone and check to make sure the battery hasn’t died. Then I look for new messages and finally check to make sure the ringer is turned all the way up. I have probably gone through this pattern a hundred times today. One hundred reminders that he still hasn’t called.

  Jess convinced me after I called her in hysterics on Saturday to give him a few days. Max has a tendency to be dramatic at first and then settle back down to some sense of reason. I try to put my faith in her advice, since I don’t have much else to hang my hat on right now. She promised to try to talk to him and report back. Now, I anxiously wait for her call.

  Luckily, Riley returns home late Sunday afternoon and provides a great distraction from my emotional fallout.

  “So, how was your surfing lesson with Dylan?”

  “Awesome. He says I’m a natural.”

  I smile as she goes into detail, relieved not to have to tell my story yet, but I’m frustrated too. Part of me just wants to get it over with.

  Her phone chimes and she glances at it. “Dylan can’t find parking downstairs. I’m going to meet him down there.” She grabs her jacket, purse, and the salad she made for the barbeque they’re going to tonight.

  She gives me a hug. “Are you feeling all right, babe? You aren’t looking so good.”

  “I’m okay,” I respond, knowing we don’t have time to get into it.

  “Okay, we’ll catch up later,” she says, as she heads out the door.

  I curl up on the couch and study the angel painting Max did for me only months ago. I could’ve never imagined when he gave that to me how our lives would end up woven together. No matter what happens, being with Max has changed me in every way, and I’ve changed him as well. My phone goes off. It’s a text from Max, and I anxiously open it.

  Jess just left. She told me I needed to contact you.

  He contacted me because Jess told him to? I feel kicked in the stomach, but I’m hesitant to tell him I wish that he wanted to contact me on his own. I need to get this dialogue open, not shut it down. So, instead, I keep it simple.

  Jess is right. I’ve been waiting by the phone.

  She said she can’t stand to watch me fall apart again—that this time I’m going to destroy both of us.

  I shut my eyes, fighting the despair.

  I wish I knew how to stop this pain, Max, both yours and mine.

  Me too. I’m in bad shape, Ava.

  What can I do to make this better?

  I don’t know. My crazy thoughts won’t stop spinning long enough for me to calm down and think straight.

  Can I call you?

  No, I’m sorry, but I’m not ready.

  Please…I need to talk, not text.

  Ava, if I hear your voice, I think I’ll go mad.

  But I just desperately need to hear you. I need to talk to you.

  I’m sorry. I can’t handle this. I’ve got to go.

  Please, don’t go yet.

  As I wait, I curl inward, fearing I’ve lost the connection. I wait even longer, but he doesn’t reply, so I text him again.

  Please, Max, please.

  I’m sorry I’m not handling this better. Maybe I just need time.

  But we can help each other figure this out.

  Cara says I wrapped all my happiness up in you. That not being together will give me a chance to be healthier.

  Fuck Cara.

  No, she meant so we could be a better couple.

  But we were the best, I type with trembling fingers.

  That’s what I thought too until Friday night. Now I don’t know anything.

  You have to know that I love you with all my heart.

  I’m sorry, I can’t.

  And that is it. I can’t. I wait and wait, but there’s nothing else. What did he mean by I can’t? The reality that my boyfriend is not a normal guy who deals with issues in more typical ways has never been more apparent. Perhaps I’d taken for granted how much better he’d become and that led me to believe he was stable enough to handle something like this. I also realize his emotional dependence on me must be more precarious than I thought. I let the phone slip between my fingers as I curl up and cry.

  I’m almost in the exact same position when Riley returns from the barbeque. As soon as I see her, I start to cry again, and she grabs a box of tissues and makes me a cup of tea before settling into the couch to hear my story.

  “What happened? Dylan said Max has gone completely off the deep end.”

  “I think he’s done with me.”

  “What? That’s impossible! You came back from Barcelona floating in a love bubble. He told Dylan last week he thought he’d finally convinced you to move in…he was over the moon about it.”

  “Well, that was before I got a new complicated job offer, and now everything has changed.”

  I recount it all, the good the bad and the ugly, starting with the amazing opportunity for my dream job. Riley is thrilled for me and doesn’t even bring up our roommate situation, as I explain that I would have to relocate for a year. Instead, we talk about how exiting it’ll be to live and work in New York.

  “As much as I will miss having you here, Ava, now I’ll have even more reason to go to New York. Just think…finally the two of us will taste the New York night life together!”

  I smile at my Riley, who can make the most difficult situation sound like fun.

  “Will you come visit me?”

  “Hell yes! Besides, I’m there on business fairly often, so you’ll see me more than you think.”

  Her promise of visiting me reminds me how I’ll be away from my entire support system while I’m there, and for the first time, I question whether I’ll be able to handle the relative isolation. But as I begin to spiral into my thoughts, Riley pulls me out.

  “As for Max, why don’t you ignore his theatrics and pretend that everything’s normal? Just get some takeout food after work tomorrow and show up at his house. Don’t feed into the drama. He has more than enough for the two of you.”

  I have to admit, it never occurred to me to use that tactic. Maybe I should just pretend everything’s fine and that I’m just going on a business trip, but instead of being gone a week, I’ll be gone a year. If I’m calm and reassuring, it may stop him from spiraling further down. The idea is crazy enough that I think it’s worth a try.

  Monday morning, I ask Adam if I can speak to him and Brian alone. They both patiently wait as I gather my courage.

  “Adam, remember how you talked to me about spreading my wings a couple of weeks ago?”

  He smiles warmly and nods.

  “Well,
it looks like I have the opportunity to take a grand flight much sooner than I ever would’ve imagined.”

  “Grand flight?” asks Brian. “Are you leaving us?” He’s composed, and if he’s disappointed, I can’t tell.

  “I’ve been offered something unbelievable. It’s so crazy I’m not sure I would have even dreamed it could happen. I’ve been asked to be a host for a new television show called The Artist Revealed. It’s for that new cable channel ArtOneWorld.”

  There’s a moment of silence where they both looked stunned. Adam is the first to speak as he rises out of his chair to hug me.

  “Ava, that’s just wonderful! I’m so proud of you.”

  I take a deep breath, realizing that in my nervousness I’d stopped breathing.

  “Thanks, Adam.” His hug and support is just what I need.

  Brian stands next to us, waiting. When Adam releases me, I fall into his son’s arms.

  “Can you believe it, Brian?”

  “Sure, I believe it! Oh, Ava, isn’t it wonderful when great things happen to great people!”

  The three of us sit down and talk about the job. Neither Adam nor Brian is surprised about the New York move. Perhaps with the shock of the announcement of the host offer and the fact that I’ll be leaving the gallery, that detail is just one more in the list of dramatic changes.

  Instead, they focus on the opportunity this presents for me. Adam is especially excited to talk about the different artists I’ll meet and amazing experiences I’ll have. He knows better than anyone that with the world changing so quickly, there are all kinds of possibilities, not just the traditional path, to make a strong career in the art world.

  Brian jumps in with big ideas. “Just think, you can develop your own website, put out a book, develop a program with schools…”

  My heart sinks when he mentions schools because it makes me think about Max and his work at the high school.

  “Well, I haven’t even gotten the contract yet, so let’s not make me Princess of the Art World just yet,” I tease.

  Before we end our meeting and get back to work, we agree that I won’t tell the rest of the team until the contract is at least close to being signed. Adam also agrees to give me continued flexibility with my schedule. As it is, the lawyer Max’s dad recommended has an opening today at three, so instead of taking a lunch, I’ll meet with him then.

  Now that I’ve shared the news with Adam and Brian, it feels like life has accelerated to an even crazier speed. But no matter how fast I go, their support and encouragement gives me a boost. Maybe I won’t just survive this transition, but thrive in it, once I convince Max to support me.

  In the afternoon, I head over to Beverly Hills to meet the man who I hope will be my lawyer. Jackson Carter works at a boutique law firm that specializes in entertainment. From the valet parking to the chic contemporary design of the offices, I feel out of my league, but I take deep breaths as I wait in the reception area. I may need to sell myself to Mr. Carter, so that he’ll want to take me on as a client.

  “Mr. Carter.” The receptionist nods towards the opening door.

  I look up just as a stunning African-American man glides toward me. He has the most engaging smile as he extends his hand.

  “You must be Ava.”

  I rise and shake his hand. “Hi, Jackson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Max’s dad wasn’t kidding. The man is charming all right.

  I follow him through the doors, noting the cut of his Italian suit. He’s tall and commanding, but younger than I would’ve expected. I surmise that he’s probably in his late thirties. He leads me to the sitting area in his office.

  His assistant, a leggy redhead, appears. “Can I get you a refreshment? Sparkling water or perhaps a cappuccino?”

  “Some water would be great, thanks.”

  Jackson settles into the chair facing me and crosses his legs. There’s a smooth sophistication in the way he moves.

  “I have to tell you, Ava, Caswell spoke so highly of you that I was intrigued. He’s normally not so effusive. I told him that my client load is currently full, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s quite taken with you.”

  I laugh softly. “Yes, well, he’s very kind. But it isn’t what you may think. Actually, I’m involved with his son.”

  “Hmm…yes, the artist. Max Jr. right?”

  “Yes. Anyway, I really appreciate you seeing me on such short notice. The network wants to make this thing happen yesterday.”

  “Typical. But we need to make sure you’re taken care of.” The way he says it makes me feel protected and less terrified.

  “How fast can this happen?”

  “Very fast. I know the contract is forthcoming, so if we decide we’re a good fit together, you could be signed as a TV host within a week. I’ve already researched ArtOneWorld’s parent company, and they have a good reputation for being fair with their talent. Being that you’re brand new to the medium, they will lowball you, but I’m sure there’s room to move.”

  “I don’t care so much about the money.”

  “Oh, but you must. In this business, it determines your worth. They go hand in hand. So, you can leave that to me. That’s the easy part. What’s more complicated is the rest of the package—collateral: book deals, appearances, publicity, spin-offs…that type of thing.”

  I thought Brian was just being overexcited—apparently not.

  “Is that typical for a non-mainstream cable show?”

  “You can’t think of it that way. Everything has changed in television. Shows that no one would have considered very mainstream are now big hits with international exposure. Martine Moreau from the cooking channel is one of my clients, and she has a huge following. As a matter of fact, you remind me of her in a lot of ways. Actually, though, your footage out of the gate is much better than hers was. She was so awkward on camera initially, but like you, she had that charisma, that spark, and you both are very beautiful women.”

  I smile broadly, appreciating that his tone is professional and not flirtatious. It gives the idea more weight in my mind. “Thank you. That’s such a compliment. I can’t believe you work with Martine. I’m a huge fan of hers, and I hardly ever cook!”

  “My point exactly.”

  “Wait a second, you watched my tapes?”

  “Of course. I know more about you, Ava, than you realize. I wouldn’t be meeting with you now if I hadn’t done my research to see your possibilities.”

  Once again, I’m surprised. So this is how the world spins at the elite levels. It’s intimidating, yet exciting, to be dealing with people at the top of their game.

  We talk for a while more, mainly with Jackson asking me what I’d like my future to look like and what my concerns are about doing the show. I explain that I don’t want to be away from L.A. for more than a year, so that would have to be worked into the contract if the show is picked up for another season. I also tell him that whatever free days can be negotiated so that I have time in L.A. with Max is very important to me too.

  I ask him questions as well, finding out that he’s originally from DC, where his mom is a lobbyist and his dad a law professor at Georgetown. He moved to L.A. to go to USC Law School, since he’d always been intrigued with the entertainment business. He’s beyond impressive.

  “Jackson, I’m embarrassed to ask this, but how will I be able to afford you?” I look around the elegant office, only imagining what his rate is.

  “First of all, Ava, don’t ever be embarrassed to ask me anything. Our relationship has to be open and based on mutual trust. You don’t have to worry about paying me anything right now. I’ll take a percentage of your deal. It’ll automatically be deducted from your check. Normally, there would’ve been a retainer that you pay in advance, but you’re bringing a live deal to us, so we’ll waive it.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and we agree to talk tomorrow. I’ll direct ArtOneWorld to forward him the co
ntract. Before we part, he gives me a big smile as he shakes my hand.

  “This is such an exciting time, Ava. I’m really looking forward to working together and making magic. We’re going to make a great team.”

  Talk about charisma. Jackson’s energy and desire to work with me has me buzzing all the way back to the gallery. It’s a relief to actually have a moment of pure excitement about what’s happening. The resulting feeling gives me the determination to do what Riley suggested and show up at Max’s with dinner, pretending as if our world isn’t upside down. I have to turn this around, and I’ll do whatever it takes.

  The entire drive to Malibu, I distract myself and think about all the things I need to take care of. As it is, I already have a physical booked tomorrow with a doctor approved by the insurance group of the production company. Before they sign on with me, they want to make sure I’m not about to keel over with some mysterious life-threatening illness. When I think of the money at stake taping a show, I can understand.

  I’ve also been warned that it’s difficult and expensive to find housing in New York, so they’re going to put me into temporary housing for two months, giving me time to find a place. But knowing the schedule, how much time will I have to look?

  My mind reels until I realize I’ve arrived in Malibu, so I stop at one of Max’s favorites, Nobu, where I’ve arranged for takeout sushi.

  Dylan’s car is there when I pull up to the house, and I hesitate, trying to decide if that’s good or bad. Deciding not to delay the inevitable, I get out of the car and head to the garden. The first thing that hits me is the sound of angry voices coming from the studio. I inch closer, my breath shallow…each movement hesitant.

  “You’re such an asshole! Do you have any idea how big of an asshole you are?” Dylan is yelling, and I’ve never heard him raise his voice before. It’s rather shocking.

  “Fuck you, Dylan! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”