Work of Art ~ the Collection

by Ruth Clampett

  At the height of our passion, he rolls us over so that he’s on top. I’m hungry to relinquish control and feel his weight, strength, and purpose in each thrust. At times, he senses my needs so acutely that the softest touch can make me shimmer into an arc of pleasure.

  As I feel his climax approaching and begin to crash into mine, I hold him, knowing I’ll never let him go. For the first time in this messed up, exhilarating, and emotionally terrifying drama, I feel certain we’ll make it through. There’s no other choice.

  “Okay, now you’re getting somewhere,” Brian says. “Don’t you think, Jess?” We’re in Jess’s kitchen setting up a mini taco bar for dinner.

  “Yeah, I think he’s coming around,” she agrees. “I mean, damn—he was ready to jump off a cliff the first couple of days, and then today he called excited to tell me Jet Blue flies out of LAX nonstop to JFK.”

  My heart does a cartwheel. Max really is coming around. “But, you guys, while I’m gone, I’m going to need your help keeping the art sluts at bay.”

  Jess rolls her eyes. “Girl, you’re giving him no credit. I mean, I know more about his past than I’d like to, but he’s all about you 24–7 now. He isn’t going to fuck around because he knows it would mean losing you for good.”

  “He would lose me if he screws around, but we’ve pledged to be faithful, and I’m going to trust him. But the more he can avoid them, the happier he will be.”

  “Okay, if it makes you feel better, I’ll look out for him at all the events we go to. That’s where the bitches will most likely descend.”

  “Thanks, Jess.”

  “Oh, before I forget,” Brian says, interrupting. “Thomas is friends with a realtor in New York who’s totally plugged in. He can help you find a cool place.”

  “That’s terrific. As long as it isn’t in Jonathan’s building, I’ll live anywhere decent.”

  “Jonathan?” Brian shudders. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

  “Listen to this. Ava ran into him in an elevator, and he hit on her,” Jess says.

  “Hell, no!”

  “Hell, yes. I have to admit, I admire the guy’s tenacity,” she adds.

  We focus on our dinner and set out the fixings. The three of us could easily be dubbed the Three Stooges with the way we fall over each other as we dive into making our tacos. I surprise myself by eating three. Now that I finally have my appetite back, I’m making up for lost time.

  Later, as we clean up, Brian pulls me into his arms and gives me a long hug, rocking me gently.

  “What?”

  “I’m gonna miss you, girl,” he says tenderly.

  I bury my face in his broad chest. “Stop . . . you know I’ll lose it if you get mushy.”

  “Sorry, I just got overwhelmed. But don’t worry, I’ll come visit.”

  “A year will go fast, right?” I say to both of them.

  Jess walks up. “Sure, baby, sure.” She sounds more sure than what the uneasy look on her face suggests.

  Later, at home, Riley wanders into my bedroom to talk.

  “Hey, Ava, I’ve been wondering . . . now that you guys are doing better, is Max considering moving to New York?”

  “I wish. He knows he can’t handle it. So, even though we’re doing better now, me pushing him into it is only going to cause more stress. We’ll just have to figure out how to navigate a long distance relationship for a year.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. But at least it’s just a year,” Riley commiserates.

  “It’s okay, because I think he’s coming around. I mean, now he swings between happy because he thinks he’s going to persuade me to stay, to being optimistic because he believes that even if I go we can make it through the year.”

  “Well, that’s a big improvement.”

  “Exactly.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Dylan’s on a mission to convince Max that you guys can make it.”

  My heart swells. “Really? And I used to think he didn’t like me.”

  “Oh, he does like you. You guys have been in some awkward situations together. But he knows absolutely, without a doubt, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened, or will ever happen, to Max. Over the years, Dylan and Max’s friendship slipped into a purely business arrangement, and most of that was due to the fact that he couldn’t stand who Max had become. The longer you guys are together, the closer they’ve become. Dylan has his old friend back, and he doesn’t want to lose him again.”

  “Oh, Riley, you’re going to make me cry.”

  “Just remember, we all have your back. You have an entire team here dedicated to making this work. If either of you get off track, we’ll be all over it. So, don’t you worry. Your man is in good hands.”

  “Thanks, I swear I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. How will I ever repay you for all that you’ve done for me since we met?”

  “Well, you can start by loaning me that number you wore to the TV party recently. Dylan is finally taking me away this weekend, and I want to look especially hot.”

  “It’s yours. Anything else?”

  “How about a foot rub?”

  I make a face and laugh. “I don’t think so. You’re one demanding girlfriend, aren’t you!”

  “Yes, I am, and that’s one of the reasons why you love me so.”

  “Yes, I do.” I push her out the door. “But I’m beat, so off to bed, princess. We both need our beauty sleep.”

  Several days later, I face the ocean as Max wraps his arm around my waist. “I love Saturdays . . . a whole day with nothing to do but play with you.”

  “Don’t forget we have Joe’s birthday party tonight,” he says.

  “Oh, yeah, but it’ll be fun. All of our friends will be there.”

  “That’s right.” He smiles broadly.

  “Do you know we have our very own cheering squad?”

  “Cheering squad?”

  “Our friends say they’ll do whatever it takes to keep us together.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, they think we’re an amazing couple, so they refuse to give up on us. When I’m working my ass off in New York and pining for you, they are going to keep the floozies away, so you’ll still want me when I get home.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You’ll always be the one I want.”

  He pulls me closer and gives me a kiss before we return to the house from the beach. We stop to brush the sand from our feet.

  “Should we start lunch? Are you hungry yet?”

  “Actually, can we wait a bit? ArtOneWorld sent me some sample DVDs to watch, and I’m hoping they give me an idea of what to expect.”

  He looks at his watch. “Okay, I’ll start the burgers in about an hour. How’s that sound?”

  “Great. Thanks.” I kiss him before heading into the den.

  But an hour later, when Max comes to tell me lunch is almost ready, he finds me curled up in the corner of the couch, crying.

  “Ava? What’s wrong?”

  I brush the tears off my cheeks. “I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do what?” A look of concern moves across his face.

  I frantically wave one of the DVD boxes. “Be a TV host. What were they thinking? I have no training for this type of thing. I wasn’t even in my high school play. And now I’m going to be on a show millions of people could watch. It’s a recipe for disaster!”

  He sits next to me on the couch and slides his arm over my shoulders.

  “Ava, you’re going to be great. Like they said, you’re a natural. Do you really think they would sign you up for this if they thought you couldn’t do it?”

  “But these people are pros! What if I can’t do it? What if I freeze and stumble over my words? Or even worse, what if I sound like a babbling idiot?” I hurl the DVD case across the room like a petulant child. Max remains remarkably composed, considering I’m unraveling before his eyes.

  “You could never sound like an idiot. But if you try it and decide you don’t like
it, or they don’t think it’s working, then I suppose you’ll have to come back and live with me. So either alternative is pretty damn good.”

  I fall back and settle under his arm, quietly sniffling while trying to calm myself down.

  “Hey, I have an idea that could help, but I need to make a call. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  I nod mutely.

  He looks pleased when he returns.

  “Who’d you call?”

  “Do you remember my old neighbor who helped with the locks and alarm at your place after the robbery?”

  I nod.

  “Well, his older brother, Trent, has a video production company, but before he did that, he hosted a show on collectibles. I’ve arranged for you to do some training with him to get ready for your show.”

  “Why would he do that for me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, love. I’m making it worth his while. We’ll start Tuesday evening.”

  “Oh, Max.” I sniffle and wipe my nose with a tissue.

  “But first, I want you to show me one of these DVDs, so I can see what scared you so much.”

  I hand him the remote. “Be my guest, but I can’t stand to watch anymore.”

  “Oh no, you’re watching.” His grip around my shoulder tightens.

  We watch the polished blonde talk about home design and glide across the screen. She’s supremely confident. It’s incredibly unnerving.

  “Ava, you do realize this broad has been doing this for years? She may be polished, but she is boring with a capital B.”

  “But she never misses a beat.”

  “That’s called good editing. No one’s perfect on camera, but the editors know how to piece it together to look great. And the director knows during the shoot how to get what they need. You’re part of a team. You’re not on your own, carrying all the weight of this thing. It’ll be in their best interest to make you look good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and they know you’re new, so they’ll understand it’ll be more work, but the trade-off is worth it.”

  I relax in his arms and kiss his neck. “You’ve made me feel so much better. Damn, I love you.”

  “Besides, you’re so much more beautiful than she is.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently.

  “Really?”

  “And sexy.” He glides his fingers down the length of my thigh.

  “Sexy? Hardly,” I huff.

  “Come on! Those legs, these lips . . . ,” he whispers as he skims his lips across mine.

  My head falls back against his shoulder.

  With every touch and whisper, he shows me his love over and over. In moments like this, we’re in our own universe, stars shining brightly no matter how dark and uncertain the night sky.

  Chapter Twelve / Going for the Gold

  Don’t threaten me with love, baby. Let’s just go walking in the rain.

  ~Billie Holiday

  The lights are dim and the music pounds as Max takes my hand and guides me inside the old building. Joe wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a wild party. His loft, a refurbished warehouse in Little Tokyo, is packed with people, and judging from the looks of the crowd, it’s primarily artists and musicians. I step closer to Max, a little nervous from the wild energy and sea of unfamiliar faces. He wraps his arm around my waist as we weave our way over to Joe.

  “You guys made it!” he exclaims, pulling us both into a big hug. “I wasn’t sure we’d lure you out of your love nest in Malibu for a party. It’s really cool you came.”

  “Happy birthday, man,” Max says.

  I smile at Joe. “We wouldn’t have missed it.” I feel the festive vibe and am ready to enjoy an evening where we forget about the changes ahead of us.

  He gestures to an elaborate set up to the right. “The booze is over there. And I just saw Jess and the gang. Get a drink and make yourselves at home.”

  We wander to the bar, and I notice the huge paintings on the walls. His work looks as if Jean Paul Basquiat collided with a graffiti artist trying his hand at tattoos. It’s wild and hip, but will it stand the test of time? I’m doubtful, but I like Joe, so I hope I’m wrong. After all, Jonathan’s wife, the big art collector, took a chance on his work. That must say something, even though she isn’t exactly my cup of tea. And the good news is Joe’s making money now, since he’s become popular with a lot of people in the music industry.

  Max gets us a couple of beers, and we say hello to Xio and Laura, who warily watch Jess dance with Brian and Thomas.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” I tease Laura.

  “Are you kidding? Look at them. I need at least a couple of drinks in me before I’ll cut loose like them.” Jess is dancing between the two guys and moving to the musings of the latest rap music. I have to admit they look hot.

  “That Jess . . . the girl knows how to move,” Max says with a grin.

  As the night goes on, we also spend time with Jackie and Michael, and Xio and Sam. I dance with Thomas, while Max stands off to the side with his arms crossed, smiling and watching my hips sway. Periodically, women approach him, as men do me, but we work as a team, deflecting and rebuffing. We are like stealth ninjas—newly trained professionals in the relationship game.

  Our skills are truly tested when some chick, who apparently was a member of Max’s old fan club, interrupts us. She hands him a red marker and asks him to sign his name on her body, just above where her tank top ends and her breasts continue. There are other signatures across her chest from a number of the artists in attendance, including Joe. As much as I hate looking, it’s like a train wreck you can’t peel your attention away from. As my gaze rolls over her abundant chest, I note that all the signatures are men’s names. Figures. I hold my breath and look over at Max.

  “My girlfriend has to sign for me,” he responds, handing me the Sharpie. Breast girl’s face falls. She gives me a dirty look before taking the marker back and walking away in a huff. I breathe a sigh of relief before I elbow him.

  “Gee, thanks!”

  “Would you have preferred the alternative?”

  “Not unless you would’ve enjoyed a catfight. Anyway, I’m so glad she didn’t have me do it. If I’m going to touch a girl’s breasts, those aren’t the ones I’d pick.” I scrunch up my nose thinking about her over-inflated surgically enhanced breasts.

  “Oh, you’ve got me intrigued now,” Max says playfully, pulling me close. “Whose breasts would you touch? And, even more importantly, can I watch?”

  “Maybe,” I tease him with a coy smile.

  “I know! Paloma! I know for a fact she’s a fan of your breasts.”

  I laugh. “Good guess, but actually I was thinking of Jennifer Lawrence. So, if she comes looking for me, I’ll let you in on the action. But watching only . . . no touching. You’re mine only. I don’t share.”

  He gets a faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s imagining me with another woman. He shakes his head vehemently. “No, on second thought, I don’t want to watch you with another woman. No one touches you but me.”

  I grin, pulling him close. “That’s right . . . like minds and all that. No sharing, ever.”

  “What are you two going on about?” Jess asks, joining us.

  “Well, actually, we were talking about me touching other women’s breasts.”

  “Really,” she says, with one eyebrow raised and a devilish smile. She turns to Max. “I bet you’d love to watch some of that. Straight men just love to watch two women get it on.”

  Before he can respond, the music shuts down and Xio whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention. A large cake is rolled out, covered with candles and sparklers, and the crowd breaks into a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.”

  Joe beams, and when the singing stops, he steps forward. “First, I wanna love up my beautiful Xio for putting this together. This is the best birthday ever, girl.” He hugs her, she kisses him, and everyone cheers.

  “And while I have your att
ention, thanks everyone for helping me celebrate thirty years in this crazy-ass life of mine. Also, a special shout out to my friends that traveled some distance to be here: Jackie and Michael, Cleo and Will, and my brother Hank, who just got cast in the traveling show of Chicago. So, when it comes to L.A., I expect all of you to go see him.”

  Hank takes a theatrical bow and everyone claps loudly.

  “Yeah! Hey, thanks to Zane for selling the paintings that are paying for this party. Oh, and a big congrats to our girl, Ava, who I just found out scored the coolest job hosting a TV show about artists . . . So, all you artists out there be extra nice to beautiful Ava. Hopefully, she’ll remember her good friend Joe when they’re looking for artists to feature.”

  Max has an uncomfortable look on his face.

  “I also hear that she’ll be moving to the Big Apple for this job, so watch out, New York . . . here she comes!”

  There’s a cheer, and Joe goes on with a few other announcements, but I can’t hear while my heart pounds in my ears. With so very few words, Joe’s managed to douse Max and me with icy cold water. The sexy, loving vibe is shattered, and I’m suddenly deflated.

  Just a moment later, an artist named Seamus, who has a reputation for acute marketing savvy, pulls me aside to talk about his new show. Immediately, one of those damn art sluts corners Max. I swear, they have radars in their fake tits.

  Between the swirling crowd, loud music, and dramatic lighting, everything’s moving too fast, and I can’t even think straight. As Seamus describes his most recent accomplishments, I look at Max, whose expression is unreadable as he looks into the distance while the art slut babbles on. I can tell he’s shutting down.

  Enough, I resolve to pull up my big girl panties and take control of the situation. I explain to Seamus that I’d be happy to talk about the show another time, and he hands me a business card before I step away. Sliding behind Max, I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck.

  “Wanna dance, handsome?” I interrupt.

  I feel him relax. “I thought you’d never ask.”