Work of Art ~ the Collection

by Ruth Clampett

  “Oh, now I’m really pissed off. I’m not putting up with that!”

  Billy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You go, girl, and good luck with that! Face it Ava, we’re all puppets, and he’s the puppeteer.”

  “That’s creepy. He’d better not show up in Paris. That’ll push Max over the edge for sure.”

  Billy’s eyes get wide. “Hopefully, he won’t. Talk about a threesome. At least I’d be fun.”

  “Speaking of Paris, when I call Max tonight, we’re supposed to figure out what we want to do on our free days, now that he knows his schedule.”

  “Assuming you ever leave your hotel room. How many weeks has it been, girl?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Too many.”

  I get out of the shower and am about to crawl into bed and call Max when my phone rings. I smile. He’s beat me to the punch. But it’s not him.

  “Hey, Jess.”

  “Ava.” There’s a pause and my stomach sinks. Her somber tone sounds serious.

  “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

  “It’s Max. There was a problem at his house—although he’s okay now. But I knew you’d want to know.”

  “Oh, God, what happened?”

  “He called me around five, freaked out because Dylan had arranged for Louis Granville and Chloe to meet with him and Max at his studio that evening at six thirty . . . And there was a problem.”

  “What?” I try not to scream into the phone. “Dylan knows she’s nothing but trouble and what her agenda is with Max. What was he thinking?”

  “Listen to me, Ava. Max was against this, but Dylan ignored him and planned it anyway after Chloe contacted him directly. I guess she’s been toning down the crazy and actually making deals—getting a little too close for comfort, if you ask me. Dylan has always been desperate to get Max into Granville’s galleries, and maybe thought he could protect Max, but still make the deal happen.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. “I’m going to kill Dylan.” I picture his smug expression. If he were standing in front of me right now, I’d strangle him.

  “Hold on, girl. This is just the beginning of the story.”

  I press my hand to my face. I’m not sure how much of this I can take.

  “So, the reason Max called me is that he had just heard from Dylan, who told him his car wouldn’t start, so he’d be late for the meeting.”

  “Really?” My nerves buzz, and I hope this story isn’t going in the direction I fear, knowing Chloe’s in the picture. She probably did something to Dylan’s car. Is the universe against me or something?

  “Max was in a panic. He asked me to call the gallery and cancel the meeting. Dylan had refused to reschedule it, but Max knew he couldn’t deal with Chloe and Louis on his own, even if it was only for thirty minutes until Dylan could get there.”

  “So, were you able to cancel it?” I ask, chewing on the edge of my thumb.

  “I tried, and that’s where this story gets really weird. They informed me that Chloe had ‘not been with the company’ for almost a week.”

  There’s a long moment of silence as the pieces of the puzzle start to fit together. The whole meeting was bogus, a trap.

  My heart pounds wildly. “What did you do?”

  “I tried calling Max to warn him to leave. When he didn’t pick up his cell, I tried the home line. By the third round of calling both lines, I had my headset and my car keys. I knew Max was in trouble, and I needed to get my ass to Malibu.”

  I press my eyes shut. “And . . .”

  “I tried calling him at every stoplight on that damn drive over, and just after I passed the Country Mart on PCH, he called me.”

  “Was Chloe at his house?”

  “Yes, she arrived early. He was in his studio without his phones and had worked himself into a state. He heard someone open the door, and he turned around, and there she was.”

  I gasp. Picturing her in his studio causes my stomach to churn wildly.

  “She gave him some line about Louis being late, and that they could just ‘hang out’ and catch up until he did. I think he knew he was in trouble. His therapist had warned him about her possible behavior.”

  “Oh, Max,” I whisper, holding my phone tighter to keep my fingers from trembling.

  “She asked for a drink, so he left her in the studio. He got in the house and, thank God, he was focused enough to call me.”

  “Did you tell him it was a setup?”

  “I did, and I honestly don’t know who he had more rage for, Chloe or Dylan for putting him in this position. At that point, I was almost there, so we made a plan. I told him to stay busy getting the drinks, and I’d head straight to the studio. Then, once he joined us, he’d announce that he’d gotten an emergency call and needed to leave immediately.”

  “Good plan. So, what was Chloe like when you showed up?”

  “Saying she wasn’t happy to see me is an understatement. She was sitting on his desk, swinging her legs with her skirt hiked up.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! She’s as subtle as a freight train.”

  “Yeah, when she saw me, she immediately got off the desk, pulled her skirt down, and put her jacket on over her Vegas stripper dress.”

  “And when did the plan kick in?”

  “Max charged in a moment later and announced that Dylan just called with an emergency, and he needed to go help him. Chloe’s expression tightened into a bitter grimace, while we listened to his Porsche speed up the driveway.”

  The vise around my heart loosens when I know Max got away from his crazy ex. “Did she leave?”

  “She didn’t want to. She insisted on waiting, saying that Louis would be there soon. I can’t tell you how tempted I was to call her out, but I knew if I did, things could get even worse. I suggested that she call Louis to reschedule the meeting, because Max wouldn’t be back this evening.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “Are you sitting down? I’m not trying to upset you, but I’ve got to give it to you straight.”

  “What, Jess?”

  “She said she’d be back, because she knew she and Max were destined to work together and that once they did, he would realize they’re still soul mates and destined to end up together.”

  “Damn. This is really not what I need right now.”

  “I know, girl, I know. I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen. At one point, I was so tempted to slap the shit out of her, but, if anything, that would’ve just fueled her fire. I did remind her that Max has a girlfriend he’s in love with.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “‘You mean the girlfriend who’s moving to New York.’ She flipped her hair and stormed out of the studio. She was always dramatic.”

  I groan. “This is screwed up. What will she do next? That was a close call, Jess.”

  “Too close. And now Max knows she has his gate code. He can’t just have it changed without informing all the neighbors and their service people who have the current code.”

  “He can’t stay there! She’ll come back for sure.”

  “He knows that, Ava. He wasn’t even willing to go to my place or Dylan’s, because she knows how to find us. He’s decided the only place he’d be safe is at Ann’s. She won’t track him there, and we can figure out how to get her off his back.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Yes, Ann’s. That’s good.”

  “And then you leave for Paris—so that’s good too.”

  “But what happens when I’m back in New York?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to have to figure out some way to stop her.”

  “Okay, I’m going to call Max at Ann’s, and then I’m moving my flight. I wonder if I can get something in a few hours.”

  “It’s what, almost midnight there now? There aren’t any flights until early morning. Anyway, isn’t tomorrow the last day of your shoot?”

  “I don’t care about that right now.”

  “Well, I would
wait to change your flight until you talk to him. Aren’t you arriving in the evening tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Before you bail on the show, please just talk to him and find out what he wants. And, frankly, once you get here, what can you do to change this situation?”

  “I don’t know. But we’re supposed to leave for Paris on Sunday.”

  “And you will. Just have some faith in him. You can’t drop everything and run back to L.A. every time something bad happens. It won’t instill any confidence in him if you don’t think he can take care of himself. I mean, how would you feel if he found out an old boyfriend tried to hook up with you again and he jumped on the first plane there?”

  “I wouldn’t like it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, let’s take this one step at a time.”

  “Okay, thanks, Jess.”

  As soon as we hang up I call his number, but it goes directly to voicemail. I leave a message, telling him that I’ve talked to Jess, and to call me as soon as he gets the message—even if it’s in the middle of the night.

  I try Ann’s number next, and thankfully, she picks up the phone. She sounds relieved to hear from me.

  “Ava. I was just about to call you. I wanted to make sure you knew he was here. I’ve been too busy talking with Max until now to even call.”

  “Thank goodness, Ann. I just got off the phone with Jess, and I’m so worried about what’s happening. I just tried his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.”

  “Don’t worry, Ava, he’s okay—a little freaked out—but he’ll be okay. He just wanted to get away from the house, because he didn’t know what she might do. He knows she’ll probably show up again.”

  I take a deep breath. I hope Ann isn’t just underplaying the situation, knowing I’m too far away to really do anything.

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “You can try. Let me check . . . he went to lie down. He’d taken his anxiety medication and had a couple of drinks while I was making dinner. He didn’t eat much, so he was pretty out of it. Maybe you can cheer him up.”

  “I’ll try.” I steel myself for whatever mood he’ll be in.

  There’s a rustle and muffled sounds.

  “Ava,” he says with a sigh. I can hear the alcohol and medication in his voice.

  “Oh, Max.” I can’t help it—my voice breaks as I say his name.

  “Don’t cry, baby. Why are you crying? Is it because you miss me?”

  “No—I mean, of course I miss you terribly—but I’m crying because I’m so worried about you and what happened.”

  “Damn, no, no, no! Did Jess call you? I told her not to!”

  “Max, if the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you want to know?”

  “Fuck, do you have any old boyfriends lurking in New York?”

  “No, Max, my point is, she knows I need to know you’re all right.”

  “I’m all right,” he whispers. There’s nothing convincing in his tone.

  “That girl is crazy, Max, and I don’t want her around you. Just the thought of her showing up at your house freaks me out. I don’t know what I’ll do if she tries anything when I’m around.”

  “The worst part was when I found out it was a setup. It’s like crazy stalker bullshit.”

  “I’m going to get on the next plane, Max.”

  “No. Finish your thing there. My crazy ex won’t find me here. I’m staying with Ann. I’m safe.”

  “What about your work?” Hiding out at Ann’s sounds like he’s going backward.

  “Work? I can’t fucking work anyway. My head’s too messed up from this shit, and you know what? I don’t even care. Fuck it all.”

  “But what about your paintings for the Pompidou? You still want to go with me to Paris, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Everything is screwed up now. And what if your schedule changes again? That’ll push me over the edge.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Right.” His tone is full of doubt and he lets out an exasperated huff. “Why is everything so hard for us, anyway? Do you think the universe is telling us we aren’t meant to be together?”

  My heart sinks, but I try to convince myself that Max is high and not thinking clearly. “Oh, Max. Ann says you aren’t eating either.”

  “I’m so tired, baby. So tired.” His voice is fading.

  “Go to sleep, my love, and I’ll call you in the morning. I’ll be on my way back to L.A. by tomorrow night.”

  “I love you, Ava. I hope you come back to me,” he moans softly.

  “I love you too, and I will, Max. I will.”

  Despite my exhaustion and a restless night, I get up with a steely determination to get through the day. The sooner it’s over, the sooner I’ll be headed home to Max. If I sleep on the plane, maybe I’ll be together enough to drive to Ojai. I know this plan is insane, but it gives me the buzz to keep going that coffee never could.

  During a midmorning break, I call Ann.

  “How is he?” I ask, dispensing with formalities.

  “Still asleep. I heard him wandering around several times in the middle of the night, but last I checked he was gone to the world.”

  “He says he’s going to hide with you until we leave for Paris. And he said he doesn’t want to paint, Ann, and he was so inspired recently. This isn’t like Max. I’m so worried about him.”

  There’s a long pause. “I know, Ava, I’m worried too. And as much as I love having him here, I’m not sure this is the best thing for him right now.”

  “What’s it going to take to make things better?” I wonder out loud.

  “As crazy as it sounds, I think he needs a kick in the ass. Running away won’t solve anything. Unfortunately, I’m like his mom was . . . too coddling. I can’t seem to help myself. I really think he has the strength to overcome all of this. He just needs to get tough and find it.”

  “You may be right,” I say, my mind racing. That’s the one strategy I usually don’t try with Max, even though it sometimes works for Jess. But Jess has gone soft on him too since the announcement of my new job.

  Suddenly, a crazy thought comes into my head, really crazy. But it also feels right. It’s worth a try.

  “I have an idea, Ann. Let me call you back.”

  I scroll through my contact list until I find the number I’m looking for. I press the send button, feeling anxious, yet determined.

  “Hey, beautiful, how’s my favorite star?”

  For the first time, his flirting and huge, brash personality fill me with hope.

  “Honestly, Mr. Caswell, I’m not doing well at all. You know I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t extremely serious. Please, I really need your help.”

  “Did Jackson drop the ball? I’m going to make him regret it if he didn’t take care of you.”

  “No, Jackson’s great. He’s taken very good care of me. This is about Max. He’s having a really rough time.”

  “Max? Did he go off the deep end about your new job? I’m sure you remember that I predicted it. So, I can’t imagine how you think I can help. Furthermore, I highly doubt he wants my help.”

  “Well, it’s not just my leaving—there are other crazy complications now. With all due respect, I think you’re wrong thinking Max doesn’t need your help. And it’s not just that I’m in New York and too far away to take care of him, Mr. Caswell. He may not know it, but I think you are just who he needs right now.”

  “Really? I like your moxie, Ava. Besides, you always know how to intrigue me. Tell me more.”

  I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer this whole idea doesn’t backfire. Maybe there’s been too much hand-holding and tiptoeing around our mess. We need a break—a tough angel, if you will—to stomp in and show us the way.

  And who’s to say that angel can’t be a six-foot-two, fast-talking Hollywood producer hungering for a chance to finally be the father his son has always needed?

  My gut twists. Something
tells me Max and I are at a fork in the road, and it’s so dark and muddled that we can’t read the signs. Which way do we turn for true love’s path? One way is where we want to be, the other leads where I fear we’re going. Hope is a flickering light.

  Maybe Max’s dad is our angel. Every day, unlikely prayers are answered. Maybe today’s our day.

  Chapter Sixteen/ On My Way

  For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, “It might have been.”

  ~John Greenleaf Whittier

  This may be the longest Max Caswell Sr. has been silent. If he hadn’t grumbled and huffed a few times, I might’ve thought he was no longer on the phone. I tell him the whole story, from the moment I gave Max the news of my new job in New York to the discussion I’d just had with Ann.

  “You’re a good woman, Ava. I’m still not sure he deserves you,” he says with a sentimental tone. I wonder if he’s thinking about his lost love, Liz, Max’s mom.

  “He means everything to me, Mr. Caswell. I never thought I would find my soul mate, but he’s it. He really is.”

  “Well, that’s good enough for me. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’ll get your man back on track. It’s the least I can do. And would you please stop calling me Mr. Caswell? Hell, we’re practically family. If you don’t want to call me Max, why don’t you try Cas? Close friends call me that.”

  I sigh. “Thank you, Cas. I need to also let you know that we’re supposed to leave for a romantic trip to Paris this Sunday. We planned this before Chloe showed up, and now I’m not sure it will happen.”

  “Sunday? Okay, then let’s get right down to business. First, we need to get rid of the broad. She’s a liability in more ways than one. I never liked her. I’m not surprised to hear she’s gone off the rails.”

  “You’ve met her?”

  “Yeah, several times back when they were in school. They stayed with me once and I took them out in New York a few times. She had a hidden agenda—even back then—but Max was clueless when it came to her.”

  The jealous beast roars inside of me, but I keep my mouth shut.