He glares at the Swede and clenches his fists. I can feel his anger rising like steam from a boiling kettle. Rodger takes a step back.
“I’m going to take it over to the auction area,” Dylan says, and Riley turns to join him.
“Hey, Max, thanks a lot for bringing it all the way over here. You know it’s going to raise a lot of money tonight.”
Max is still looking at me as he nods.
He moves closer, and the Ralph Lauren boys take the hint and move to the bar.
“Damn, Ava, you look gorgeous,” he says in a low voice.
“Thanks.” I didn’t realize how much his reaction meant to me until that moment.
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t expect to see you either,” I say with a smile.
Suddenly, his eyes get very dark and he looks around. “Who are you here with? Did you come with Jonathan?”
“No, I’m dateless. I came with Riley and Dylan. Why don’t you stay? I’d really like to dance tonight.” I gesture to the tennis court where the band’s setting up on stage.
He shakes his head, waving his hand up from his old jeans to his leather jacket. “I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately. Not that I care, but Dylan’s parents would be horrified.”
“Okay, I’ll just have to find some other good-looking young man to dance with,” I tease him, and I take a step toward Rodger, who’s still watching me from the nearby bar.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me back gently, but his eyes are stormy. “Well, maybe I should stay for a while.”
“Oh, good…besides, you’re an artist contributing to their event, so you can get away with this look.”
He shrugs and jams his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
I step closer, grab the collar of his jacket and kiss him on the cheek. “My night just got a whole lot better.”
He takes a deep breath and the corners of his lips turn up. “Are you flirting with me?”
But before I can answer, a waiter distracts us, offering us a selection from a tray of brie and mango quesadillas. After we each take a piece, Max tells me about the fiasco with the framer and how the painting almost didn’t make the event.
A couple of minutes later, Riley and Dylan rejoin us. “Doesn’t Ava look beautiful?” Riley asks Max. Evidently, tonight she’s my one-woman cheering squad.
“Mmm,” he replies, studying me. “But she’s always beautiful.”
Dylan looks over our heads, searching through the crowd.
“Who are you looking for, babe?” Riley asks.
“I want to say hello to my parents and introduce Ava.” His eyes wander a bit more and then he pauses. “Hey, is that Jonathan over there?”
My stomach curls up, and I pray Dylan’s wrong. I really, really don’t want to see Jonathan right now. But I turn around with the others to look.
Since every man but Max is wearing a tux, from a distance it could be easy to misidentify one tall man with sandy-blond hair from another. But even though we only see his profile, Jonathan’s tortoise-shell glasses give him away.
To my great irritation, Riley asks, “Who’s the woman he’s with?”
I guess she can’t help herself, knowing what she does about my situation.
We all continue to stare now, examining the middle-aged woman with her arm linked with his. She’s facing our direction, and I get a clear view. Attractive, although not overtly so, she’s gazing warmly at Jonathan. Despite looking a bit frail, she’s elegantly dressed in a black strapless dress with a short beaded jacket, and even from this distance, I see a very large diamond on her ring finger. It’s the materialization of my worst nightmare and I feel myself float out of my body and hover just over the scene.
The woman looks up, scans our group, and furrows her brow. But when she sees me, her expression clouds over.
My breath is shallow and I can’t feel my hands or feet.
Riley quickly steps in front of me, blocking my view. “Dylan, could you show us the auction items inside?” she asks, her voice slightly edged with panic. She gives him a push and he turns toward the house. Max frowns and slips his arm around my waist as we follow them. He watches me carefully. Does he sense that something’s very wrong?
We walk into the great room, which is devoid of furniture to act as the auction viewing room. Everything swirls in slow motion. Even the sounds blend together in a cacophony.
Riley chatters nonstop, glancing at me as they examine tables filled with picnic baskets of expensive wine with tickets for Hollywood Bowl box seats, gift certificates for ski trips to Aspen and designer jewelry.
When the woman in charge of the auction asks Dylan for help with an issue, he and Riley turn away for a moment.
Max seizes the opportunity for us to be alone and leads me to the formal living room at the front of the house. This room is huge, like those showplaces in 1940s movies where the couples lounge in evening gowns, having cocktails before dinner. We move toward the sitting area near the massive fireplace. The room’s softly lit by a collection of Murano chandeliers. All the colors surrounding me are muted—burnished silvers, pales blues and beiges—providing a sharp contrast to the panic of red coloring my mind.
“Are you okay?” he asks, gazing at me with concern on his face.
I wonder if I should tell him what’s going on when I sense we’re not alone. I look over to the doorway and there she is…my usher leading me to my front row seat of my personal horror film.
It’s clear the elegant woman with the big ring intends to speak to me.
Fucking A. Ladies and gentleman, the film has started. I hope you have your popcorn and soda already, because you aren’t going to want to miss a minute of this show.
I turn to Max and look him in the eye with the most serious look I’ve ever given him. “Can I have a moment? I need to speak with her.”
He looks over at the woman and then back at me. “Are you sure?”
I nod silently.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you in there.” He points to the auction room and gives my hand a squeeze before he walks out and shuts the door.
“Are you Ava?” she asks, quietly.
“Yes, and you are…?”
“Heather Alistair, Jonathan’s wife.” She watches me carefully.
A whimper escapes from my lips, and I wrap my arms around my torso, curling inward.
“How do you know who I am?”
“Oh, I make it my business to know who my husband’s playthings are.” She pauses and considers me carefully.
“You didn’t know about me?” she asks next. Her tone is eerily patient.
“No, I had no idea…”
“Hmm…Jonathan is very clever at hiding things.”
“Oh, God. I would’ve never, ever…if I’d known. I’m so sorry.” The tears stream down my face as the pain and regret rip through me. “I’ll never see him again.”
“Yes, well you aren’t the first one. He tends to pick young innocents for that very reason. But he’s normally much more discreet. I have no idea why he was so sloppy this time. I mean Spago…really. I have friends all over this city.”
I might pass out as I consider the fact that I’m one of many. And someone saw us at Spago? What exactly did they see? This is all too much. I grab the edge of the couch to steady myself.
“When I finally confronted him, he promised it would stop. But, just a week later, I had you followed to Santa Barbara. Even my private eye was embarrassed about the lewd sex on the patio. Disgusting. Jonathan is completely out of control.”
I’m about to die. Where is the Twilight Zone when you need it? I wish a hole would open up in this Persian rug and swallow me. I’ve never been so horrifyingly humiliated in my life.
She narrows her eyes. “Ava, I would like to believe that you’re a smart girl and are going to do the right thing. But, I can assure you that if I find any more evidence that you’re with Jonathan, and believe me, I’ll know, then I’ll have t
o make things…uncomfortable.”
A chill runs up my spine. Uncomfortable?
“It’s come to my attention that you desire a career in the art world. I hope you comprehend the kind of people I know. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” I sob before my knees give out, and I slide down onto the couch.
“Very well. I think that is all then. Enjoy the party.” She pivots on her heel, opens the door, and walks out, disappearing into the bustle of the auction room.
I cover my face with my hands and try to prevent more tears from falling onto Katherine’s dress. A moment later, Max is at my side.
“Ava? Ava, what is it? What happened?” The concern in his voice makes me cry harder.
“I need to leave now. Can you take me home? Please?”
“Of course, let’s go.” He extends his hand to me, but I pause. I need him to let Riley and Dylan know we’re leaving.
“Max, please do me a favor. Please go tell Riley that it’s true…that I’m all right, you’re taking me home now, and we’ll talk tomorrow. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” he replies, his expression determined. Perhaps he’s figured out what’s going on. He quickly charges into the next room, and I lean back on the couch and stare up at the fresco on the ceiling. I can’t believe this is happening.
But of course, this little break was just intermission, because in the next moment, I realize the second act has begun.
“Ava,” Jonathan says solemnly and shuts the door firmly behind him.
“Oh, God, no,” I cry out and cover my face with my hands again, effectively blocking him out of my vision. “Get the hell away from me, Jonathan! I don’t want to talk to you.”
Footsteps move closer and then the couch dips next to me.
“Ava.” There’s pain in his voice, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to kill him.
“Ava, it’s not what it seems. I need to explain,” he pleads.
I lift my hands, rage burning across my face. “Explain what? That you’re fucking married? This is so cliché and tacky that I can’t even believe it. Were you ever going to share that information?”
“I know this looks bad, but you need to understand how I feel about you—”
“It doesn’t matter how you feel about me. Right now, I’m dealing with how your wife feels about me. She thinks I’m a whore, and she’s ready to stomp out my career before it’s even begun.”
“I won’t let her do that,” he answers fiercely.
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I’ve never gone after someone’s man, and now I’ve fucked around with someone’s husband. That makes me the very definition of everything I hate.”
My hatred takes shape, and I’m a mythic ancient warrior drawing my sword for battle.
“You’re a fucking liar and a cheat, and I feel like the biggest idiot, because I was so easily seduced by you. I’m so pathetic because I ate up the attention without ever understanding what was at stake. The only person I hate more than you right now is myself.”
He reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “No, baby, please don’t say that.”
I leap up from the couch in horror. “Don’t you fucking touch me! Get away from me!”
I turn to flee and spy Max in the doorway. I’ve never seen him look so fierce. He’s balanced forward and ready to lunge. I have no idea how long he’s been there, but what’s certain is the look of murderous fury on his face.
This is all too much. I’m humiliated beyond redemption. Despite my long gown and high heels, I practically sprint for the door to the entryway, the wine-colored layers of my evening gown flying behind me. All I can think about is disappearing into the night.
Unfortunately, Jonathan comes after me. He grabs my arm, pulling me back hard, and I stumble against him. “Ava, wait, you’ve got to let me explain!”
I turn to shove him, but Max grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him away from me with such force that Jonathan almost falls backward onto the granite floor.
“Get your goddamned hands off her, Alistair!” he roars.
Jonathan turns back to Max. “This is none of your business, Caswell. Get the hell away from us! I need to talk to Ava.”
“Over my dead body. Can’t you see she’s done talking to you, asshole?”
But Jonathan is evidently pathologically persistent, or a kind of desperation has overtaken his senses, because he jumps forward and grabs me again.
“Ava…baby…”
I cry out in pain from Jonathan’s grip, and my arm is yanked hard as Jonathan is hurled against the wall. Max surges with fierce adrenalin as his hands wrap around Jonathan’s throat while he pins him against the wall. The crystal chandelier sways with the impact. The contrast of the visual of one man in a tuxedo and the other in worn jeans and a leather jacket, does not escape me.
“I’m going to fucking smash your face in if you don’t stay away from her,” Max growls. From the wild tone in his voice, there’s no doubt that he means what he says.
“And I will ruin you, Max…kiss your art career good-bye,” Jonathan taunts as he gasps for air.
“Fuck you, Jonathan. I don’t care what you do to me, but if you fuck with Ava again, I’ll take you down.” Max presses harder on his neck, and Jonathan turns purple.
I grab Max’s arm. “Max…please…he’s not worth it…please, get me out of here.”
I feel ravaged, as though these last minutes have sucked all the life out of me.
He looks at my panicked expression, huffs and releases Jonathan before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. As he quickly moves me toward the intricately-carved front door, I kick something on the floor and send it careening into the wall. Just before we pass through the threshold, I look down and realize that Jonathan’s tortoise-shell glasses are spinning on the marble floor.
I close my eyes and burrow into Max’s shoulder as he rushes us out into the night, and in its darkness, all the emptiness it holds.
Chapter Nine / The Aftermath
I wouldn’t want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.
~Groucho Marx
Although my eyes are wedged shut and I’m curled against the car door, I gradually get a sense that we’re going too fast on the freeway. I open my eyes. Max’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight, his knuckles are white.
I glance at the speedometer and note that we’re going over ninety miles an hour in a sixty-five-mile-an-hour zone. He apparently hasn’t calmed down enough from the altercation with Jonathan.
I feel a wave of gratitude for how he’s taken care of me. “Max, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there. As horrified as I am that you had to see all that, thank God you were there. I’ll always be grateful to you for looking out for me.”
I take a deep breath and quietly whisper, “Thank you.” I’m not sure if my words will do the trick and break through the wall of silence that’s been between us since we sped away from the valet stand.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him relax his death grip on the steering wheel slightly, and the car slows down a little. Without looking away from the road, he grabs my hand, gives it a squeeze, and then lets go. For that brief moment, I feel hopeful that our friendship is still strong.
The freeway lights pass by in a long streaky blur. I finally allow the wheels to grind in my head and pieces from this jigsaw puzzle of my time with Jonathan slowly slide together.
The voice in my head taunts me. You stupid girl…Of course the signs were there if you’d paid more attention. He set it up so that he called you and made the plans—he was always in control. You never went to his place or knew anything about his personal life. He was so smooth—a stealthy predator—and he pursued you sexually…one carefully-planned, wicked step at a time. Why didn’t you recognize that this man plays young women like a sport?
I’m disgusted with what’s happened. How will I ever trust
anyone again, most of all myself? I start to cry bitter tears.
“Were you falling in love with him, Ava?” Max’s anguished voice fills the charged air inside the car, and his body bows forward as he asks the question, as if he’s been punched in the stomach.
“No!” I insist sharply in between sobs.
“I’m sorry, but I have to wonder, since you’re so devastated by all of this.”
“Believe me, that’s not why I’m upset. The only thing I ever loved was how he treated me, but now I know it was all a sham.”
I hear him exhale a long sigh of relief.
“I should’ve known. I should’ve been more careful. Infidelity is evil; it’s how I was taught. My grandfather was a cheater and it destroyed his whole family. My dad would be so disappointed, Max,” I whisper, and the tears start again. This time, when he takes my hand, he doesn’t let go.
I look out the window, and we remain silent all the way home. My self-inflicted emotional flogging continues. I played with fire and got burned badly. Each passing minute brings a new realization, and I sink lower and lower. As Max speeds along, the little door in my heart slowly closes and locks.
Max finds a parking space near my apartment and shuts off the engine. I gather up my skirt and turn toward the door, not able to face him because of my embarrassment.
“Okay, thanks for driving me home. I really appreciate it.” I’ve never wanted to be inside and shut away from the world so much in my life.
“I’m coming with you.” There’s conviction in his words.
I turn back and face him. “Why?”
He looks down at me with the narrow eyes and pursed mouth of disapproval that feels parental—as if I don’t have any idea what I actually need. I find this irritating.
“Thanks, but it really isn’t necessary. I’ve been enough of a burden tonight. I’m going to figure out a way to knock myself out, and hopefully sleep until it’s time for work on Monday.”
He gives me another look, gets out of the car, walks around and opens my door.
“Come on, Ava. Let’s go.”
The Unveiling (Work of Art #2) Page 10