The Inspiration (22 page)

He’s read my mind…since I am wondering what to wear. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Jacqueline, my assistant, will contact you about specifics. And Phoebe’s flying back from Seattle as we speak, so she’ll contact you first thing in the morning.”

When we hang up, I push the new deadline out of my mind and distract myself, wondering if I’ll finally hear about his dream on Friday.

Back at the gallery I hand Brian his blended mocha, and he reminds me that I’m coming with him to a charity event tonight. His boyfriend, Thomas, is one of the hosts for a fundraiser for the Pet Rescue Initiative.

“Damian’s going to be there,” he taunts me, unable to resist the impulse to set me up with the endless supply of metrosexuals he knows through his business dealings.

“I saw Damian at the nail salon getting a pedicure. Now I can’t get the image out of my head. You’re going to have to find someone a little more macho,” I grumble.

Of course we’re playing with each other. He gave up trying to set me up a long time ago.

“Okay, but I want sexy tonight—a short skirt and those Jimmy Choo heels I got you for your birthday.”

“Ah, you’ll make a diva out of me yet.”

When he picks me up that evening, he lets out a low whistle as I playfully model for him. Riley’s lent me her short black skirt with swirls of silver beading and it shows off my long legs. I matched it with a fitted black silk sweater and Brian’s shoes. Well, the Jimmy Choo shoes Brian gave me. I suspect he’d secretly wear them if he could.

As we enter the charity event, I’m grinning from ear to ear. Sanrio’s one of the major sponsors of the evening, and the party is a Hello Kitty wonderland. The first clue is the life-sized Hello Kitty as we walk through the entrance, and we stop to have our picture taken with her in all her furry glory. Inside, girls dressed in tiny tank dresses embellished with rhinestone Hello Kittys serve pink Kitty cosmo martinis.

We wander around taking it all in, and I’m immediately sorry I didn’t bring Riley along.

Brian locates Thomas, and I’m thrilled to finally meet him. He’s handsome and quite charming, and Brian glows as they stand together. We chat for a few minutes before Thomas graciously excuses himself for an interview, and I give Brian an enthusiastic “thumbs up.”

We move into the next soundstage where there’s a Japanese girl band playing. We walk to the far wall that’s brightly lit and covered with different Hello Kitty paintings.

The mini-show is called
Hello Kitty the Muse: Twenty Artists Interpret the World’s Most Famous Cat.
The artwork is fun and irreverent. One image of Hello Kitty as an angel is rendered entirely in glitter. Another that looks computer generated is of Hello Kitty in space, wearing an entire astronaut spacesuit complete with an oversized bubble helmet. My favorite is Hello Kitty the princess with her crown encrusted with real rhinestones and colored gems. I sorely wish I could buy it for Riley.

At the end of the evening, they hand us goody bags full of treats for humans and their little furry friends. There’s a rhinestone Hello Kitty collar, a decorative tin of organic dog biscuits, and an adult-sized rhinestone T-shirt and embroidered coin purse. I save the T-shirt and coin purse for Riley and keep the box of gourmet chocolates shaped in kitty and puppy heads for myself.

Outside, we wait in a long line until the valet pulls up in Brian’s Saab. He pushes a button and the sunroof opens, giving me a view of the silver crescent moon hanging in the sky.

“Wow, that was really something. I didn’t expect the party to be so entertaining.”

He nods. “Yeah, those charity events can be sooo boring, but Thomas really knows how to do things right.”

“Well, he’s impressive. You two look really happy.” I smile warmly.

“You know, I thought I would never meet Mr. Right. When I’d finally given up on the idea and made peace with being alone, he fell right into my lap! I still can’t believe it.”

“You deserve someone terrific.”

“What about you, Ava? You can’t be single forever, even though you seem set on the idea. What about Maxfield Caswell? Do you have any interest in him?”

“Well, we’re becoming good friends.”

“Friends?” His smile turns down. “Does he have a girlfriend or something?”

“No, but he’s not interested in me that way.” Even I can hear how ridiculous that statement sounds. I decide to test Brian. If I can’t figure out Max’s platonic ways, maybe he can.

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, let me get this straight…he’s single, he’s hot and he likes spending time with you, but he’s not interested in you that way. I don’t buy it. He must be into you, Ava.”

“You’re such a man. Things aren’t always black or white. I know he likes me as a friend. I just don’t think he wants me like that.”

“Seriously? Oh please! Listen, Missy, must I remind you I have a bit more relationship experience than you? You’re a dream girlfriend; you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, strong, fun and you have a huge heart. Those last two attributes are hard to find in this town in combination with the first five. Hell, if I were straight, I’d have you married and pregnant by now!”

I blush at his overstated compliments, and I giggle at the idea of Brian and me married. Now that would be a comedy.

“When was the last time Max was in a relationship?” he asks, as he turns onto Sunset Blvd.

“Evidently, years ago. I do know whatever happened messed him up.”

“I see, and he knows you’d never be an art groupie, and you’re serious about your work. He must respect you. And let’s not forget…you’re writing his book?”

“What about it?”

“It’d be risky to get involved in the middle of the project.”

“Oh, you are full of excuses for Max. How about he doesn’t feel the chemistry or the connection that I do? Maybe he’s only attracted to art groupies. He’s flirted, but I think that’s all it is. He’s never made the moves.”

“Reason all you want, girlfriend, but I’m still not buying it. So Mr. Caswell may be taking his time…he may be working other things out, but take my word…he’ll come around.”

A cool breeze whips through the car and I shiver, so Brian flips on the heat.

“I overheard you mention to Katherine that you’re going to the Getty opening Friday night. Are you going with Caswell?”

“No, actually I’m going with Jonathan Alistair,” I reply casually.

“Alistair from
Art+trA
?”

“Yes, I’ve been working for him, writing the text for Max’s book,” I quickly add.

“Yeah…,” he says with suspicion in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean you go to fancy events like this together. Is he into you, Ava?”

I want to deny it, but it’s hard to lie to Brian. “Well, let me just say he’s attracted to me, so…yes, he’s into me. I’m not sure how I feel about him, though. He’s been so kind.”

Brian lets out a low whistle. “Ah, what a tangled web you’re weaving, darling. Isn’t Jonathan a little old for you? Have you slept with him?”

“No.” I look at Brian and consider what I want to say next. “But if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?”

“Sure.”

“He’s been rather suggestive.” I swallow, hard. “And I mean in a very provocative way.”

“Ohhhh, how hot!” Brian growls. “Did it turn you on? I mean are you at least attracted to him?”

“Well, he sure as hell surprised me, and I have to admit it turned me on. I don’t know how to handle it, though, because as amazing as he’s been, we’re working together and he’s my boss. Sleeping with him may not be a good idea.” It’s a relief to talk this through.

“Yeah, I can see how it complicates things. Of course this
is
L.A. and everyone sleeps with everyone. It’s how business is done. Well, be careful, baby. Take your time until you know what’s best for you.”

As we pull up to my apartment, he says. “Too bad you can’t combine Jonathan and his hot desire with Max, your friendship, and his stunning looks…then you’d really have the dream boyfriend.”

“You’ve got that right,” I say and sigh as I hug him good-night.

The next day is slower at the gallery, and I find myself thinking about Max too often for my own good. I wonder if he’s purchased a new camera yet and if we’re still going to Huntington Gardens this weekend. I’m curious if he’s started working on the thrift shop paintings series. I can’t wait to see what he does.

Will he be at the Getty event on Friday? If so, what’ll he think when he sees me with Jonathan? And I keep wondering with dread, who he’ll come with if he does go. My mind reels with the possibilities.

That evening, as I revise a section of the book, my computer tings with an email. It’s from Max and titled
Ava Sunday.
I hold my breath as I double click on the message.

He’s sent a high res image that slowly reveals itself starting at the top of my screen.
Is it my impatience, or is this taking forever?
I want to shake my laptop to get it to hurry it up.

It’s a black and white photograph, and as it loads, the picture has a textured, hand painted look on the edge of the image. He must have manipulated the file. There are hints of color washed into the black and white. The top of a head starts to download and then a forehead with a wave of dark hair. I take a sharp breath…
it’s me.

Next come my eyes, large and bright, their corners crinkled happily. I didn’t realize my lashes looked so full. Next comes my nose, but when I finally see my lips, I smile, remembering how my dad called me Rosebud when I pouted because of my lips. Max has caught me holding back a laugh as my hands delicately frame my face.

I can’t remember why my hands are in this position, but I’m looking right at him, so this is a shot I must’ve been aware of. There’s a flirty playfulness in my expression, and it reminds me how happy I felt.

When the bottom of the photo finally loads, there’s something written underneath.

I fall back on the couch, moaning. This guy’s killing me. How can I stay friends without any benefits with a guy who does this? Surely he knows what he’s doing. I email him.

He responds quickly.

How should I respond to this unbelievably sweet email? I decide to be brief.

As I try to refocus on my work, I can’t push this version of Max and the longing that he’d want to be my better half out of my mind. This Max is everything I want and, evidently, everything I can’t have. The resulting agony has become part of me. It flavors the tone of my voice and sears the edge of each breath. I carry it close like a wounded animal I’m intent on saving.

M
y cell phone rings in the morning at eight sharp, and I study it warily, not recognizing the incoming number.

“Ava? Phoebe from
Art-trA
…Jonathan asked me to call,” a woman says sharply.

“Yes, hi, Phoebe,” I say as I stretch out my arms. “Jonathan explained the situation yesterday with the deadlines being moved up. He said you’d be working with me to get the project done.”

“Yes, I’ve read what you’ve submitted so far, and we have a lot of work to do. Jonathan also said I need to work around your day job. I’m booked the next couple of nights. How about Saturday?”

Uh oh…
I don’t like her bitchy tone. “Ah, actually I’m busy Saturday, but I’m free Sunday.”

She lets out an irritated huff. “Okay, Sunday. Why don’t you come over here in the morning at ten, that way I can get in an early Pilates class before we meet. I’ll email you the address.”

“Okay, I look forward to it,” I lie unabashedly.

Pilates early Sunday morning? Why would you do that when you could sleep in?
She must be a case. This could be potentially hellish, but working with her is a means to an end, and I need to get this project done.