Work of Art ~ the Collection (32 page)

I need this.

“How much time do you have?” I whisper between kisses as I work my fingers through his hair.

He looks at me with eyes hooded with lust. “Time?”

“Before you have to leave?”

He gently releases me, and the cool air against my burning wet skin shocks me.

“Why, beautiful?” he whispers as he leans forward.

“I don’t want to make you late,” I say softly, too timid to look him in the eye. “And . . . I’m wondering what you have in mind right now.”

“Don’t worry, Ava, as much as I want to, I’m not going to take this any further tonight. It would be rushed and I want to linger . . . taste every inch of you.”

I look back up at him and he gives me a sexy smile.

“Really?” I ask, amazed that he has such restraint.

He nods. “I have a very clear picture in my mind of our first time and I hope this fantasy will soon be realized. I want to sweep you off somewhere beautiful and take my time worshipping you.”

For a moment, I’m reminded of Max. Why couldn’t he say those words, or at the very least want our first time to be important? Here’s Jonathan offering me the very thing I wanted from Max.

Jonathan pulls me tightly against him. I can feel everything as he kisses me deeply.

I glance up at the clock, remembering his assistant’s warning. “Oh no.”

He looks at the time, sighs and nods.

Our eyes lock while he pulls himself together. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but judging from his smile, it’s all good.

As I smooth down my hair, I feel guilty. “I feel bad I’ve made you late.”

“Believe me, it’s worth it.” He pulls me into his arms and murmurs softly, “Now that our project’s over, I’m going to plan something special. I’ll take you to Santa Barbara, somewhere fabulous, and we’ll play all weekend.”

“Sounds amazing.” I love the idea of being treated so well. I can’t seem to resist the sentiment that bubbles up inside of me.

To hell with Max. He doesn’t understand what he could’ve had.

Santa Barbara, here I come.

Chapter Twenty-One / Taking Flight

Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!

~Bette Davis, All About Eve, 1950

“W
hy would you assume she did something?” Riley demands angrily. “He’s the crazy one. He always acts erratic and you know it.”

Home from my meeting with Jonathan, I’ve walked right into an argument between Riley and Dylan.

Dylan’s mouth is open as if he’s about to argue when he sees me and quickly clamps his mouth shut.

“Hey guys. How are things going?” I ask.

Riley rolls her eyes, while Dylan gently kicks the end of the couch.

I sigh and put my things down. “Look, it sounds like your argument includes me, so why don’t we all talk about it?”

Dylan looks hesitant, but Riley dives right in.

“Well,
art boy
has been on a rampage today. He blew off an interview, snapped at a gallery owner, and when the company showed up to crate and transport his final group of paintings for the Barcelona show, he turned them away and said they weren’t done.”

“Why did you arrange for the transport company to come?” I ask, turning to Dylan.

“Because, yesterday, he told me they were done.” Dylan throws his hands up in the air.

Riley and I look at each other. Obviously, this is the aftereffect of my blowout with Max yesterday.

“Look, Ava, I’ve encouraged Max’s friendship with you because he obviously cares about you and you’ve had a positive effect on him.”

The irony of this sentiment doesn’t escape me, since Max hasn’t been supportive of Dylan and Riley’s relationship.

“He’s happier when you’re around . . . calmer. And a calmer, happier Max is easier to deal with.”

“Glad I can facilitate a happy Max,” I say curtly. His tone implies that he cares more for how cooperative Max is than how he’s doing as a person and it really irritates me.

Dylan ignores my snarky comment. “But on days like today, I’m really concerned. Did you notice anything strange yesterday? He was excited about the press run, but completely unhinged about something today. We’re talking really extreme mood swings here, and I’m seriously worried. It’s as if all the pressure with work has really gotten to him.”

Even though I assume Max’s drama today is because of his anger toward me, I think of how worried Jess had become about Max lately. Jess and Dylan know him best.

“Can I ask you something, Dylan? When we were in New York at Max’s show, I pulled him away from a bad scene. He was completely drunk and insulting Jonathan Alistair. Just before I got him in the cab, he snapped and . . . I don’t know—it was like he’d sunk into a dark hole. He was so depressed and unresponsive, as though he’d shut the world out. Have you ever seen him behave like that?” I exclude his similar reaction last night for now. I watch Dylan anxiously and then look at Riley.

“Oh man, he used to do that when we were younger and it would freak me out. Then I went through a stage where it pissed me off because I thought he was doing it for attention. And now, well, I can’t remember the last time it happened . . . around me at least.” He shakes his head. “It’s really disturbing, isn’t it?”

I nod, agreeing.

“I had a chance to talk to his mom, Elizabeth, about it once when we were in college. I guess he’s had episodes of extreme downswings since he was a little boy. The way she explained it to me is that it’s not unusual with extreme creative talent or genius to be manic which means, high highs and really low, lows.”

“Manic as in depressive?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Dylan says, “I’ve heard a lot of possibilities tossed around, everything from in the Asperger’s spectrum to manic depressive to Savant syndrome, but I never found out exactly. I think I didn’t really want to know. Some of the ways it shows is in his complete obsessive focus with his art and his educationally-based information about every aspect of art. His level of talent, focus, and knowledge has that savant quality.”

Savant? Asperger’s? Manic depressive?
No wonder he’s been so difficult to figure out.

“He also has always lived inside his head and struggled dealing with people. When I first met him he was completely non-social, and could barely interact with other kids. All through high school, he didn’t have regular friendships or even go on a single date. He would just draw and paint for hours and shut the world out.”

I’m feeling worse for Max with each negative attribute that gets assigned to him.

“It also didn’t help that he lacked the ability to censor his thoughts when he spoke. He’s always had a short fuse, and when he snaps, it can get really ugly. Elizabeth had him in therapy, and doing all kinds of things to improve, and it has improved a lot over the years, but it hasn’t been an easy road for him.”

“Anyway, it’s far more complex than I can explain here, but what I do know is that when Max gets over-stimulated, in an emotional way, he can shut down.”

Riley looks over at me, alarmed, while Dylan continues.

“I do believe that Max’s mind works differently than the rest of ours. He told me once that there are times where the pictures and emotions flashing through his mind are so overwhelming that he can barely function. It contributes to his brilliance in his work, but the personal toll it takes—let’s just say that the price he pays is very steep.”

Riley jumps in. “Maybe it’s just that he’s an artist. I thought all artists were a little crazy. But he always seems pretty social to me.”

Dylan nods at Riley. “Well, some of it can be explained in that he appears to be unusually comfortable around Ava. But it’s not just that.” He walks over to the fireplace and looks up at my angel painting.

“The one thing I know for sure is that his girlfriend in college, Chloe, had a lot to do with his improvement. He’d never been able to be that close to a girl, let alone fall in love, and she drew him out and changed him. It happened over time, and it was a startling transformation.”

I feel my heart drop as Dylan describes Max’s adoration of Chloe. The depth of my pain surprises me.

“I thought when she left him that he’d revert back to who he’d been. And for a while, immediately after the break-up, he was worse than ever. But once enough time had passed, he became even more social, more aggressive about becoming successful. That’s when his career really took off.”

I look over to Riley.

Her expression is heavy with sadness.

“What, Riley?”

“Oh, I just realized the one girl he loved left him, and his mom, who adored him and helped him, died. His father isn’t in his life, and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. Dylan, I know you’re his friend, but let’s face it, you’re in business together. Then there’s Jess, but you’ve told me she’s really tough on him. Who does Max have to really talk to when he’s at the end of his rope? He’s under so much pressure all the time.”

She shakes her head with a sad pout. “I feel sorry for him after hearing all of this.”

If she feels bad, she has no idea how confused I feel. His efforts to turn me into his savior makes sense now.

“Maybe you should try to talk to him, Ava,” she says softly.

A wave of emotion washes through me. “No, I don’t think so.”

Did she forget what happened? After what he did at the studio, he’s the last person I should help. Even if he has legitimate problems, it doesn’t mean I should be the one to deal with them and try to fix him. This stuff’s way over my head.

“Please, Ava,” Dylan begs.

“I’m sorry, Dylan, but I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to him right now.”

Riley looks at me, but she doesn’t seem surprised. She knows how angry I am about how he treated me.

Dylan drops his head and lets out a long sigh, but I stand my ground. After all, no matter what Max’s problems are—he isn’t so dysfunctional that he couldn’t have contacted me by now. If he really cared about me, he could have at least apologized for the way he acted last night.

Later, I lay awake for a long time. Pictures of Max, flattened by depression and his body completely quiet while his mind is a brilliant blur—haunt me.

Even if I wanted to ease some of his burden, what kind of a price would I pay to provide relief to such a tormented man? The price is too high. The other resolution I come to is that I need some closure, if not with our relationship, at least with the book project. I just have to figure out how.

With closure in mind, the next morning I get up right after my alarm rings so I can print the final draft of the book for Max. I haven’t decided how I’m going to get it to him, but I can always send it FedEx.

I can be professional enough to acknowledge that, even though Max agreed to stay out of the writing process, he deserves to see the book before it goes to press. I wonder if his erratic behavior is why his approval of the final draft wasn’t stipulated in his contract. My inkjet printer chugs along while I shower and eat breakfast.

When I collect the pages from the printer, I’m satisfied with the pristine stack of pages without editing notes scrawled on them. I carefully set the pages in a folder and cradle it to my chest while I head to my car.

Work’s quiet today. Sean’s at the dentist, so I help Brian. It feels good to be around someone who’s calm and happy. We work through the logistics of the orders, and as noon creeps up, he suggests lunch. We walk to the little Italian café on the next block.

Brian’s stories of his dating life with Thomas are entertaining. The contrast of movie premiers and celebrity events with the quiet calm when they just hang out keeps things interesting for both of them.

I notice Brian watching me carefully and the corners of his mouth slowly turn down and his eyebrows knit together with a concerned look. It makes me sad because I know how much he wants me to be happy, and I can’t hide that I’m not.

“What’s up, Ava? You seem really down.”

I nod and rest my chin in my hand.

“Let me guess . . . the Jonathan and Max juggle? It must not be working out too well.”

I pause, trying to remember the last time we talked. “Oh, I’m so confused Brian.” I sigh, my face sinking forward into my hands. “The thing with Jonathan has escalated. It’s not just talk anymore.” I give him a wide-eyed look.

“Hot! Do tell,” he gushes.

“Let’s just say the man knows how to make a woman feel sexy. We haven’t slept together yet because of circumstances.”

“Such as?”

“He wants to do it the right way and at the right time rather than in his office after one of our business meetings. He’s classy like that.”

Brian nods. “I like a gentleman. So when are you going to ride the pony?

“He wants to take me to Santa Barbara or something.”

“Romantic . . . he must really be into you, Ava.” Brian apparently isn’t as surprised by my news as I expected him to be.

I sigh. “I wish I felt the same. Don’t get me wrong . . . I really like him. He’s good looking, sexy, and knows how to treat a woman, but I’m not obsessed.”

“Maybe you need more time.”

“Maybe. I think part of it is that I’m so flattered by his attention, and I look up to him, so he’s been rather hard to resist. But if I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit there’s something I can’t put my finger on. He’s so smooth and a little mysterious. I have a feeling he has a side I haven’t seen yet.”