Work of Art ~ the Collection (65 page)

“So, this includes when we’ll be in Barcelona?”

“Yes,
if
I can go to Barcelona. I haven’t spoken to Adam yet.”

“Look, I’ll agree to play it cool this Friday, as much as it pisses me off. But the rest of it, I’ll have to think about. I just don’t like it.”

“Okay, Friday’s a start. Thank you, my love.”

When I pull up to the valet Friday evening, I notice that Max’s car is parked up front, and a surge of longing to know he’s at the party already fills me. This is going to be harder than I thought.

I give the woman handling the check-in list my name and she looks up.

“Yes, Ava Jacobs. Mr. Williamson asked me personally to let you know that his flight was delayed this afternoon, and he’ll be a bit late. He’s hoping you’ll stay until he gets here.”

My eyes grow wide. This guy really wants to meet me. “Yes, of course.”

She smiles as she fastens the band around my wrist and directs me to the entrance. “Enjoy!”

When I enter the sound stage, music is playing, and large screens are suspended high on the walls, showing footage from, what I presume to be, some of their network shows. There’s a ton of people attending, and the bar and hors d’oeuvres servers are in full swing.

I scan the room until I see Max. He’s cornered by a woman—typical—but at least she looks like a network executive and not an art groupie. She’s sophisticated and attractive . . . and middle-aged. I breathe a sigh of relief.

As I wait in line at the bar, a young guy approaches me. He has curly longer hair and a small gold hoop in one of his ears.

“Ava, right?”

He looks familiar and it hits me. “You were the camera man on Max Caswell’s interview, right? I almost didn’t recognize you without all your gear.”

He shakes my hand, smiling. “Yeah, I’m Zach. Nice to see you again. By the way, you did a great job on that shoot. Is it true it was your first?” He has an open, friendly face with huge brown eyes.

“Yeah.” I’m embarrassed to admit I’m such a newbie.

“Well, you’re a natural, and I’m not just being polite. I do this stuff all day long, so I’ve learned how to recognize natural talent.”

It’s my turn at the bar, so I order a glass of wine and Zach a beer. Once we get our drinks we step off to the side.

“Really? I freak out just getting my picture taken. So I can’t imagine anything natural about me in front of the camera.”

“Why would you freak out? Take it from me, you’re very photogenic.”

I’m a little uncomfortable with all this flattery. I certainly don’t want to lead him on or make Max jealous.

Max is still talking to the executive lady, but he’s staring at me as I talk to Zach. To say that he doesn’t look happy is an understatement.

I twist my earring before refocusing on my conversation.

Zach eyes me and offers to introduce me to some of the executives at the event.

“You know, Ava, I overheard my producer talking about you on the phone. He suggested you for another project. It isn’t my place to say what, but things could happen quickly for you. This business is crazy in that way,” he says, as I follow him to the other side of the room.

My heart skips a beat. I can’t believe what he’s telling me.

“Anyway, if it does, we’ll get to work together again, and that would be cool.”

We approach a group of people, including the director from my shoot, who immediately takes my arm and introduces me to several producers and network people, but no Travis.

I feel like a fish out of water, but I do my best to sound intelligent and worldlier than I actually feel. One severe-looking woman tells me she often works with Nick Castallani, and he told her about the Andrea Altman project I’m working on.

Wow, this really is a small world.

At one point, Zach takes my empty glass and steps away, returning later to the conversation with new drinks for both of us.

When the group gradually breaks apart, he turns to me. “See? What did I tell you?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re all watching you. This is how it starts.”

He looks to my right, and I turn to see Max approaching.

“Hey, man. Good to see you again.” Zach shakes Max’s hand.

“Yes, Zach from the shoot, right?” Max asks as he smiles.

Max seems friendly enough, but I have my suspicions.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone who wants to meet you, Ava. Do you mind if I borrow her, Zach?”

“Of course not.” He turns to me. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay, Ava?”

“Sure.” I smile warmly and follow Max.

I walk a half step behind him as we navigate the crowd. I’m not sure where he’s taking me, and I’m nervous. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I know him well. He has a sixth sense about other men paying attention to me, and it makes him crazy.

He walks right out the front door and onto a makeshift patio behind a hedge. He finally stops and turns around, his face twisted in a strange blend of anger and distress.

“What?”

“Do you know what it’s like to stand back and watch men ogle you? And I can’t do a damn thing!”

I’m not surprised, knowing his jealous tendency, but it’s aggravating, and I’m not in the mood for it tonight.

“Men watching me? Oh, please, you’re just being dramatic.”

“I can’t do this.” He gasps and steps back, running his hands through his hair.

“Can’t do what?” I fold my arms across my chest. I don’t like the sound of this.

“Stand off to the side and pretend you aren’t mine. When I’m at a goddamn event like this, I want you by my side and my arm around you. I want the world to know you’re with me.”

“Is this about that cameraman? You want
Zach
to know I’m with you.”

His voice deepens and gets louder. “No, not just Jack . . . Zach . . . or whoever the fuck he is . . .” Fury flashes in his eyes, and he takes a deep breath. “I want every fucking man in that sound stage to know.”

“You know I didn’t go all postal on you when I saw you with that woman who had you cornered forever.”

“She was old enough to be my mom. It’s not the same.”

“Don’t tell me I can’t feel anything when an attractive woman looks at you that way.”

He throws his hands in the air. “Well, this bullshit plan of Dylan’s sure is working out great. I should’ve never agreed to it.”

“You aren’t even trying, Max. Damn.”

I brush my hair away from my face and set my wine glass down on the table next to us.

“You know what? This is an important business event for me. Do you really expect me not to speak to any men tonight, so you won’t be jealous? Do you even understand how ridiculous that is?”

He doesn’t speak, but his jaw flexes as he clenches it.

I take a step closer. “Do you have so little faith in me?”

He drops his head and turns away. He folds his arms and jams the heel of his boot on the asphalt.

I silently wait for what feels like a minute before he mumbles something.

“What, Max?”

He straightens and turns around. “I have faith in you.”

“Then, please, treat me like you trust me.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath. When he finally meets my gaze, I see resolve in his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Good. I’d appreciate that. Can we go back inside now?”

“Actually, I think it’s time for me to leave. I know my limit, and I’ve reached it. I’m going home.”

I study his expression. He seems firm with his decision. “Okay. Can you handle it if I go back in?”

“I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise, Ava.”

“Fair enough. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I think I’ll be painting in the studio. So text me, okay?”

I slide my arms around his neck. “Thank you for trusting me, Max.”

He wraps his arms tightly around me, but I can feel the tension in his body. “I’m really trying to do the right thing.”

“I love you for that.” I give him a smile.

When he steps away, a stormy darkness clouds his expression; his resolve looks like it’s crumbling. He pivots on his heel and trudges to the valet stand with his hands jammed in his jacket pockets. I don’t take a step until his car pulls away.

With a complicated mix of emotions, I return to the party. It feels weird to go back inside without him.

A moment later, Zach is by my side. “I’ve been looking for you. I thought you’d left.”

“Sorry. I was outside.”

“Travis Williamson is looking for you. Do you want me to introduce you?”

A lump rises in my throat. Everything feels like too much too soon. I start to lose my motivation when I hear my grandmother’s voice in my ear. “Carpe diem, Ava!”

I smile. “Sure.”

I’m wary as we approach the man, who I assume is Travis. Everything about him is polished . . . from his smooth tan to his shiny expensive-looking shoes. He smiles, showcasing his bright white teeth as he steps forward with a flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Ava!” He shakes my hand firmly. “It’s the girl of the hour. So great to finally meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you too, Travis. Thanks for inviting me. This is a terrific party.”

“I was anxious to find out for myself why everyone is talking about you.”

I feel my cheeks turn pink. I have no idea why this man is pouring it on so strong, but I get the feeling I’ll find out.

A group of the network people join us, including the host for their show on art auctions. I hold my own in the conversation, but after engaging in several discussions, I feel myself fade. It’s curious too, because Travis doesn’t engage me. He watches my interactions with the others. I have no idea what his agenda is.

It’s been a very long week, so I decide to leave, instead of waiting until I’m really wiped out.

I turn to Travis. “I need to take off, but I wanted to thank you again for the invitation.”

“Let me walk you out, Ava.” He takes my elbow, leading me away from the group.

“That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

We have an easy path to the exit since it’s getting late and the crowd has thinned out. He takes my ticket and hands it to the valet before turning to me.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time, Ava.”

I smile, not sure how else to respond.

He smiles back. “I wanted to talk art.”

“My favorite subject—hopefully there’ll be another opportunity.”

“I’ll make sure there is. You’re very intriguing, and I want to learn more about you and your work. Let’s do lunch. I’m heavily involved in production over the next few weeks, but I’ll set something up before your Barcelona trip.”

“Okay.” He certainly seems aware of my schedule. I’m too overwhelmed with everything to attempt to analyze this man’s intentions, but he can be sure I’ll confirm it’s a business-only lunch if he actually follows through and contacts me.

My car pulls up and he rests his hand on my back, leading me forward. We’re almost to my car door when I notice Dylan waiting for his car. I hadn’t even seen him at the event. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t smile. Instead, he looks at Travis and then back at me with a wary expression. When I finally catch his gaze again, he immediately looks away.

Really? Why the hell does he look like I’ve done something wrong? Great . . . just great . . .

I’m agitated when I get into my car, but I put on a good face for Travis.

“Thanks again.”

“My pleasure, Ava. You’ll be hearing from me very soon.”

The entire drive to my apartment, my mind races, as I worry about Dylan’s weird reaction. Meanwhile, I plan to send Max a reassuring text as soon as I get into the apartment.

Hi, Handsome, I’m home.

I’ll have my phone next to my bed if you want to talk.

It doesn’t matter how late.

I love you. Xoxo

I crawl into bed and try to fall asleep, but knowing Max’s state when he left the party concerns me. I toss and turn, so I finally try to call his cell, but it goes straight to voice mail. I leave a message. My uneasiness grows, but I can’t just drop everything and rush out to Malibu. I have to show Max that I have confidence in him.

I lie back down and try to let go of my concerns. My cell phone rings, and I’m happy, assuming that Max is getting back to me, but I’m surprised to see it’s Riley instead. It’s almost eleven . . . late to call.

“Hey, Riley, what’s up?”

“Hi, Ava. I’m at Dylan’s, and something’s going on. He’s been on the phone with Max. I could hear Max yelling through the phone. What happened at that party tonight?”

My stomach sinks so fast I’m afraid I’m going to be sick. “Nothing happened. Why?”

“Dylan said something about some guy named Travis. I guess he told Max that guy has been asking everyone about you. When Dylan said Travis walked you to your car, Max flipped out and hung up on him.”

I gasp into the phone. “Oh my God. I’m going to kill Dylan.”

“I knew it! He totally fucked up, didn’t he? What’s wrong with him? He should know better!”

“He fucked up all right. And here I thought he wanted his artist happy. Well, he sure as hell took care of that.”

“Damn, I’m sorry Ava. I had a bad feeling, and I thought you’d want to know.”

“I really appreciate the call, Riley. I don’t know how I’m going to fix this, but I’m going to Malibu now. Tell Dylan to stay the hell out of it, okay?”

“I will. Please drive safely. Good luck, Ava.”

I dress quickly and grab my purse and a Diet Coke to keep me awake on the drive. I’m so mad at Dylan I can hardly see straight as I clutch the steering wheel and focus on the dark road. Max left that party in a fragile state, but intent on doing the right thing before Dylan thoughtlessly pushed all of his panic buttons.

My mind keeps racing, and since I’m so lost in my thoughts, I’m almost to Max’s house before I realize it. After I get the security gate open, I zoom down the road, hastily park, and jump out of my car. When I step through the wood gate to the front garden, I stop in my tracks.

Max is standing in the threshold, his expression haunted. I rush to him and stop just outside the door. It upsets me that his eyes are glazed, and when he speaks, his voice breaks.