The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3)

by Ruth Clampett

  ~Pericles

  “Well, you can’t change your phone number. That’s the number MOMA and so many others have for you. You’d have to use a forwarding number prompt, which would defeat the purpose,” Dylan explains to Max, as we wait for our table.

  It isn’t that crowded tonight at Firefly, but Max requests a special table in the alcove near the fireplace for our dinner.

  “Did you block Chloe’s number?” Riley asks.

  “Yes.” Max lets out a frustrated sigh. “But then she just calls from other numbers. I have to let every call, except people from my contact list, go to voice mail, and then I have to listen to all of them.”

  “That sucks,” Riley says.

  What Max hasn’t mentioned is that every time his phone rings, he tenses and his eyes get stormy. It’s wearing him out, but I don’t know what to do about it. Chloe seems to be a shadow following us everywhere. I keep hoping she’ll get the message and give up, but there’s no sign of her surrendering.

  “Your table’s ready,” the maître d’ says, so we follow him to the table.

  “Hey guys, let’s not talk about it anymore. This evening is a celebration dinner for your engagement. I want to focus on you tonight.”

  “Sounds good to me. Dylan’s my favorite subject.”

  Dylan takes her hand and she smiles.

  “So, how were your parents about the news, man?” Max asks.

  “They’re really happy. For a long time they wanted me to end up with one of those San Marino blue bloods, but over time, they’ve come to realize that Riley is the perfect girl for me.”

  “Yeah, and they’ve insisted we have the wedding at their house,” Riley adds.

  “Which means they’re paying for it,” Dylan grins.

  “And I always wanted a garden wedding—so it’s perfect.” Riley glows as she explains the details.

  Despite Dylan’s parents’ help, my resourceful girl is creating the website for a wedding dress designer in exchange for her dress, and one of the printers she deals with at work is insisting on doing her elaborate invitation design for next to nothing.

  She’s thought of everything, and I’m reminded of the conversation we had at a mutual friend’s wedding last year. Riley had planned her wedding out long ago, which explains how she can move so fast with her plans. She will be a wedding force to be reckoned with.

  “And the date?” I ask, so I can let the production company know right away about my schedule for that weekend.

  “June fifth. You’ll be able to come, right? I mean, with your shooting schedule and everything?”

  “Are you kidding? Nothing could keep me away.”

  “Well, all of that is well and good, but I want to know the most important thing. Where are you going for your honeymoon?” Max teases.

  “My vote was Maui to relax,” Dylan says.

  “And I wanted Italy.” Riley smiles.

  I laugh. “Two very different honeymoons. So, who won?”

  Dylan winks at Riley. “We both did. We’re going to Maui right after the wedding, since we’ll probably be wiped out from all the partying, and then for our first anniversary, we’ll take a big trip to Italy.”

  “Perfect,” Max agrees.

  The waiter pops open the champagne, and as Max lifts his glass to toast our friends, I lift my glass without too much envy for what Riley and Dylan have. After all, they give me hope that a happily ever after can actually happen.

  A couple of hours later, we wait in front of the restaurant for the valets to get our cars. Dylan’s car is the first to arrive. We share farewell hugs all around.

  “Thanks, guys, that was so much fun,” Riley says.

  “Our pleasure,” Max responds.

  I’m delighted with how well they’re getting along. Riley has come to adore Max, and I think he feels the same, or is, at least, tolerating her well.

  Right after they drive off, the valet arrives with Max’s car, and as I move to get in, the valet notices an envelope on my side of the windshield.

  “Here, miss,” he says, as he hands it to me. I thank him and put it on my lap as I buckle my seatbelt.

  “What’s that?” Max asks with an uneasy look on his face. The envelope is addressed to him. Before I can respond, he jumps out of the car and turns around, looking in all directions. My stomach turns.

  He finally climbs back in and slams his hands on the steering wheel. “Damn!”

  “What, Max?”

  “It’s Chloe. She must be watching us. Damn!”

  “This is from Chloe?” I cry out, holding it up by the corner, as if it’s about to explode.

  “Yes,” he says with a low growl. “I’ve been getting them in the mail at home. But this is the first one I’ve gotten like this.”

  “What do they say?”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Well, I do. Wouldn’t you want to know if it were sent to me?”

  He sighs heavily. “Yes, I would demand to know.”

  “So, can I open it?”

  “It may upset you, but I’m not going to stop you. Unfortunately, we’re both in this mess now, aren’t we?”

  His expression is tight with apprehension as I tear open the envelope. Inside is an invitation to an opening event at the Granville Gallery in Beverly Hills. My fingers tighten over the fancy paper as I read a handwritten note on the back to myself.

  Hi Max,

  You’ve probably heard that I’m working at the Granville Gallery now, and I really think Louis should represent you in both his galleries. Why don’t you come to the event and I’ll introduce you and get the ball rolling.

  Really looking forward to seeing you.

  Chloe

  I look at Max with wide eyes and hand him the card. He studies the front, turns it over and reads her note. His face is expressionless as he hands the card back.

  “Is this the Louis Granville she’s referring to?” I ask. My stomach churns. This woman is more trouble than I feared. She is clearly no idiot, and she knows what being in those galleries would mean to Max.

  He turns, looks out the window, and nods. “Yes, the founder and owner of Granville Gallery is a major figure in the art world.”

  I shove the card back in the envelope. “Damn, Max, she isn’t going to back down, is she?”

  He shakes his head before looking at me. “Probably not. She’s used to getting exactly what she wants, and she’s very devious. But it’s not going to happen this time.”

  And I’m leaving in two weeks, I think. Dark thoughts blind me, as if the blackest silk scarf were tied over my eyes. Max may be resolute, but with me gone in New York for weeks, I’m worried. Can he eventually be worn down if they start working together over an opportunity he can’t pass up?

  On top of everything, it’s also my last week at the gallery. Each time I drive to work this week, it gets a little tougher. But, by Wednesday, I’m choked up as I drive into the parking lot. Although the actual work is the same old stuff, it’s an emotional roller coaster in every other aspect.

  On Monday, Adam sends an announcement to our email list to explain my departure and exciting career opportunity. As a result, most of the artists we deal with call to wish me the best, as well as some of my favorite customers. I’m particularly blown away by the Matthews, who send me a gorgeous arrangement from the elite florist, Mark’s Garden. Attached is a touching note of congratulations and well wishes.

  Every day, someone takes me out to lunch. Even Sean puts on a good face when he takes me for burgers on Wednesday.

  Right before closing that afternoon, I get a call from my lawyer, Jackson.

  “Ava, there’s a problem.”

  “Problem?” Oh no, I can’t take much more drama. If something has happened with the job, I think I’ll completely lose it.

  “Yes, ArtOneWorld just contacted me. There are some major issues with scheduling that we need to work out.”

  My stomach drops. “Major issues?”

  “They
need you earlier than originally planned, essentially starting yesterday.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The two key artists from season one were just awarded some prestigious award and grant, and because of their schedule changes, they can either do it now or have to pull out entirely. Following that are the promo shoots for the network launch, which have also moved up.”

  “So, what does this all mean?”

  “Essentially that they’ll need you in New York by Monday, so you can prep all day Tuesday, and then start shooting Wednesday. From here on out, you’ll be in full production mode.”

  “Starting next week?” I ask with a weak voice.

  “Is there a conflict we can’t move around? I know this isn’t ideal, but I thought this was your last week at work.”

  “Well, it is my last week at work, but I’m packing up my apartment next week because I’m going to be in Paris the week after. Max has a meeting with the Pompidou, so we worked our trip around it. We return to the states just before my start date.”

  “The Pompidou, hmm. Let me see what I can get them to do, knowing that. Meanwhile, look into getting help packing. You get a relocation allowance, so just bring the movers in sooner. They have professional packers.”

  My head starts pounding from the pressure. I don’t like the idea of strangers touching my stuff, and I’d rather pack myself. But I may not have the time now.

  “Do I have a choice in this?”

  “Your contract isn’t in effect for a few weeks still, but doing this will get you started on the right foot with them—show you’re a team player.”

  “I can work around losing my week to pack and flying there next Monday, but I can’t miss the Paris trip. I just can’t.”

  “Let me talk to them. You’re already agreeing to be there next week. I’ll make sure they love you for it.”

  “Okay, let me figure things out on my end.”

  “Great, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  Having learned my lesson, I call my man first.

  “Hey, Max.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”

  “I am. I just got a call from Jackson. The production company needs me in New York next week.”

  “And why is that?” His words sound calm, but his voice is tense.

  “Because two of their biggest artists for the first season can only do the shoots next week.”

  “So, it’s next week or nothing? What about Paris?”

  “I told Jackson to tell them that I absolutely can’t miss our Paris trip.”

  “Yeah, well let’s see how they take it.”

  “This means I’ve got to finish packing by Sunday.”

  Although he quietly sighs, he manages to resist saying “I told you so.” Max had predicted this very thing.

  “If you’re worried about packing, let me help you. I’ll pick up some stuff at the box store this afternoon and get takeout for dinner. And since I’m storing some of your stuff in my garage, I’ll bring some of the packed boxes home with me.”

  I take a deep breath. “You’re willing to help me pack?”

  “Of course.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “I’m not going to give you the chance to find out.”

  For my last day on Friday, Adam has arranged a farewell lunch at Maggiano’s and included Max and Jess. Katherine meets us there, along with Brian, Sean, and the guys. We are seated at a long table in a private room. Since it’s a family style Italian restaurant, large bowls of salad, pasta, and chicken are passed around the table.

  Knowing how emotional I get, Adam saves his farewell speech for dessert. He orders champagne for a toast, and when he stands and lifts his glass, I start to cry. I’m such a wimp. Max puts his arm around me, and pulls me close.

  Adam gives me a warm smile, walks over and kisses me on the top of my head before returning to his place and lifting his glass again.

  “Ava, you’re the daughter we always wanted. You’re not just bright and beautiful, but you’re a kind, loving person that everyone adores. As much as we’ll miss you at the gallery and studio, I want you to know how impressed we all are. This is an exciting time in your life, and we want you to make the most of it. We know you’ll make us proud. Here’s to your success, to Ava!”

  Everyone lifts their glasses. “To Ava.”

  “We love you!” Brian booms.

  “Yes, we do, girl!” Jess agrees.

  One of the guys pisses me off by chanting, “Speech, speech, speech.”

  Damn, I’m crying like a baby. How can I possibly talk in this state?

  “Go on, you can do it,” Max whispers in my ear, as he squeezes my hand.

  I slowly rise, wipe my tears with my napkin and gaze at this group of people I love.

  “You know, all of this with the television show has happened so fast, I’m not sure I believe it yet. It’s like a dream. But what I do know is how much I love you guys. You’ve been my family and Adam and Katherine, you two not only became my surrogate parents, but you brought me into your gallery. Everything you taught me, not just about art and the art business, but how to care about other people, I will carry with me for the rest of my life.”

  Adam and Katherine have such proud looks on their faces. I can only hope they know what they truly mean to me. I take a deep breath and continue.

  “One thing I know for sure is I would not be standing here with this future at my feet if Brian hadn’t taken me under his wing and brought me into your family. I love you so much, Brian.” My voice cracks, and I hold the table’s edge to steady myself as Max rubs my back gently. The look on Brian’s face breaks my heart.

  “You guys have taught me so much and supported me with my dreams. But we’ve also had a great time along the way. Sean, you always made working on the press so much fun, and Brian, your artful handling of the clients taught me so much. And it’s through you guys that I met my Jess, the greatest friend a girl could have and, of course, Max. Well, I think you all know by now, he’s the man of my dreams.” More tears fall, but I’m winding down.

  “I could go on and on, but we need to get back to work. Just thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.”

  Warmth of hugs and well wishes come in a colorful blur. I wish I could freeze this moment, tuck it in my pocket, and bring it out whenever I need a reminder of how good things can be.

  Max drives me back to the gallery so I can gather up my stuff and wrap up the final details. I twist my hair and gaze out the window.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Max says.

  “I was just thinking…I mean, I know it sounds strange with some of the challenges we’re dealing with right now. But I was thinking how damn lucky I am.”

  He smiles and takes my hand in his. “You are lucky, but so are we.”

  The weekend ends up being a packing marathon. Boxes are everywhere, and at times, I find it so overwhelming that I want to walk out the front door and keep going until I’m miles away. I’m grateful for Max, though, because despite his feelings about my moving, he tries to make it fun. At one point, I catch him trying on my past Halloween getups with Riley. Naturally, his favorite is the tall red and white striped top hat from Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat.

  “Only you could make Dr. Seuss hot,” I laugh.

  When he brings more empty boxes from the living room, he wears the Michael Jackson silver glove and reflective aviator sunglasses.

  “Nice,” I comment, smiling.

  He grabs his crotch, rocks his hips, and moon walks a few times before tossing the stuff into the donation box.

  The next time I look up, he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses shaped like stars with silver glitter frames as he packs some of my art books.

  “Hello, Elton John!” I tease.

  “Aren’t you a little young for Elton John?”

  “My mom was a huge fan. I grew up on his music.”

  “Same with my mom. Well, I don’t think Elton John would be
helping anyone pack, so try again, blue jean baby.”

  He’s packed a tower of boxes already, and as I examine them closely, I realize that there are drawings on the sides of many of them.

  “What’s this, Captain Fantastic?” I ask, moving closer. There’s a loose drawing on the side of the box of a woman on a chaise lounge reading a book.

  “Content description, so you know what goes where.”

  “And this one goes where?

  “Books go in your library, of course.”

  “Library? This is New York, I’ll be living in a shoe box.”

  “Yet another reason to stay with me. I’ve got a library, and my books would get along with yours quite nicely.”

  He grins, and there’s something about the damn star glasses and his sweet, playful attitude that pushes me over the edge.

  “You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you? This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone resembling Elton John.”

  “Well, I’m more than happy to be your first.” He winks as he pushes the star glasses higher on his nose. The following sweet kiss is more than inspiring.

  “You’re my ‘Rocket Man,’” I tease, as I pull off the glasses and toss them on the couch.

  “Or your ‘Madman Across the Water.’”

  He kisses me and pulls me closer. When his fingers skim down my back, I realize he’s looked away.

  “What?” I ask, following his gaze. He’s studying our reflection in the large mirror we took off the wall to wrap up.

  “Look at how sexy you are,” he whispers, as he pushes my hair over my shoulder and kisses my exposed skin.

  “No, no mirrors—I look like hell!” I exclaim. I close my eyes, but the mirror still sees, as evidenced by Max’s gasp of protest.

  “Stop that. Ava, you’re beautiful.” He kisses my neck, and I slowly open my eyes just enough to see that he’s still watching me in the mirror.

  “I see you peeking. Come on, open your eyes wider so you can really see.”

  I give up and open my eyes wide. The visual of his hand now on my breast as his other hand slides over my ass to pull me closer is almost more than I can take.

  It’s impossible to stop watching at this point. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Just the look of his hooded dark eyes as he watches is enough.