“Hey, Ava, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if I could come over? I really need to talk to you. Are you free?”
“Sure. I’ve been fighting with this painting for hours and I think the bastard’s won. I’ve given up on it, so I have all the time you need. Laura’s on a three-day shoot and it would be good to have the company.”
When I arrive, Jess is still in her studio, looking through her reference books. There’s a large canvas on her huge wooden easel, but she’s turned the entire thing toward the wall, so she doesn’t have to look at it. The painting really must’ve pissed her off. I know better than to ask to see it.
Billie Holiday’s playing on the sound system, and as I settle onto the velvet chaise lounge, I look up at the ceiling. Christmas lights are strung over the beams and give the room an ethereal glow.
“So?” she asks, as she sets down her book and rolls over to me on her drafting chair.
“You are not going to believe this.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“What did art boy do now? Did he have another jealous rage? He better get a handle on that shit before you move in.”
“No, this isn’t about him. I just got the most unbelievable job offer. I’m frankly still in shock.”
“Really? I didn’t even know you were looking?”
“I wasn’t. They came to me . . . they want me. I still can’t believe it.”
“Okay, you’ve got me intrigued. What is the job, Miss Yes, I’m all That?”
“You know that new network, ArtOneWorld? They have a show they’ve developed called The Artist Revealed, and they want me to be the host!”
Jess’s jaw drops. “Wait a minute . . . did I just hear you right? You’re going to be the host of a TV show about artists?”
“That’s correct.”
“Oh, my God, Ava, that’s awesome!” Her high-pitched yell almost knocks me off the velvet cushion I’m perched on. She jumps up and scoops me up in her arms.
“Baby, you’ve hit the big time! My little girl is going to be famous and hanging with the hoi polloi of the art world. I’m so thrilled for you!”
There’s a weight and honesty to her words, and her pleasure in my success is purely selfless.
“Thanks so much.” I give her a big smile, but twist my hands nervously.
Her eyebrows knit together. “What is it, girl? You look torn about something. Is there a problem with their offer?”
“There’s a problem all right. The job’s in New York. I’d have to relocate there for a year.”
Her expression falls as she gasps. “Max. Have you told him yet?”
“No, I literally just left the meeting. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. He’ll freak out.”
Jess paces from one end of her studio to the other. “Yes, he’s going to freak. He’s going to have to figure out how to deal with it. This will be a real test for you guys.”
“What if he can’t deal with it? What if it ruins our relationship?”
“Look, I can stand here and be all cavalier and tell you if it ruins your relationship then you guys weren’t meant to be together. But that would be bullshit. Max is a different kind of relationship, and you knew that when you got involved. He needs you near him. If you leave, I’m not sure what will happen.”
“This isn’t making me feel any better, Jess.”
“No, but I’m serving it up straight, girlfriend. I care about you and I care about Max, and I wish there was an easy answer here.”
“Well, I could just turn it down. That would keep things from changing.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” she asks pointedly, the feminist in her challenging me.
“I can’t imagine turning it down. I wouldn’t expect him to do that for me, even if it meant keeping our relationship in this happy place.”
“Ah, baby, and that’s where you’re wrong. You can’t take a moment in life where everything is great and freeze it so it stays the same. Things will keep moving and life will keep changing whether you want it to or not. You’ve been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and now it’s between the two of you whether you take the job or not. It will always be there.”
My heart swells with sadness. I curl forward, my face falling into my hands.
“Being in love with Max has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. I can’t imagine giving him up, losing him to a job. I just wish I could ask him to move there with me.”
“Yeah, it sucks that he’s convinced himself he couldn’t work in New York. He says it every time we go there—something about the craziness of the city making him too nervous to focus. I think it’s the after-effect of his school experience.”
“Yes, he’s told me he loves to visit, but would never live there again.”
“Well, here’s another way to look at this. You know Laura and I watch that lifestyle cable channel once in a while. Well, there was this series they produced about lottery winners. One show we watched was about how winning the money had ruined these people’s lives. The other show was about people who had embraced the experience and were now living the lives of their dreams.”
“And how does this apply to my job offer?”
“You’ve been handed a fucking winning lottery ticket, Ava. What are you going to do, give the ticket back to them because your boyfriend may be uncomfortable with how things may change?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it does sound ridiculous.”
“It’s all about how you guys choose to handle this. Maybe this experience will teach you that you guys were great in the moment, but not meant for the long haul. And things will run their course.”
I feel a surge of denial that this could even be a possibility.
“On the other hand, if you two do have the future together we imagine, then this will teach you about weathering the challenges life throws at you. There’s something good about learning early on how strong you really are as a couple.”
“Laura travels a lot, and you guys seem to deal with it.”
“Yes, we do deal with it, and most of the time it isn’t a problem. You know how independent I am. But I’m not going to lie, there are times that I hate it, and I just want her here in my arms. If we have a kid, it will only get harder. About three times a year, I try to talk her into changing careers, but this is who she is . . . what she was meant to do. We all have our destiny. This is yours.”
The next morning at the gallery, I step outside during my morning break to make a phone call to Max’s dad.
“If it isn’t the lovely Ms. Jacobs. What can I do for you, my dear?”
“Hi, Mr. Caswell, I wonder if you could help me. I need to find a good entertainment lawyer slash agent and I have no idea how to do that. I normally ask Adam for such advice, but television production isn’t his world.”
“Of course, sweetheart, hmm . . . I have just the guy. He’s young and charming on the outside, but tough when it counts, just like you. What, may I ask, is this for?”
“I’ve just been asked to host a television show about artists, and I’m going to need help with the negotiations and contract.”
“What did I tell you? I can always spot talent. Too bad they got you before I did.”
“Yes, they certainly surprised me, and now the whole thing’s moving so fast, I hardly know what to do.”
“Well, I’m happy to help you, beautiful. You can call me anytime. What does my son think about this?”
“Well, I’m telling him about it tonight. You see, the job’s in New York, and he isn’t going to like that. I’ve got to break it to him easy.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Uh oh. Knowing hot head, I’m sure he isn’t going to be happy. Yes, the easier you break it to him, the better. If he’s the asshole I’m expecting, call me, and I’ll straighten him out.”
I pause, considering my next question, and I actually shock myself that I’m bold enough to ask it.
“Wh
at if it were your woman going to New York for a job.” He and Max have more in common than either would ever admit.
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t happen. I don’t do long distance. There are too many ways for things to go wrong. I doubt you’ll convince my son, but I wish you luck trying. Just be ready for anything.”
I fear I’m doomed, and my heart sinks several notches lower.
The rest of the day at the gallery is an exercise in restraint. I can’t tell anyone my exciting news yet, and I can barely handle my fear about how Max is going to react tonight. Luckily, Brian’s in Vegas, or he would sense my inner turmoil and drill it out of me. Everyone else is distracted and busy enough so my secret’s safe, and I get through the afternoon without coming apart at the seams.
My stomach churns the entire drive to Malibu, but I keep lecturing myself not to let my fear get out of hand. There’s no reason to expect the very worst. Max is a different man than when we first met. Perhaps all that therapy will help him have a balanced view of the situation.
I find him in the kitchen putting the final touches on a piece of salmon before he puts it in the oven to bake. I give him a hug and kiss, and jump in making the salad while he prepares the asparagus. While we work, he tells me all about his class at the high school and that it looks like DreamWorks is interested in developing shy Maurice Johnston, one of the students I’d met, as a digital background artist. Max had forwarded jpegs of some of his fantastical paintings to one of Dylan’s old friends, who’s an executive there, and things took off from there.
“Does it bother you to push him toward more commercial work as opposed to staying in the fine art world?”
He shrugs and then shakes his head. “Nope . . . not at all. Maurice doesn’t really have the personality to survive in the fine art world, but he could fit in nicely with those animation types, where the talent is most important, not the personality. Besides, animation is really creative.”
“Look at that,” I say softly, hugging him from behind while he works. “You just changed the course of one young man’s life.”
He turns around, grinning, and hugs me tightly. “It’s cool, isn’t it? It really makes me feel good that I was able to help him.”
I’m selfishly thrilled he’s in such a good mood. It should make my news go down easier. We grab our plates and glasses of wine and go out to the patio. The sun lingers for its final moments over the horizon, and the waves crash just beyond us with unusual force.
While we eat, I watch him carefully, trying to imagine what I would think if this were the first time I’d met him. Sometimes, with art or music, you’re swept off your feet at first, infatuated with every note, every brush stroke that brought this creation to light. But then, over time, with countless viewings and playing the song until you can sing it in your sleep, the object of your admiration gradually loses its allure.
But when I look at Max, I realize that hasn’t happened. Every time I have an unguarded moment to study him, his striking good looks take my breath away. And tonight, as his eyes flash with excited energy and a russet flush paints his cheeks, he’s the very essence of male perfection and I’ve never wanted him more.
He stretches out his long legs under the table and then slides his foot underneath mine. I smile at his instinctive need to be physically connected, and I take a sip of my wine.
“Are you done?”
“I guess so. Why? Are we in a hurry for something?”
“Yeah, I have something I want to show you.” He taps his fingers on the tabletop and his eyes are wide. His eager expression makes my heart skip.
We carry our plates into the kitchen, but instead of cleaning up, he pushes me out the kitchen door. He takes me by the hand, pulling me upstairs toward his bedroom. My heart’s thundering.
What in the world is he going to show me upstairs?
At this point, I’m game for anything to distract me from telling him my big news. He passes the bed without a pause and pulls open his closet door. “Look,” he says excitedly, pointing inside.
I peek in. About three quarters of the closet is empty. He’s made a space for me. My heart sinks lower than I thought possible.
He pulls me into his arms. “What do you think?”
“Oh, Max.” There’s sadness in my voice. I can’t even camouflage my despair.
He pushes me back with uneasiness in his eyes. “What?”
I pause, not ready to tell him yet.
“What, Ava, what? Is something wrong?”
I can feel his panic start to set in. I point to the sitting area on the balcony, trying to keep my hand from shaking. “Can we sit down and talk?”
The fine lines around his big grey blue eyes tighten as he looks at me with alarm.
I numbly walk to the French doors and open them before going out to the chairs.
As he follows me, the weight of his fear almost brings me to my knees.
“Just tell me . . . what the hell? Have you changed your mind?”
My head falls forward as I wonder how I’m going to tell him my news. I hold my face in my hands for a moment with my hair draped like curtains hiding my face.
“Oh, my God . . . what’s wrong? Did you meet someone?”
I sit up, startled. How could he even think that? This is going downhill fast. I better change the mood before we head for disaster.
“No, it’s nothing like that. Actually, it’s good news . . . great news really.”
“Great news?” he asks, not sounding convinced.
“Yes, I got an amazing job offer. It happened late yesterday actually, and I was so shocked, I needed to let it sink in.”
“You didn’t tell me last night because you needed it to sink in?” I can hear confusion edging his voice.
I nod as I bite my lip.
“What kind of job?”
“I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I’m going to be the host for a TV show about artists on ArtOneWorld.”
“Host of a TV show, are you serious?” he asks, the excitement starting to replace the confusion.
“It’s a dream come true, and I can’t believe it’s happening.”
He jumps up and grabs me, swinging me around. “Ava, that’s amazing! We have to celebrate!”
After he sets me down, he steps toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
I sit nervously for a couple of minutes, but when he returns, I feel an overwhelming rush of hope. He’s holding a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.
“I think this deserves a toast.”
“Oh, Max.”
He opens the bottle, shooting the cork ceremoniously over the balcony railing. After he pours, we raise our glasses.
“To you, Ava, the world will soon know what I’ve known all along . . . that you’re an extraordinary and beautiful woman of many talents.”
I want to enjoy this moment. I smile and take a sip. “You know this would never have happened if I hadn’t met you.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but it’s happening regardless. Now I’ll need to share you with the world for a while.”
“Just a while,” I whisper, hopeful. I slide my chair over closer to him so we can hold hands.
“So tell me more . . . I want to hear all about it.” His enthusiasm is a warm blanket I want to snuggle in endlessly, knowing it will soon drop away.
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
He tips his head to the side and examines my expression. “Wait. Earlier you said it like you’ve already accepted the job.”
“Well, I want to accept it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it. There’s one challenge, but we can work it out. I know we can.”
The happy expression and color slowly drain from his face.
“What’s the challenge?”
I take a deep breath and steel myself. “The show films in New York.”
There’s a long pause as the wheels turn in his head. “Oh, I see.
So you’ll have to fly into New York for the shoots. You’re going to be gone a lot,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself. His expression gets very dark, but then seems to shift as if he wants to avoid sinking down into the black hole.
I hold my breath. Maybe he’ll process this news better than I thought.
“So, when does this start?” he asks.
I take a sharp breath. “They want to start in six weeks.”
“Are you serious, six weeks? Do you even have a contract yet?”
“No, they’re presenting it next week.”
“Hey, so maybe that makes it easier for you to come to Paris with me. If you give notice to Adam within the next two weeks, it would fit in before you start.”
I feel a surge of excitement. “Yes, you’re right. That would be perfect if we could fit that in.”
He settles back into his chair, taking sips and looking into the star strewn sky.
“So, you said that you found out yesterday. Have you told anyone else?”
Suddenly, it’s clear that not telling him first is going to backfire. I realize in my crazed rush I made a very bad decision. I brace myself, figuring I may as well get this all out in the open.
“Um, yes, I talked to Jess last night. And I called your dad this morning to ask if he knew of an entertainment lawyer-agent, but that’s all . . . no one else.”
“My dad? You told my fucking dad before you talked to me?”
“Don’t feel that way, Max. I only called him to get a lawyer’s name. I really wanted to tell you face-to-face, and yes, I should have driven out here last night to do that, but I didn’t think I was steady enough to make the drive at night. I was unglued last night.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was worried about how you would take the news, and I didn’t want to upset you.”
“So, you take important information that will have a major effect on our relationship and you share it with Jess and my fucking dad before me? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
He pauses and takes a swig of his champagne. His grip is very tight on the glass.
“Wait a minute. Did you say it’s for ArtOneWorld?”
Work of Art ~ the Collection Page 58
