Work of Art ~ the Collection

by Ruth Clampett

  Back during our year in New York, we ran into Jonathan at many art events, and Max could hardly contain himself. Once, I actually had to physically restrain him and drag him out to Sixth Avenue when Jonathan cornered me at the Annie Leibovitz retrospective at the Center for International Photography. But Max had known Katiana for years, as she was one of the early supporters of his work when she was only an assistant curator. Once she married Jonathan, Max finally decided to make peace with him, and the last couple of years we’ve actually been friendly.

  Later, Max and I drift into a group to listen to one of the trustees pontificate on his plans for the museum, and I look up to see my love’s blue gray eyes glazing over. Max looks over at me, runs his fingers through his hair and pulls his earlobe—our secret signal. I nod and reach for his hand. We make our escape, him pulling me along as fast as my heels will allow.

  When we finally settle at our table at Soho House, we both immediately relax. Max loosens his tie, and I slide off my scarf. We order sparkling water while Max looks at the wine menu.

  “What shall we toast?” he asks.

  “How about another big show in New York? I hope you appreciate how extraordinary this is for someone so young. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Oh, I love hearing that,” he sighs, as he leans over and kisses me. “We’ve had a hell-of-a great run, haven’t we?”

  I nod. “So many great experiences and opportunities. And, you know, even when we have hit our little or big bumps, we always managed to work it out. We’ve dealt with stuff that would take most couples down. Remember the year we moved to New York so I could shoot the first two seasons there?”

  “Yeah, what did I overhear you call it once? The year of heaven with a little bit of hell.”

  “Yes, we learned a lot from all of that. It was the best of the best mixed in with some really challenging times.”

  “What do you think was the craziest thing that happened that year?” he asks.

  I pinch a bite off the olive bread and think for a moment.

  “Remember when I was doing that Daniel Etheridge shoot at his remote farm in Vermont and that huge storm hit? We got snowed in, and there was a problem with the snowplow? We were going to be stuck there overnight. I was so nervous about what you’d do when you found out. Of course, I had to be trapped with the best looking artist I had interviewed, besides you, of course.”

  “Oh, I remember that well.”

  “Well, when I finally got through to you on your cell phone, I was surprised how calm you sounded. I didn’t realize that you’d already been making plans. So later when you rolled up, riding shotgun on the snowplow you had arranged all the way from the next town, I had to laugh.”

  “Yeah, well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you stranded with him in his cozy-as-hell country cottage and fucking art-barn. I had to pay that snow plow guy a fortune, but it was worth every penny.”

  “That was one time that jealous Max came in really handy. I was so happy to be back at home with you.”

  “So, if that was the craziest, what was the most challenging?”

  “Hmmm, your award for best dramatic statement was about a month into the show’s tapings, when I had that week of late night shoots with that nocturnal artist. I got home at two A.M. on Friday, and you’d gone back to Malibu, leaving a note saying that you needed a break.”

  He drops his head with a look of shame on his face.

  “Poof, gone.” I smile at him, shaking my head. “I can smile about it now, but it just about killed me back then.”

  “Yeah, Cara still hasn’t let me forget that either.”

  “How long did you stay away again?”

  “A week, but, really, I was ready to come back to you the minute I stepped into my house and realized what a mistake I’d made. Remember how, soon after I returned, things started to change? You have to admit that things got a lot better once I started making new friends . . . people I could hang with while you were away.”

  “And then I became jealous because you were having too much fun.”

  “We had to smooth out the rough edges for sure.”

  “Yeah, you only tried that leaving thing one other time.”

  “Oh, when that hyper-realist artist dude starting calling and leaving suggestive messages at the house. I was going to give him some hyper-realism time with my fist, and you stood up for him.”

  “And that was, shall we say, the proverbial last straw.”

  “But that was also when you started really getting feisty . . . you called me at the airport and said that if I got on the plane back to L.A., we were done.”

  “I meant it too. You couldn’t keep leaving me, and we couldn’t keep having the same stupid fight. If you hadn’t realized that I was completely yours by that point, you never would.”

  “So, I’m standing in the security line, realizing that I was going to lose you. And I’m trying to pull my plastic trays back off the conveyer belt. I threw the whole line into a shit-storm. Security was all over my ass. What a nightmare.”

  “As I recall, despite all that, you made it back from JFK in record time. So, I guess my being feisty was effective.”

  “Yup, and that was some particularly great make-up sex.”

  “True, but imagine how we could’ve avoided all these issues if we’d known that the ass, Travis, was behind so much of it, including the hyper-realist dude. That guy came onto me with all of the finesse of a cage fighter.”

  Max’s face clouds over. “You promised me you’d never mention Travis again.”

  “Well, at least he got his . . . that has to give you some satisfaction. When ArtOneWorld heard about all the shit he’d done to me and the rest of the talent, his gig was over. Don’t you love that he’s working for some third-rate home shopping network now? Even Chloe got a job out of it, threatening to expose him when it came out how he also teamed up with her to break us up.”

  “Is it true what Jess said—that she’s co-host of a cheesy jewelry show?”

  “Yup, the fake girl is selling fake diamonds.”

  He chuckles. “That’s pretty rich.”

  “But, while we’re reminiscing, let’s not forget the good stuff. That first Christmas together was so storybook-like . . . all those night walks through the city, seeing all the holiday windows and decorations and feeling the cheer. Do you think we will ever live full-time in New York again?”

  “It’s still a little too much for me, but it would be cool for Lizzie to go to school in the city, around all that energy and culture.”

  “She’d love it. She always asks when we’re going to New York again. She would live in the Natural History Museum if we’d let her.”

  “I just realized something,” he says with a stunned look on his face.

  “What’s that?”

  “This is the first time in a while we haven’t spent our entire dinner conversation talking about Lizzie.”

  “You’re right. But now that you mention it, let’s call over there and make sure Delia has her tucked into bed. When we called on the way over to say goodnight, she sounded pretty hyped up.”

  “He probably gave her gummy bears with the movie again. I swear, it takes her two days to get over those monthly sleepovers with Grandpa.”

  And, as he starts to dial, my heart swells as I realize how much we miss her when she isn’t with us. We’re the three musketeers now.

  The next morning, we enthusiastically embrace sleeping in, since it’s now a rare luxury. Our little spitfire never sleeps past six, even on the weekends. When I finally open my eyes, I stretch luxuriously, then curl back up to my man. I feel him stir, and then pull me closer.

  “I was just dreaming about Bandelier again,” he sighs.

  “Was it the one where we fly out of the cave dwelling and soar over the trees?”

  “No, Lizzy was in this one, and I was helping her up the ladder, but it was short and bright blue, like the one for the slide in the kids’ playground.”

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nbsp; “Well, she keeps asking to go to Santa Fe. She wants to see where we got married. What is it with little girl’s interest in brides and weddings?”

  “Probably because she always hears that we had the greatest wedding, and the only thing that could have made it better is if she could’ve been there.”

  I smile and kiss him. “I was worried you’d never get over your disappointment that we couldn’t do it at Gaudi’s church in Barcelona.”

  “Oh, that would’ve been amazing, but this was really special. New Mexico holds so much meaning for us.”

  “I know, you’re such a romantic . . . the way you proposed to me at Bandelier was so perfect.”

  “I was inspired. So, let’s take Lizzie to Bandelier. I’ll tell her about how I proposed. It’s never too early for my girl to understand how a man should treat her.”

  “Oh, Daddy, you sure love your little girl.”

  “That I do.”

  “I’m going to make you breakfast in bed this morning.” My lips graze his shoulder. “Any requests?”

  “Whatever’s easy, as long as coffee’s involved.”

  “After, why don’t you let me pick Sweet pea up and you can have more studio time. I have to stop at the drug store anyway.”

  “That’d be great, baby. I could really use the extra couple of hours, and I’m in the mood to paint.”

  When we return home, Lizzie runs to the studio and tackle hugs her daddy. Even though she’s interrupting his work, I let her linger with him for a few minutes so she can tell him about Mary Poppins.

  “Oh, the nice nanny had her magic bag! And her friend lived in the chimney. And, Daddy, she could fly with her umbrella! And she danced with the penguins . . . oh, my!” The words tumble out of her mouth as fast as she can form them. She finally pauses to catch her breath, and Max smiles.

  “We’re going to go find the umbrellas now and play Mary Poppins,” I tell him.

  “Sounds like fun. I’m glad you had a great time at Grandpa’s, baby girl.”

  “We sang all the songs at breakfast, and Grandpa let me have whippy cream and chocolate chips on my waffles.”

  Max rolls his eyes at me, and I shrug my shoulders in response.

  “It could have been worse. She didn’t bring any new toys or miniature designer party dresses home.”

  As Lizzie runs to the yard to help the gardener feed the koi, I remind Max that Jess, Laura, and the boys are coming around three for a swim and early dinner barbeque.

  Brian may join us too, if he can get away from the gallery. Ever since Adam retired and started traveling all the time with Katherine, Brian’s become a workaholic, but he promised he would try. We both know there’s a good chance he’ll make it, because he loves to spend time with the boys. They call him Uncle Brian, and Jess and Laura have encouraged him to be a big part of their lives.

  “Okay, I have that interview at three-thirty, and then I can join you down at the beach,” Max says.

  I give him a kiss and start out the door when he calls me back.

  “Do me a favor, baby. Will you keep an extra eye on Pablo? I think he plays too rough with Lizzie.”

  “She’s much tougher than you realize. She can handle Pablo just fine.”

  “Tough like her mama, right?” He grins.

  “Sure, I’m tough—I handle you, don’t I?” I step in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and look up into his gray blue eyes. “You can’t protect her from everything, you know.”

  “Maybe,” he admits, “but I sure can try.”

  It’s a warm night with the moon hanging low in the sky. I grab my laptop and situate myself on the chaise lounge on the bedroom balcony. I love the sound of the ocean below, the water pushing toward the shore and back, its waters dark and mysterious. I take a deep breath and peel off my shirt, twisting up my hair so that I can feel the breeze against my heated skin.

  The afternoon was non-stop action, so it’s great to stretch out and have a quiet moment. The kids had a fun time together, and I love watching Jess navigate motherhood. Of the two moms, she’s the one that jumps in and carves the moat for the boys’ sandcastle, while Laura soothes the son who’s just been hit over the head with a plastic sand shovel. Jess lets them eat their Halloween candy with abandon, and Laura monitors their Oreos intake. They balance each other out nicely, which is similar to how I think Max and I are with Lizzie.

  As for Lizzie dealing with the rough boys, Daddy really didn’t need to worry, as she had Leo and Pablo wrapped around her finger. She bossed them around one moment and ran from them squealing the next—letting them think they had the upper hand. If I had her instincts, I would’ve had much less trouble with men early on.

  I pull open my laptop, and within minutes, I’m lost in my words, only the silver from the moonlight and glow from my screen defining my surroundings under the night sky. About an hour passes before I hear his voice.

  “Ava,” Max calls.

  “Out here.”

  He approaches the French doors leading to the patio and stops in his tracks to take me in, as I’m half-undressed with my hair swept up. His eyes are wide, his expression playfully curious. “What’re you doing out here looking like that?” he teases. “Are you trying to make me jealous of the moon?”

  I laugh as I look down at my lavender lace bra and white flowing skirt pushed up high on my thighs.

  “I’m still hot from all the sun today and wanted to feel the breeze on my skin. Plus, that new editor that Nick has me working with is making me crazy.”

  “Well, you’re making me crazy looking like that.”

  I scoot my legs over as he sits on the edge of my chaise lounge.

  “Here, I know how to relax you,” he says, moving my laptop to the side table. He slowly strokes my legs and massages my feet as we sit quietly and listen to the waves crashing down below.

  “Are you going to paint some more tonight?” I lean toward him and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “No, I’m done working. What I’d really like to do is play with you.” He feathers kisses at the nape of my neck and trails his paint-stained finger down between my breasts.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  He lifts up so he can swing his leg over, now straddling the chaise lounge. “Well, to start with, I want to kiss you . . . really kiss you, my beautiful wife.”

  I feel my cheeks flush. How does he do it? He still makes me swoon like a schoolgirl.

  I lean in closer with a quiet smile.

  His lips graze mine, ever so lightly at first, as my eyes fall closed and my hair rustles in the breeze. The next kiss brings us closer, his lips soft and warm, the passion building with each heartbeat. I moan softly and slide my hand along the nape of his neck.

  “Max,” I whisper. Every sensation of being near him unfurls the desire inside of me.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I love you.” The delicate strings of my heart wrap around him as his lips skim along my jaw and find their way back to my lips.

  In this intimate moment, I imagine we’ve always been together, sharing past lives: kisses stolen in Egyptian tombs, our footprints lightly etched in the earth of the African savannah, and fingers intertwined in carriages rolling through the English countryside. But even though I don’t doubt we’ve shared past lives, and we’ll have our future, what really matters is our glorious now.

  “I love you too.” He sighs, devotion in his eyes, as his fingers slide under my bra strap to caress my shoulder. The strap falls, and a moment later the other surrenders. He kisses me tenderly as the front of my bra is slowly eased down.

  I arch back against the chaise cushion as he takes my breasts in his hands. At first, he moves his fingers so lightly over me, circling, before his thumbs roll over my nipples.

  “Oh, when you touch me.”

  “I want to touch every part of you.” His expression is earnest, yet dark . . . satisfied, yet hungry.

  My arousal is flaming inside of me, impatient and wild.
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  “Let’s go to bed.”

  He looks up and smiles that smile—the one that causes my breath to catch and electrifies every part of me.

  “Now . . .” I insist.

  He stands up and pulls me off the chaise before leading me inside. I look over at the door to the hallway, and as if reading my mind, he steps over to lock it, ensuring our privacy. Only moments later, he’s naked and on the bed.

  “Come here,” he whispers, his arms outstretched.

  I take my time removing my last bits of clothing, while he watches with an appreciative gaze. He says I’m his enchantress, the only woman he’ll ever want. We’ve made love countless times, and I never get tired of feeling his hunger for me.

  I slowly lower myself over him until I’ve straddled his hips. We kiss while our hands wander, teasing us both to that state of raw desire. His gaze is smoldering as he eases me higher. Without another word, I take hold of his cock, rubbing it against my wetness until I slowly settle down over him.

  He lets out a low gasp, his hands grabbing the fleshy part of my hips, as I start to slowly rock.

  “Oh, you feel so damn good.” I moan low and deep as I rise up, then push down over him.

  His eyes roll back with pleasure.

  “Ava.”

  I lean down to kiss him, and as the heat ignites, he suddenly rolls us until I’m under him. I can see he’s on edge in his determined look—he needs to let go.

  I pull my legs apart, and when our gaze connects, there’s fire in his eyes.

  “You ready, baby?” he whispers—his voice ragged with hunger.

  I nod and he fills me with a gasp. My legs fall wide open.

  Part of me wants him to be tender, but the other part knows I’m tough and can take everything he needs to give.

  Each deep, hard thrust pushes me closer to my peak. As I float away, I feel his lips on my neck and his hand grasping my breast.