The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3) (23 page)

I nod with a grimace. “That’s her.”

I point to the men’s room door. “Why are they in there?” When Riley shrugs and shakes her head, I knock on the door.

“Max, it’s me. Can you come out so we can talk?”

There’s a moment of silence and then they get loud again. They both start yelling, followed by the sound of something crashing.

“Max!” I bang on the door.

The door suddenly opens, and Dylan sticks his head out, his face twisted in frustration. “Ava, he needs some time.”

“I can’t talk to her!” Max yells.

My stomach sinks. “Why won’t he talk to me?” I ask Dylan.

“He’s having a meltdown. I’ve got to get him out of here before he tears up the place. Thank God the event is over. I don’t want anyone to see him like this.”

He looks down at his watch before turning to Riley. “Stay with Ava. I’ll take him to our place and see if I can get him to calm down. I’ll call you when I get a handle on things.”

The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “No! I need to talk to him now!”

“Ava, leave,” Max says with a growl.

“Max, I’m not going to let you push me away again.”

“You can’t see me like this. Just leave, damn it! I don’t want you around this messed up shit.”

Even though I know he doesn’t mean that the way it sounds, it’s still a kick in the stomach.

Riley puts her arm around me. “Come on, Ava, he’s just raging. He isn’t mad at you.”

I fist my hands, overcome with a surge of adrenaline. I want to knock down that damn door and slap some sense into him. But as fast as the anger appears, it disappears, and I’m left unsure of what to do.

Max has never pushed me away when he’s upset with someone else. Maybe Dylan and Riley are right. He needs to calm down before we talk. If I force things in the heat of the moment, it may backfire. Besides, if he still has a thing for that bitch, I’m not ready to hear it.

Riley pulls me away long enough for Dylan to grab Max and drag him out the back door. I get a quick glimpse of his face before they turn from me, and it terrifies me. He looks completely crazy. I barely recognize him. How could he come unglued so quickly?

“There you are,” Jess says, moving toward me. “Where’s Max?”

“Gone,” I answer, my voice laced with frustration and hollow with despair.

“Dylan took him to our place to try to calm him down,” Riley explains.

Jess nods. “Wise choice. Chloe is still over by the event table, waiting to talk to him. I’ll tell her he left because he didn’t want to talk to her and to give it up.”

“While you’re at it, tell her to go back to fucking Florida or whatever murky swamp she crawled out of,” I rant.

“Go, Ava,” Riley whispers under her breath.

“On second thought, I’ll just tell her myself. I’ll pull out that lovely blonde hair of hers before I let her fuck with him again.”

Jess gives me a stern look. “Well, that’s hot and all, but Ava, you know that isn’t your choice to make. He’s your boyfriend, and you guys will have to deal with Chloe’s presence, but, ultimately, Max will have to decide if he wants to talk to her or not.”

I groan. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

“Listen, girlfriend, you may not see this right now, but her showing up could be a good thing. Max can finally deal with and move past his unresolved feelings about her.”

“That’s just great. He’ll be working on unresolved feelings while I’m a million miles away in New York.”

Jess looks alarmed. “No, you better get through this stuff before you leave.”

“Maybe we’re overstating this,” Riley says. “He didn’t even want to see her. Maybe one conversation between them will be all it takes.”

Jess and I look doubtful, but I hold onto that thought, because it’s the least upsetting one I have.

Sitting on our couch in our partially packed living room, I finally ask Jess about her conversation with Chloe before we left the bookstore.

“What reason did she give for moving to L.A.?” I twist my bottle of water back and forth in my hands.

“Something snapped, and she decided she’d had enough of marriage, raising a kid, Florida—you name it. Her husband is a drunk and hardly paints, and the money dried up. I think she realized she’d hitched her wagon to the wrong horse.”

I make a disgusted face. “Great.”

Jess folds her arms over her chest. “Exactly. So she decided to get back in the art game. Somehow, she scored a job with the Granville Gallery in Beverly Hills, so she came out here to work. Her kid is with her in-laws. She was vague about how that would play out.”

“So, something snapped. Just like that,” I whisper.

“Just like that.”

Max has talked about the Granville Gallery. He really wants them to carry his work, but he hasn’t convinced the owner yet. Could she know this? Is this part of her plan? My paranoia runs wild.

“So, she left her kid behind, and the first person she looks up is Max, who she abandoned ten years ago? Sounds like a real winner,” Riley says angrily.

Riley’s cell phone rings, and she takes the call.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” Riley says, the anger disappearing from her voice.

I’m relieved to realize it’s Dylan with an update.

“Good, we were pretty freaked out, so I’m glad to hear it.”

She smiles and nods.

Well, at least it isn’t bad news
, I surmise.

“Okay, she’s right here.” She hands me the phone. “Max wants to talk to you.”

My hand shakes as I take the phone. “Max?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ava, I’m really sorry I lost it like that.” He sounds worn out and remorseful.

“You sure scared me. I’m kind of a wreck here.”

“Look, can you come get me? I need to see you, and we need to talk.”

“Talk? Are you going to break up with me or something?” Both Riley and Jess turn to me, startled.

“Hell no! What are you thinking? Shit! See what she’s done? Now you think I’m breaking up with you.” His temper fires up again.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m just upset. Look, I’m on my way. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Okay, but hurry.”

I get to Dylan’s condo complex, and when I ring the bell, Max quickly answers. As relieved as I am to see him, I’m taken aback by the purple rings around his eyes and his drawn expression.

“Angel.” He reaches out and pulls me into his arms to hug me tightly.

“Are you all right?”

“Well, I’m better now that you’re here. I’m sorry about what I said. I was just so pissed off and wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, it freaked me out.”

I study his face to get a read of his state of mind. It can’t be good that he can be this unhinged from the girl merely saying hello. What will happen if she really challenges him?

His phone rings. He tenses and turns it off without answering it.

“Is that her?” I ask, trying to control the panic in my voice.

“Yes, and I’d love to know what fucking idiot gave her my number. I made the mistake of answering the first time, because I thought I recognized the number. As soon as I realized it was her, I told her I had nothing to say, and I hung up. But she just keeps fucking calling. Now that you’re here, I can turn my phone off. I just didn’t want to miss you if you tried to call.”

He slides his long fingers across the screen, and it goes dark.

Okay, so she’s determined
. I think to myself.
I’m getting a better idea of what we’re dealing with.

“So, was that really the first time you’d heard from her? You really had no idea she’d moved to L.A.?”

“No idea,” he states firmly.

“Well, that was quite a surprise then.”

He arches a brow and shakes his head. “And you know how I feel about surprises.”

“Yes, I do. What exactly do you think she expects or wants?”

“I think she’d like me to fall to my knees and beg her to come back. It’s like a sport with her. And the worst part is, once she gets an idea in her head, she’s unrelenting. I’ve seen her do anything to get her way.”

I’m silent for a moment, laboring over what to say next. I can’t help myself. “Chloe said you didn’t know it yet, but her finding you again was going to end up being a happy surprise.”

His expression hardens. “She said that to you because she’s masterful at the mind fuck. She wants to erode our relationship, the trust we have in each other. And we can’t let her do that, Ava.”

“No. I’m not going to let her fuck with either of us,” I say resolutely.

“That’s my girl.” He looks around Dylan’s condo. “Let’s get out of here. Dylan means well, but he’s making me nuts.”

The drive to Malibu is quiet, while my mind paints pictures I hope will never see the light of day. I can only imagine what’s swirling around in Max’s head. His expression is tight as he steers with his left hand. He holds my hand, and I’m grateful for this simple gesture of reassurance. With all the shit that’s been thrown at us, I’ve never needed to feel the connection that flows between us more.

“Let’s change and go for a walk,” he says, after we walk through the front door. I follow him upstairs with my overnight bag, and as I start to unbutton my blouse, I watch him disrobe. Knowing that Chloe is near makes me observe him with fresh eyes. I imagine she’s impressed with how Max has aged and filled out. I’ve seen pictures of him from college, and although he was always handsome, he’s breathtaking now. As he puts on a T-shirt, his muscles ripple, and I admire his body unabashedly. He’s everything I could ever want.

He’s mine,
I chant inwardly. I don’t care what claim she thinks she has as his first love. He is mine.

As I slide on my flip-flops, he takes my hand. We wind down the stairs, and at the bottom, he stops and takes something out of the hall closet.

“That’s some kite,” I say with a smile, as we close the gate and step down on the sand.

“You like it? I was feeling inspired one day and painted it.”

“Yeah, I like it a lot. But it should be in a museum, not dragged along the sand.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Did you see that exhibit of paintings on surfboards at MOCA?”

“Yeah, yeah…but sometimes art should just be fun.”

“Fun sounds good right about now,” I say quietly.

The late afternoon sun shimmers across the water and warms us as we walk along the shore. When we find a wide open area of sand, he hands me the spool of line and reminds me to hold on tightly. He holds the kite and walks backward, while still facing me. The line gets longer as we move further and further apart until it’s enough for the kite to fly.

“Shouldn’t you run?” I yell, remembering the effort we made as kids trying to get a kite in the air at the park near my house.

“No need. Watch!” And after he takes several more steps, a big gust of wind hits us. Max raises the kite up, and it lifts into the air, despite a couple of zigzags. As I let the spool unfurl, it soars upward until it’s high above us.

Wow, just like that.

He jogs back to me, grinning. “Hold on; don’t let go.”

“I got it, I got it!”

Another gust hits us and the kite pulls hard, as if it’s anxious to join the flock of seagulls flying by.

I tighten my grip. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re staying with me.”

Max laughs. He stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and maneuvers my hands to make the kite dance. I feel his warm lips on my neck and my knees grow weak, but I never lose focus on keeping the kite in the air.

Eventually, he gives me a break and takes the spool as we sink down to the sand and lie back to watch the delicate structure of nylon, rods and fine line dance back and forth with the sea wind.

I watch his focused expression as the sun falls over him. He knits his brow and purses his lips as he tightens the spool.

“Can I ask you something, Max?”

He glances at me and nods. “Sure. What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you curious what she has to say?”

“Look, Ava, there’s nothing she could say that would change anything. I knew it from the moment I saw her again. All of the ways she toyed with me and messed with my head when we were involved came back like it was yesterday.

“I was here waiting for years, and I got nothing from her, and it tore me apart. Now, I’m finally getting myself together. I’ve found real happiness with you. I realize it wasn’t her I’d been waiting for, but the idea of being in love—the idea of letting someone into your heart and trusting they will still love you even after they look around.”

“After they look around?”

“Yeah, at the mess and all the dark stuff inside your head. But with me—hey, have you ever seen those shows about people who hoard crap in their homes?”

“You mean those whack jobs that have piles of stuff everywhere so they can’t sit on the furniture or even get through the rooms?”

“Exactly. That is how my head and my heart felt—so damn crammed full of garbage and crazy ideas that I couldn’t even see straight. Then I met you, Ava, and you started clearing paths through all the crap. Like one of those people on the show that comes in and calmly helps clean out everything that isn’t needed. And because of you, more stuff gets cleared out all the time.”