The Inspiration (3 page)

“No way.”

“Look, this shirt is tight and will hold you in. Besides, the rhinestones will cover your whole chest area, so it won’t be a big deal, Ms. Modesty.” I lift my eyebrows and break out in a cold sweat. Jess undoes my bra clasp before I can say anything, and Laura pulls the bra away. Her eyes get big. “Oh baby,” she moans playfully. “So gorgeous—are these real?”

“Lay off, Laura, you’re going to freak her out.”

I blush, but before I can fully process her reaction to my breasts, she drags the tank over my head and down to my waist.

“It’s tight all right,” I say trying to deal with the idea of wearing something so provocative.

“Skirt’s too long.” Laura grabs my waistband and yanks the knit skirt up so it’s mid-thigh and she folds the excess waistline down over my hips. She reaches again into the Mary Poppins bag.

“Here, put these fishnets on those long legs. That’ll look hot, especially with the pumps you’re wearing.”

To finish the effect, she whips out a makeup kit and applies a smoky color around my eyes and a dark berry stain to my lips. Finally, she takes my hair down and, in a fury, works gel through the chestnut strands until it’s a tousled, wavy mess.

“You’re good to go,” Laura says as she steps back to review her work. The whole thing has taken less than five minutes.

“I can’t go out there like this. I look slutty.”

Laura laughs. “You wish. Your natural look is like an elegant porcelain doll; you couldn’t look slutty if you tried. You definitely look fuckable though, but in a Four Seasons, Dom Pérignon kind of way.”

Jess smiles widely. “Now you’re talking. Come on—let’s do this thing!” She heads out the door, ready to party.

If Adam’s reaction upon seeing me is any indication, I must really look different.

He does a double take. “Wow, Ava, you look stunning.”

He turns to Laura. “Is this a good idea? Everyone’s going to be looking at her instead of the paintings.”

“Oh yeah, right.” I moan and get my client list and folder in an attempt to focus on my job.

I instruct Samuel to start the music, and as the Kings of Leon’s “Sex on Fire” blasts through the speakers, the guests start arriving. The bartender’s serving up mojitos in graffiti-scrawled glasses, along with beer and wine. Soon the crowd loosens up and gets comfortable, the perfect vibe for buying art.

Adam is the master of the soft sell, cleverly talking people out of buying the work until they’re begging him for it. He then turns them over to me for the less glamorous chore of arranging payments and delivery. I don’t even mind this part of the process tonight because the vibe’s so festive. The dancers interact with the clients, and Jess holds court like the queen she is. The photographer gets shots of her with the significant guests and other artists who have come by to say hello. A few of these will surely be published in
Art World News,
if Adam has anything to say about it.

With all the important business taken care of, I finally allow myself to relax. Adam stashed away several bottles of champagne for this moment, and he gives me a full glass to toast Jess and our event, which is clearly a success. The first glass goes down easily and I give myself permission to drink a second. As the champagne slides down my throat, I feel the warmth unfurl in my body. I’m almost in my happy place when I glimpse a tall well-built man at the bar. He has his arm around one of the art groupies who follow these events. When he shifts his face to whisper something in her ear, I feel a jolt.

Max.

Frustration twists in my gut.

Although he’s the last person I want to see, I decide to not let him ruin my evening. I wander over to the DJ and request “Solar Midnight” by Lupe Fiasco.

“Time for some fun, Samuel. I need to relax.” We’ve become friendly through the functions I’ve hired him for. He smiles broadly, his white teeth contrasting his smooth ebony skin.

“Let it go, girl! And I hope you don’t mind me saying…you look
very
fine tonight.” He dazzles me with his smile once again, and I slip behind his music station so we can chat and dance around. His dreadlocks sway as he takes my hand and twirls me around.

I throw my head back and laugh, my mood quickly improving. The music has a driving funk vibe and our bodies move easily together. Samuel knocks the volume up again and the crowd reacts. Several people move to the dance floor for the performers.

Samuel leans in and whispers in my ear, “Ava, babe, who’s that dude talking to Adam? He’s staring at you like he wants to eat you for dinner.”

Adam and Max are across the room discussing something and they look very serious; all the while, Max stares intently at me. I turn back to Samuel and continue to move to the music, but out of the corner of my eye I can see Max come toward me like a leopard stalking its prey. I try to pretend I don’t know he’s there, but the energy from his intensity makes my heart pound.

Max stops in front of the soundboard. He watches my every move and, with each second passing, his countenance grows darker. I have no idea what his expression means. The music’s too loud for conversation, so he grabs my hand and pulls me out from around the table until I’m in front of him. His eyes move all the way down to my feet and then back up. He smiles.
Of course the racy look appeals to him
.

“Look at you, Ava. This is the second time today you’ve surprised me, and we just met. What other secrets are you hiding?”

Don’t even go there, Rico Suave.
I cross my arms protectively over my chest. “Hey, Max, it’s nice of you to come to Jess’s show.” I figure the polite professional route is the best way to handle him.

“Jess is an old friend, and we were at art school together. But don’t change the subject.” He unfolds my arms, slowly sliding his hands down to mine. “How else can you surprise me tonight?” His expression is blatantly seductive.

“Surprise?” I press my lips together.
He’s messing with me again.

“Yes, you were dressed like a lawyer earlier, and now you look like a rock star.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, you can thank Laura for that. I had nothing to do with this.” I wave my hands across my body. “Jess seemed to think I was underdressed for the event, so Laura restyled me.”

“I’ll thank Laura later.” He laughs and looks up. “We’re being watched. You know, Adam just told me to stay away from you.” He watches me carefully for my reaction.

“I see you take direction well.”

“Why is Adam so protective of you?”

“He and Katherine are like parents to me. They know I can take care of myself, but they still look out for me.”

“That’s all well and good, but I definitely don’t like being told what to do.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. So did Adam give you a reason why you should stay away from me?” I’m curious.

“Maybe I’m trouble.”

“Indeed.” I give him a dubious look.

“But the question is, am I the good kind of trouble, or the bad kind?”

“Or possibly both?”

“Hmm.” He takes my hands again and begins to slowly walk backward, pulling me toward the dance floor.

I really don’t want to dance with Max, but then again, I do. He rests one hand on my hip and slides the other up my arm to my shoulder, his fingertips lightly grazing my neck as we dance.

Of course, the bastard’s a great dancer, moving slowly, seductively. As I move in tandem with him, my natural hesitancy dissolves. The beat of the music pulses through me as he pulls me closer. I try not to look at him because, every time I do, his vivid gray eyes look not just at me, but into and through me. It’s unnerving and incredibly arousing.

Damn, the alcohol must be getting to me.
I want to press against him, but I don’t dare.

He slowly twirls me around as the music crests, and he pulls me back with just a sliver of space between us. My breath hitches, but I feel another hand on my shoulder.

“Ava, I need you,” Adam says firmly, looking unhappy and fighting to be heard over the loud music. “Mr. Barenholder wants to make a change to the installation.” He steps back and waits.

I look at Max. “Excuse me,” I murmur.

As I follow Adam, I begin to regain my composure. Dealing with this difficult client will bring me back down to Earth.

Mr. Barenholder lives in a museum-like mid-century home with terrazzo floors and walls of glass. It’s perched on a bluff overlooking L.A. As spectacular as it is, his house seems barely lived in and always feels cold. Jess’s painting, which he’s now decided should hang in the foyer, will liven things up, but we have to go over every detail at least three times. Every meeting with him is fraught with anxiety. By the time I finish the final notes with Mr. Control Freak Extraordinaire, the crowd disperses and Samuel packs up his gear.

Suddenly, I hear Jess’s voice coming from the viewing room, and she sounds pissed off. Concerned, I move closer to the doorway to listen.

“What are you fucking doing, Max? You’re so goddamned transparent. She doesn’t need to be your next conquest, your thirty-one flavor fuck, so just leave her the hell alone.”

“What, you too? Why does everyone seem to feel the need to protect Ava from me? She seems very capable of making up her own mind. Besides I’m not fucking with her. I just danced with her, for God’s sake. You make it sound like I’m about to drag her by her hair to my cave.”

I sway and lean into the wall to steady myself. They’re talking about me. I consider walking into the room to speak for myself. Once I assure them I’d never be interested in someone like Max, there’d be no reason to argue. But my feet are glued to the floor, and a feeling I don’t understand holds me back.

“Oh yeah, just dancing, and I paint by numbers,” she says sarcastically.

“Does she have a boyfriend? Is that what this is about?”

“I’m not going to even answer that,” Jess says.

“What, is this because you
like
her? I bet you want to get into her pants.”

“Fuck you! That’s so
muy macho
. You think a lesbian can’t have a friendship with a straight woman, that all I care about is getting between her legs. I love Ava because she’s extraordinary in every way. She’s a loyal friend, and she deserves the best. That’s why I’ve made sure she wasn’t around at events when you were these last few years.” Jess fumes and lowers her voice. “You know it’s not just Ava I’m worried about. I’m worried about you.”

“You have no reason to worry about me.” He sounds offended.

“Yeah well, you just seem to be all over the place—partying too hard, a parade of vapid women. It’s like you believe this fame bullshit. What really matters to you these days, Max?”

He doesn’t reply.

“I just wish you had someone to help you navigate all of this, someone to enjoy the success with. I haven’t seen you with anyone you cared about since Chlo—”

“Stop! Don’t go there. Just don’t go there.”

“All right, I’m done. You know, the irony is, the guy you used to be, that sensitive brilliant guy I roomed with our first year at Pratt, he’s someone that would’ve been perfect for Ava. Is that guy still in there?”

“Stop,” he moans, sounding like he’s in pain now.

“I hope so…I really liked that guy.” And with that, she sweeps out of the room and turns in the opposite direction of where I stand. I quickly walk over to Samuel and grab my third glass of champagne. I guzzle the contents and the fine bubbles tickle my nose. I don’t turn around to see Max leave the room.

“Are you all right, girl? You look whiter than usual,” Samuel says, concerned.

“Uh, Samuel, do you mind if I catch a ride with you? I want to get out of here and my hotel’s just a few blocks away.” I twist the edge of my shirt nervously. He agrees and I let Adam know that I’m leaving.

It rained while we were in the hall, and the cool air feels good against my face. All the streetlights glow, their colors reflecting in the wet asphalt. My mind swirls with everything I’ve heard. I jump up into the van next to Samuel and we take off.

“So, who was the guy?” Samuel asks playfully.

“Do you mean Rico Suave?”

“Yeah, Rico. He sure seemed to have a thing for you. Are you dating?”

“Hardly. We just met today, and no, I’m not interested.”

Samuel’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. “Could’ve fooled me. That was some pretty powerful chemistry burning between you two.”

“Oh, you’re such a romantic,” I say, trying to keep it light.

He pulls up in front of my hotel and I give him a goodbye hug. “Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow to settle things up.”

I watch him drive off before I stop at the hotel bar and order a glass of wine to take up to my room. Alcohol seems like the best way to take the edge off my tangled mind. It’s been one hell of a day, and right now all I can think about is the hungry look in Max’s eyes right before Adam pulled me away.

A
s lovely as it is for the hotel bartender to give me a wink and fill my wine glass almost to the brim, the combination of that and the three glasses of champagne in my petite frame is a bit much. Perched on the edge of my hotel room bed, I’m clad only in my fishnets and black tank as I hold onto my knees, hoping to correct the tilt the room has taken in my head. I focus on the framed print in front of me, and chuckle. Normally I hold hotel room art with great disdain, but right now, I find it completely fascinating.

I wonder if the person who created this blend of colors and stack of rectangles felt as serious about their art as the artists who are represented in the best galleries. Who’s to say the Rothko hanging in the Museum of Modern Art this artist knocks off is any better?

“Good God, Ava, You’re sooooo drunk.” I slur, flop back on the bed, and lift my right leg up in the air to admire the fishnet tights I’d been embarrassed about earlier. I rub my hands up and down my thighs and turn my legs in the light. At first the texture captivates me in my drunken stupor, but the more I rub my hands over my legs, the better I feel.