Work of Art ~ the Collection (94 page)

“I wouldn’t like it.”

“Exactly.”

“So, let’s take this one step at a time.”

“Okay, thanks, Jess.”

As soon as we hang up I call his number, but it goes directly to voicemail. I leave a message, telling him that I’ve talked to Jess, and to call me as soon as he gets the message—even if it’s in the middle of the night.

I try Ann’s number next, and thankfully, she picks up the phone. She sounds relieved to hear from me.

“Ava. I was just about to call you. I wanted to make sure you knew he was here. I’ve been too busy talking with Max until now to even call.”

“Thank goodness, Ann. I just got off the phone with Jess, and I’m so worried about what’s happening. I just tried his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.”

“Don’t worry, Ava, he’s okay—a little freaked out—but he’ll be okay. He just wanted to get away from the house, because he didn’t know what she might do. He knows she’ll probably show up again.”

I take a deep breath. I hope Ann isn’t just underplaying the situation, knowing I’m too far away to really do anything.

“Can I talk to him?”

“You can try. Let me check . . . he went to lie down. He’d taken his anxiety medication and had a couple of drinks while I was making dinner. He didn’t eat much, so he was pretty out of it. Maybe you can cheer him up.”

“I’ll try.” I steel myself for whatever mood he’ll be in.

There’s a rustle and muffled sounds.

“Ava,” he says with a sigh. I can hear the alcohol and medication in his voice.

“Oh, Max.” I can’t help it—my voice breaks as I say his name.

“Don’t cry, baby. Why are you crying? Is it because you miss me?”

“No—I mean, of course I miss you terribly—but I’m crying because I’m so worried about you and what happened.”

“Damn, no, no, no! Did Jess call you? I told her not to!”

“Max, if the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Fuck, do you have any old boyfriends lurking in New York?”

“No, Max, my point is, she knows I need to know you’re all right.”

“I’m all right,” he whispers. There’s nothing convincing in his tone.

“That girl is crazy, Max, and I don’t want her around you. Just the thought of her showing up at your house freaks me out. I don’t know what I’ll do if she tries anything when I’m around.”

“The worst part was when I found out it was a setup. It’s like crazy stalker bullshit.”

“I’m going to get on the next plane, Max.”

“No. Finish your thing there. My crazy ex won’t find me here. I’m staying with Ann. I’m safe.”

“What about your work?” Hiding out at Ann’s sounds like he’s going backward.

“Work? I can’t fucking work anyway. My head’s too messed up from this shit, and you know what? I don’t even care. Fuck it all.”

“But what about your paintings for the Pompidou? You still want to go with me to Paris, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Everything is screwed up now. And what if your schedule changes again? That’ll push me over the edge.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Right.” His tone is full of doubt and he lets out an exasperated huff. “Why is everything so hard for us, anyway? Do you think the universe is telling us we aren’t meant to be together?”

My heart sinks, but I try to convince myself that Max is high and not thinking clearly. “Oh, Max. Ann says you aren’t eating either.”

“I’m so tired, baby. So tired.” His voice is fading.

“Go to sleep, my love, and I’ll call you in the morning. I’ll be on my way back to L.A. by tomorrow night.”

“I love you, Ava. I hope you come back to me,” he moans softly.

“I love you too, and I will, Max. I will.”

Despite my exhaustion and a restless night, I get up with a steely determination to get through the day. The sooner it’s over, the sooner I’ll be headed home to Max. If I sleep on the plane, maybe I’ll be together enough to drive to Ojai. I know this plan is insane, but it gives me the buzz to keep going that coffee never could.

During a midmorning break, I call Ann.

“How is he?” I ask, dispensing with formalities.

“Still asleep. I heard him wandering around several times in the middle of the night, but last I checked he was gone to the world.”

“He says he’s going to hide with you until we leave for Paris. And he said he doesn’t want to paint, Ann, and he was so inspired recently. This isn’t like Max. I’m so worried about him.”

There’s a long pause. “I know, Ava, I’m worried too. And as much as I love having him here, I’m not sure this is the best thing for him right now.”

“What’s it going to take to make things better?” I wonder out loud.

“As crazy as it sounds, I think he needs a kick in the ass. Running away won’t solve anything. Unfortunately, I’m like his mom was . . . too coddling. I can’t seem to help myself. I really think he has the strength to overcome all of this. He just needs to get tough and find it.”

“You may be right,” I say, my mind racing. That’s the one strategy I usually don’t try with Max, even though it sometimes works for Jess. But Jess has gone soft on him too since the announcement of my new job.

Suddenly, a crazy thought comes into my head, really crazy. But it also feels right. It’s worth a try.

“I have an idea, Ann. Let me call you back.”

I scroll through my contact list until I find the number I’m looking for. I press the send button, feeling anxious, yet determined.

“Hey, beautiful, how’s my favorite star?”

For the first time, his flirting and huge, brash personality fill me with hope.

“Honestly, Mr. Caswell, I’m not doing well at all. You know I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t extremely serious. Please, I really need your help.”

“Did Jackson drop the ball? I’m going to make him regret it if he didn’t take care of you.”

“No, Jackson’s great. He’s taken very good care of me. This is about Max. He’s having a really rough time.”

“Max? Did he go off the deep end about your new job? I’m sure you remember that I predicted it. So, I can’t imagine how you think I can help. Furthermore, I highly doubt he wants
my
help.”

“Well, it’s not just my leaving—there are other crazy complications now. With all due respect, I think you’re wrong thinking Max doesn’t need your help. And it’s not just that I’m in New York and too far away to take care of him, Mr. Caswell. He may not know it, but I think you are just who he needs right now.”

“Really? I like your moxie, Ava. Besides, you always know how to intrigue me. Tell me more.”

I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer this whole idea doesn’t backfire. Maybe there’s been too much hand-holding and tiptoeing around our mess. We need a break—a tough angel, if you will—to stomp in and show us the way.

And who’s to say that angel can’t be a six-foot-two, fast-talking Hollywood producer hungering for a chance to finally be the father his son has always needed?

My gut twists. Something tells me Max and I are at a fork in the road, and it’s so dark and muddled that we can’t read the signs. Which way do we turn for true love’s path? One way is where we want to be, the other leads where I fear we’re going. Hope is a flickering light.

Maybe Max’s dad is our angel. Every day, unlikely prayers are answered. Maybe today’s our day.

Chapter Sixteen/ On My Way

For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, “It might have been.”

~John Greenleaf Whittier

T
his may be the longest Max Caswell Sr. has been silent. If he hadn’t grumbled and huffed a few times, I might’ve thought he was no longer on the phone. I tell him the whole story, from the moment I gave Max the news of my new job in New York to the discussion I’d just had with Ann.

“You’re a good woman, Ava. I’m still not sure he deserves you,” he says with a sentimental tone. I wonder if he’s thinking about his lost love, Liz, Max’s mom.

“He means everything to me, Mr. Caswell. I never thought I would find my soul mate, but he’s it. He really is.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’ll get your man back on track. It’s the least I can do. And would you please stop calling me Mr. Caswell? Hell, we’re practically family. If you don’t want to call me Max, why don’t you try Cas? Close friends call me that.”

I sigh. “Thank you, Cas. I need to also let you know that we’re supposed to leave for a romantic trip to Paris this Sunday. We planned this before Chloe showed up, and now I’m not sure it will happen.”

“Sunday? Okay, then let’s get right down to business. First, we need to get rid of the broad. She’s a liability in more ways than one. I never liked her. I’m not surprised to hear she’s gone off the rails.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Yeah, several times back when they were in school. They stayed with me once and I took them out in New York a few times. She had a hidden agenda—even back then—but Max was clueless when it came to her.”

The jealous beast roars inside of me, but I keep my mouth shut.

“What was her last name, Daniels or something like that?” he says, thinking out loud. “Does anyone have her current contact information?”

“I’m sure our friend Jess has it.”

“Okay, have this Jess call me, and I’ll contact Jackson.”

“Is he the right kind of lawyer for this situation?”

Cas chuckles. “Oh, he’s exactly the right man for this job. I like him best when he’s a hard-ass bastard.”

It’s difficult to picture sophisticated Jackson as a bastard, but I’m willing to if he can get Chloe out of our hair.

“So, you call Ann and tell her I’m coming up. I’ll get my girl to clear my schedule.”

My confidence in my decision to call Cas grows by the minute. This man knows how to get things done, and Jackson is amazing.

“Hey, aren’t you doing a shoot today?”

“Yes. We’re on a break right now, so I’ve got about twenty minutes.”

“Okay, I want you to listen to me. Be professional and take care of business. Don’t let this mess get in the way of what you need to do for the shoot. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

“It’s so hard to focus when I’m so worried about Max.”

“I know, but that’s exactly what you’re going to do. There is production riding on it. I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to get Max straightened out.”

“Are you sure you can accomplish all that before our flight on Sunday?”

“Yes, Miss Ava. You just do your job and look forward to Paris. Don’t try to call us. I’ll do my best to get his head on straight for the trip, if you promise me to take care of business.”

“I promise, sir.”

It’s hard to gauge Ann’s reaction to the news that Max Sr. is coming to Ojai.

“He’s coming here? Well, this ought to be interesting.”

“I know it’s risky. It’s either a brilliant idea, or the worst one I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed. You’ve helped them make progress with their relationship. I wasn’t sure that could ever happen.”

“Will you call and give me a warning if it’s a disaster? Max Sr. isn’t calling me until this evening.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, Ava, everything will work out. I really think it will.”

We shoot several more setups before breaking for a late lunch. Soon after, I get a text from Ann.

They just left for L.A. Sr. is determined, Jr. is hard to read. I’ve got my fingers crossed that whatever Sr. has planned works.

I text her back to thank her for the update. So far, so good, or at least as good as can be expected.

The last shot of the day is on the city street, but we’re delayed because of a permit issue. Travis stands off to the side, watching me go over my notes. My conversation with Billy about Svengali Travis comes back to mind and sparks a fury deep in my gut. I find my legs walking toward him without being sure yet what my mouth is going to say. My anger needs to stop swirling long enough for me to form words. I can tolerate a lot of things, but devious manipulation isn’t one of them.

When I’m in front of him, he flashes his bright-white, fake smile and pushes his expensive sunglasses over his precisely styled hair. Just looking at his slick hair makes me long for Max’s wild and sexy mane. I look down for a second and swear my angry expression is reflected in the tops of Travis’s shined shoes. Suddenly, everything about him irritates me.

“Well, hello, Ava. Too bad about these delays—looks like you’re going to miss your flight.”

I fold my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “If that happens, Travis, I won’t be working tomorrow. I’m going to fly home first thing in the morning to be with my boyfriend as we prepare for our romantic week in Paris.”

If Mr. Williamson needs a clear understanding of my underlying meaning, I think I just painted a vivid picture.

The edges of his big fat fake smile start to drift downward until his mouth is a long pressed line.

“Romantic? It’s my understanding that it’s a business trip for both of you with the meetings at the Pompidou.”

“Yes, there will be business, but more romance than business, which will make up for the weekends I had to work when my contract said I could go home.”

“Ah, contracts often require flexibility in this business. We’re expecting you to do whatever it takes to get what we need to make the best show possible. I’ve assumed you wanted that too. Was I mistaken?”