The Unveiling (Work of Art #2) (14 page)

I nod silently.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you in there.” He points to the auction room and gives my hand a squeeze before he walks out and shuts the door.

“Are you Ava?” she asks, quietly.

“Yes, and you are…?”

“Heather Alistair, Jonathan’s wife.” She watches me carefully.

A whimper escapes from my lips, and I wrap my arms around my torso, curling inward.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, I make it my business to know who my husband’s playthings are.” She pauses and considers me carefully.

“You didn’t know about me?” she asks next. Her tone is eerily patient.

“No, I had no idea…”

“Hmm…Jonathan is very clever at hiding things.”

“Oh, God. I would’ve never, ever…if I’d known. I’m so sorry.” The tears stream down my face as the pain and regret rip through me. “I’ll never see him again.”

“Yes, well you aren’t the first one. He tends to pick young innocents for that very reason. But he’s normally much more discreet. I have no idea why he was so sloppy this time. I mean Spago…
really
. I have friends all over this city.”

I might pass out as I consider the fact that I’m one of many. And someone saw us at Spago? What exactly did they see? This is all too much. I grab the edge of the couch to steady myself.

“When I finally confronted him, he promised it would stop. But, just a week later, I had you followed to Santa Barbara. Even my private eye was embarrassed about the lewd sex on the patio. Disgusting. Jonathan is completely out of control.”

I’m about to die. Where is the
Twilight Zone
when you need it? I wish a hole would open up in this Persian rug and swallow me. I’ve never been so horrifyingly humiliated in my life.

She narrows her eyes. “Ava, I would like to believe that you’re a smart girl and are going to do the right thing. But, I can assure you that if I find any more evidence that you’re with Jonathan, and believe me, I’ll know, then I’ll have to make things…uncomfortable.”

A chill runs up my spine.
Uncomfortable?

“It’s come to my attention that you desire a career in the art world. I hope you comprehend the kind of people I know. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes,” I sob before my knees give out, and I slide down onto the couch.

“Very well. I think that is all then. Enjoy the party.” She pivots on her heel, opens the door, and walks out, disappearing into the bustle of the auction room.

I cover my face with my hands and try to prevent more tears from falling onto Katherine’s dress. A moment later, Max is at my side.

“Ava? Ava, what is it? What happened?” The concern in his voice makes me cry harder.

“I need to leave now. Can you take me home? Please?”

“Of course, let’s go.” He extends his hand to me, but I pause. I need him to let Riley and Dylan know we’re leaving.

“Max, please do me a favor. Please go tell Riley that it’s true…that I’m all right, you’re taking me home now, and we’ll talk tomorrow. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” he replies, his expression determined. Perhaps he’s figured out what’s going on. He quickly charges into the next room, and I lean back on the couch and stare up at the fresco on the ceiling. I can’t believe this is happening.

But of course, this little break was just intermission, because in the next moment, I realize the second act has begun.

“Ava,” Jonathan says solemnly and shuts the door firmly behind him.

“Oh, God, no,” I cry out and cover my face with my hands again, effectively blocking him out of my vision. “Get the hell away from me, Jonathan! I don’t want to talk to you.”

Footsteps move closer and then the couch dips next to me.

“Ava.” There’s pain in his voice, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to kill him.

“Ava, it’s not what it seems. I need to explain,” he pleads.

I lift my hands, rage burning across my face. “Explain what? That you’re fucking married? This is so cliché and tacky that I can’t even believe it. Were you ever going to share that information?”

“I know this looks bad, but you need to understand how I feel about you—”

“It doesn’t matter how you feel about me. Right now, I’m dealing with how your
wife
feels about me. She thinks I’m a whore, and she’s ready to stomp out my career before it’s even begun.”

“I won’t let her do that,” he answers fiercely.

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I’ve never gone after someone’s man, and now I’ve fucked around with someone’s husband. That makes me the very definition of everything I hate.”

My hatred takes shape, and I’m a mythic ancient warrior drawing my sword for battle.

“You’re a fucking liar and a cheat, and I feel like the biggest idiot, because I was so easily seduced by you. I’m so pathetic because I ate up the attention without ever understanding what was at stake. The only person I hate more than you right now is myself.”

He reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “No, baby, please don’t say that.”

I leap up from the couch in horror. “Don’t you fucking touch me! Get away from me!”

I turn to flee and spy Max in the doorway. I’ve never seen him look so fierce. He’s balanced forward and ready to lunge. I have no idea how long he’s been there, but what’s certain is the look of murderous fury on his face.

This is all too much. I’m humiliated beyond redemption. Despite my long gown and high heels, I practically sprint for the door to the entryway, the wine-colored layers of my evening gown flying behind me. All I can think about is disappearing into the night.

Unfortunately, Jonathan comes after me. He grabs my arm, pulling me back hard, and I stumble against him. “Ava, wait, you’ve got to let me explain!”

I turn to shove him, but Max grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him away from me with such force that Jonathan almost falls backward onto the granite floor.

“Get your goddamned hands off her, Alistair!” he roars.

Jonathan turns back to Max. “This is none of your business, Caswell. Get the hell away from us! I need to talk to Ava.”

“Over my dead body. Can’t you see she’s done talking to you,
asshole
?”

But Jonathan is evidently pathologically persistent, or a kind of desperation has overtaken his senses, because he jumps forward and grabs me again.

“Ava…baby…”

I cry out in pain from Jonathan’s grip, and my arm is yanked hard as Jonathan is hurled against the wall. Max surges with fierce adrenalin as his hands wrap around Jonathan’s throat while he pins him against the wall. The crystal chandelier sways with the impact. The contrast of the visual of one man in a tuxedo and the other in worn jeans and a leather jacket, does not escape me.

“I’m going to fucking smash your face in if you don’t stay away from her,” Max growls. From the wild tone in his voice, there’s no doubt that he means what he says.

“And I will ruin you, Max…kiss your art career good-bye,” Jonathan taunts as he gasps for air.

“Fuck you, Jonathan. I don’t care what you do to me, but if you fuck with Ava again, I’ll take you down.” Max presses harder on his neck, and Jonathan turns purple.

I grab Max’s arm. “Max…please…he’s not worth it…please, get me out of here.”

I feel ravaged, as though these last minutes have sucked all the life out of me.

He looks at my panicked expression, huffs and releases Jonathan before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. As he quickly moves me toward the intricately-carved front door, I kick something on the floor and send it careening into the wall. Just before we pass through the threshold, I look down and realize that Jonathan’s tortoise-shell glasses are spinning on the marble floor.

I close my eyes and burrow into Max’s shoulder as he rushes us out into the night, and in its darkness, all the emptiness it holds.

I wouldn’t want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.

~Groucho Marx

A
lthough my eyes are wedged shut and I’m curled against the car door, I gradually get a sense that we’re going too fast on the freeway. I open my eyes. Max’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight, his knuckles are white.

I glance at the speedometer and note that we’re going over ninety miles an hour in a sixty-five-mile-an-hour zone. He apparently hasn’t calmed down enough from the altercation with Jonathan.

I feel a wave of gratitude for how he’s taken care of me. “Max, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there. As horrified as I am that you had to see all that, thank God you were there. I’ll always be grateful to you for looking out for me.”

I take a deep breath and quietly whisper, “Thank you.” I’m not sure if my words will do the trick and break through the wall of silence that’s been between us since we sped away from the valet stand.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him relax his death grip on the steering wheel slightly, and the car slows down a little. Without looking away from the road, he grabs my hand, gives it a squeeze, and then lets go. For that brief moment, I feel hopeful that our friendship is still strong.

The freeway lights pass by in a long streaky blur. I finally allow the wheels to grind in my head and pieces from this jigsaw puzzle of my time with Jonathan slowly slide together.

The voice in my head taunts me.
You stupid girl…Of course the signs were there if you’d paid more attention
.
He set it up so that he called you and made the plans—he was always in control. You never went to his place or knew anything about his personal life. He was so smooth—a stealthy predator—and he pursued you sexually…one carefully-planned, wicked step at a time. Why didn’t you recognize that this man plays young women like a sport?

I’m disgusted with what’s happened. How will I ever trust anyone again, most of all myself? I start to cry bitter tears.

“Were you falling in love with him, Ava?” Max’s anguished voice fills the charged air inside the car, and his body bows forward as he asks the question, as if he’s been punched in the stomach.

“No!” I insist sharply in between sobs.

“I’m sorry, but I have to wonder, since you’re so devastated by all of this.”

“Believe me, that’s not why I’m upset. The only thing I ever loved was how he treated me, but now I know it was all a sham.”

I hear him exhale a long sigh of relief.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve been more careful. Infidelity is evil; it’s how I was taught. My grandfather was a cheater and it destroyed his whole family. My dad would be so disappointed, Max,” I whisper, and the tears start again. This time, when he takes my hand, he doesn’t let go.

I look out the window, and we remain silent all the way home. My self-inflicted emotional flogging continues. I played with fire and got burned badly. Each passing minute brings a new realization, and I sink lower and lower. As Max speeds along, the little door in my heart slowly closes and locks.

Max finds a parking space near my apartment and shuts off the engine. I gather up my skirt and turn toward the door, not able to face him because of my embarrassment.

“Okay, thanks for driving me home. I really appreciate it.” I’ve never wanted to be inside and shut away from the world so much in my life.

“I’m coming with you.” There’s conviction in his words.

I turn back and face him. “Why?”

He looks down at me with the narrow eyes and pursed mouth of disapproval that feels parental—as if I don’t have any idea what I actually need. I find this irritating.

“Thanks, but it really isn’t necessary. I’ve been enough of a burden tonight. I’m going to figure out a way to knock myself out, and hopefully sleep until it’s time for work on Monday.”

He gives me another look, gets out of the car, walks around and opens my door.

“Come on, Ava. Let’s go.”

I carefully step out of the car, still aware that I can’t let anything happen to Katherine’s dress. I lean on Max and hold the railing as we ascend the stairs to the apartment.

Once inside, I begin to shed reminders of my evening. The shoes are kicked into the back of my closet. The necklace and earrings are carefully set in the ceramic dish on my dresser. The dress, however, requires Max’s assistance to unfasten. I feel his fingers graze the top of my back before he slowly slides the zipper down, exposing my naked back as the dress falls open. I turn around and catch the dark look in his eyes before he turns away.

If the circumstances had been different, this would represent the promise of so much more. Sadly, we’re both aware of how, this time, it’s something else entirely.

Max is in the kitchen when I finally emerge from the bathroom, makeup free with my sweats on. He’s poured vodka shots into juice glasses, and I down my first hit before he can offer me the glass.

“Slow down, cowgirl,” he warns, as I pour myself another shot.

“Why? So I can keep my wits about me and come to my senses about all that happened tonight? I need to forget, because nothing’s going to make this better, Max. It’s only going to get worse.”

He roughly rubs his face with his hands and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Because I’m an idiot. I’ll end up with no career in the art world that I love so much. And inside, I’m a bigger mess than when I arrived here five years ago. At least then I had a plan, and I stuck to it. If I had just stuck to my plan—”

I quickly down the second shot and feel the fire creep down my throat.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks, as he downs his first shot.

“After my mom bailed, I decided to never make myself vulnerable to anyone, and I mean anyone. She trusted her boyfriend, Russ—he seemed like an okay guy, and look what fucking happened. He ruined her.”

Max opens his mouth, as if he’s going to ask me something, but then he presses his lips together and nods once.

“Once I moved out here, I would date once in a while, and even sleep with a guy if he was nice and I was really attracted to him, but I wouldn’t let anyone get close…get under my skin. And when I stuck to the plan, things were fine!” I pound my fists on the table to emphasize my point.