Work of Art ~ the Collection (107 page)

"I guess so." Max offers a sad smile.

I sit back as Jackson and his younger associate Colin, prompt Max for the phone call. They ask a few questions which he answers thoughtfully. I'm relieved he’s taking this as seriously as he needs to. The last thing we want is for this to backfire.

I hold my breath when they finally dial her. I'm never nervous, so the feeling surprises me. Jackson gives a thumbs up when she picks up the call.

I watch Max intently as Jackson motions for him to speak. Damn, even in distress he's a good-looking kid. Despite his challenges, he has made something of himself. He's a big artist; he's stayed away from drugs, and maintained the house in Malibu. And to top it off, now he's in love with the right girl. His mom would be so fucking proud . . . if only she were here to see it. She would love Ava so much.

I'd give anything for her to be here again.

Max

"Hey, Chloe." I keep my voice even and blasé, as I've been coached. The less I engage with her, the better.

"Max," she purrs. "I'm so glad you called, I've been waiting for you. I was so disappointed when you had to rush away from our meeting."

"We do need to talk Chloe," I coax her. "But first you need to hear from someone that is with me. Hold on—I'm putting you on speaker phone."

Jackson explains the legalities, that due to her threatening behavior, actions will need to be taken. The bitch must really be hungry because she stays on the line with the hook of actually connecting to me again dangling in front of her.

"You know Max, all of this bullshit isn't necessary. I just wanted to see you in person and talk to you. There's so much I want to say."

"Well, I'm just not interested in talking Chloe, I waited a long time to hear from you and frankly, I just don't care anymore."

"I never stopped caring about you, wanting you," she offers, her voice as false as the fake tits I used to encounter in my dark, pre-Ava days.

"I'm head-over-heels in love now, with the woman I'm going to marry. She's the best thing that ever happened to me and her happiness is all I care about. Your stunts are just an aggravating annoyance."

Her tone immediately shifts to ugly. The veil of false kindness has been pulled away.

"If your relationship is so great, why is she leaving you?"

I freeze, my heart pounding. I want to kill that bitch. How dare she say anything about Ava. I feel the fury sizzle across my skin.

There’s a shift in the room. I notice my father lean forward in his seat, as if he's going to jump in. Jackson raises his hands, both palms facing me, and lowers them slowly in a calming gesture. I take a deep breath.

"You don't know our plans, Chloe, and you are the last person on earth I would share them with. Besides you have a lot of fucking nerve to talk about anyone else leaving. How many years ago did you disappear without a word?"

She ignores the obvious and tries another tactic. "She's cute Max, in a mousey way. But I know you. You need a real woman who’s attentive and can really satisfy you. Give me a chance to remind you what you've been missing."

I can't believe that bitch has the nerve to say this shit in front of the lawyers. Why did I neglect to see that she was always a total nutcase? Was I so desperate to connect with someone that I refused to see who she really was?

With my resolve strengthening, my mood lightens, and my voice lifts.

"Oh Chloe, my beautiful Ava makes me incredibly happy in every way. No one has ever made me feel the way she does."

Jackson makes the wrap motion and I'm relieved.

"Look, I've got to run, I'm meeting Ava soon. Jackson will sum things up now as we won't be talking again."

I don't even say goodbye, just silently fume while the lawyer serves up the threats. Every time she tries to argue, they simply cut her off. It's an astounding relief when Jackson finally presses the button that disconnects the call, every trace of her fading from the room like a rancid smell once the fans come on.

Cas

"So what now?" Max asks as we wait for the valet to bring my car around.

“We're going to your place. You need to pack."

"Pack?"

"Yes, we're taking a short trip. Oh, and you'll need your passport. You'll be heading straight to Paris after our trip."

"Where are we going?" he asks, looking suspicious.

"There's something I need to show you in New York."

"New York?' he mumbles, distracted as we get in the car. "But what about Ava? She'll have to fly to Paris alone. That's just wrong."

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle it," I respond.

He suddenly starts patting his pockets and then reaches in the back to grab his jacket to search the pockets there as well.

"Where's my damn phone?" he grumbles.

He isn't going to like this. "I have it," I confirm.

"Well, let me have it back. I need to call Ava."

"I've already called her and told her that you won't be talking until Paris."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Give me my damn phone. I need to talk to her."

"No, we have work to do, and I want you focused, not calling Ava every ten minutes."

"Fuck you, old man. I can't believe this. You kidnap me, and then take my phone away. If you think this is going to bring us closer, some tough-love-bonding bullshit then your head is farther up your ass than I thought."

"Tough talk from a boy who was hiding out at his aunt's—all because he was afraid of a slutty ex-girlfriend . . . really tough talk . . .”

"You're a mother-fucker. And you always totally sucked as a dad."

I grit my teeth hard.

"And you still suck . . .”

I glare at him, the ungrateful bastard. "You're a pussy, a certified momma's boy."

"Pull over, asshole. I'm getting out of the car."

I'm tempted . . . he's such a spoiled, entitled ass. But then I think about Liz. I can't forget what I promised her earlier.

No regrets.
I turn back toward him.

"Like hell you are. No more running away and hiding this time, Max. We're going to fight this out until we can get past it."

His grip tightens over the armrest, and he turns toward the window. The silence is deafening the whole way to Malibu.

Max

As I walk to my front door I notice the old man linger in the garden near the koi pond.

"What?" I ask, not masking the irritation from my voice.

"This looks great. I'm impressed you've kept it up. Liz would be happy."

I'm shocked he's noticed. It feels strangely good to hear, as much as I don't want to admit it. The garden has many admirers, but it's more satisfying because it's from him. After all, this was once his house too and he knows what the garden meant to Mom.

"So I'm packing for New York and Paris?" I ask as we pass through the front door, heading upstairs.

"Yes, I've arranged for Walter to be dropped off here with my bag at eight forty-five. He'll drive us to the airport in my car. I've also arranged dinner to be delivered at seven."

"You've thought of everything," I grumble as I head upstairs.

I make a lot of noise getting my bags out of the hall closet, but as soon as I'm safely in my room I pick up the phone by my bed. As I lift the receiver I hear a monotone chanting.

"At the tone the time will be six-twelve and forty seconds, at the tone the time will be . . .”

He has dialed the number for 'time' and left it running so I can't dial out. I slam the phone down. Fuck. If he weren't my father, I'd kick his ass.

I hurl the suitcase up on the bed and rip it open. He better know what he's doing. If he messes this up, I'll never forgive him.

Cas

Over thirty minutes have passed and he still hasn't come down. I remember he used to be a fast packer so I finally decide to go see what's up. When I crack open his door he’s sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window. There’s shit all over the place but nothing in the suitcase yet. He looks completely lost.

"Max," I call out.

He jumps and whips his head around. He must not have even heard me coming.

"Come on, let's go take a walk on the beach."

He pauses, then acquiesces, and rises off the bed to follow me out of the room. At the edge of the yard we remove our shoes and socks and roll up our pants before heading across the sand towards the water's edge. The sun and breeze skimming off the water are soothing. I'd forgotten how much I love the beach.

We're a distance away from the house before I turn to him.

"So what was that about? You looked lost when I came upstairs."

He picks up a small stone and tosses it into the ocean.

"Don't get me wrong. I still hate you for keeping me from talking to Ava, but I do appreciate your help getting rid of Chloe. That's a huge weight off of me right now."

"And . . .” I coax him.

"But it doesn't change the fact that Ava is leaving. I'm going to wait for her, and she intends to wait for me, but that doesn't change the simple truth that I'm not sure how I'm going to get through this next year without her by my side."

His whole body curls forward as if he's fighting a physical pain, a twisting of his insides, that tightens with each breath. I recognize all the signs because I've felt that kind of loss—I've lived it.

"The problem is that I can't stop thinking about everything I will miss . . . all the nights we fell asleep in each other's arms. You know the small moments: making lunch together, sitting on the balcony, and talking about our day. That's what I will miss the most. A year sounds like forever right about now."

I nod and turn toward the ocean. "It is forever," I agree, my tone serious. "You need to open you eyes and consider what you can do to make this work for both of you. I don't want to see you lose her, Max. Just like Liz was for me, Ava is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Believe me, you may never have a chance for this kind of love again."

"I know," he agrees, as he looks out over the horizon.

"Well then quit fucking around. You need to fight for her with everything you have."

He turns to me and finally . . . finally, I see a fire ignite in his eyes.

Max

JFK early in the morning is jarring after spending the night being hurled through the air stuffed in a cylindrical steel tube. It’s so unnatural to wake up on a plane being offered tiny glasses of orange juice by women in polyester suits. Then you’re forced to tumble out into the pool of humanity in the terminal. The walkway is full of people from places as forgettable as Des Moines and Salt Lake City anxious to leave or arrive in the 'big apple.' As we shuffle with the masses toward the baggage claim we pass under a large sign.

Welcome to New York
, the sign says. Well fuck me. Why am I in New York again? As I recall my baby just left New York to head home, so I don't really see how this can be relevant.

I turn toward the father figure and notice how worn out he looks, worry etched across his face. Fashion-wise he doesn't look so hot either. His very expensive Tom Ford slacks and shirt are wrinkled so dramatically that he looks like a human Sharpei.

"So where are we staying?" I ask as he checks his phone.

"My place."

"You have a place in New York? Since when?"

“For a few years. I bought it when we were shooting a series here. It was during that time you weren't talking to me.” He smirks.

“Wow . . . you're full of surprises.” I shake my head and continue along.

“Do we have a meeting here or something?”

"Just wait . . . you'll see."

This man of mystery stuff is getting on my nerves but I keep my mouth shut knowing I can't possibly have a logical argument until I've had at least one decent cup of coffee.

We hook up with the limo driver and head toward the city. I fall back into the leather seat and close my eyes to try and calm my nerves.

But instead, my stillness allows a surreal dream, from my stilted sleep on the plane, to resurface. It's haunting in that it's still so vivid in my mind.

In the dream I’m high enough to be in the clouds, the City of New York a juggernaut of steel and glass below me. My search for Ava has led me to a landing of the most unlikely of locations, near the top of the Chrysler Building.

The moment I see her I realize that nothing is how I'd hoped, for although I've found her, she's not the same. This is not my Ava.

She's wrapped around a soaring gargoyle, right on the edge of the sky. She appears frozen in place and has become part of the façade. Every part of her, even her gorgeous mane of hair is a burnished silver as she holds onto the beast while they watch over the city.

I'm so stunned to finally find her that I fearlessly crawl across the building's ledge until I can touch her metallized skin. She’s cool and rigid, her patina smooth to my touch. My heart’s pounding as I realize that she’s trapped in the metal, lost to me. My Ava of flesh and bones, heart and soul is gone. Stunned with grief, I waver and suddenly become aware of the staggering height. The cars and people below are moving dots in a concrete landscape.

I realize that I must separate myself from her and crawl to safety or risk plummeting to my death. Just when I’m about to pull away in despair, I feel a warmth spreading under my hand. I quickly realize that the more I touch her surface, the more the metal fades, melting away until her soft skin is exposed. My hands frantically work, stroking, and rubbing every curve and plane of her as the movements free her body from her architectural prison. My mood shifts from hope, to euphoric the more progress I make. When she's finally free enough to slowly flex her stiff limbs, I'm able to pull her into my arms.

"Max," she whispers, her naked body clinging to me as I scoot us off the ledge and onto the flat part of the landing. I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her.

"I've waited so long. I never thought you'd come," she cries.

"I'm here, Ava, I'm here," I chant as I gather her into my arms. Our kiss is frantic and searching. I'm overcome just to hold her again.

"I've missed you, Ava," I whisper as her lips move across my cheek.