Work Of Art: The Unveiling Part 12

"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, G.o.d, no," I cry out and cover my face with my hands again, effectively blocking him out of my vision. "Get the h.e.l.l 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 f.u.c.king married? This is so cliche 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 wh.o.r.e, 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 f.u.c.ked 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 f.u.c.king 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 f.u.c.king 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 G.o.dd.a.m.ned hands off her, Alistair!" he roars.

Jonathan turns back to Max. "This is none of your business, Caswell. Get the h.e.l.l away from us! I need to talk to Ava."

"Over my dead body. Can't you see she's done talking to you, a.s.shole?"

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 f.u.c.king 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.

"f.u.c.k you, Jonathan. I don't care what you do to me, but if you f.u.c.k 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 pa.s.s through the threshold, I look down and realize that Jonathan's tortoise-sh.e.l.l gla.s.ses 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.

Chapter Nine / The Aftermath.

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

~Groucho Marx Although 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 grat.i.tude 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 G.o.d 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 friends.h.i.+p is still strong.

The freeway lights pa.s.s 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 s.e.xually...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 pa.s.sing 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 s.p.a.ce 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 embarra.s.sment.

"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 a.s.sistance 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 circ.u.mstances 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 gla.s.ses, and I down my first hit before he can offer me the gla.s.s.

"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 f.u.c.king 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.

"Fine?" Max looks a little alarmed, and he doesn't sound convinced, but I ignore him.

"And then all the rules went to h.e.l.l." I pour another shot, roll it around my gla.s.s, lift it to my lips, and suck it down. The room spins a bit.

I point accusingly. "So, I met you, and you dazzled the h.e.l.l out of me. I wanted to be with you so d.a.m.n much. You must have known how much I wanted you-wanted to sleep with you-and if you had wanted to, I can promise I would've done it again and again. That was the first sign that my rules weren't working." I cringe, realizing that the alcohol's. .h.i.t me too hard, too fast, and my mouth is out of control.

Max's face flushes and he rubs the back of his neck with my p.r.o.nouncement. He moves the vodka bottle to the far end of the kitchen.

I rest my head on the table and feel the coolness of the wood on my hot cheek. Tears pool up in my eyes and slide down sideways across my face onto the wood.

He picks up a stray napkin from the table and gently blots the tears from my cheek.

I've had too much vodka. I look up and Max s.h.i.+mmers like a mirage on the desert.

A sob escapes me and I tighten my fists. "I thought you didn't want me, but Jonathan sure did. He told me I was beautiful and talented and made me feel really wanted. It was that simple. I've become so motherf.u.c.king needy. It's pathetic."

"Ava," he whispers with anguish in his voice before he pulls me into his arms. "I'm here now. Let me help you through this."

"I don't want any d.a.m.n help." I fight him, but he holds me tighter.

"I want to live on a f.u.c.king island all by myself. When you let people get close, you do stupid things. And when you open your heart to someone, you also make yourself vulnerable to lose them...And I've lost too much already. I can't afford to lose any more."

"Okay, angel. We'll find you an island," he says with a soothing voice.

"Yeah," I moan and I curl into his side.

"Can I come visit you on your island?"

"Are you teasing me?" I slur and look into his big blue gray eyes. "Well, maybe you can visit."

"Good, because I'll really miss you."

I let out a long sigh.

He kisses the top of my head, and then he slips his arm under my legs and lifts me up. "Come on, I think you need to lie down."

He carries me into my bedroom and gently settles me on my bed. He disappears for a moment, but returns with a gla.s.s of water and bottle of aspirin. He pries open the bottle and hands me two tablets.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask.

"No, why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of Jonathan, because I was stupid."

"Well, I have quite a history of doing stupid things. So I wouldn't pa.s.s judgment on you for that mistake. I'll reserve all my anger for Jonathan."

"You're pretty impressive when you express your anger, you know."

He rolls his eyes before I take the gla.s.s from him.