The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3) (31 page)

“What?”

“You’re such a breath of fresh air. I was telling Tasha just the other day we should have you and Max over for dinner when you’re home for the holidays. There aren’t too many clients I want to be friends with, but you’re the exception.”

I’m surprised and delighted by his honesty. “Thank you, Jackson, I feel the same. I’m sure Max would agree. We’d love to get together.”

“Ava, you’re a strong, talented woman with a true spirit, working in a business that will test every standard and moral you’ve ever had. Hold onto your truth and always follow your heart. You’ll never go wrong. Meanwhile, I’ll have your back. I’m looking forward to a long and successful working relationship with you.”

“I’m counting on it. Thank you.”

When the plane lands at LAX, I check my messages and call Jess on the long walk to baggage claim.

“Hey, babe, I thought you were coming home last night?” Jess sounds confused.

“Me too. There were delays with the shoot and I missed my flight. Good times, let me tell you. We just landed, and now I’m headed to baggage claim.”

“So, what’s the deal with Max? Ann said he left yesterday with his dad. What happened with Chloe? His dad didn’t tell me what their plans were when I called with her contact information.”

“According to him, she’s been taken care of. Between our lawyer Jackson straightening her out and the restraining order served up by a threatening thug, she’s probably quivering in a corner somewhere.”

Jess’s thunderous laugh puts a smile on my face. “So, I take it you like that?”

“Love it! What made you think to get Max Sr. involved? I mean, pure genius, girlfriend. That’s really calling in the big guns.”

“Maybe divine intervention. It just came to me and felt right, only now I’m not so sure. He’s kidnapped Max, and won’t let me talk to him.”

“What the hell?”

“Jess, do you know if he’s a Scientologist or something?”

There’s a loud guffaw. “Why would you ask that?’

“Well, if he’s taken Max somewhere, maybe they are doing one of those mind cleanses or whatever the hell they do in that Celebrity Centre in Hollywood. I mean, look what happened to Tom Cruise! Cas says Max is meeting me in Paris and not flying with me. There must be some strange reason for that.”

“How weird. He won’t tell you why or let you talk to Max? I don’t like the sound of that, but he has no reason to mess you guys up—he thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He told me so on the phone.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Listen, you aren’t staying at your apartment tonight. It’s almost empty. Come stay with us, and I can take you to the airport tomorrow.”

“That’d be great. You really don’t mind? I’d planned to stay at Max’s until this happened.”

“That’s what I thought,” she adds.

I finally reach the baggage claim area, just as the baggage carousel starts moving.

“The near-empty apartment just sounds depressing,” I say, as my bag hurtles from the chute and tumbles toward the stainless steel conveyer belt.

“I know, girl. We’ll help you take your mind off things.”

“Thanks so much, Jess. I’ll tell you what; I have some errands and stuff to take care of, so why don’t I call you this afternoon and we can figure out timing?”

Twenty minutes later, I get a text from Cas, aka The Kidnapper, who keeps it short and sweet.

Still working on the plan.

Is he serious? That’s all I get? But, how mad can I be? After all, I brought this on myself.

I shove my phone in my purse with a frustrated huff.

Luckily, the rest of the day is a whirlwind of activities, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Between all my errands and phone calls, I’m a very busy girl. I get a call from Cas’s assistant who arranges to meet me at my old apartment to deliver the documents for the Paris trip.

Of course, his assistant is adorable, albeit a bit frazzled, as she hands me a large Saks Fifth Avenue bag.

“What’s this? I was just expecting the tickets and hotel info.”

“Oh, no, that would be too pedestrian. Mr. Caswell likes to do everything in a big way.”

I pull out an incredibly luscious cashmere travel blanket and neck pillow. “Wow! He meant this for me?”

“His instructions were very clear. He had me waiting at Saks when they opened this morning to pick this up. Your ticket, Euros, and hotel confirmation are in a large envelope in the bag. By the way, he upgraded your ticket from business to first class.”

“Wow. He really knows how to spoil a girl.” I can see where Max learned his moves. “But you had to do all this on your day off? I feel guilty.”

“Oh, please don’t. Mr. Caswell treats me really well and lets me have time off whenever I need to help my Mom, who has health issues. So I’m more than happy to do this for him.”

“By the way, last time he contacted me he didn’t mention where he and Max are staying. Do you happen to know?”

She smiles sweetly. “He told me you would ask and made me promise not to tell you. Sorry, Miss Jacobs.”

I roll my eyes. That man is more James Bond than I would’ve ever given him credit for.

My footsteps echo as I walk through the living room of my empty apartment. I stop to let the memories wash over me: Riley and I curled up on the couch with our glasses of wine as we talk, our first fancy cocktail party when I burned the hors d’oeuvres, Max showing up to take me bowling, Dylan installing the new blinds in the kitchen backward, and the teasing we gave him for it.

For me, this apartment represents the beginning of my better life, where I was finally able to get past the tragedies with my parents and create something good for myself. Through it all, Riley has been the dependable girlfriend I needed. Perhaps our personalities didn’t mesh at first, but we learned to love each other, and we always had each other’s backs. She’s moved into Dylan’s now, and I get teary, missing our daily interactions.

The few things left in the apartment are being donated to a shelter, since we don’t have time to deal with selling the stuff for next to nothing on Craigslist. My stripped down bed still remains and I sit on the edge and calm my thoughts.

I’m reminded of Edward Hopper’s painting
Morning Sun
where a woman sits on a bed in an otherwise empty room with the sun pouring in from a nearby window. It’s classic Hopper in its starkness, light and shadow. But what I remember the most about the painting is my curiosity—whether the woman is sad and lonely or feeling hopeful as she looks out the window to the world outside. Anyone watching me right now could probably ask the same question.

I finally stand, pull my lone suitcase out of the closet and lift it onto the bed. I had packed this bag for Paris weeks ago and left it here as a promise that I’d come back to L.A. to travel to Paris with Max. How ironic that he’s the one who won’t be here, and I must make the journey alone.

I open the suitcase, look at the carefully placed contents and remember how excited I was when I packed it. I’d made a list of what I was going to take when our agenda was clear. Now, uncertainty floods my thoughts. I won’t need this cocktail dress and heels if Max doesn’t show up. Nor will I need this sexy short nightie and robe I bought impulse shopping at Barney’s when I was excited about the trip. But I pat them back down in the suitcase, figuring any positive affirmation is good at this point.

Passport? Check. Electric converter plug? Check. Paris guidebook? Check. Travel partner and love of my life? God only knows.

Several hours and half a bottle of Pinot Noir later, I’m surfing a new wave of paranoia, despite Jess and Laura’s best attempts to distract me. There have been no updates from The Kidnapper, and I’m coming apart at the seams.

“I mean, where the hell are they?” What could he possibly be doing with him? I’ve backed down from my promise and tried calling Max’s cell phone several times. I know Cas said he took it away, but I was hoping Max got it back. Evidentially not, since it goes directly to voicemail and says the inbox is full.

“You need to let this go. You’ll be in Paris in Max’s arms before you know it, and whatever agony you are in now will have been worth it,” Laura says.

Her positive thinking annoys the hell out of me. “Really?” I reply sarcastically, as I text Cas.

What’s going on? Why haven’t I gotten an update?

To my surprise, he answers right away.

Sorry my dear, we’ve been quite busy.

How is Max?

Difficult.

Should I be worried about Paris?

I’m going to get him there if it’s the last thing I do.

His response doesn’t reassure me. The trip is in the morning, and time is almost up.

Maybe I need to charm Cas for more information. It’s worked in the past. I take a deep breath and try to focus.

You’re welcome; you deserve to travel in great style.

Thank you, now can I talk to Max?

No, are you ready for your trip?

Yes, why can’t I talk to Max?

I will text you tomorrow. Good night.

“Damn!” I throw my phone down on the couch and it bounces off and skitters across the hardwood floor. Thankfully, it doesn’t break.
Stupid move, Ava. Break your phone now and you’re screwed.

Jess shakes her head. “Come on, baby, I’m thinking tonight is a Napoleon night.”

I smile just slightly. “Can we have nachos too?”

“Sure. You put in the DVD, and I’ll turn on the broiler.”

“Oh no! Not
Napoleon Dynamite
again, Jess. I can’t take it!” Laura moans.

“Sorry, darling. Sometimes Napoleon’s dance scene is the only thing that will cheer up my girl.”

I nod solemnly.

Laura gets up. “I’ll be in our room, watching a real movie.”

“Hey!” I yell as she walks away.

“Don’t bother,” Jess adds, grinning. “You either
get
Napoleon or you don’t.”

The next day, I’m teary as Jess approaches the international terminal at LAX.

“I have a really bad feeling, Jess. Something’s going to go wrong. I just know it.”

“You mean like the plane crashing?”

“No, but thanks so much for putting that idea in my head.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong.” She shakes her head vehemently.

“It’s Max. I just have a gut feeling everything’s different now.”

“Perhaps, but maybe in a good way.”

“And look at this.” I hold up my phone’s screen. “Svengali Travis has called me three times this morning.”

“What does he want?”

“Who knows? And frankly I don’t care.”

“Woo-hoo! Okay, then!”

My phone vibrates. “Oh look at that. He’s texting me now.” My tone is sarcastic. I need Travis harassing me right now like a hole in my head.

“He must really have his panties in a bunch about something. Come on! Read it to me.”

Ava, you need to contact me. There’s been a schedule change and we need you back in New York immediately.

Jess’s swerves the car and pulls over. “What! Is he serious?”

“I’m sure he is.”

“What are you going to do?”

I lift up my phone and with a dramatic flourish I work the screen, forwarding the message to Jackson. I attached a note:
FYI Jackson. I’m not replying to this and I’m going to Paris no matter what
.