Work Of Art: The Unveiling Part 25

On Sat.u.r.day, I drive to Malibu, wearing my best jeans and a cerulean blue fitted tee. Apparently, cerulean blue looks optimal on video. They want the whole thing to have a very casual, cool vibe.

When I arrive at the house, there's a bustle of activity, and I'm swept into the breakfast room where the makeup artist is set up. She puts so much effort into working me over that I comment about it, but she grins and shakes her head, so it must not be so bad.

The director comes in near the end to prep me. He explains that the serious discussion and viewing of Max's paintings will be done separately with a voice-over. So, for this segment they'll use a handheld camera because they want a fun "meet the artist" approach. Although they've given me a list of unconventional questions, they also encourage me to go wherever the moment takes me.

If he only knew, I think. The "moment taking me" could involve Max taking me on top of his desk.

Max and I purposely avoid each other before the shoot, not wanting to "out" our relations.h.i.+p. I smile when he gets his natural s.h.i.+ne powdered for the camera, but otherwise, I ignore him.

I'm finally called to the studio. It's lit up with bright lights on telescoping stands, and there are more paintings than usual stacked around the two facing walls.

They hook us up with little microphones and hide the wires in our clothes before positioning Max and me on stools. Next come lighting and sound checks. When everything is set, the director motions to the cameraman and asks me to start by revealing a secret about Max.

My first couple of attempts are awkward, so Max leans over and whispers in my ear, "Why don't you tease that d.a.m.n camera like you tease me, Ava?"

I lean back, surprised. "Tease?"

He winks with a crooked grin.

Newly inspired, I nod to the cameraman and they roll again.

"Hi, I'm Ava Jacobs, the author of Unspoken Truths, here to interview my favorite subject, the brilliant artist Maxfield Caswell. But first, I have to tell you a secret." I jump off the stool and walk closer to the camera with my finger poised in front of my pursed lips. "Shh, we're in the artist's studio, and you know what? He hates having anyone in here."

"You're right about that," Max says from behind me.

"So, today should be fun, 'cause I think I'll get him good and riled up. I mean, we're all over his studio." I wave my arms toward the paintings and his easel.

"Cut!" the director bellows.

I immediately steel myself for a chastis.e.m.e.nt for such a stupid intro.

"Perfect!" he yells.

I gape in disbelief.

"We want fun, Ava, just like that...something that will appeal to younger art enthusiasts, since that's the demographic for the book."

I love the idea of having fun with it, so I gently tease and taunt Max. And he gives it right back, even pus.h.i.+ng me off my stool at one point. We both end up laughing, as if we're the only people in the studio.

"What was the best thing Santa ever brought you?"

"A hamster. I named him Van Gogh because he had a deformed ear. He was smart; I even taught him to paint. He would scamper over my paint box and then put his little footprints all over my drawing pad. My mom even let me host an art show for him during one of her dinner parties."

I've never heard this story, and I'm charmed. "So, you were his manager, shaping his career and whatnot?"

"Yeah, until the cleaning lady stepped on him. Just like Van Gogh, his life was short, but remarkable."

"So, if you could go back in time and live any artist's life, who would you choose?"

"Back how far? Like Andy Warhol's time?"

"Any time, you could be Michelangelo during the Renaissance in Italy."

"Yeah, right. How long did it take him to paint that ceiling on his back?"

"Fussy artist." I turn toward the camera and shake my head. "He turns down being one of the great art geniuses from history, because his arms might get tired."

His eyes light up as he raises his index finger. "I know! Theodore Geisel."

"You mean Dr. Seuss? Cat in the Hat? Sam I Am? Are you toying with me, Caswell?"

"Seuss was a genius! Oh, the Places You'll Go! is one of the best books ever, and the art's trippy."

"True, but that's still an unexpected choice. I was thinking you'd pick Francis Bacon or someone upbeat like that."

"Well, the thing about Seuss is that his books kind of messed me up as a kid, but in a good way. Besides, think about it...do you know a kid in America who wasn't influenced by his work? Get 'em young, I say."

"So, I see you pay attention to the demographics of your fan base."

He shrugs with a crooked smile. "Doesn't every artist? If they don't, they should."

At the end, I toy with him in a provocative way.

"Let's talk about the lifestyle of a contemporary artist living in L.A. I hear you live quite the life, Mr. Caswell."

He narrows his eyes and smiles crookedly. "So they say. Are you implying that I'm that kind of artist?"

I flip my hair over my shoulder. "The kind that invites women to see your etchings? No, but should I?"

He makes an exaggerated, s.e.xy face.

"There's your warning ladies." I roll my eyes, cross my arms, and walk toward the camera again. "The man seems insatiable. But, lucky for us, the same can be said for his appet.i.te to create thought-provoking art. Check out Unspoken Truths to learn more about Maxfield Caswell and his work."

I turn back toward him. "Thanks, Max, for letting us into your very private studio."

"You're welcome." He smiles broadly as he picks up his paint brushes. "Now, please tell these guys to leave so I can have my fortress of solitude back."

"Fortress of solitude? What a grand name!"

"Hmm...why don't you stay behind and we can rename it."

"I just might." I turn and wink at the camera.

"Cut!"

"Was that all right?" I ask the director.

He looks at Max and they both roll their eyes.

"Was that really your first time on camera?" he asks with a skeptical look.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I can promise you, it won't be your last."

That evening, Max takes me out to celebrate at Bonne Foi. We're giddy from the success of the shoot, so over French food and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, we talk about our hopes and dreams, not just for his book and my career, but for the other adventures we'd like to share.

Remembering my conversation with Aunt Ann, I ask him about Paris, and he lights up. By the end of his Parisian stories, he promises me that one day soon he'll take me to the City of Light.

After dinner, we get into the car. He grins while he starts up the engine. As we drive back to his house, I s.h.i.+ft in my seat so I'm facing him.

"You were amazing today, Max...with all those people in your studio and the chaos of the shoot, you managed to be as charming as ever."

"Just charming?"

"What were you going for?"

"Hot...I wanted to be hot," he says playfully, as he pulls up to his security gate off the highway.

"Oh, well, that's a given, handsome. You can't avoid being hot even when you try. You're hot when you're happy, sad, aggravated...even angry. This is just something I have to deal with 24-7...all that unbelievable hotness." I run my hand along his pants and stroke his muscular thigh suggestively.

"That hot?" he asks, laughing softly.

I slide my hand between his legs and slowly tease upward. "You know, it's not fair that I have to deal with getting scorched from all that heat. It's d.a.m.n distracting. The want is overwhelming...we're lucky that I haven't spontaneously combusted by now."

He quickly parks and hauls me out of the car. "Don't combust before I get you upstairs. I have special plans for tonight, and these plans require every lovely inch of you to be intact."

He leans into me, and I feel his erection-the unmistakable proof that he's as turned on as I am. "Special plans?"

"Just you wait and see. After I undress you and carry you to our bed, you'll find out just how charming and hot I can be."

The following week, Dylan calls with surprising news. Taylor and Tiden and ArtOneWorld are so pleased with the interview footage, they would like to send me to Barcelona for Max's show. They have several events planned, including a book signing and a large reception for the opening of his exhibition. They've already had interest in Unspoken Truths from several of the local TV stations, but now that we're both coming, they think our playful banter will make for good airtime. It would be a fast trip-only five days, two of which are travel days.

"But, Dylan, I can't ask Adam for any more time off. At some point, he's going to get fed up, and I can't do that...I owe him everything."

"It looks like it's time to do some soul searching, Ava. Timing is everything, and opportunities like this may only come along once. If this is the direction you want your career to go, frankly, you'd be a fool to pa.s.s on it."

"I know...What should I do?"

"Talk to Adam. Explain how you're feeling. I'm sure he already sees the writing on the wall."

The next day, I supervise an installation in Los Feliz, and when I return to the gallery, Brian calls me over. "Hey, Ava, while you were gone, a guy came in looking for you. Here's his card." Brian hands me the high-design business card.

Travis Williamson

Senior Vice President Development

ArtOneWorld

I run my finger over the fancy foil embossed logo. I look back up at Brian. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"He wanted to talk about the interview you did with Max. I didn't know what he was talking about. What interview?"

"Oh, last Sat.u.r.day they shot a thing at Max's place to promote the book. I can't imagine what this guy wants to say about it." I hold up the card. "This looks like he's a top executive."

Brian raises his eyebrows. "He sure had something on his mind. He walked through the gallery and we talked for a while. He knew a lot about art."

"Well, I'd hope. Their new network is about art."

"Yeah, but that isn't always the case with the executives. Thomas tells me about stuff like that all the time. But, regardless, he sure asked a lot of questions about you."

b.u.t.terflies take flight in my stomach. "Me? What kind of questions."

"How long you've worked here...what type of work you do. A few personal things too. He asked if you were married." He scrunches up his nose. "That was kind of weird, now that I think of it. I shouldn't have answered him."

"Married? Why would he want to know that?"

"h.e.l.l if I know...but he did say you were very appealing on camera, and he'd like to meet you. He promised me he'd email me the interview after it's edited."

My mind spins, trying to imagine what this Travis wants. I haven't talked to Adam yet about Barcelona, and I can't disclose more to Brian until I do. To calm my mind, I grasp onto the most logical explanation I can conjure.

"Well, Dylan told me the publisher wants me more involved in promoting the book. Maybe he's just making sure I'm stable."

Brian shrugs. "Well, call him, girl, and find out!"

I take a long look at the card before I tuck it in my pocket. "I will. Thanks."

I tap my fingers on the edge of my desk while I wait for my call to go through.

"Travis here." He has a rich, smooth voice.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. "Hi, Mr. Williamson, this is Ava Jacobs. Brian told me you stopped by our gallery to talk."

"Yes, Ava. Thanks for calling me back. I came by to invite you to our launch party for ArtOneWorld."

My eyes widen and I grip the phone tighter. He came by to invite me to a party? None of this makes sense. What executive does that?