A Pinch of Ooh La La Read Online Free Page A

he was
fine
, as my stepmother Bailey noted more than once. Years of climbing the artworld’s ladder led to a two-page spread in
Vanity Fair
that catapulted him into the national spotlight. Even readers not interested in art stopped short when they saw Avery standing next to one of his drawings, barefoot and wearing a clean white T-shirt and jeans. Oh, those light brown eyes and that caramel-like skin; those muscles, and that grin starting at the corner of his mouth. Ladies on Park Avenue sitting in gold-plated chairs turned the page of
Vanity Fair
, saw Avery Brooks, and sucked in a breath of air.
    Hollywood came next. Larsen, a documentary filmmaker, asked if he could make a movie about Avery’s creative process and life. Avery and I were three years into our relationship and had already formed an impenetrable bubble around us against the ever-mounting requests for his time and attention. Larsen seemed trustworthy, though, and the opportunity of a rising documentarian filming Avery’s life was too good to pass up. We said yes, and the camera crew began following Avery around.
    Sometime during the filming of
Avery B
, it was discovered that Avery had forged his last series of paintings off a former assistant. Admittedly, he was already heading into territory where artists begin to copy old ideas. Think Factory Warhol and those tired stills, or late Keith Bosworth and those dreaded cartoons. When Avery’s assistant took him to court, he eventually admitted that he’d copied “a few ideas.” He was sentenced to pay damages and was sued on all fronts by people who’d bought paintings from his last series of work and by other patrons and gallery owners who feared they’d been scammed. He put the loft in San Francisco on the market, as well as his New York City studio. Everything had to go. Larsen changed the title of his documentary from
Avery B: His Rise and Genius
to
Avery B: His Rise and Fall.
    I watched movers come in and take everything from our loft.I watched Avery try to work his smile on his manager, curator, patrons, and press as he did his best to explain his way out of the shithole of lies into which he’d dug himself. I’d had to defend myself as well.
Did you know about the forgery, Ms. Ross?
No, I hadn’t. I hadn’t known a thing. I could have added that there’d been a time when Avery had told me everything and asked my opinion on whatever project he was working on, but that had ended months before—as had the sex and most of his attention.
    So, yes, I was as surprised as anyone. I mean, forgery? Cheating is no surprise in places like Wall Street or the government, but in the art world—where creativity,
your
creativity, your insight, is your absolute treasure—to forge, to cheat another artist . . . it was unthinkable. Naturally his crime was the talk among critics, reviewers, and other artists. Charlie Rose dedicated a segment to the scandal, and when the movie premiered, Larsen was invited to speak about his movie and Avery on
Fresh Air.
    About a week after the scandal broke, I told Avery off and moved in with Bendrix for a while. Avery knocked on the door a few days later and asked if we could talk. He told me he was going to Mexico because he needed time to think. The documentary was showing at Sundance that month and he didn’t want to have to “deal” when it opened. When I said I’d think about going to Mexico with him, he told me not to bother because he was going alone. That’s when I knew we were finished and tugged off my engagement ring. He refused to take it back, though. He loved me, he said, and he was “deeply sorry.” I deserved the ring and should keep it. He told me he’d be in touch, and then he turned and walked away.
    Since I had tickets to the festival, I went with Bendrix to see
Avery B
. We pointed out actors and directors and acted like kids. We sat in the back of the theater