by Mj Fields
The bodyguard snickers. “Still sure about that, man?” With that, he walks away.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe my hands clean of glitter and … whatever else they landed upon as I look at him and his father.
“I understand you’re upset. However, you will not put your hands on me again. Are we clear?”
His father’s glare mirrors his, and I have to force myself to not find amusement in it.
“The girl,” his father sneers, “is seventeen and was his best friend.”
“I’m fully aware of what she was to him. Your son and I have conversed through messenger. Very, how do you say, persistent and crude, or is it vulgar and—”
“He’s seventeen,” he spats.
“Yes, well, I guess that explains it, then,” I mock his obtuse explanation, as well as the ridiculous excuse he just gave his son.
Marcello pulls away from his father’s grip and straightens his shirt. “I will fucking kill you if you hurt her.”
“It’s a shame someone didn’t give you the same warning. But, rest assured, I will treat her as she should be treated—loved and adored.”
His father steps toward me and growls a low warning, “You watch your fucking tone,” as Marcello yells, “You have no fucking idea what you’re getting into,” as he’s being dragged away by two women.
I look back at the man still in my face, seething at me. “I think the women could use your assistance.”
“Don’t fuck with my kid.”
“I’ll take that under consideration and offer you some advice. Stop allowing him to be one and teach him to be a man.”
“You son of a bitch,” he sneers.
Nose-to-nose and having never been in a fight, I should be stepping back, or stepping down. Instead, I can’t help but smirk. “You have no idea.”
“Good show, but you’re giving off piss-poor energy.” Memphis Black pushes between us.
“I had a fucking Benji on the new guy.” River James chuckles.
“My apologies,” I half-joke.
“You would have lost!” Marcello’s father roars.
“Let’s go.” The older of the two women—his wife, I assume—grabs his elbow and pulls him away.
“Well, that was fucked up,” Finn Becket says without emotion. “Now, you think you can manage to chill while we do our thing?”
“Of course.” I nod. “Break a limb.”
Memphis grips my shoulder. “It’s leg, man. Leg.”
“Any one in particular?”
He looks at me like I have cracked. I know the expression, just delivered it wrong.
“That was in jest.”
“He’s got jokes.” Memphis grins. “I might just like you.”
When he walks away, I see Zandor Steel, who has been tolerant of me over the past few weeks, though he appears to possibly be at his wits end, coming from the direction that Tris just went.
“You said you’d leave her alone until she was able to handle this.” He grabs my shirt collar. “Until she was clearer-minded.” His eyes are expressive, like hers.
I place my hands over his fists. “She gives me no choice. I tried. But I can’t seem to deny—”
He pushes away from me. “Jesus Christ, she’s a child.”
“She is your daughter, your child. I don’t believe the world views her as such, and I don’t see her that way at all.”
“I don’t even want to imagine what it is you think you see.” He looks visibly ill.
Shaking my head, I attempt to explain, “I see a storm trying desperately to settle beneath stunning hues of yellows, greens, and browns. And, for some reason, I see it settle when she is with me. I can’t explain it any further than that. I’m not even sure I want to delve into it any deeper in fear that the time it takes will be wasted on seeing the beauty in it.”
“There is nothing beautiful about …” He snaps his jaw shut, and I know that he’s thinking of all she has gone through and all they have gone through as a family. It’s pain, and it’s fear.
“The beauty is in the strength it takes to fight through it. The beauty is in the way you and her family, even Patrick, surround her and try to protect her from herself. But, with all due respect, and with sincere gratitude for the life you and your wife have created and grown, it may also be part of why it lingers.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You—”
“I wouldn’t be so bold as to say I know the answers. But, for some reason, her soul takes solace in mine and mine in hers. Please do not ask me to walk away from something so miraculous, and I promise you I will never ask her to get lost in me alone. I see the love between you all. Never in this lifetime, or any after, would I want to see that disappear. I’ve yet to say the words to her, but I am telling you, I love her to a level I’ve never felt, one without reason and unknown recourse. I promise you, I will not disrespect her or treat her any way but with love.”
“You’re not walking away from this, are you?”
I shake my head. “Not until my heart no longer beats.”
He Loves Me
Tris
Mom grabs my arm to stop me from running to what I am sure will get nasty if I don’t—Dad and Matteo.
“Mom, seriously.”
“I’ve loved your father more than half my life, and I am telling you”—she bear hugs me, which is very uncharacteristic of Mom — “he’s not angry; he’s scared.”
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“He sees how that man looks at you. He’s afraid he’s going to lose you to him.”
“He’s not going to freaking lose me. I’m not an old penny.” I try to wiggle away, and she doesn’t freaking let me. “Mom, seriously, what has gotten into you?”
“I don’t feel any different than your father does, but if he makes you happy, then—”
I whip around and gawk at her.
“I can’t see you hurt anymore; do you understand?”
“Well, could you at least let me go, for God’s sake?”
“You see, that’s the hardest part. You’re our baby. You weren’t supposed to be the first to fly, but here you are, spreading—”
“I nosedived out of the nest, took some really messed-up turns onto some shady streets, and…” I stop staring at Dad and Matteo to look for Marc, the asshole who Ranger informed me was acting like a “punk-ass bitch,” and don’t see him.
“Tris?”
I look back at Mom. “I’m not losing it. I was looking for the shadiest street of all.”
“I thought you two were okay. Friends even. I was surprised he came. I thought—”
“Friends who should clearly stay an ocean away. But back to the nosedive that led to a trek to the corner of Marc Street and Hell Avenue.” I nod to Matteo and look at her, really look at her, hoping she sees whatever he sees when he looks into my eyes that makes him think I’m something other than deranged. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Mom. I wouldn’t because, if I did, I wouldn’t have met him.”
She smiles softly, but also a bit sadly. “I remember the first time I saw your father.”
“Did you know he was the one?”
“I knew I had sworn off men and that that man over there could ruin what I referred to as a C-word diet.”
“Bekah Steel,” I mock gasp. I mean, she’s all mom and southern charm, but let’s face it, I have seen pictures. I know she has a different side to her than all that she gives us.
“I wasn’t ready for him, but he wasn’t giving up, and I’m so glad he didn’t.”
“Yeah, well, like father like daughter.” I look back at Matteo, who is having a very deep conversation with a very flustered Zandor Steel.
“I’ve got to get back to the VIPs. I just wanted to see that he was okay.”
I walk toward him and hear him say, “I’ve yet to say the words to her, but I am telling you, I love her to a level I’ve never felt, one without reason and unknown recourse. I promise you, I will not disrespect
her or treat her any way but with love.”
Mom grabs my hand, squeezes it, and smiles again sadly, but it’s still the kind of smile that I know she’s genuinely happy.
Dad asks, “You’re not walking away from this, are you?”
He shakes his head. “Not until my heart no longer beats.”
I wrap my arms around him from behind and hug him. “That’s not going to happen for a very long time.”
He turns and looks down at me. “There will never be enough days. Yet, if the world stopped turning now, there is no place I’d rather be. And, Tris Steel, I’m going to show you that, even if that did happen tomorrow, it will last an eternity.”
“I lo—”
He puts a finger over my lips. “Not this way. You go. We have—”
“An eternity.”
“And how lucky are we to have found that in this lifetime?”
“The luckiest people in the world.”
I love when he presses his forehead to mine, and the fact that it doesn’t mean the same as it once did. It’s not followed by a taunting look. It’s sweet. Never having been the sweet one, always the troubled one, always the spice, I didn’t know if I could ever feel that … almost adored feeling, but God, how he gives it to me, and Lord, how I crave it.
“Are you tired?” I ask, knowing he is. I can see it in his eyes.
“A bit, but—”
“You by any chance staying at the Regency?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“We are, yes. Go back and rest. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No.” I laugh. “Not at all. Because, after this, after tonight, I get to be with you.”
“Are we not staying for the show? And dinner afterward with …” Mom stops and looks at me.
He pulls out his phone and hits the app.
“Too much translating?” I ask.
“Un poco—a little.”
“Then go.” I smile as I watch the app translate my words.
Entonces vete.
He kisses the top of my head. “Diviértete. No voy a ninguna parte— Have fun. I'm not going anywhere.”
“You’re going to rest, too, aren’t you?”
“Rest, sí.”
From behind us, Rain yells, “Seriously, Tris, make it a quickie. I want to see Dad’s show.”
“Oh my God, Rain.” I laugh. “It’s not even like that.”
“Better not be until she’s eighteen,” Dad warns.
I give it right back to him. “Still not a virgin, Dad.”
“I’m going to make you feel as if you have never been touched before,” Matteo promises softy.
Dad looks at Mom like he may explode. “The hell did he just—”
Mom grabs him and pulls him away. “I’m sure it was just a misinterpretation.”
“I thought that—”
“Trust me?”
“Yes, from the first kiss.”
He smiles. “Go.”
Sitting at the dinner table between My and Brisa, who are caging me in because, yes, the cousins formally known as the hoe twins decided to come to see my show. What Brisa and My don’t get is I honestly don’t give a damn. It’s been two years since they helped fuck up my life.
I look down at my fully charged phone when it vibrates on my lap and smile when I see his name. I hit the message and see: You inspire me.
A drawing pops up next. It’s a face, my face, smiling and looking up at the clouds—storm clouds, I think, in all shapes and sizes.
Another message.
Your strength astounds me.
I type back: I want to see you. What’s your room number?
He replies:
Eat, Mi coraźon. I’ll see you later.
I quickly reply:
Room number.
His reply:
I shouldn’t have interrupted. Forgive me. I’m going to rest for a bit.
My response:
You have done nothing requiring forgiveness, Matteo. Message me later.
“This has been a blast,” Fawn says in a chipper voice.
I look up from the table at her to see she’s beaming. She and her sister are possibly the most beautiful girls in the world, like, seriously beautiful. “Tris is a freaking rock star ending a world tour in front of what, like, a hundred thousand people? Who’d have thought?”
“Not Pinkertits,” Rain, who’s down a few seats, laughs.
“Oh my God, how do you know about Pinkertits?” Fawn giggles.
“We all know about Pinkertits,” Francesca, who is sitting next to her, says, and every single set of eyes on the table fall on me.
I look at them all. All of them. “What?” I wave a hand toward Francesca. “She’s the tittie, not me.”
She rolls her eyes, eyes I have wanted to scratch out a million times. “I should probably apologize for that.”
“Oh God, no. Then I’d have to dig real deep and try to construct an apology for the ‘Feast of the Roses,’ and I just don’t have the energies or any fucks left to give to put on that performance right now. Come to think of it, probably not ever, so I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Amias is shaking in silent laughter beside me.
“Cessca, chill. Tris’s new man has been known to play on both sides, too.” Antionette smiles at me, and it’s fake as fuck, before she continues, “That was so like two years ago. Over it.”
“Everything can go back to normal then, right?” Dromida asks. “Like the last couple weeks at school, we can sit together and stop getting pulled in one direction or the other? Graduation parties won’t be awkward. Can this division really be over?”
Brisa leans forward and smiles. “Tris is coming home for Amias and my grad party. It’ll be okay.” She looks at me. “Right, Tris?”
I nod as I pick at my salad, “Yeah. All good times ahead.”
“Hey.” Kiki leans over my shoulder and gives me a big, loud kiss on the cheek. “You killed it tonight. So proud of you. Like, seriously, Tris, I wanna write with you.”
“I’m sure she’ll need someone else since Patrick is going to go to college in Boston after this,” Justice says from the end of the table.
My stomach knots up, and I feel sick as I look past Amias to Patrick.
“We’ve talked about this. I was gonna tell you for sure tomorrow, but yeah, stepping back a bit.”
I nod. “I understand.”
Yellow, fucking yellow anxiety over what I do to people, gnaws at me.
“You feeling okay?” Brisa asks.
“Just tired, is all.”
“I bet. Are you coming home with us so you can rest?”
“I’m hoping to stay in Italy for a while longer.”
“Right.” Antionette laughs. “The Spaniard. Marc is Italian. Matteo the Spaniard. Geographically, that makes your next lover what? A Frenchman, I assume.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? She just—”
“No,” I cut Brisa off, “Matteo is the final stop on the world tour.”
“Yeah?” She throws her head back in laughter. “You’re seventeen, Tris; how can you even know he’s ‘the one.’ After all, you thought Mar—”
“Because, if you even looked at Matteo like you were remotely interested in him, even knowing that he loves me in a way I’ve never been loved, even knowing he wouldn’t fuck you, I’d rip your heart out and stomp on it without a second thought.”
“So, Spanish dick is that good, huh?” She raises her glass.
“Shut the fuck up, Antionette,” Truth snaps. “Just shut the motherfucking fuck up. You are such a trifling fucking cuntbag and—”
“Babe,” Tobias, Truth’s boyfriend, looks shocked.
I mean, Truth’s no Disney princess like Brisa, but she just dropped some major F-bombs that even takes me by surprise.
“What?” she snaps at him, and Justice chuckles. “Sorry, Tobias, but not to her. Not that little bitch wh
o ruined Tris’ high school experience. Not that snatch who tried sliding into your DMs, talking about, Oh, the West Side Crew is where it’s at.” She spins around and leans over the table. “You need to check yourself, miss thang. Because there is a fucking line that separates us and, as you can see, you weren’t given the password. Basically, bitch, you are fucking deni—”
“Okay, Truth’s had a few too many adult beverages at the concert.” My cousin, Bella, laughs as she grabs her arm. “Let’s you and I go powder our noses.”
“What’s my motherfucking name, Bell?”
“It’s Truth,” Bella says as she winks at me.
“That’s fucking right, it is,” she yells over her shoulder as they walk by the adult’s table.
Uncle Cyrus stands up. Hell, so do Jase, Xavier, and Dad.
“JT,” Cyrus yells over to Justice. “What’s that all about?”
“It’s all good, Dad, it’s all good.” Justice chuckles.
I’m so thankful that they thought to rent out one of the private dining rooms for this dinner, because at least there wouldn’t be any pics or videos online about how fucked up I am again tomorrow.
“You okay?”
“No, and at least I can admit it now. I’m going up. Tell Dad and Mom I’ll see them in the room.”
“I can go with.” Brisa pushes her chair back in synch with mine.
“No, I need—”
“She needs some Tris time.” Amias lifts his chin at me then glares back across the table in Cessca’s direction. “You better fucking check yourself.”
“Whatever. Jesus, it’s no big deal.”
I stand up. “Thanks for hanging. Might see some of you tomorrow.” I look at Cessca. “But not you. You and I can be the kind of relatives who are cordial at mandatory family shit, but I have no desire to see you tomorrow.” I drop my napkin. “You make me sick.”
“Yeah, and I’m supposed to care why?”
“That line Truth was just talking about, you drew it.”
“Why? Because your boyfriend chose me over—”
“Yeah, about that. How did I taste?”
“What?” she gasps.
“You sucked his dick that frequented my vag.” Red … fucking red. “So, how did I—”