by Jo Tannah
* * * *
Tristan made his way over to the buffet table. From the other end, Joanna approached him. Judging from her pinched look, Tristan guessed she was either in pain or was pissed off about something. Or someone. He offered his arm to walk her to their table, which she graciously accepted. After he helped seat her, he moved to leave, but long manicured nails dug painfully into his arm. The cold look on her face stopped him where he stood bent over her.
“I’m not going to mince words here.” She leaned closer, her lips tight. “I know about you and Zach. Don’t you dare shake your head at me, torpe ka. I asked. He never lies to me and he’s not about to start. I’m pissed off about this whole, situation, but you’re both adults.” The muscle on her cheek began to spasm as her accent deepened. “Linte, Tristan. Jon is going to run juramentado when he finds out about this. I won’t interfere with you and Zach, but I will tell Jon. I’ve never hidden anything from him and I’m not about to. As I said, you’re both adults. But let me tell you, ‘tang ina mo. You hurt my baby, you step a foot out of line, and I’ll kick your balls deep into your gut, get my kitchen knife and cut your pecker off. Intiendes?”
“Joanna... ”
“Do. You. Understand. Me?”
Tristan met the gaze of the angry she-lion. Hell hath no fury, so they say. Over the years, he’d learned to avoid Joanna when she slipped to her native language. Eyes wide, he nodded and hoped to God the skin on his arm survived the talons of her nails.
* * * *
Two hours later, the reception was still in full swing. The wedding band had been replaced by a DJ who played contemporary house music, making Tristan’s head ache. He’d exited the room when the younger set began jumping up and down and now stood leaning against a wall in the considerably quieter corridor when Zach walked out looking for him.
“There you are.” His wide smile faltered when he saw Tristan’s face. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he said in a harsh whisper, walking over to Tristan, a worried frown wrinkling his brow.
“Your mother had a few choice words to say to me.” Tristan’s face twisted in a grimace as he took a sip of his wine.
He watched Zach take a deep breath and anxiously look around, but thankfully the corridor was empty.
“What did she say?”
“I’ve always known Joanna was fierce. I expected her warning me off should I end up hurting you. It’s all right,” Tristan hurriedly added when he saw Zach’s look of despair. “I’m glad she knows.”
“I’m so sorry... ”
“No, don’t. Don’t be sorry.” Tristan gulped some more of the wine. “It’s okay. She’s your mother. She has the right to get mad. I survived her. We both will. We have to. I’m not sorry about us. I want to have more. If I back off now because of some harsh words... ” His voice broke. He turned and took Zach into his arms, hiding his face in Zach’s neck. “No. You’re mine. Do you understand me? You’re mine. I should have said something earlier, but I can’t think of letting you go.”
Zach wrapped his hands around Tristan’s nape. “I know, I know. You’re mine, too, you know.”
Tristan leaned back and watched the raw emotions on Zach’s face. He was falling deeper into something with Zach. Was it love? Maybe it was too soon, but the thought of Zach leaving him physically hurt. What did that mean?
“I also liked it when you said the operator called you Mr. Maxfield.” Tristan leaned closer and brushed his lips against Zach’s when he saw his lover’s eyes tear up. “I don’t care what people will eventually say about us.”
He deepened the kiss when the lips parted beneath his and felt them both lose awareness of their surroundings, except for the velvet caress of their tongues.
“Damn,” Zach said when he peeled his lips off Tristan’s. He breathed in a lungful of air. “You say the sweetest things. And I don’t care either. I’m no longer a teenager.” His hands slid down Tristan’s back. “You sure do know how to get something to rise between us, hon.” He pressed his pelvis against Tristan’s while his hands gripped Tristan’s ass, pulling their bodies closer. Their erections rubbed against each other through their pants. They continued to kiss, lost in each other’s presence not realizing they had an observer until they heard Amanda’s voice.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
They quickly broke apart, Amanda’s drunken slur dousing their passion like a bucket of iced water. Tristan’s blood chilled when he turned and came face to face with his former wife. Of all the people to catch them in a compromising situation, it had to be her.
“Wait until I tell the children about this.” Amanda’s eyes gleamed in evil victory as she raised her glass and took a gulp of whiskey.
Tristan met her cold glare and held it. He saw her relish her discovery as she stood gloating at them. Something snapped inside him, and at that moment he understood he had everything to lose if he continued to hide in fear about his relationship with Zach. Resolute in his realization, he placed an arm around Zach and pulled him closer.
The move did not escape Amanda’s censorious observation, and her lip curled in disgust. She opened her mouth to speak, but Tristan beat her to it.
“You’re not doing anything, Amanda,” he said calmly, his heart racing as his fingers dug into Zach’s shoulders. “I’ve had enough from you. You nearly ruined Margaret’s day because you decided to get drunk instead of going to her wedding sober. Let’s not even talk about almost getting sued. You’re not going to ruin her day any further by spreading lies about me or Zach. It’s no one’s business but mine and his. Not yours, not the guests in there, and definitely not for the children to hear from someone they lost their respect for years ago.”
Amanda’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Tristan didn’t allow her to speak. “You’re going to go back in there and not say a word. If you’re thinking of speaking to Joanna or Jon, you’d better consider twice. You don’t want to cross me, Amanda. You’ve gotten away with a lot of things over the years, but no longer. Starting now, you are no business of mine. Now go back in there and start acting like a mother, for once in your life.”
With a sneer, she spat at their feet, turned on her heel and exited the corridor. He watched Zach jerk to avoid the flying brown specked saliva just as it landed an inch from the tip of his shoe. To his surprise, Zach danced around the disgusting blob, mindlessly flapping his hands in the air. Tristan’s eyes widened, then, as if a dam broke inside him, he nervously burst out in laughter. Zach turned around to glare at him, placing his fists on his waist.
“Yuck. Shit. Fuck. Come on, Tris, that was just plain nasty.”
Tristan looked up, but the words triggered something inside him and he began to laugh harder than ever. It took him a few minutes, but soon he leaned his head against the wall as he tried to gain control over his hysteria. He blindly reached out a hand, then heard rather than felt Zach move closer before a warm hand took his. He pulled on the willing body, and once they were pressing against each other, hugged Zach tight.
“Never letting you go, hon. Never letting you go.
Chapter Nine
By four o’clock, the reception finally ended. Giles and Margaret went up to their suite as they were not leaving for their honeymoon until the afternoon of the next day. The guests left armed with scented soaps while others took with them the flowers from the tables. Amanda disappeared after the encounter in the corridor and no one looked for her, not even mentioned her name.
Whatever food was left from the reception, Joanna arranged to have delivered to the local homeless shelter. The remaining flowers were donated to the local children’s hospital in Margaret and Giles’ names. Tristan paid the outstanding balance to the planners, who glorified their accomplishments while clutching the check made out to them tightly in a fist. One of the women suggested Tristan hire them for any future weddings in the family. Although what had gone down with Amanda wasn’t their fau
lt, he gave them a vague nod. When their backs turned, he told Zach he was going to avoid them at all costs. Zach just gave an amused snort.
Tristan went back up to his floor alone and tapped the keycard against the scanner. When the door didn’t open after his third attempt, he took out his phone to call for help. Fortunately, a hotel maid came into view, and he explained to her his predicament.
She took the card from him and tried it out on his door’s scanner. When the door refused to budge, she went to the door next to his and tapped it on its scanner. One beep, and the door inched open. Tristan thanked the maid only to stop short when he realized he’d walked into Zach’s room. The connecting door remained wide open and the room looked just like it did when they’d left earlier. He frowned down at the offending keycard belatedly, remembering Zach had handed it over to him earlier.
Shrugging off the exchange as a simple mistake, he began taking off his tie when he heard the door close in the other room. When he’d left, Zach was still with Joshua and Mark, who’d held on to him with offerings of cake and coffee. Walking through the door he saw Zach lying prone on his bed, arms out, legs spread wide. His eyes were closed and there was a look of determination on his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Meditating.” Zach raised his hand to his temples and massaged it. “Mom told me we’re having dinner with them tonight at eight o’clock. Now I’m trying to convince myself we’re going to have a great time.”
“Oh,” Tristan said. “You think Joanna told Jon about us?”
“Most likely. She tells him everything.”
“Headache?” Tristan said when Zach continued to massage his temples.
“Nah, just really tense.”
“Scoot on over. We won’t have to meet them until four hours from now. Why don’t you take off your clothes and take a hot shower? I’m going to do the same. We go to bed, have a nap. We should be relaxed enough to deal with whatever Jonathan pulls tonight.”
“Sounds good,” Zach said in a low voice. He didn’t move from where he lay.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now.”
“I won’t.”
From Zach’s hushed voice, Tristan knew he was about to fall asleep.
Zach barely lifted his lids when Tristan removed his shoes and pants. Gently, Tristan rolled him over to his side before removing his coat and shirt. The bed dipped when Tristan lay beside him. Tristan pressed warm lips in a loving caress over Zach’s neck and shoulders, making him arch his back in response. Tristan maneuvered their bodies until they were lying side by side under the covers.
* * * *
As the heat from Tristan’s body spooned over his, Zach turned and sought the warm junction of Tristan’s neck. He breathed a sigh of relief, flung his leg over Tristan’s hips, and promptly fell asleep.
* * * *
They both woke up with barely thirty minutes to spare before their dinner with Jonathan and Joanna at Salt, the hotel’s exclusive restaurant. They rushed through the motions of separate showers, shaving and putting on clothes. Five minutes before their appointed time they walked into the restaurant and immediately spotted Jon and Joanna sitting in a corner table.
They were led by the host to where the Parkers sat waiting, looking as though they’d just taken a shower and were dressed comfortably. Joanna had on linen slacks, a loose linen blouse, and elegant, beaded Havaianas slip-ons. When Zach reached them, he bent to kiss his mother on the cheek, but didn’t say anything to his parents.
Jonathan held a deep scowl on his face, which told Tristan he knew about them. The piercing look in his eyes as they turned toward both of them made Tristan straighten his spine and noticed Zach nervously biting on his lower lip. Jonathan usually had a calm demeanor, but when his temper was running high, he had a manner of looking through and over those he confronted. It made people uncomfortable. Tristan’s lips twitched. He’d dealt with an angry Jonathan before, although admittedly, he’d never seen the anger aimed at him in their more than thirty years of friendship. He knew he was in deep shit. He’d be angry, too, if their situations were reversed.
“Jonathan. Joanna,” Tristan said in greeting. Jonathan didn’t even nod a reply.
Joanna gave them both a resigned smile. “Sit down, Tris. Zach,” Joanna said politely.
Zach sat in front of his parents looking nervous. Tristan watched him place his hands on his lap, then seemed to change his mind and placed them on the table instead. His face turned red when Tristan placed his arm over the back of his chair when he sat down beside him. The arm stayed there, which only served to darken Jonathan’s face all the more. The frown looked deeper too.
“Would you care to hear our specials or order drinks?” the waiter asked brightly, handing each of them a beautifully packaged menu.
“Yes, please. Do you serve merlot here?” It was Jonathan who answered. At the waiter’s acknowledgment, he continued, “Please bring us a bottle of the most expensive brand you’ve got. Put it on Tristan Maxfield’s tab. He’s paying for this very expensive dinner.”
Joanna broke out laughing. Although she had a hand over her mouth, she was not bothering to hide her amusement.
“Am I amusing you, Joanna?” Jonathan asked, turning to his wife with a raised eyebrow.
Joanna looked back at her husband. “Yes, you are.” She didn’t miss a beat, much to Jonathan’s obvious frustration. He shifted in his seat at the look of challenge on Joanna’s face.
Tristan lowered his arm, slipped his hand over Zach’s knee under the table and let it stay there. The move was obviously not lost to Jonathan, who growled low in his throat.
“Bring us the bottle. We’ll go over the specials when you get back,” Tristan said to the waiter, not taking his focus off Jonathan.
Eyes wide, the waiter looked at the four people sitting before him. He must have felt the tension, for he nodded and scurried away in a hurry. Jonathan snapped his menu open and raised it, the move effectively hiding his face from the rest of them.
“Dad... ” Zach began, but the menu didn’t lower.
“I’m choosing the most expensive and delicious meal this restaurant has to offer. Also, I’m trying to hold on to my manners.”
“Jonathan—” Tristan began, shifting in his chair.
“Shut up.”
Tristan lowered his chin and lifted a single brow, but didn’t say a word. Instead, he picked up his own menu.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Jonathan continued. “I want to take you outside and beat the shit out of you, you fuck. Zach, I don’t want to hear you speak right now. I’m angry with you for even thinking this is going to work between the two of you.”
Tristan snapped open his menu, thinning his lips in anger. “I’ll leave you to stew then. I’m certain you’ll reach the end of you self-imposed manners sometime soon and lay it all out on the table later for all of us to hear.”
“I’ll make sure you listen to me in no uncertain terms,” Jonathan replied, still hiding behind his menu.
An hour later, Tristan heard Zach sigh after he finished what could have been one of the most difficult meals he’d ever partaken in with his parents. The table had been silent throughout the meal, and there had been no small talk involved. No one even looked at each other.
The poor waiter serving them did so to the best of his capacity, serving them as inconspicuously as possible. As per custom, the chef came out to verify how his guests found his food, but he turned on his heel when Tristan saw the maître d signal him not to go any further with a shake of his head. The host started over to make sure everything was all right, but when he saw the chef’s back, he too, walked back to his post and pretended to study the reservations schedule. The sommelier arrived to personally check whether the bottle of merlot was passable, for it was customary to send word to him how well his choices were received. The grim looks on the chef and waiting staffs faces halted him in his tracks.
Tristan sig
naled for the bill brought over and watched as the waiter almost fell on his face in his eager rush to grab it from the cashier, who appeared to have readied it way ahead of time. He laid a black credit card on the small black folder and took on a look of quiet calm. Zach didn’t make any gesture for paying half of their meal, most likely fearing how he or his father would react.
When the receipt was delivered, Tristan leaned back on his chair and blatantly placed his right arm over the back of Zach’s once again. Laying his left hand on the table, he began to tap out a steady rhythm. No one said a word. No one moved to stand. Five minutes of silence and the steady tap, tap, tap finally broke through Jonathan’s tightly reigned in anger, as Tristan knew it would. The corner of his lip curled.
Three, two, one—
“Fuck you. Just fuck you.”
“Is that all you can say?” Tristan’s lazy drawl served its purpose, spurring another angry response from his friend and partner. Beside him, Zach leaned a little bit further away.
“What the hell, Maxfield? I don’t care who you fuck, but does it have to be Zach?” Jonathan growled out the words as he jabbed a finger Zach’s way. “Did you touch him when he was younger?”
The wild accusation elicited a gasp from both Joanna and Zach. Tristan paled and gritted his teeth. A muscle twitched on the corner of his eye and his hand curled into a fist. The dark flush of anger rose rapidly over his face.
“That’s just beneath contempt, Jonathan,” he said, gritting the words out. “Take that back right now and I won’t punch you.”
“Punch me? You think to punch me? I should punch you!”
Jonathan reached across the table, curled hands ready to grab Tristan by his neck when Joanna grabbed his arm just as Zach rose to block the move by placing his arm over the table between the men.
“Please, Dad, Tristan. This isn’t the way to handle things.” He kept his voice low.