by Andrew Grey
What the hell was he going to do? He’d made a mess of his life yet again, or more precisely, still. One stupid mistake, and he was still paying for it. All he’d done was fall in love with Eddie Menendez, and then his life had gone down the crapper. How in the hell was he supposed to have known Eddie was a goddamned drug dealer who turned into a possessive asshole as soon as Tristan found out and wanted out of the relationship? He didn’t know anything about Eddie’s business or drugs. But his life had been torn to hell, and his problems affected his friends too.
This was the second time he’d been pulled out of his home, and he hated it. Harry was nice to let him stay here. Tristan tried not to let his mind go to the handsome club owner. He had noticed Harry—who wouldn’t? He was tall, and while not nearly as big as Bull, he was strong and—from Tristan’s perspective—fearless. He’d liked the way Harry had protected him at the club. But Tristan had seen Harry talking with a lot of guys at the club, and he knew Harry went home with some of them. Tristan had even thought about talking to Harry, but as soon as he had, he’d seen Harry talking to the bartender Rodney, and then that night he’d noticed the two of them leaving together. That was cool, Harry could see whoever he wanted, but Tristan had had enough of guys who slept around and spent all their time cruising. Eddie had been like that. He’d just done a good job of hiding it for a long time.
“Stop whining,” he whispered out loud. Tristan hated that he’d been doing that a lot lately. It drove him crazy. He hated when others went on whining for hours, and yet he’d been doing that for months.
He decided he needed a drink of water and figured he could brave it. He got up and cracked open the door. He didn’t see any four-legged creatures prowling the hall, so he opened the door the rest of the way and walked across the hall to the bathroom. He got a drink of water and used the toilet before returning to his room.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked from his bedroom doorway.
“Yes. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“I’m surprised you’re up already.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Tristan admitted. “Everything is very comfortable and nice, but I can’t stop my mind from wandering.” He yawned. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I guess I keep wondering what I did to deserve this. All I wanted was a boyfriend, but what I got was a real mess, and it put all my friends in danger.”
Harry stepped closer. “You know none of this is your fault. That’s the really crappy part about situations like this—the innocent person is the one who suffers. You didn’t know Eddie was selling drugs. None of us did. Granted, I’d hazard a guess your friends wondered if something was wrong because of the way you pulled away.”
“They all hated Eddie, and they’d never even met him.” Tristan sighed, then shifted his gaze down and wriggled his toes nervously. “That should have been a clue. And the way he kept making up excuses about why he couldn’t meet my friends and then kept coming up with reasons why I should spend more time with him.” Tristan wrapped his arms around his body as a chill raced up his spine. “I should have seen it.”
“You were in love with him. They don’t say love is blind for no reason. It can be wonderful, but love can make us fail to see what’s right under our noses because we don’t want to see it.”
Tristan opened his mouth to protest.
“I’m not saying you did anything wrong. You didn’t. All I’m saying is that you were in love, and Eddie used that against you. He must have known how you felt, and he twisted that to his advantage. The slimy bastard.”
Tristan couldn’t argue with the last part of that assessment. “I always thought I was a good judge of character. Now I second-guess everything.”
“Nothing has changed, except that in the future you’ll be more careful and probably more circumspect. But don’t stop being yourself. That’s the worst thing you could do. Eddie is a complete shit, but if you let him change who you are, he wins. There are plenty of people who are behind you, don’t forget that, and they’re behind you because they care about you. The real you.” Harry paused, and Tristan wondered if this conversation wasn’t a little deep for five in the morning. “That’s worth a lot. Sometimes it takes months or years before you get to know the real person, and when you do, you find out they don’t like you… or want something from you that you can’t give… or whatever. But you have friends who know you and love you. That’s why they were worried when you were seeing Eddie—because they cared.”
The expression on Harry’s face told Tristan, even in his sleep-deprived and worked-up state, that maybe Harry didn’t have those kinds of friends. “The guys are… I don’t know… they’re the guys. I always thought of us like that Sex in the City show, but with gay guys instead of girls. I saw that show a few times, and they always seemed like such good friends. That’s like the four of us. Zach and Jeremy have… husbands, I guess, but the four of us are still just as close.” He smiled. “I used to think everyone had friends like that.”
“They don’t,” Harry said softly and then yawned. Tristan got the idea the yawn was fake. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Harry turned and went back into his room. Tristan went back to his room and got into bed. This time he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, light was pouring in through the windows. He groaned and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep. It didn’t work, and after glancing at the clock, he pushed back the covers and got up. He had an hour until he had to be at the restaurant for his shift as a waiter, and he couldn’t afford to be late. He got up and checked the hall before bolting across to the bathroom. Grateful for Harry’s generosity, he found the things he needed and took a shower and shaved. Then he pulled on the sweatpants he’d slept in and did his best to skitter back to his room.
“Are you in a hurry?” Harry asked, coming out of his room.
Tristan nodded and wished he’d pulled on his T-shirt so he wasn’t so exposed under Harry’s intense gaze.
“Let me get dressed, and I can take you to your place and then to work,” Harry said.
“That’s okay. I can get to work if you drop me off at the apartment.”
Harry paused. “What if something’s wrong, or….”
Maybe a ride to work wasn’t such a bad idea. “Thanks. That would be great.” There was no need to be rude, and Harry was being so kind. Tristan hurried to his room, closed the door, and dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before. He hated the way they felt. There was nothing worse than being clean and putting on dirty clothes. He’d have to change fast before he went in to work. Once he was ready, Tristan stepped out and waited. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to go downstairs. Harry joined him in the hall a few minutes later and disarmed the alarm system.
Tristan followed Harry downstairs, yawning as he went. He needed to remember that staying out until after two the night before he had to work was so not a good idea. He yawned widely. He did his best to cover it up, but failed miserably.
“Let me put some coffee on—I think we both need it,” Harry said.
Tristan yawned again and nodded. He needed coffee bad. “Maybe you could set up an IV drip of the stuff.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes drifting closed. He jumped when he felt something brush his legs and stiffened when he realized it was the cat. “What is it doing?”
“She’s just rubbing against you. It means she wants to be friends,” Harry said. “Come on.” He leaned down and lifted Butterscotch into his arms. “She must like you, or she wouldn’t have come out at all.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for her chance to eat me. I’ve heard stories about people dying and being eaten by their cats,” Tristan said, staring wide-eyed at the ball of furry death in Harry’s arms.
“Those are stories told around campfires and stuff that are meant to scare you as a kid.”
Harry put the cat down, and she sat at Tristan’s feet, staring at him with huge eyes that seemed to drill into him. Didn’t the damn thing blink, for God’s sake? Tristan shifted away. He
didn’t like cats, and he hated that Harry had seen he was afraid of them. On an intellectual level he knew being afraid of cats was sort of stupid, but even now, with the cat just watching him, his heart raced, and he was fighting the urge to run. But he sat still, clutching the chair.
“Butterscotch, go in and eat,” Harry said to the cat, who completely ignored him. Harry opened one of the cupboards, pulled out a small can, and opened the lid. He showed the cat the container, and she stood up, now watching Harry’s every move. “Cat treats,” Harry said and tossed a few onto the floor a ways away. Butterscotch leaped after them, and Tristan relaxed slightly.
“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” Tristan whispered.
“Do you know why you’re afraid of cats?” Harry asked as he poured coffee into a travel mug.
Tristan shivered. “No. I’ve never liked them.” He stood when Harry handed him the mug. He wrapped his hands around it not because he was cold, but because the heat was comforting. “A doctor once told me that most people see a cat as soft, cuddly, and warm. I see them as furry balls of death who want to eat me.” Tristan smiled to make light of it. “You see a cat, but I see danger.” It was the best way he could describe it. “I know it seems dumb, but that’s the way I feel. There isn’t anything logical about it. I wish there were, because then I could fix it. But I can’t. I’ve petted cats. My mom made me when I was a kid. I nearly wet myself, but I did it. My mom thought that was some huge accomplishment and that I’d get over it once I realized how soft they were. Then it licked me and tried to scrape my skin off, and that was it.”
Harry had filled another travel mug and motioned toward the front door. “Do dogs bother you?”
“No. I like dogs. Just cats.”
“Is it all cats? Like lions and tigers too?”
Tristan chuckled. “I’ve never been close enough to one to find out.”
Harry scoffed. “Yeah, that was kind of a dumb question. Go on out and wait by the car. I need to make sure she has food and water, and then I’ll be out.”
Tristan was happy to oblige. He went outside into the summer heat, soaking up the morning sun. Harry came out a minute later, locked the house, and strode toward the car. Tristan couldn’t help watching him. He liked the way Harry moved. He was medium height and sort of stocky but graceful. Maybe he’d been a dancer at one time.
“Ready to go?” Harry pressed a button on his keychain and the car chirped, announcing it was unlocked, and Tristan got in. He placed his mug in one of the cup holders, buckled his seat belt, and pulled the door closed. Harry did the same and then started the engine.
They drove back the way they’d come last night, and once they crossed the river into Harrisburg, Tristan gave Harry directions to his place. He and Kevin were renting the upper floor of a duplex. They had been lucky to find a place like this at a price they could afford.
Harry pulled to a stop out front, and they got out. “Do you want me to go first?” he offered.
“No. I’m okay.” Tristan walked up onto the porch and to the door. He put in the key and unlocked it, which he thought was a good sign. Everything looked normal so far. Inside, he looked up the green-painted staircase and began to climb. At the top, he opened the door and peered into the living room. Nothing looked out of place. The mismatched furniture he and Kevin had put together didn’t appear disturbed. He wandered through the apartment, relaxing a little as he went. Things were fine. No one had been here.
“Check the bedroom and then get changed for work, and I’ll drop you off.” Harry sipped from his mug and handed Tristan his. He took it and went to his bedroom. He needed to hurry, or he was going to be late.
The bedroom looked fine. He set the mug on top of the dresser and stripped off his clothes, then threw them into the clothes basket in the corner. Then he pulled open his drawer and pulled on fresh underwear before moving to his closet for black work slacks and a white shirt.
Dressing didn’t take long, and he stepped out and into the living room, carrying his shoes and socks. He sat in the ugly green chair—that’s what both he and Kevin called it. The thing was hideous but dang comfortable, so they threw a blanket over it and used it anyway. “I’m just about ready.” He put on his shoes and socks and then patted his pockets. He hurried back into the bedroom and grabbed his wallet, keys, phone, and the mug of coffee. He felt really scattered and wondered how he was going to make it through the day without messing up every order he took.
“You’re going to be fine,” Harry said from the doorway, and Tristan squeaked slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ready to go?”
Tristan turned and saw Harry watching him. After a second Harry turned and stepped away from the doorway. Tristan checked that he had everything and left the room. He led Harry out and locked the doors.
THE DRIVE to work only took a few minutes. Harry pulled up in front of the Green Door Café.
“Thanks, Harry.”
“It’s no problem. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you,” Harry offered and gave Tristan his number. “I’m not sure where your car is, but you’re going to need a ride,” Harry added when Tristan hesitated.
“Thanks.” Tristan closed the door and watched Harry drive off. He added Harry’s number to his contacts and hurried inside, arriving minutes before starting time. He got right to work, making sure the stations were stocked. Then he checked with the kitchen to make sure he knew the specials. The doors opened at eleven, and a huge party came in and filled one section of the dining room. Tristan and the other server, Mona, were hopping from that moment on. They usually had a few minutes to chat now and then, but not today. They smiled at each other as they passed and exchanged pleasantries while they waited for orders, but otherwise they were both moving constantly—taking orders, getting drinks, and fulfilling requests. Tristan’s feet felt worn down to nubs by the time the lunch service was drawing to a close.
“I just sat some people in your station,” Mona said as she passed into the kitchen. “They said they were friends of yours.”
“Thanks,” Tristan said as he carried a tray from the kitchen. He delivered it to the patrons and made sure they were all set before approaching the new table. “I’m Tristan, and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon. Can I start you off with drinks?” He looked up to concentrate on his customers and found himself staring into Eddie’s eyes. His blood went cold, and he took a single, small step back. It took all of his control not to ask what the hell Eddie was doing there. The only thing that stopped him was Mrs. Martinelli, his boss, standing just across the room. He decided to play it professional and distant… waiting.
“You know what I like and want,” Eddie said just above a whisper, his lips curling slightly. Tristan knew that seductive look, and he was tempted to smack Eddie with his order pad. It had worked in the past, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to work now.
“I’m sorry, sir, but what would you like to drink?” Tristan persisted. He shifted his gaze from Eddie to the other men at the table. He recognized them as Jimmy and Lewis, friends of Eddie’s.
“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Martinelli asked as she approached the table.
“Of course not,” Eddie said with a bright smile. “We were just deciding.”
Tristan’s boss stepped away, and Tristan waited. Eventually Eddie ordered, and Tristan reviewed the specials and then went to get their drinks.
Mrs. Martinelli met him at the bar. “Is something wrong?” She glanced over at Eddie’s table.
“No. He’s my ex.” He didn’t want to cause trouble. He’d wait on them and spend as little time at the table as possible. “It’s fine.”
“Mona can take it if you’d rather.”
Tristan smiled. “It’s fine.” Mrs. Martinelli was good to him, and he didn’t want to be a problem. Eddie would be gone soon enough. He finished getting the drinks and carried them back to the table. He placed them on the table and then asked if they were ready to order.
“I know
what I want,” Eddie said, staring at him.
“I’m not on the menu, and I never will be for you again,” Tristan growled softly, leaning close to Eddie. The word scumbag was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He liked his job and didn’t want to lose it. “So what would you like?” He straightened up and waited. Eddie looked over the menu, and Tristan took the opportunity to look over Eddie. Not that he was interested, but the designer suit and expensive haircut were new. Eddie looked like he was going for the full-on gangster impersonation, complete with attitude. He must have been watching reruns of The Sopranos or something.
Eddie eventually ordered his lunch, and the others followed suit. Tristan left the table and placed the orders in to the kitchen. After that he stayed there, hiding out as best he could. He wondered if he should ask Mona to help him out. Tristan bit his lower lip and glanced around the partition to the table. Eddie looked right back at him, the fucker. All he wanted was to be left alone, but the feral look in Eddie’s eyes told him that wasn’t going to happen.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He wasn’t supposed to have it on him while he was working, but he’d shoved it into his pocket and forgotten about it. He didn’t dare answer it in the kitchen, so he went into the bathroom and closed the door. He pulled out his phone, checked the missed call log, then dialed Zach’s number and waited. The call went to voice mail. He ended it and called Jeremy, getting the same thing. Tristan thought about calling Kevin, but there wasn’t any use. Kevin was at work too. He wasn’t sure what else to do….