by J. S. Luxor
The van is nearly full and it’s 5:30pm. Ashley, her twin brother, Erik, and Juan look exhausted. I make a pizza and beer run for the second time today. We sit slumped against the walls while Ashley fires up her laptop and we watch a Netflix film about some forbidden romance.
Juan looks at me while I clear away the empty boxes of pizza, beer cans and water bottles. He’s getting bored watching the film.
“Joanna, let’s go for a walk,” he suggests with a smile. “Do you want to try McMurphy’s Pub or Effin’s Pub and Grill?”
I leap at the chance to spend some time with Juan, just saying goodbye. “McMurphy’s is closer and has better ratings on Yelp,” I offer while putting my arm through his. We walk arm in arm toward McMurphy’s bar where the music is blasting and the coeds are celebrating the end of another semester. Everyone’s in good spirits.
We have a few beers on me and reminisce about our time together. Around ten, I yawn and mention how tired I feel.
Juan smiles as we head back to my apartment. His puts his arm around my shoulders in what I hope is a friendly gesture. As we reach the door to my place, I note that the light is still on in Ashley’s bedroom. She’s probably packing a few last items.
“Looks like I may not see you much for a while,” I say with regret and then look up to see Juan’s suddenly serious face. His arms are now wrapped around my waist. I start to stiffen.
“I can’t believe that I won’t see you almost every day, Joanna. I’m really going to miss you.”
“Hey, we’ll always have our contacts through Rob and your dad,” I remind him.
“Did I tell you that I am actually having a party at my apartment to celebrate the summer solstice? I’ve asked a faculty member who’s an archeologist to talk about it and they’re going to show all these pictures of the solstice around my place.”
“Really? I’m so impressed that you’re finally reaching out to others, Juan. What time and day is it? I’ll come back for it and to see you.”
“It’s a month from now, Joanna, on Friday starting at 6pm. I’ll text to remind you.”
I decide that the smartest move to make just now is a quick hug. I move in to touch Juan in what I hope is a friendly manner. Juan doesn’t release me, however and it’s getting awkward.
“Joanna, I really like you as more than a friend,” he proclaims and then he leans down for a kiss.
In a moment of weakness, I reason that one quick kiss won’t matter. He’s my friend and we won’t see each other for quite a while. I quickly peck him on the lips but his hands hold me firmly in place. One hand pulls me toward his chest while the other snakes behind my head and anchors me. He kisses me fully on the mouth and moans. I freeze.
“Juan, stop… I really like you but…not that way,” I mumble in between his kisses and push back.
He releases me reluctantly. “Damn it, Joanna. Why did I have to fall for you? Maybe one day I’ll change your mind.”
I merely smile at him while he lets go. “Juan, I wish I felt some sort of chemistry with you but, I don’t. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head with embarrassment and jumps in his car.
“Thanks for all of your help today, Juan. You’re my buddy. I’ll see you at the party,” I promise.
“Yeah, sure!” Juan mutters before starting his car and heading off into the night. He looks down with a crushed expression on his face. It’s just so awkward and sad.
I feel awful as I head back into my apartment because I don’t want to lose him as a friend. Still, I’m glad that I didn’t try to string Juan along. It’s uncomfortable though. I look at my phone. There’s a voice mail from someone I don’t know. The name reads Kristen Powers. Maybe it’s some employer from a psych hospital. Another interview? I listen to the message.
“My name is Kristen and I’m a friend of Mr. Tristan Grant’s. He’d like to see you, after you move to Mission Beach. He can’t use his own phone, right now. Can you call to let me know when and if you’re available?”
I wonder what kind of friendship Kristen has with Tristan and why he isn’t calling himself. Has he lost his voice? She sounds like she could be his older sister. I decide to call her tomorrow since it’s already quite late and she may be sleeping by now. I’m excited about finally seeing Tristan again. Tomorrow should be an interesting day.
Chapter Two – Reunited
When I awaken in the morning, I have a text message from Mr. Adonis himself. In addition, there’s a VM from Bailey. I read the text message first. I feel like a child who’s just gotten a birthday gift.
“Miss you, Joanna. Come to see me. Bailey will bring you. J Tristan”
“Tonight?”
“Please. Can’t wait. Tristan”
I am so thrilled with Tristan’s texts. Yikes, I’m already salivating with desire. I wonder where he’ll be found. Let’s hope he’s out of the hospital by now. Maybe Bailey’s VM will help me figure out the logistics of where and when. I listen to the crisp accents of Tony Bailey’s voice. I hear ex-military, all the way.
“Miss Prime. Are you available to visit Mr. Grant this evening? If so, please give me a time and your address. I’m happy to drive you back and forth. Thanks! Bailey.”
I have to call Bailey to get more details, now. If it’s a hospital visit, I’ll bring a plant. If not, I may bring a negligee (chuckle), a new one, since I don’t own any. Tristan’s lure is powerful. Bailey answers on the first ring.
“Oh, Miss Prime. It’s good to hear from you. I hope your drive to La Mesa and SDSU last week went well.” Bailey’s friendlier than the last time we spoke. That’s interesting. I wonder why.
“It was long but fine, thanks to your advice about the I-8, Mr. Bailey. As it turns out, I’ll be driving the I-8 up to Mission Beach today for the big move. Its 13 miles west or so. We should arrive in town around 1pm or so. I’ll be ready around 5pm. Can you update me on Tristan’s condition?”
He pauses, “Thank you. I’ll let Mr. Grant update you on his situation. Where are you living in Mission Beach?”
I give him my new address and describe the building’s location. “Is Mr. Grant in the hospital?”
“He’s just been released for in-home care. He’s now resting comfortably at home. I’ll wait outside your apartment at 5pm, this evening,” he states with formality.
“Umm, that’s fine, Bailey. By the way, I received a call from someone named Kristen Powers. She claims that she’s a friend of Tristan’s and she wants me to call her. Do you know this woman?”
“Yes, ma’am, I know Ms. Powers,” he states in a clipped manner. His tone has just become less friendly. What’s that about?
“Can you tell me who she happens to be, Mr. Bailey?”
He inhales a bit before speaking. “She’s a long-time associate of the Grant brothers and knows the family well,” he reveals but doesn’t elaborate. That’s all Bailey will give me.
I want to know more about this person, before I call her. “She told me that Tristan wanted to see me but I know that already. Why would she be calling me?”
“I don’t know, Miss Prime,” his voice sounds concerned. Hmmm….
“Did she and the family visit Tristan when he was at the hospital in Temecula?”
“I’m not free to disclose personal information about the Grant family or their associates, ma’am,” he answers in a professional tone.
“I see. All right. Thank you Mr. Bailey. Be waiting for you tonight at five, unless something strange happens on our move to Mission Beach,” I assure him and click off. It’s time to find out more about Tristan from Kristen Powers. I take three deep breaths and sit down before I call her number. She answers on the fourth ring.
“Ms. Powers,” I begin, “I’m Joanna Prime. You called me about Tristan Grant,” I say with as much neutrality as possible.
“Yes, as I said, I’m an old friend of Tristan’s. He’s desperate to see you. He called for you repeatedly in his semi-conscious state. I thought you should know,” she divulges
. Her voice sounds sharp and edgy but young. I’ve just gotten more information from Kristen than Bailey was willing to spill. So, Tristan was semi-conscious, for a while. That explains why I haven’t heard from him.
“Thanks for letting me know. How long was he unconscious?” My heart skips a beat as I ask the question. No wonder he didn’t call. I hope he doesn’t have any lasting damage from being unconscious.
“For the past week, he’s been in and out of consciousness. He had quite a fall, was delirious and in a lot of pain, Joanna,” she reveals in a dramatic manner. Then, she begins, “I understand you spent time with Tristan in the elevator, during the earthquake?”
I chuckle, “Oh yeah, we spent at least 24 hours together in rather close touch. If it weren’t for Tristan’s rescue squad, we’d have been miserable,” I share and then giggle at the memory of our camp out.
She snorts and sounds a bit put off by my description of our encounter. “Well, glad to know you two had fun, cooped up together.”
I decide to limit the amount of information I’m willing to give to Ms. Powers. There’s something ominous about the tone of her voice and her attitude.
I need to move the focus off the two of us, “It was difficult to cope with all the tremors in that elevator. Seemed as though the aftershocks would never stop. I was afraid that the elevator would plunge down to the basement,” I explain. Maybe Kristen will sound friendlier if I tell her about the scary aspects of our adventure.
“Did he help soothe you?” she asks in a menacing way. That’s an inappropriate assumption and question, though it’s true. She sounds less than pleased about our encounter.
“The supplies that he ordered from the crew really made the whole situation livable,” I state in a neutral manner. “We’re lucky that the crew came to our rescue so quickly.”
I hear her dismissive snort as a response. Kristen could be a detective or under strict orders from the Grant family to monitor all of Tristan’s contacts for all I know. Maybe the family’s very protective of Tristan’s social contacts.
“Did the two of you actually meet in the elevator, for the first time?” she asks with renewed interest.
“No. I’d just finished interviewing with Mr. Grant for a job at his company. So, I knew a bit about him and his company before the quake hit,” I admit with discomfort.
“How’d you end up in the same elevator, then?” she’s more than a bit nosey about our connection.
“Just pure chance, I’m sure,” is all I give her. I don’t want to stoke her emotions by admitting that he walked me to the elevator nor that he was trying to convince me to take another option at PCC. She’s giving me the third degree. What’s her problem?
“Well, whatever happened in that elevator’s made him anxious to see you,” she observes. “Let me know when you’re in the area and I’ll set up an appointment for you.” So, Kristen Powers doesn’t know that Tristan’s asked me to visit this evening. Maybe she isn’t aware that I’m moving to Mission Beach today. Hmmm. I’m determined to keep her in the dark.
“Thanks, Ms. Powers. I’ll let you know when I need an appointment to see Mr. Grant. I need to go now,” I assert. If she’s a detective for the family, she’s out of touch with the major players, for the moment. Could there be factions in the family?
“Yes, of course, Joanna. It’s a pleasure to speak with you. We’ll talk again soon,” she promises in a cool but distant manner.
“Goodbye, Kristen,” I add in an even tone and click off. I don’t intend to call Kristen Powers again; at least not until after I’ve spoken with Tristan about her. Now, I’m more than curious about his family and their friends. That conversation was just weird. Now, it’s time to shift into moving mode.
Erik, Ashley and I pack up our final items in the van. Erik’s going to drive it west to Mission Beach while Ashley and I will each drive each our overstuffed cars there. I’m guessing that I’ll be the last person to reach the condo, given my less than powerful and ancient Honda. The reward for my efforts will be seeing Tristan, tonight. I’ve got plenty to think about on my drive.
We arrive in Mission Beach in the early afternoon. The area we live in hasn’t been damaged much by the quake but many businesses are still closed. I love our airy and bright apartment. My bedroom is twice the size of my former place near campus in La Mesa. We’ve been unpacking boxes for hours. I’m sore and sweaty by 4:30pm. I let Ashley and Erik know that I’ll be visiting Tristan tonight. Erik looks a bit put off by the news. I give him a long hug for all the help he’s given us with the move. He swings me around with enthusiasm.
“For you, and my twin, I’d move mountains,” he asserts and then puts me down. I give him a kiss on his forehead. Erik beams like a five year old. What’s that about?
I take a quick shower and then slip into roman sandals and a simple blue sheath dress for the evening. I’m going to keep it casual. I brush my wild mane of hair as best I can and then apply a bit of blush and lipstick. Bailey arrives on the scene exactly as promised. It’s ShowTime with Tristan.
I ask Bailey about Tristan’s home on the drive from Mission Beach. He lets me know that Tristan owns a penthouse in downtown San Diego and has for the past five years. “He’s got a prime location and great view, Miss Prime,” he says with enthusiasm. Maybe Bailey should get a job selling real estate.
We drive up to the condo at last. It’s in a building forty stories high and overlooks San Diego Bay. The building shouts mid-century modern architectural features. Tristan’s unit occupies the entire top floor. We enter the building through an underground garage. Bailey punches in an elevator code and we’re outside the door of Tristan’s palatial quarters in a matter of minutes. Bailey opens the door for me. I’m greeted by the sounds of Adele’s music playing quietly in the background, the delicious aroma of just-cooked food, and the sight of my beautiful Tristan, now seated on the sectional couch in the open flow living space. Floor to ceiling windows span the entire wall opposite the entryway. The place stuns me. This is how the other one percent lives!
My eyes zero in on Tristan’s the moment I enter. He stills the second we see each other. I practically float over to him. He watches my every move with pleasure. The sparks between us are undeniable. I’m getting wet already.
“Joanna. You’re here at last,” he huffs out with a hoarse voice and swallows with desire. Then, he holds his arms out to me. “I’m sorry I can’t meet you at the door. I’ve get vertigo when I walk and my ribs are cracked.”
I suck in a quick breath. He’s been more than banged up. Nonetheless, Tristan looks better than I remember. His aqua eyes fill with emotion when I sit down next to him. I touch his head gingerly, afraid that I’ll cause him more pain. He responds as if melting at my touch with enlarged eyes and a look of real need on his face.
“Oh, Tristan, I’m so sorry you’re hurting. How can I help?” I ask with sympathy and concern oozing from my very deepest core.
“Just being here, with me, feels like a healing balm. The moment you entered the room, I noticed a surge of energy and excitement, Joanna,” he confesses with a look of reverence on his face.
My knees nearly buckle with desire. “Same here, Tristan,” I admit and hold his hand. He squeezes mine and kisses my cheek. We’re right back where I left him, hugging in the elevator. I impulsively kiss his lips as he lights up with happiness.
“I hope you’re hungry. Mrs. Gomez, my cook, has fixed a delicious pasta and shrimp dish for us,” he tempts with a broad smile.
“Good, I’m famished and I can’t see straight. I’ve spent the day driving to a new place and unpacking dishes, blankets, books and clothes,” I cross my eyes and he chuckles at my expression.
I help Tristan stand up to eat. He takes a moment to balance himself and then we make our way to the kitchen island, slowly. He puts his arm around my shoulder for stability. It feels wonderful. I glory in the contact with my gorgeous man. We look into each other’s eyes. I’m mesmerized.
“If you
want some wine, just ask. I’m off alcohol until my headaches stop,” he says and takes a sip of water. I shake my head no. If I drank a glass of wine, given how tiring my day was, I’d never be able to go home. On second thought, maybe I should have some wine. I never want to be apart from Tristan’s spell.
“So, tell me what I’ve missed in the life of lovely Joanna Prime during the week I was unconscious,” he urges. So I launch into a long series of stories about everything that happened during my last week at San Diego State. I resist telling Tristan anything about Juan but do mention that I have two interviews on Monday for clinical work in psych hospitals.