“No!” I said, standing up. “Fuck this!” I walked out. I heard the doctor calling out to me, but I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t believe that Elly, of all people, had just thrown me underneath the fucking bus like that. I didn’t even think about him signing off on the fucking tour either. If I showed up without the papers, what were they going to do? I already won in front of hundreds of millions of people. The tour was already sold out. Fuck him and the papers—and Elly, too!
I pushed open the outside doors and let them slam hard on my way out. I got to my bike just as I heard them push open again. I knew it was Elly, so I didn’t look back. I got on my bike and as I drove away, I saw her standing there with her arms folded as if she was the one who had a right to be pissed. She could have talked to me about it the other night…or that morning….but no, she fucking puts it out there in front of the doctor like a little fucking kid who is tattling to the teacher. She had no right! I was actually glad I didn’t go in there and tell her the night before like I was tempted to. She didn’t deserve my honestly if she was going to be a sneak and a traitor.
Chapter Four
Elly
I watched Tristan drive out of the parking lot. I knew he was pissed that I’d brought it up in front of the doctor. I’m not even sure why I did. Maybe I knew how he was going to react and it felt safer to come out with it in front of a witness. I wasn’t sorry I confronted him about it, though. He said that he didn’t lie, but I felt that he did. I was supporting him; I had been for three months. I gave him a place to live and I went to all of his appointments with him. How the hell did he figure that I didn’t have a right to know? For his fucking information, I had an apartment and a job before he came along. After I met him, I lost one of them—because of him.
I didn’t care what he said; a lie by omission is still a lie. Right then, I was wondering if that was all he wanted me for. He was desperate for a place to stay and he knew I was easy to manipulate. So far, I hadn’t really told him no about anything he wanted. It was my fault he expected me to give him everything he needed.
When I got home, I told Susie what I did.
“You brought it up there…in the therapist’s office?” She had a look on her face that told me she had something to say about it…but she was hesitant for whatever reason.
“Yes. I thought it was the best place. He opens up there more than he does with just me…usually. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”
I felt anger rising inside of me. “Bullshit, Susie. I can tell you’re thinking something. What is it? Tristan has already raked me over the coals today. You may as well too.”
She sighed and said, “Don’t get mad; I’m just wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to talk to him about it in private since you know how he gets. He’s so weird about his personal business, you know?”
“I know, I thought about that. I knew he was going to be pissed about me looking at the legal papers. He shouldn’t have left them out like that though if he had something to hide. But, I know that you’re right, I should have tried it in private first. I wasn’t even sure I was going to bring it up today. It just came out and then he got all defensive and it pissed me off and I couldn’t let it go.”
“I’d be pissed, too, that he didn’t tell me, don’t get me wrong. He should have told you. Maybe just apologize for where you brought it up but let him know you’re not going to tolerate him just not telling you things and calling it honesty. It’s okay to stand up for yourself. Sometimes with dicks—um, I mean men—you just have to go about it in a roundabout way for your own piece of mind.”
I was nodding. She was right. The only way we’d get past this was if I started out with an apology. I knew how he was and I knew that he wasn’t going to make the first move. I think hell would truly freeze over before I ever heard Tristan genuinely apologize for anything.
“Thanks, Susie, you’re right.”
“I usually am,” she said with a grin.
I lay in bed and listened for him. I figured if he came back, he would sleep on the couch. He was going to do his absolute best to avoid me at all costs; I knew him well. I planned on talking to him then, but it was after midnight when I heard him come in. I wondered where he’d been, and of course I wondered if he’d been using. I had to trust that he wasn’t going to go there every time things got a little stressful. Either way, I wasn’t going to get up and argue with him in the middle of the night. Besides, it would be worse because we were both tired; Susie didn’t need to be woken up with that. Maybe things would be calmer in the morning and we could talk about it before or on our way to leave for the tour.
I woke up when my alarm went off at six. We had to be there at eight to get on the buses. I’d asked Susie to take us so that we didn’t have to leave my car or his bike parked downtown. I started to get in the shower but decided I should make some coffee and wake Tristan up first. I decided that we should get the discussion over with before the tour began.
I slipped on my robe and slippers and went out into the living room. The blanket he used when he slept there was rumpled up on the couch, but Tristan wasn’t there. I looked around and realized his things were all gone too. The big chicken shit took off early so he didn’t have to talk to me. I’d woken up calmer and ready to apologize for my part of it; then I was pissed all over again. I took my shower and got ready to go. Since I was leaving early, I just called a cab and left Susie a note. I would call her later and check in. I dragged my two suitcases and overnight bag down the stairs and waited for the cab. I was a little pissed off at him about the fact that I wasn’t as excited as I should be because of all his crap.
I got to the studio around seven-fifteen. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was already crowded; everyone was excited to get on the road. The crew was loading things up and the singers were mingling around with stars in their eyes—looking at the beginning of a new career, they hoped. I looked around but didn’t see Tristan. I wondered if he was still excited and I started to feel bad for my part in taking some of that away from him. I was softening, as I always did. I was going to head down to the music room and see if he was there for some reason, when I ran into Tony.
“Hey, Elly!” I really could hardly stand to look at him these days. The little bald bastard had almost seemed to take some kind of pleasure in it the day they let me go. Right then he was all smiles. I wasn’t in the mood for his fake shit.
“Hey,” I said, brushing past him. I really didn’t have anything nice to say to him. I needed to find Tristan.
“If you’re looking for Tristan, he’s already on his own bus.” One thing Tristan was always right about was what a little prick this guy was. He said it like he was smart and knew everything. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, I wasn’t looking for Tristan, but he’d peaked my curiosity.
“He has his own bus?”
“Yeah, he’s got his own bus. That way he can rehearse and get plenty of rest. It was part of his winning the show, too. He is the star, after all.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agreed. I tried to walk away again. I was feeling worse and worse for taking anything away from this for him, no matter how much right I’d had to be mad at him. I needed to find him before we left.
I’d taken two steps and Tony said, “Hey, Elly?”
“What!” That came out a lot snappier than I intended it to. My attitude was getting pissier and my mouth was getting dirtier; maybe I was spending too much time with Tristan. Or maybe I was just blaming Tristan for all of my short-comings. “Sorry, Tony. I’m just…never mind. What is it?”
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about everything and welcome back.”
Little prick! I’d bet that wasn’t what he was going to say. He just wanted to make me feel bad. “Thanks, Tony.”
He finally let me walk away. I found my way through the crowd out to the back where the buses were waiting. I showed my badge and asked the security guard which bus
was which. He directed me to the crew buses. I dropped my stuff next to the one that the girls in the crew would be on. We’d be sleeping on it in some of the towns we stopped in so they’d split up the crew by gender. I almost felt like I was back in high school going on a field trip.
He hadn’t pointed out Tristan’s so I looked around for one that looked like it might belong to the star. I saw a big black one with blacked out windows. It was like a limousine bus. I went over to it. The doors were open so I stepped up inside. It was like a studio apartment. Lucky bastard, I was going to have to sleep on a cot on a bus with ten other women. I saw Clay, the drummer for the band that played for the contestants, slumped down in a chair in the seating area looking like he had a hangover, or maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. Either way he looked like shit.
“Hey, Clay, is Tristan around?”
Clay pointed to the back. The bus was huge and that part partitioned off; I guessed it was the star’s sleeping quarters. I made my way down the long aisle and knocked on the door.
“What?”
“Tristan, it’s Elly. Can we talk?”
“Nah, we don’t have anything to talk about.” I felt a surge of anger rush through my veins again. How dare he be mad at me when I was the one doing everything for him and he couldn’t even be honest with me? Of course there I was, the one with the olive branch. He always did this…he turned it around to try and make me think it was all my fault. It wasn’t going to work this time.
I pounded on the door again and I heard him say, “Fuck!” then I heard shuffling around and he finally pulled open the door. He looked like he’d been sleeping. I wondered if he’d gotten up in the middle of the night and come down there.
“What?” he yelled at me again.
“Don’t yell at me!”
“Don’t bang on my fucking door!”
I took a deep breath. This was stupid…I didn’t want this whole tour to be like this. That would be so uncomfortable…. “Can we talk? Five minutes? Please, we just need to work this out.”
“Nothing to work out,” he said. “You’re a snitch. If you were in prison you’d have an ugly scar down the side of your pretty face.” So fucking mature.
“Fuck you, Tristan!” I was stooping to his level.
He closed the door in my face. I turned around and right then the entire band was on the bus and looking right at me. “Fuck all of you too!” I said. Jesus, I sounded just like him.
Chapter Five
Tristan
It only took a few hours to get to Vegas. We had rooms at the MGM, which was cool. I would have been okay on the bus, but I wasn’t going to turn down a VIP luxury room, either. They gave us a schedule and it was pretty tight because our first show was the next morning. We weren’t allowed to run around Vegas at all, but the section of the hotel we were in was completely private and it had a little mini casino, a couple of restaurants, and bars and gift shops. It was cool; behind where the rest of the tourists partied, they didn’t even know we were there.
I avoided Elly. I’d never seen her as pissed as she was when she barged into the bus and told everyone to fuck off. The guys in the band thought it was hilarious. It was funny to see her like that actually…she was usually so even tempered. I wasn’t even sure why she thought she had a right to be mad at me. She’d gone snooping and then blurted my personal business out without even talking to me about it. I wanted to concentrate on the show and having a good time. I wasn’t going to let that shit follow me around and drag me down.
I had to meet with the stylist and then get together with the band on my bus for practice. In the midst of all that, I got a note delivered to my door by one of Jake’s assistant’s that said Jake wanted to see me tomorrow before the show. Jake was the big wig producer that Elly was so fond of. I didn’t see that he was really any less of a prick than the rest of them. I wondered what the fuck I did. I wasn’t going to worry about it, though; I had too much other shit to do.
I went down two floors to the room I was supposed to meet the stylist in. In the past, the cheap bastards gave the contestants four hundred dollars for each performance to buy their outfit. I say cheap bastards, but honestly, I got some nice stuff with it. The problem as usual was the girls. They whined so much about that, the producers had changed the rules. They made it worse instead of better. They changed it so that they take our measurements and the stylists bring clothes in and then help us choose what we’re going to wear. I didn’t need help, but what the fuck ever. I wasn’t going to whine about it like the girls. Brooke had gone on about it at dinner for an hour the other night.
“Hi, Tristan!” Holly, the lead stylist opened the door for me. There were three others in the room. The hairstylist was a flaming gay guy who was funny as shit. I liked him, but I didn’t care much for the uptight make-up artist and her assistant.
“Hey, Holly.”
“I’ve got some great stuff you’re going to love!” she told me. I liked Holly, but she and I didn’t see eye to eye when it came to fashion. She wanted to dress me up in skinny jeans and shit…not going to happen unless she killed me first.
She led me over to two racks of men’s clothes. I went straight for the “normal” jeans and picked out a plain pair of dark blue Levi’s.
“Really, Tristan? All that stuff and you want the plain ones?”
I shrugged, “You brought them, so obviously you expected someone to wear them, right?”
She made a face at me and said, “I knew you would bitch if I didn’t and threaten to wear your old, faded ones.”
I grinned, “How well you know me, Holly.” She rolled her eyes as I picked out a plain blue t-shirt and a pair of black boots. I took them into the next room and tried it all on. I needed to go one size bigger in the shirt. I had been eating a lot better since I quit using and it was showing. I was going to have to start hitting the gym hard before it started showing around my middle, like a pot-bellied old man.
I went back out, took the bigger shirt, and said, “Okay, you and I are done, Holly. Thanks.” She rolled her eyes again. I was an affront to her profession. I turned to the hairstylist and said, “Jose, you gonna trim me up today?”
“Yes, my love,” I didn’t care for the pet name, but he called everyone that, so I put up with it. He didn’t mean anything by it. I’d seen his boyfriend and I was sure that I wasn’t even close to his type. “Come, sit.” Jose trimmed my hair and gave me a shave. While he worked, he talked and I thought about Elly again. I wondered if she was still mad. I was still mad at her, but I was horny. I went back to my room and thought about her some more after my haircut. I ended up having to take a shower. Fuck, I was horny!
That night I hung out with Ethan. He was a pretty good guy and fun to hang out with. We gambled for a while, but I didn’t win shit. I got a glimpse of Elly on our way in for dinner. She was on her way out. I pretended like I didn’t see her, but damn she looked good enough to eat. After dinner I went to the bar with Ethan and I actually went so far as to order a beer. I thought just one wouldn’t hurt. I sat there looking at it for a while but, I realized that even with it right in front of me, I knew I wasn’t going to drink it. “Just one won’t hurt” was what I’d told myself every time I started back up in the past. I pushed it back and asked the bartender for a coke instead.
The next day, I got up with a few knots in my stomach. I know they said some nights on the show we were in front of three hundred million people, but I didn’t have to look at them all; I forgot the ones behind the TV were there. I would be performing in front of over sixteen thousand people live. I’d done bigger arenas when I was a kid, but that had been a long ass time ago. Once I’d gotten used to it back then, the bigger the better. I loved that adoration shit the audience laid on me. Right then, I wasn’t positive I could do it. I went to the gift shop and bought some Rolaids and started eating them. I didn’t eat anything else; I was afraid I’d get up on stage and puke. The show started at five and I performed last, so around seven. I d
idn’t have any duets or group songs planned for that night; they wanted to showcase us each individually the first night, they said. I went to meet with the band at noon to go over the music for my song one last time, and by that time, I was seriously wondering if I’d make it to seven. The anxiety was getting a lot worse before I went in, but singing and playing the music really seemed to help alleviate a lot of it.
We practiced for about three hours and by that time, I thought I might be able to hold something down. I went to the restaurant and got a turkey sandwich and took it back to my room. I ate lunch and thought about taking a nap. It was almost four, though, and I didn’t want to oversleep. I was about to get in the shower when there was a knock on the door. I let myself imagine just for a second that it was Elly, here for a quickie. I pulled it open and there stood Jake’s little messenger…again. He didn’t look anything like Elly. Shit! I forgot I was supposed to meet with that son of a bitch.
“Hey, Tristan, Jake is waiting to see you.” He had this tone that said he couldn’t believe I’d actually defied the great and powerful Oz.
“Alright, I have to take a quick shower. I’ll be down in half an hour.”
The messenger didn’t look happy with that answer, but that was too damned bad. I was the star of this fucking show, not the producer. If he wanted to see me, he could wait.
I took my time in the shower and then getting dressed. I finally made it down to his room at four-thirty. When he let me in, he raised his eyebrows and said, “You’re pushing it to the last minute, Tristan. Don’t you still have to get dressed?”
I looked at the fucker in his custom-made three thousand dollar suit. His hair was perfect and each one of his teeth was covered with a shiny white veneer. It probably took him hours to get ready to go anywhere. He may as well wear a sign around his neck that says, ‘I’m a rich mother-fucker and I think I’m better than all of you.’
“I’m dressed,” I told him. He looked me up and down, obviously disapproving of my choice of outfits. Fuck him, I didn’t care. “I do have to hit hair and make-up though, so….” If we could get the fuck on with it!
Dirty SEAL (A Navy SEAL Romance) (The Maxwell Family) Page 55