Dirty Maverick (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  The emcee had me stand up next. I watched the screen as they ran part of my performance. I almost got the same rush watching it as I had living it. I fucking loved to perform. It sounded as good on tape as it had live. The video showed the judges’ reactions then and all of the things they’d said, then he turned to me and said, “Are you feeling pretty good tonight, Tristan?”

  I started to say “Hell yes!” But, there was something in his voice that made me suspicious. For some reason I got a little paranoid and my stomach started churning. What if he was setting me up? What if I agreed that I’d blown it away and he sent me to the bottom three? I realized the pause was beginning to become uncomfortable and I finally said, “I’m feeling pretty good,” I thought that sounded a little less full of myself…just in case.

  He let things drag out and then said, “Sorry Tristan….but we have to pause for a commercial break.”

  I wanted to break the little bastard’s neck. I forced myself to smile for the camera and while they were no longer running the cameras and the make-up people were making the judges and the host pretty again, Brooke turned to me and said, “They’re not going to vote you off. They couldn’t. You’re amazing, Tristan.”

  “I know,” I said, in a confident tone. Then I winked at her and smiled. She smiled back at me with a sexy, ‘I want to fuck you’ smile.

  The host was getting ready to start back up. I could see Elly watching in my peripheral vision. I wish she wasn’t so damn hot, it would have been easier to forget about her. Pissed at her or not, every time I looked at her, I remembered how good she looked naked…and felt…and tasted…..

  “So, Tristan,” the host was saying. “I’ll bet you’d like to know if you’re staying or going, right?”

  “It would be nice to know…sometime tonight,” I told him with a smile. What I’d wanted to do is punch him in his face, but I was no rookie at this. I knew the importance of playing for the cameras and for a million dollars; I’d decided I was willing to do it, for now.

  He laughed and said, “I’m sorry, I have been accused of being a drama queen a few times in my life.” Then he waited for everyone else to stop laughing and he said, “Sit down, Tristan…we’ll see you next week.” I got another big squeeze up against Brooke’s tits, which was worth it. I glanced across to where Elly stood, just briefly, but I could see her face. She actually looked happy for me.

  We had to sit through the last two contestants, one of which ended up in the bottom three. Then we had to sit through two more commercial breaks and more of the host’s drama before he finally got to the point of who was leaving the show. It was a guy that I actually thought was pretty good. He was really unattractive though, and America sucked like that. I remembered them saying that he was a wedding singer. I hoped that at least the publicity he got off being on the show would help the poor guy out with that.

  Brooke sidled up to me as we were breaking up and said, “How about we get a drink and celebrate?”

  I slipped my arm around her shoulders and said, “That sounds great. There’s a little bar called The Glacier right around the corner here that I played at not too long ago.” We walked past Elly on our way out. She was talking to her friend and acted like she didn’t see us, but I’m pretty sure I felt her watching us as we left the building.

  Brooke was bubbling with excitement and I couldn’t help think about how fun it would be to fuck her right then while she was on a natural high. It was strange: a few weeks prior any warm hole would have sufficed. Since I met Elly, I realized how much I’d been missing by not having a woman who was mentally present. With Brooke, I was only hesitating because I didn’t really want to complicate things with the show. I needed to feel her out a little more and see if she’d be the type who would be alright with a casual fuck.

  “I can’t believe I’m here sometimes,” she said, looking around the city as we walked down the street. I could see the wonder in her eyes. I forgot what it was like to be excited about anything like that. I hadn’t been that excited about anything for longer than I could remember.

  “Where are you from again?” I asked her. I should have known. They say it over and over again on the show. The truth was I just hadn’t cared enough about any of it to pay attention.

  “Ohio. I’m from a tiny little town with a census of only about twelve hundred people. L.A. is like culture shock to me,” she said.

  I switched back into predator mode; I was getting too caught up in things that weren’t going to end up with a curvy blonde in my bed. “Ohio knows how to grow them, I’ll give ‘em that,” I told her with a kiss to the side of her face.

  She giggled and I felt her wiggle up closer to me. Then she said, “They grow them pretty well here too,” she said with a flirty smile.

  We walked into the bar and the results show was playing on two televisions over the bar. We sat down and ordered our drinks. The bartender wouldn’t take my money; he recognized us both from the show and went on about how much he loved our music and how one of us should win. It was cool, especially when Brooke went to the bathroom and he told me that he actually thought that I should win, he just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  While he’d been going on when we first got there, Brooke giggled again and said, “Wow! We’re famous. I can’t wait for the next round. I’m a nervous wreck, but so excited.” I took a drink of my beer and she said, “You don’t ever seem nervous. I wish I could be cool and calm like you all the time.” I took another swig of beer and winked at her. If she only knew.

  Chapter Five

  Elly

  “Hey, Elly, Keith and I are going to head over to Club Seven. My boyfriend’s going to meet us there. You want to go with?”

  I couldn’t get Tristan out of my head. Watching him with Brooke killed me, no matter how hard I tried to pretend that it didn’t. I tried telling myself that he was only trying to make me jealous, but that made it seem like I was a little too full of myself. Maybe he just actually didn’t want anything to do with me anymore and he didn’t care what I thought. I knew for sure that I wasn’t in the mood to party and I wasn’t going to be good company.

  “Nah, thanks, Molly. I’m not really up for a crowded, noisy club. I may just stop at The Glacier and have a quiet cocktail on my way home.” I could hear the flatness in my voice.

  “Are you stressing over Tristan and that girl?” Molly was way too observant.

  With as neutral an expression as I could muster I said, “What girl?”

  Molly knowingly smiled and said, “Okay, girl, we don’t have to talk about it. You be safe.”

  I felt relieved. “I will, Molly. Thanks.”

  I quickly finished wrapping things up and then I walked over to The Glacier. It was a quiet little bar around the corner where I could get a drink and not get slobbered on or groped. I wasn’t in the mood for it that night.

  I walked in and realized that the gods hated me. Tristan and Brooke were sitting at the bar. They were all cozied up to each other and she seemed to be giggling over everything he said. I should have walked back out right away, but I took too long observing them and just when I decided to leave, Tristian spotted me. Shit! If I left then, I’d just look like creepy stalker chick.

  I took a deep breath and walked up to the bar. I was on Brooke’s right side and Tristan was on her left. I ordered my drink and then forced myself to look at them.

  “Congratulations guys! Good job tonight.” Brooke smiled a genuine smile and thanked me. Tristan smiled too, but instead of genuine his looked smug and he said, “Thanks, but should you be fraternizing with the contestants?”

  “I didn’t come here to fraternize. I came here for a drink.”

  Tristan made a big play of looking around and said, “Hmm, you’re alone. That’s too bad.”

  It pissed me off, so I said, “Better alone than with some creep.” I looked at him and then Brooke when I said it. Brooke looked confused. She couldn’t figure out if we were really sniping at each other or not. I felt
bad; none of this was her fault. Besides, I couldn’t have her thinking there was something going on between us. Tristan still didn’t seem to understand how dangerous this was.

  I was ready to back off and walk away when I heard Tristan say, “Hey Brooke, why don’t we go finish this celebration at my place?”

  I knew Tristan meant sex. I should have just let it go, but I really did want to talk to him about the drugs and the rehab facility that I’d picked up the application for him from.

  “Tristan, can I talk to you first…just for a minute?” I asked him.

  He looked at me smugly again. He raked his eyes over me, and then with a self-satisfied smile he said, “No, I don’t think so, Elly. It’s a little too late for that.” Then he put his arm back around Brooke, kissed her on the side of the face and said, “Let’s go for a ride on my bike, baby.”

  Brooke looked completely infatuated with him, but still curious about me. I watched them walk out with a sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want a drink any longer. I headed for the door and walked back towards the studio where my car was parked. As I walked through the parking gate I passed Tristan and Brooke leaving on his motorcycle. He smiled at me again, like he was trying to rub it in my face. Brooke’s eyes were only for him.

  Chapter Six

  Tristan

  Brooke clutched onto me as I weaved the bike in and out of traffic. I figured she’d ever been on a bike before. Then again, being on a bike in a small town in Ohio would be a different world than being on one in L.A. on I-405. I’d found out with girls that a motorcycle ride on the freeway could go one of two ways: they hate it and never want to see you or your bike again or it turns them on and they are like sex machines afterwards. When we made it back to my place, she jumped off with a huge grin on her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool wind and she said, “That was amazing!” She was breathing hard. She was ready for sex.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” I said. I bypassed the elevator and took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor. It took Brooke a minute to catch up with me and she was even more winded when she did.

  “No wonder you’re in such good shape,” she said. I was surer by the minute that I was going to get to tap that ass before the night was over. I unlocked the door to the apartment and watched her look around. Unless I brought them home already high or aching for it, it was always the same. They’d look around, shocked at the way I live. The truth was I didn’t give a fuck what they thought. She could stay or go; I’d find another one in a heartbeat. While she was adjusting to her surroundings, I went over to the cabinet and took out my box of weed. I stuffed the bong and I could see her watching me out of the corner of my eye as I did.

  “You smoke?” I asked her.

  She hesitated, but only for a second and then she said, “Yeah, sure.” I raked the shit off the couch and said,

  “Have a seat.” I lit the bong, and sucked a long hit into my lungs.

  I handed it to Brooke then and held the lighter on it while she took her hit. As soon as it hit her lungs she had a coughing fit. When she finished she said, “Sorry, I’ve never used a pipe before.”

  “That’s cool,” I told her.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said. Fuck, here we go. I went about taking my turn with the bong and didn’t answer her. Typical fucking woman, she didn’t wait for one. She said, “What’s the deal with that girl in the bar? She works for the show, right? She’s one of the interns or something.”

  “It’s nothing. Not even worth talking about,” I told her.

  She let it go for minute and said, “Do you have your song ready for next week yet?”

  I told her what I was singing and then said, “I still have some work to do to it though. I never just sing it the way it is written. What about you?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a smile, “I’m doing a Tricia Yearwood song.”

  “Country? Trying to get on the good side of the country star?” I kid her.

  “No,” she said, “It’s more of a soft rock song. I think I might even have them pick up the tempo on it a little. I have a lot of work to do between now and then on it. I want to win this so badly that I can taste it.”

  I took another hit. I did too, but I wasn’t planning on sharing that with her. I handed her the bong, but instead of putting it to her lips she said, “That girl…Elly, are you sleeping with her?”

  “What difference does it make? The answer is no, but what the fuck difference does it make?”

  “It would just be weird, Tristan…if we slept together and that girl really liked you and I had to see her all the time until this show was over. Besides, aren’t there rules against that? Couldn’t you both get in trouble?”

  “I’m not sleeping with her, Brooke. She’s got a thing for me. She’ll get over it. Let it go!”

  She didn’t let it go and it was pissing me off.

  “She seemed like she really liked you,” she said. “I could see it on her face. She was hurt to see us together. You may not have slept with her, but she wants to, Tristan.”

  I stood up, angry. “Fuck! Did you come over here to advocate for her or what? I don’t want to talk about Elly. I want to fuck you. Isn’t that what you came here for, Brooke?” I was staring into her eyes. I could tell that she was torn. She wanted to stay, but her conscience was tugging at her to leave. I really didn’t give a fuck either way. In about two seconds, I was going to make the choice for her and show her to door. Suddenly, she made up her mind…I guess. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. Before I knew it, her tongue was tangling up with mine and my hands were sliding up her sides and finally getting a hold of that amazing rack. I could feel her hard nipples pressing through her clothes into my hand. Her nipples felt big and I couldn’t wait to get my lips around them. I started working her shirt up and her hands were on my belt when my fucking phone started ringing.

  She stopped what she was doing, “Do you need to get that?” she asked me.

  “No, ignore it, it’ll stop.” After about five rings, it went to voicemail. I had my hands underneath her shirt, on warm skin and she was just getting warmed back up. I was working on the latch for her bra when the phone started ringing again.

  “Shit!” I broke the kiss and took a hand out of her shirt and reached for it; it was Elly. “Fuck!”

  I pulled back away from Brooke and pushed the button for voicemail. I waited a few seconds and I heard Elly say, “Tristan, please do me this one favor: don’t make the mistake of sleeping with Brooke until we have a chance to talk. I really need to talk to you. Please don’t sleep with her.” I could hear a little catch in her voice. I don’t know if it was nerves or if she was sad.

  Suddenly my hard-on was gone and I had no desire to fuck Brooke any longer.

  I put down the phone and told Brooke, “I think you should go.”

  “What? Why? Is this about Elly? I really hope you’re not risking a million dollars and a record contract for her. I mean, she’d have to be like the world’s best piece of ass.”

  Close. “It’s none of your business, Brooke. I want you to go.”

  “Tristan…”

  “Go home, okay? Fuck!” She grabbed her purse and stormed out, pissed off. I didn’t give a shit. She’d get over it. At least she could feel better about the fact that she didn’t sleep with me before I kicked her out.

  I picked up the phone and looked at it again. I considered calling Elly just to see what the fuck was so important. I decided that I didn’t want to hear it. It was probably just babble about me being with Brooke. That was none of her fucking business. I failed to see why people had such a hard time minding their own shit and staying out of mine. Whatever the fuck she wanted to say, she should have said it the last week, after she finished getting me off.

  I got up and packed the pipe again and got a beer out of the fridge. I turned on some music and spent the rest of the evening getting high. Women were too much fucking trouble sometimes.

  Chap
ter Seven

  Elly

  Molly and I were working with the technical crew, getting things set up for round six, when I saw Tristan come in. I pretended like I was enthralled in what the technical director was saying and I didn’t see him. He acted like he didn’t see me either—maybe he really didn’t, I don’t know. He hadn’t called me back, and after the second call that night, I gave up. The last thing I wanted was to sound like a desperate female. I hadn’t given up on the idea of pitching rehab to him, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him when he was in such a pissy mood.

  Tristan went into the practice room where the band was. While I was working for the next couple of hours, I could hear him practicing. It sounded good. I didn’t doubt he’d nail it again. I worried about the drugs and that he’d win this competition and then just blow it all up in smoke. Or worse yet: kill himself. I had a pretty good idea that Tristan was too infatuated with himself to commit suicide, but my late boyfriend hadn’t killed himself on purpose.

  Since I got out of rehab, I tried to attend at least one meeting a week. I’ve heard of about five others in the past two years that had ended up the same way. It’s easy when you’re sober to wonder why the hell you’d entrust your very life to some scum of the earth drug dealer. No one knew what was in that shit, how powerful it was, or how their body would react to it. It was a gamble every time. When you stayed high most of the time, you didn’t care. All that mattered was getting through to the next high, no matter what you had to do to make that happen.

  I knew that I wasn’t going to be right with myself until I at least tried to talk to Tristan about it. If he decided to get clean, then great. If not, I had at least tried and if something bad happened, as bad as I would feel, at least I wouldn’t have the guilt of inaction eating away at me.

  When Tristan finally came out, I made a point of being near the door. He started to just brush past me and I said, “Tristan, wait, can we talk?” He kept walking, looking straight ahead like I wasn’t even there.