Tristan’s tickets were way down near the stage. We could almost reach out and touch the judges which thrilled my mother to no end.
“We’ll be on TV!” she squealed like a little girl. It was fun to see her so happy, although I still wanted to kick Tristan’s ass. I knew he did it just to annoy me. He never did anything just to be nice. There always had to be something in it for him. It was actually a good thing that neither of us were looking for a relationship, because he would suck at it.
There were only three contestants left: a girl, another guy, and Tristan. The girl, Rosa, went first. She was a young Hispanic girl, right out of high school. Personally, I thought she should maybe take some voice lessons and come back in a few years, but she’d made it that far, so what did I know? She sang a Rhianna song and she sounded just like Rhianna. That was good and bad, I thought. She was obviously talented, but the judges liked it more when the contestant did something original with their songs or their voices. When she finished, Diva said it was, “Great.” The country star said, “It was nice, but this late in the show, song choice is really important and he was worried about that one.” Then the producer, Mr. Brutal Honesty said, “I’m afraid you may have just blown it.” The girl was on the verge of tears, but to her credit, she bit it back and thanked them. She took her seat, completely composed. Ethan reached over and patted her back to comfort her. Tristan seemed like he was in his own head, as usual.
Ethan went next. He did a song by Usher and he blew it out of the water. I could hear some of the girls in the audience chanting his name. He had that young, fresh look to him that the teenaged girls liked. I worried about that a little bit, because the bulk of the votes came from the pre-teen and teen girls. You know, the people with the time on their hands to sit around and vote. Tristan used to have that market cornered, but he had become more of a bad boy for us twenty-something’s.
All three of the judges raved about Ethan when he was finished. My stomach was twisted into knots by the time it was Tristan’s turn. I didn’t think Ethan was better than him, but like I said, you never knew what America was going to do. It wasn’t always a singing contest; sometimes it was popularity, plain and simple.
Tristan sang Dream On. It was originally done by Aerosmith. He sang it beautifully, better than Steven Tyler, if you were to ask me. When he got to the chorus, he ran around from one side of the stage to the other, getting the audience involved and fired up. It wasn’t that twitchy, nervous kind of energy he’d had when he was high—this was really communicating with his fans. He got all the girls in the audience on his side, that’s for sure. He was amazing and I felt like I used to when I was a girl and I watched him on television. My stomach was all aflutter.
Tristan was back.
Diva said, “Oh baby…that was amazing! You are a star!” Tristan smiled nicely and thanked her. He was good at playing the roles when he needed to, or at least when he was sober and things were going his way.
The country star stood up and clapped. “Aerosmith takes me back to my teens. I guess that’s showing my age though, isn’t it? Steven Tyler would be jealous of that performance it was so good.” Tristan thanked him and then the producer took his turn.
“That just won you the contest,” was all he said. It was enough. Tristan’s smile was a mile wide. He took one last bow and then sang a parting song with the other two contestants. It was obvious this time he rehearsed with them and, once again, he blew it away.
My mother was pounding her hands together for him. Afterwards, as we were walking outside, she said, “Tristan was amazing, wasn’t he? I keep telling everyone that he’s going to win.”
“Yeah, he was awesome,” Susie said.
“Yeah, he did great,” I said.
My dad agreed, just not as heartily as Mom did.
“Your father kind of lost interest in the show when that little girl, Brooke, got voted off.”
“She was good,” my dad said. I wondered what he would think of her if he knew she tried to blackmail Tristan over me.
“So, where do you guys want to have dinner?”
“Is that McCormick and Schmidt’s still open over on Nob Hill?” Daddy asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure it is. That sounds good. Are you ready?”
“No,” my mother said, “Aren’t we going to wait and congratulate Tristan? He gave us the tickets. We have to at least tell him what an amazing job he did.” My mother, Miss Manners.
“Okay, Mom, we’ll wait.” It was about ten minutes later when Tristan came out. He looked surprised to see us. I think he was stalling inside, hoping that we’d be gone when he came out. My mother gushed about how great he was. Daddy politely told him the same.
Susie said, “You might not lose after all.” I saw him casually flip her off. He was discreet and she had it coming, so that was okay.
“Alright guys, you ready?”
My mother looked at Tristan and said, “Are you joining us for dinner?”
Tristan looked at me with a look in his eyes, pleading for me to do something.
“No, Mom, Tristan has plans,” I said.
“Elly, why not let the boy talk for himself,” my dad said.
Tristan’s lips twitched. He may not have wanted to go out with us, but I think he was quite enjoying my misery.
“I really do have plans.” he said.
“Oh!” my mother said, so disappointed. “We’d really love to have you. Elly’s dad is buying.”
“I am?” Daddy said. Tristan was even more amused now. I could just hear him in his head: “Fucking Ward and June Cleaver.”
“Well, I guess I could postpone my plans…” he said with a sideways glance at me. I wanted to choke him and he knew it.
Chapter Seven
Tristan
I lived through dinner with the parents. I was twenty-eight years old and it was the first dinner with the parents I’d ever had—that included my own. It wasn’t bad, really. Mike and Carol Brady were nice and amusing. Susie was a crack-up and Elly’s obvious discomfort made it all worthwhile. Plus, I had some damned good steak and shrimp at no cost at all to me. Not bad for a homeless guy.
“So, Tristan, how long have you been singing?” Elly’s mother asked me at dinner.
“Um…pretty much as long as I can remember,” I told her.
“Did you have any formal training?”
“No ma’am, my mom entered me in a contest when I was six. Everything just kind of happened after that.”
“Why did that band break up…the one you were in, what was it called?”
“Mom, give the guy a break from the questions so he can eat, will you?” Elly said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrogate. I was just trying to get to know you.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. I was really hoping she was finished though. From the band on forward, there was nothing much I wanted to talk about with Elly’s mom.
“I’ll bet your parents are proud of you,” she said.
I glanced at Elly. She looked like she wanted crawl under the table. I said,
“They are, they could almost bust.” I could see Elly’s amused expression out of the corner of my eye.
“Where do your parents live?” Elly‘s father got in on the interrogation then.
“They’re island people,” I told him. “They only come back here to reality a couple times a year.”
Elly was losing it. She had to excuse herself and go to the bathroom. By the time she came back we had changed the subject to football. It was another thing I didn’t know or give a fuck about, but I bullshitted my way through that one as well. Overall, I thought I did a pretty damn good job.
I got another middle finger from Elly when I just so happened to have tickets to the results show. I thought Donna Reed was going to cry and Father knows Best looked pretty damned happy about it himself. Susie ditched us for a date. I had to wonder what kind of being would date Susie. She was hot, don’t get me wrong, but she was an ornery one. He must be
one of those submissive types.
I got to the results show early and I saw Elly’s friend Molly in the back.
“Hey, I thought I saw Elly in the audience last night. How is she? She won’t return my calls.”
“She’s great,” I said. I figured she was embarrassed and that’s why she didn’t want to talk to anyone from the show. I also knew that it was mostly my fault. I still wanted to kick that little prick’s ass.
“Oh good, I’ve been worried about her.” Molly said. “Will you tell her I’d like her to call me?” I suddenly realized this girl was talking to me like me and Elly were in a relationship. Dinner with the parents and now taking messages for her…I was going to have to put a stop to this shit before it got out of control. I was not boyfriend material.
“You might want to just keep calling her,” I said. “I don’t know when I’m going to talk to her.”
She raised up her eyebrows like she thought I was an ass all of a sudden. Good, that’s better.
As I sat on my bench on the stage next to the crying girl and the guy who was actually competition, I could just make out Elly’s face in the audience. She looked nervous for me. I wasn’t at all. I felt really good about my performance the night before and the judges had loved it.
The other two contestants and I did our song together and then the MC started his dramatic bullshit. When all was said and done, the crying girl went home to Bum-Fuck and I was left with the real competition. I was going to feel those nerves. I had to win. I needed that money.
When I got back to Elly’s, her parents were just leaving to go back to their hotel. Elly’s mom hugged me; that was weird for me, but nice.
“I wanted to congratulate you again. I’m so excited for you. I’ve been telling my husband since the first night that you were going to win. You know, back when Elly had her crush—“
“Mother!”
“I know you had a crush on me, Elly,” I told her.
She narrowed her eyes at me and her mother said, “I’m sorry honey.” Then back to me she said, “Anyways, I just never really listened to you sing back then. I had no idea just how talented you were.”
“Thank you,” I told her. I bid them a good night and headed for the kitchen to grab something to drink.
Before I made it in there, Elly’s dad said, “Tristan, will you be joining us at Elly’s concert tomorrow night? My girl has got a set of pipes on her that would make an angel cry. I know that you know that or you would have never taken a chance on having her sing with you the other night.”
I cut my eyes over at Elly who was standing behind them. She had a horrified expression on her face. She was almost imperceptibly shaking her head no. She didn’t want me to go. She still didn’t have faith that I wouldn’t screw it up. I guess I couldn’t blame her.
“I think I’ll have to beg off. I re-scheduled those plans from Tuesday night for tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” her mother said, disappointed.
I could still see Elly’s face. She really didn’t want me to go. I didn’t want to be there if she didn’t want me. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I said to her mom and dad. Ward and June Cleaver were disappointed in me. I did my best Eddie Haskell and acted as if I gave a shit.
Chapter Eight
Elly
Tristan was up and out of the house before I got up the morning after the results show. I thought that was weird—it was early for him. Then I remembered that he said he had an appointment with his outpatient director to set up his meetings—or I guess our meetings—for the following week. That should be fun. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear any more about his life and how he grew up. It made my heart ache for the little boy that he didn’t get to be.
I met my parents for breakfast and I couldn’t believe how my mother went on about him.
“You know, when you used to be so crazy about him, I really didn’t think he could even sing.”
“Really?” I said, amused.
“Really. I didn’t like that music, I guess. But listening to him live the other night…that was just such a treat. I can see what you see in him.” She was babbling so much I was sure her meal would go cold.
“Saw in him, Mom. I was twelve.”
“You were fifteen as I recall before you took that poster off the ceiling.”
“You knew about the poster?”
“What am I, blind?” she said. “Every time I made your bed, he was staring at me.”
I laughed, “Well, fifteen then…”
“He’s so sweet.”
I laughed even harder at that. “He would die if he heard you call him that, Mom.”
“Why?” she said.
“Because grown men don’t want to be called sweet,” my dad said. That was as good an answer as any.
“Well, whether he wants to be called that or not, he is,” she insisted. I smiled and shook my head. I was beginning to think my mother had a crush on him.
I took them to the museum after breakfast and we saw the DaVinci exhibit, then they went back to the hotel to get ready for the show. It wasn’t for five more hours, but if I knew my father, getting ready would include a nap.
I started getting ready about six. I had to be there at seven and my parent’s would be there before the curtain went up at eight. I was nervous; I always was when it was a live audience. My teacher had given me the lead as usual. I was just really glad Tristan had the good sense to turn down my mother’s offer. I doubted that he wanted to be there anyways. I hadn’t seen him all day. I was trying not to worry, but I really hoped that he wasn’t using again. I pushed those thoughts away and finished getting ready to go.
I put my hair up in a loose bun and curled the long pieces that hung down around my face. I put on my make-up a little darker than usual so that I didn’t look completely washed out on stage, then I put on the dress I’d bought for the show. It was a dark blue, 50’s style swing dress with a flared skirt that was held out by a stiff petticoat. The songs we were singing were all from the 50’s, so the instructor asked that we all get something blue that came from that era. The university wasn’t rich enough to spring for costumes…unless it was for football.
Susie and I found the dress at a vintage store downtown. I loved it and she said it was a good color on me. I wore a pair of flat sandals with it. I had a fear of tripping in heels on stage almost as ingrained in me as my fear of singing in front of a live audience was.
I took one last look before I left and, finally satisfied, I headed for the chorus hall. We did our warm-ups in the back room and finally took our places on-stage. When the curtain went up, I could see my parents front and center. My mother waved; I smiled. We were gearing up to start when I saw Tristan walk in. I was utterly shocked. I couldn’t believe he came. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He’d heard me sing before, so I wasn’t so much nervous about that. I think I was more nervous about the fact that I was more and more confused about what we were to each other.
When I got my cue, I told myself to forget he was out there and just sing. I sang, but there was no forgetting him. He sat right up front next to my mother. It was a sight that a week ago I would have sworn I’d never see. After we finished each song I saw him clap and at the end of the show when the rest of the audience got to their feet, he did too.
There was a little reception afterwards; of course, I found my parents at the buffet table. My mother brought roses for me. They were beautiful. I hugged her and that’s when I saw Tristan. I was stunned, thinking that he would have left as soon as the show was over. My parents finished fixing their plates and I was suddenly overcome with a desire to touch and be touched by Tristan.
Bolder than I had ever known myself to be, I went over to him and said, “Thanks for coming.”
He grinned and said, “You’re not pissed?”
I smiled back. “We’re you trying to piss me off?”
He shrugged and surprised me by saying, “You did good. You look good too.”
I wanted him rig
ht then, right there and I blurted it out, “There’s a nice little couch in the dressing room in back. My parents eat slowly. How’d you like to see how good I look without this dress on?”
His grin turned lecherous and he said, “Lead the way.”
I led him to the back discreetly. When we got to the room before I’d even got the door closed all the way, he was on me. It had been a while; we were both horny as hell. This had to be quick, so we weren’t wasting any time. He had his back to the door, so I reached behind him and pushed it all the way closed and turned the lock. When I straightened back up he took me around the waist and pulled me into him. His lips came down to meet mine and I felt his hot, now familiar tongue snake into my mouth and search mine out. While we kissed, he walked us backwards towards the leather couch. We more tumbled than sat down on it and as soon as I was down on my back, Tristan pulled up my skirt and slid his fingers into the side of my panties.
“Fuck, Elly! You’re so wet!”
“I’m a little bit excited,” I said, breathlessly.
His fingers felt so good as they delved in and out of my soaking wet pussy while his other hand roamed across the rest of my body.
After a few minutes I pushed him back a little and stood up. He looked surprised until I leaned my back against the wall and stripped off my dress. Then I kicked off my shoes. He had a lustful grin on his face when I reached back and unhooked my bra. He stood up and I could see how excited he was. When he got close enough, he put his hands against the wall on either side of me and kissed me again, harder this time. While we kissed, I unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips. He wiggled his legs, brushing his still trapped cock against my belly as he did and sending shivers down my spine. He finally kicked off his jeans and then broke the kiss long enough to peel off his shirt.
I reached up and raked my fingernails across his chest. He growled and pulled me up against him tight so that my breasts and hard nipples were smashed against his chest. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. His hands were on my ass and I felt his lips slip from mine, down across my jaw, landing on my neck. He sucked the skin there into his mouth and I knew from the amount of suction that he was going to leave a bruise. I didn’t care; it felt so erotic to have him squeezing my ass cheeks while he sucked on my neck.
Dirty Maverick (The Maxwell Family) Page 93