Chapter Nineteen
Tristan
They were both so beautiful in their dresses it had hit me like the proverbial perfect storm…three fronts colliding in very different ways. Amy and April smashed into me. Amy was so beautiful I wanted to take her away with me to travel the world, just the two of us, exploring museums and mountains during the day and each other’s minds and bodies at night. The nature of my desire for Amy crashed against a completely different one, paternal in nature, and perhaps more powerful for it.
Each time I saw little April, I had the almost irresistible urge to pick her up in my arms and hold her safe until the storm inside of her settled. But something told me I had to keep that in check, too. Hugs were good, and I did not shy back whenever it seemed appropriate, but the way she tethered herself to my hand…it seemed like she needed to be out in the water, the two of us exploring safe shoals instead of wrapping her in some kind of cushioned nothingness. I hoped I was right.
It wasn’t easy to realize I was falling in love with two extraordinarily important people at the same time — my little cousin who needed me as much as a human being could, and my cohort in crime, the woman who helped me function in business, who I needed—and that was the third storm front.
I should have been doing far more than I was. Signing Parker called for a company-wide celebration. Everyone understood the upcoming party could double as that, but it was the first time we’d had such a major event go without some kind of ceremony, however informal, within the building. I knew Zack Brighton was a special case, so even-keeled he was happy to wait for the party to do business, but I could have had him signed by now, too. My agents were out there hustling and recruiting, and I’d been reading their updates without digesting them, which had never happened to me in my professional life before.
Things were slipping and it was all my fault. I couldn’t afford to let it get to me. April couldn’t afford it.
There we were, sitting out by the grass. I’d already ditched the tie and jacket, and then I got rid of the shoes and socks, rolled up my trousers in a way that made April giggle again, and rubbed my feet in the grass in the sun.
“Mmmm, that feels good,” I mumbled.
It might have been the first time I hadn’t finished a cheeseburger in my life. Everything tasted great, especially the ice cold beer, but instead of being famished as I usually was, I just stopped halfway and realized I was full. It made me curious about the amount of calories we burned even in our white collar jobs, as I saw Amy swipe a bite from my leftovers, then another, and then it was gone. I laughed.
“What’s funny?” April asked.
“Amy stole my cheeseburger!”
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, the way you put it down—” Amy started.
“I’m teasing. I was so full I couldn’t eat another bite. Except for ice cream.”
“Mommy said there’s always room for desert,” April said.
“And she was absolutely right,” I assured her.
It was the hardest sentence I had ever uttered. Amy was playing it off better than I was, just acting like she was enjoying the magnificent spring day. She had bare feet, too, and rubbed them in the grass just like I had.
April suddenly yawned so big and wide it looked like her body was trying to inhale all the air in the world. She walked over to me, and I put my knees down so she could climb in my lap. We looked out over the rolling grass together, and she yawned again.
“Amy’s pretty,” April mumbled sleepily.
I glanced up at Amy. “She sure is,” I agreed. When I looked back down, April was already asleep. My gaze met Amy’s and she had finally let the tears come out.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Take her home, I’ll take care of everything.”
I looked in her eyes. I wanted to kiss her, just on the lips right there where we were. Instead, I smiled and nodded, and carried April to the car.
When we got in the car, Wentworth took us home. I knew Amy was a big girl and could take care of herself, and probably had already taken a taxi back to the office, but I felt bad about leaving her there in the park. Once inside, I realized I’d left her with my jacket, socks, and shoes, which included my wallet and phone. It shocked me that for the first time since I could remember, I was without my phone.
I carried April into her room and took off her sweater. She didn’t even twitch. Tucked in her bed, I wondered what her mind was doing, so young it was still in the process of growing rapidly, repairing devastation while charging forward. Whatever trigger had been reached when April spoke of her mother and did so in the past tense, must have made her mind open up a whole new task list. I imagined it as some kind of being, with its own separate feelings, like me concerned for April, but also so realistic it bordered on ruthlessness. I admired it. April had to keep growing because, well, the alternative was…not. Of the billion tasks it had to perform, dealing with the damage done was important, but so were all the others.
Her little sentence about her mother must have arrived as good news. I imagined her mind seeing it happen almost as something separate, saying Excellent. That means we can start fixing up an entire region we’ve kept quarantined for the last two weeks. Much too much to do while she’s awake.
I wondered how long she would sleep today, but I was damn well going to be there when she woke up.
There was a gentle knock at my door. Wentworth brought my things.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Of course.”
“I was thinking about food. I’ve run through the extent of my abilities in the kitchen twice already.”
“Microwave and cereal?” Wentworth joked.
“Exactly,” I smiled back.
“I could give Mrs. Jones a call.”
I grinned. “I should have thought of that. We should get April over to meet them.”
“I think she would like that. I’ll call, maybe Mrs. Jones will let me pick up some groceries.”
“You know how to handle it. No pressure if they’ve got things going on, but I’d love to have some of her soup on hand,” I added.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Wentworth left, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of the last time I’d visited T.J. Jones and his wife, Shanelle. It was the time he’d helped me sort out my situation with Drake.
I checked my email and saw updates from all of my agents, realizing again I hadn’t kept up with what they were doing it. I noticed two of my best, Scott Hanson and Jessie Bennett, were waiting on an approval from me that should have been automatic.
I called and got them both conferenced in.
“Hey, guys.”
“Yo, boss,” Scott said.
“What’s up, Tristan? How’s your cousin?” Jessie asked.
“Making progress. That’s one reason I’m calling. Look, we’ve got the party coming up, and I’ve got this personal thing going on—things have been slipping on my part. Both of you shouldn’t need to be waiting on me to make a decision about changing a little contract rider. In fact, neither of you need me breathing over your shoulders on contract language at all anymore. You know what we’re all about, and we’ve got an entire legal staff backing you up, right?”
“Sure.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, so I’ve been getting updates from everyone, and they’ve been going in one side and out the other. I’m behind. I need you guys to step up even more than you already have been and help me out.”
“No problem,” Jessie chimed.
“Can do. What do you need?” Scott asked.
“Get the word out to everyone. Everyone except Sonny, that is. You two and get Derek in on the same level … I want to keep getting updates copied to me, but you three don’t need my approval anymore. You know our strategy, both here at home and in Europe. Anything big that could affect that, we talk. Anything with clients, signing new ones, take care of business.”
I heard laughter, but I didn’t know which one it was.
“What’s funny?”
“Uh, boss, sorry, but we’ve already been doing that since we heard about your cousin.”
“You mean, you weren’t waiting for me to sign off?” I asked.
“Amy gave us the green light,” Scott informed me.
“She did, huh.”
“We knew you weren’t going to give us a hard time over the chickenshit stuff,” Jessie said. “We’ve been meeting every day as a team. Even Sonny’s been doing good. I don’t think he’s tried to gossip once this whole week,” Jessie said.
“Actually, he did with me,” Scott said. “Told me Tristan took Amy shopping.”
I rolled my eyes as they chatted. Finally, I cut them off. “Well, good. I’m, uh, going to be out of the office quite a bit—”
“Hey, Tristan.”
It was Scott. I waited for him to continue.
“It’s family, man. You’re the boss. Anything huge comes up, we’re coming to you, in the meantime your cousin needs you.”
“Thanks, guys.”
As soon as we hung up, I sent a text to Amy and Scott, assigning him Zack Brighton.
I went in and checked on April. She hadn’t moved. I stepped over, my socks silent on the thick carpet. She was breathing long, soft, and steady. I went back to my couch, put my feet up, and watched sports highlights until I fell asleep.
April slept all the way through the night and woke up hungry and thirsty. I managed to make scrambled eggs and pancakes from a mix, and I guess they weren’t awful because she ate everything along with two glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice.
* * * * *
When the night of the party rolled around, I was nervous, but that was nothing new.
Thankfully that morning, Wentworth had arrived with enough homemade chicken soup to feed an army.
“Mrs. Jones informed me it would freeze well. I purchased several containers she recommended for the purpose.”
Then he went back down to the car and returned with a box full of snap lid containers with grilled and fried chicken, different kinds of pasta, potato, rice, and other kinds of salads I didn’t even recognize. He started to leave again.
“Is there more?” I asked.
“She gave me a shopping list.”
“Hang on, I’m coming.”
April joined us as we went down and emptied the trunk. There were fresh greens, vegetables, and fruits, packages of different kinds of nuts, varieties of cheese, wheat bread, flat bread, hummus, and other containers I would have to examine later.
I stared at the packed counters of my kitchen. “We’ll never eat all this.”
“Wentworth can help,” the little girl chimed.
I looked over at April and saw that she was holding his hand. It made me grin.
“He sure can. We might have to bring a picnic to the office, too.”
Later that day, I finally told April more about the party. I had held off, thinking nothing good could come of the idea if it made her anxious.
“So, there are lots of people and no kids, but it’s going to be in a beautiful mansion that is just like a castle. I have to go, but I made sure there’s a nice room just for you, and Wentworth will be there.”
“I thought my dress was for the party.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Do I have to stay in the room?” she pouted.
“You can go anywhere you like. If I’m busy, you can explore with Wentworth.”
“Amy’s going, right?”
“Yes, but she’ll be very busy, too.”
“Okay,” she conceded, but didn’t seem like it was her favorite answer.
I called Amy. “Hey, how you holding up?”
She sounded stressed. “Good.”
“We were hoping we could pick you up for the party.”
“Oh,” she said. “Uh, I’m already on site.”
“What about getting ready?”
“I brought everything with me. Peyton and I are going to use one of the master bathrooms in a few hours, but in the meantime, we’re here making sure everything’s set.”
“Oh. Right. Well then, we’ll see you there.”
“Great. See you.”
She hung up, and that’s how well my vision of sitting next to her in the car and perhaps even holding her hand went.
A few hours later, we arrived at the party. April, Wentworth, and I went to the little suite on the top floor, where we’d made sure it would be comfortable for her. She took a look and seemed to like it, but looked up at Wentworth. “Can we explore?”
“It’s one of my favorite things to do,” he said.
With that, they began to walk down the hall, stopping at the first door. It was a closet. The next door must have been a room because they went in.
I chuckled, thinking of them hitting every single room inside the massive place, and I was a little jealous.
The guests had just started to arrive downstairs. I hadn’t even seen Amy yet and managed to get lost on the way down.
As I managed to find a random staircase with a large wooden banister, suddenly a chunk of concrete separated from the ceiling and slammed into my shoulder.
That, or Drake Mathison had found me.
“Yo, Tristan, what’s up stranger?” Drake asked.
I reminded myself of the tough guy rule from baseball and decided to borrow it. Don’t rub it. I did roll my shoulder though, grateful it had not been dislocated.
“When you die,” I said, “I hope they sever your hands and put them in the Guinness museum.”
He grinned. “Maybe they’ll buy them, and you can get a commission.”
“You know, I never thought of that. Post-mortem income from my clients. Might have to get the lawyers on that one.”
“God help us.”
We continued giving each other shit until we got to the ground floor.
“You seen Peyton?” Drake asked.
“No. I think she and Amy were planning on getting ready together.”
“Glad those two have become friends.”
I gave Drake a deadpan look when he said it. “Me fucking too,” I declared.
That got a laugh out of him. Then he turned serious. “Hey, Tristan, the fuck are you waiting for?”
The way he asked, it reminded me of the shit we’d put each other through in recent months, with him constantly pestering me to finish his deals and me boring him to death with my theory on the waiting game in business, and the need to be patient sometimes.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Woman like Amy, man, you think she’s going to stay on the market long? Especially after this crowd tonight, you’re gonna have to hire extra security at the office just to keep the hounds at bay.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Drake laughed at the look on my face and rolled his eyes. “Look, your waiting game works in business, I guess. I don’t care whether she works for you or not, what I’m talkin’ about is not business.”
With that, he looked across the room and saw the quarterback of his team, whom the entire world of football just called Smitty.
“Gotta go say hi,” he said, then gave me a knowing wink. “Think about it. Don’t wait too long,” he commanded. Then the six foot six tight end did one of the most graceful slide steps I’ve ever witnessed while lowering himself below the average head height of the filling room. It reminded me of stories I read as a kid, of magical Rangers who could dance between shadows and go unseen. Somehow, the big son of a bitch blended in and sidled his way around behind Smitty, who had not spotted him.
Then he clapped those King Kong sized hands of his around both shoulders and shouted, “Watch your blindside!”
I wished I had a camera ready, but one of the rules of the party was only our pre-screened, professional photographers could take any pictures, and every single one of their images was our property, subject not only to our approval but also the approval of everyone who appeared in a photo. They had been instructed to wait until after most people had arrived and gotten comfortable before being allowed to roam in the main room and out front.
The look on Smitty’s face would have gone viral, and I tried to burn it into my memory. For an instant, it was pure terror, as though all his nightmares of the game had at last come true, and his bones were about to be compressed into powder by one of the monsters that hunted him every Sunday during the season. Just as quickly, the quarterback’s reflexes took over and reminded him this wasn’t even a game, and that was Drake’s voice, and he tried to wipe away the horror with a big smile.
“Look, it’s a bald-headed albino gorilla with prison tattoos in a tuxedo!” Smitty retorted.
“Hey, don’t lie,” Drake said, “I only had one of my tats done in prison.”
Everyone nearby laughed, and the party was underway.
Something made me look up at the banister running high around the main hall. I was mid-sentence with a congressman, but I’d stopped talking, which meant he’d stopped listening. Two beautiful creatures were trying not to make an entrance. But Drake had looked up at the same time I had.
“Holy shit, we’re fucked!” Drake’s voice boomed through the room and shut everyone up. They were all looking at him, so he pointed right at Peyton and Amy as if his point were completely obvious. “Not enough defibrillators for all the men in here.”
Amy blushed and held onto Peyton’s wrist as they descended, her cheeks flaming of peach and pink. Men cleared their throats or tried not to be obvious with their stares so much it was outright comical. The ladies just gasped.
Drake was the first to remember to act like a gentleman, and in my defense, he and Peyton were engaged. He moved to take Peyton’s hand, and I followed and met Amy.
And just then, the first performer hit the stage. Amy had scrambled like mad and managed to land her. Her first song was designed to warm up the party and reach out to the line of cars forming in the roundabout far down the front path: come on in, we’re already having fun.
Peyton and Drake headed straight for the dance floor and, at this point, I would normally be taking a look at the guests. Spotting friends and people who’d been attending this event from the first time, noticing some of the most beautiful women in the world dressed as though this might be the last true party they ever would attend. Instead, all I wanted to do was dance with Amy. Just as I took a step toward the floor, I felt her hand slip out of mine and turned to see her talking with one of the chefs. She listened, nodded, and then pointed for him to lead her somewhere, and she was gone. I admit, I was a little disappointed.
So, I mingled. Parker Starr showed up. I didn’t see a date with him, and when I went up to greet him with enthusiasm, he was friendly but also seemed like a fish out of water. I smelled booze on his breath.
“Parker, glad you’re here!”
“Hey, Tristan, thanks, man. Wow! I thought I saw some parties back on the Cape when I was in high school, but this is something.”
“It’s just getting started, Parker. This’ll be a long night, and it just keeps getting better if you last to the end.”
I was trying to tell him to pace himself, but couldn’t tell if he picked up on it.
“I thought you were bringing a date?” I stated.
“Oh, yeah, she’s in the ladies room. What about you?”
“Mostly working, but I brought my little cousin with me. If you see a little girl in a striped dress, that’s April.”
He seemed a little confused, but then he looked up and grinned.
“Holy shit! Grogan’s here?”
“Thought you might like to have a few running buddies. Besides, he still hasn’t signed, so put in a good word for me. Would ya?”
“You got it.”
Parker howled at the big lineman. I’d seen similar moments about a thousand times, so I definitely noticed Grogan’s greeting in return was less enthusiastic than it could have been.
I spotted Drake on the dance floor. He was moving like a 265-pound man shouldn’t be allowed to, pulling off impersonations of Bruno Mars that were actually worthy. Anyone not paying close attention would have thought he was completely lost in the music, and in the woman in front of him, but I saw his eyes spot the same exact thing I had just witnessed and then he shot a quick glance to me. I lifted an eyebrow, and he nodded. Something had gone on between Parker and Grogan, and we were going to keep our eyes out for the young men.
Then Zack Brighton arrived with what I hoped would be his newly assigned agent, Scott. They looked comfortable together, young and sharp, and in control. I was reminded why I had hired Scott as a potential number two in the first place. Scott spotted me and came right over. He knew as the party got crowded, my free moments would disappear.
“You two met a few months ago, right?” Scott said to me as they approached.
“We did, Scott. Zack, I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thanks, Tristan. Scott’s been telling me about the way you guys do things. It confirms what I already thought. Hey, hope you don’t mind me asking, how’s your cousin. April, right?”
I gave the briefest of looks to Scott, not because I minded he’d let Zack know about April—we had agreed already that was appropriate, since the young man should have a right to know why I’d already handed him off—but over how impressive he was.
I looked him in the eye. “I don’t mind you asking at all. She’s making progress, talking and even laughing again over the last couple of days.”
He looked relieved, and I didn’t catch anything but sincerity. “That’s great to hear.”
“So Scott hasn’t put his foot in his mouth yet?” I asked Zack.
“Not at all, Jessie took care of that for him.”
His delivery was perfect, going from formal and proper to bringing up one of the best agents in our office, who also happened to be stuck permanently in the teenage zone. Jessie was our resident video game addict. I saw something special in him and offered him a job, and he admitted to me once the only reason he took it was because he thought it would help him get laid. It hadn’t, but only because he still spent most of his nights with a controller in his hands staring at his gigantic hi-def screen, playing Halo, or Call of Duty, or FIFA Soccer.
I did a double take and rolled my eyes. “Scott, why…?”
Zack laughed. “It’s okay, I told him I loved Call of Duty, so we had a mini-tournament in the office.”
“I think it worked, too, because it was what, about ten minutes after Derek let you win you signed?” Scott said to Zack.
“Let me win? My ass.”
Derek had wrangled his way close just in time to hear his name.
Then I caught up. “Wait, what? You’ve already signed with us?”
Zack and Scott grinned at me.
“Well… holy shit.”
“Nicely put, Tristan.” As Derek said it, I looked at him, and I flashed my eyes to the left, toward the bar so quickly Zack couldn’t see it. Smooth as glass Derek turned and signaled the bartender with three fingers and a glance at the 2005 Comtes de Champagne Rose from Tattinger. In less than five seconds the cutest little waitress in a sharp tuxedo top with a short black skirt appeared with a silver tray. We toasted. I noticed Zack took just the smallest of sips, but so had I.
“Oh, Tristan, you’re up.” Derek was looking over my shoulder.
I gave him a nod and turned. Approaching me in a fully Western tuxedo was Deputy Crown Prince Fahd ibn Faisal of the House of Saud, second in line to the Kingdom and—though I’d managed to keep it a secret for years—an old buddy of mine from college.
I put down my champagne and wore a serious expression, giving Zack a quick wink. Then I turned and bowed low. “Prince Faisal, you do me great honor with your presence.”
“Fuck you, Tristan, here’s your damn money.”
He handed over two thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills, which were my winnings from our previous season of NFL bets.
I laughed, and we hugged each other. Then I introduced the Crown Prince to Zack and Derek, and he proceeded to do the usual thing of loosening them up with his fully American humor. Fahd had his security at an absolute minimum, which meant there were still two bruisers in tuxedos with him at all times, and when he introduced his stunning date with the black coiling hair and eyes that promised smoke and spice, I was sure I’d spotted an ear bud.
I whispered to Fahd so Zack could hear, “Is she secret service?”
“I admit nothing, but make a wrong move, and she’ll flip you like a half-empty bag of potato chips. I’ve seen her do it.”
Then I saw Amy at the top of the stairs again and asked the group to excuse me. Fahd saw where I was looking. “Go. I don’t blame you, my friend.”
We shook hands, and I made my way upstairs as quickly as I could without making a spectacle of myself. She was gone again by the time I got there.
I wanted to go look for her. I told myself I could claim I was just trying to track down April and Wentworth. The truth is, I knew she was busy. I was busy, too. We weren’t going to be able to actually make any of this a date. I just wanted to have a couple minutes with her. I wanted to see her in that dress, with the way her hair was done, and just once get a truly close, long look at her eyes.
Then I saw Lily Morgan walking along the outskirts of the main hall below, alone, glancing around. It pissed me off. There was no way a reporter got past security without an invitation, was there?
I put a smile on my face and went back down, and out a side door, then made my way toward the front and found the young lady in charge of the small army of security officers we had out front.
“Mr. Thorne, is everything all right?”
“I’d like to find out how Miss Lily Morgan got in.”
She didn’t even have to look. “She is Mr. Starr’s date.”
I tried to keep smiling but must have just been gritting my teeth.
“Did I screw up? Should I—?”
“No, not at all. You’re doing great. Keep it up. Thanks.”
She nodded and turned to get back to work. I was about to borrow her walkie talkie to talk to Amy, but then remembered she was already probably scrambling over about fourteen miniature fires and would be all night long as they came up.
I went back in through the main entrance but cut left behind some curtains before anyone could collar me. Just as I got into a good spot in the shadows, I saw Drake and Peyton relaxing with some of the players on his team and a few carefully screened publicity professionals on her short list.
Right then, Drake turned and looked at me. He was a goddamn natural, and I reminded myself to tell him I thought so. I looked at Peyton, and he extended one of those damned telephone poles he calls fingers and gave her a gentle nudge. She played it off well, but I chuckled because I could tell she thought she’d been butted by a goat. She followed his glance and saw me in the shadows.
“What’s up?” she said as she approached.
“Lily Morgan’s here as Parker’s date,” I explained.
“Shit. Why?”
“I don’t know, but he’s already drunk, and I saw her a few minutes ago walking alone.”
“He’s not stupid. I’m sure he would have made her promise to be off the record,” Peyton assured me.
“Yeah, but what does that really mean?” I asked.
“Well, with some, not a damn thing. But she is a pro, Tristan, even if she’s a flame-throwing bitch,” Peyton reminded us.
I just looked at her.
“Want me to shadow her?” Peyton offered.
“Maybe. Need any help with that?” I asked.
“Drake will help me. He’ll think of it as a game.”
I smiled at that. He would.
“Think you can do that and schmooze your other contacts?”
“Oh, they’re fine. They’re all so happy just to be here, all I have to do is give them a peck on the cheek and get out of the way.”
“Okay, great. I haven’t told Amy yet.” I said.
“I think she’s got enough to deal with,” Peyton replied.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s my job.” And with that, I received a peck on the check like all the others, and she headed back to Drake. I saw her smiling and then whispering in his ear, and then he got a grin on his face like at last the party held some real promise for him. He actually waggled his eyebrows at me. I shook my head and grinned, then went to try to catch at least a glimpse of Amy.
A senator got hold of me before I made it another ten steps, and we started talking about the upcoming draft.