WHEN TRISTAN ARRIVED, Del led him to the patio, where their foursome had eaten dinner a while back. The two men settled into the patio furniture and eyed each other with curiosity. Del’s thoughts scrambled in his brain, so he took a moment to weigh his words.
“Is everything okay, Del? You seem less chill today. Your text message was kinda freaky, but you look fine.”
Del wasn’t in the mood to fool around. He locked eyes with the wellness guru, who looked as if he’d stepped off of a yellow school bus five years ago.
“I don’t know how to be tactful with this,” Del said, “so I’ll be blunt.”
“Okay…”
“Your celebrity client? The one you mentioned when we talked last month?”
“Yeah? What about her?”
Del’s heart hammered. “I know who she is. I think I do, at least.”
Tristan snickered in doubt. “And who do you think it is?”
“It’s Nora.”
Tristan sighed. “Del—”
Del held out the palm of his hand to halt Tristan in midsentence. “Hold on. Hear me out.”
The guru folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening.”
“Nora mentioned she’s been talking to a wellness coach.”
“Lots of people do that. Trust me. My bank account isn’t hurting.”
“She found the business card in a coffee shop she frequents.”
Del caught a change in the way Tristan glared at him. Something in Tristan’s eyes retreated, yet he tried to maintain a straight face.
“And you think it’s me, huh?”
“Do you leave cards in coffee shops?”
“I leave cards everywhere.”
“I visited the coach’s website. The man looks like he could be a model,” Del said. “The stock-photo variety.”
Tristan shifted in his seat. As Del expected, this had begun to hit home.
Del set his hands flat upon the iron table’s meshed surface and leaned in for the final blow. “You’re Russell Merritt.”
His mouth agape, Tristan slumped against the back of his chair, a clear indication he’d never fathomed his client’s identity. Without a sound, his lips went into motion, as though he were trying calculate sales tax on the price of a washing machine. If the situation weren’t serious, Del would have found the response comical.
“I take it this surprises you?”
“Shit, Del, how was I supposed to know?”
“You weren’t, and that was Nora’s intention. But now, you and I both know.” Del let loose a decisive huff. “You need to put an end to it, Tristan. Tell her you’re her coach.”
Tristan, still in shock, shook his head. “Tell her? Are you crazy?”
“You’re dating her, aren’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“So if you care about her, and if you have any conscience at all, you owe it to her to come clean.” Del leaned closer, tried to speak to him as one brother to another. “She’s got a tender heart, Tristan. Beneath the confident exterior, she’s trying to find her way through life, and she doesn’t deserve to have one more person taking advantage of her.”
“Hold on, Del. Who are you to lecture me? You’ve got a reputation yourself. With all the younger women you date, you’re a player just like the rest of us. I mean, come on—like you haven’t been taking advantage of your friendship with Marilyn Monroe to make a buck! Gimme a break.”
“That’s not what’s going on with the script—”
“Like hell it’s not! You know damn well that’s what’s going on with the script! So don’t lecture me about taking the moral high ground.”
Del smoldered. He wasn’t used to anyone challenging him like this, and he sure didn’t want to swallow it from someone half his age, who had half the life experience. “I’m preserving Marilyn’s memory!”
“You’re preserving your own ass, Del! Your career was drowning, and you found yourself a lifeline! Lucky break, huh?”
Del sealed his lips and counted to ten. He wanted to explode at Tristan and defend himself the best he could, but the script was a tangential issue. He needed to refocus this conversation.
“Look, Tristan, I’m not a perfect guy. I never claimed to be. But this isn’t about a screenplay. This is about Nora, and I’m afraid she could be in a downward spiral. I’m trying to protect her.”
Drawing his crossed arms even tighter against his chest, Tristan continued to fume. He shook his head.
Del toned down his volume and, forcing a calmer approach, implored Tristan.
“I don’t believe you meant any harm. There’s no way you could have known.” Del believed that. He caught Tristan’s eyes and wouldn’t release contact. “Suppose a client described this situation to you, the one we’re in right now. What would you tell that client to do?” Del paused for a beat, allowed the question to linger in Tristan’s mind, then added, “For Nora’s sake, Tristan.”
Tristan bit the inside of his cheek and cast a wary glance at Del. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed his temples.
“Fine, fine. You’re right,” Tristan relented, his voice resigned. “I’ll do it. But let me pick the time.”
Relieved, Del settled back into his chair. “Good man.”
“Whatever. Thanks to you, I’m becoming too fucking honest.”
“I think she’d appreciate someone like that in her life.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” With that, Tristan rose from the table, the iron legs of his chair scraping against the patio’s brick surface. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my work,” he said, a glint in his eye. “People to talk to, lives to improve.”