Chapter 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.
Shit! I couldn’t very well yell out his name and attract the whole crew’s attention. I walked after him, briskly since he was taking big strides with his long legs. I was about two feet behind him when I whispered his name, loud enough for him to hear me, through clenched teeth since he was pissing me off. He finally turned around and I could see in his eyes how pissed off he was.
“What?” he said, too loudly. “What the fuck is the emergency?”
I took a chance that he would follow me and I stepped into the empty conference room next to us. He sighed loud enough to make sure that I could hear him. It was almost a growl. Then he stepped inside. I closed the door behind him and again he said, “What? Get over yourself Elly. Me fucking Brooke has nothing to do with you. You’re not my wife or mother, and you are certainly not my girlfriend.” I knew that he was right, I wasn’t his girlfriend. It still felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I was a fool to think that I’d been anything to him other than an easy piece of ass. I was beginning to wonder if anyone was anything more to him than that.
“I don’t care about Brooke,” I lied. Just the thought of him fucking her made my stomach hurt. “I want to talk to you about the drugs, Tristan. I’m worried about you.”
He laughed. I wasn’t surprised. I assumed that’s the way he would react.
“Tristan listen to me, please. I’m not coming out of left field with this. I’ve had the same issues myself. I went to rehab…it was a great place. I’ve been clean for a couple of years now and I’m doing great. I feel so much better. I stopped by there and I got some paperwork for you….” I held it out towards him. He was looking at me as if I was crazy, but I didn’t have to guess what he was thinking, he told me.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? I barely know you. You were just a good fuck to me. All of a sudden you’re going and picking up rehab paperwork for me? Are you under some kind of delusion that we’re anything more than that?”
“No,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat that was threatening to swell and turn into tears. “I don’t think we’re anything more than that, Tristan. But, as a human being, I think I’m still doing the right thing. If I stood by and didn’t even try and something happened to you…I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
He laughed again and rubbing his hands across his face he said, “Shit! I thought you were calling me to hook up. This is crazy. I’ve been to rehab; it’s all a bunch of crap. I don’t have a problem. I party because I like to party. It’s fun. When I want to stop, if I want to stop, I will.”
“That’s what all addicts say, Tristan.”
He stepped towards me then and I was afraid for a second because the look in his eyes was pure fury. “Don’t ever fucking call me that. Addicts are trash; I know addicts. I’m not addicted to shit and you need to get your own life and stop worrying about mine.”
“I wasn’t trying to put you down, Tristan, or put a label on you. I’m not worried about or interested in who you screw. I just care about what happens to you. Please take the papers and at least give it some thought. I’m worried about what’s going to happen when you win this thing and have a million dollars at your disposal. What happens when you have access to enough money for one big, never-ending party? Do you feel like you have the impulse control to handle that?”
He was looking at me, but I had no idea if he was hearing me. I saw something change in his eyes and I was hoping that meant he was absorbing some of what I was saying. I was wrong though, he suddenly flashed me one of his biggest and brightest grins and said, “Why don’t we go back to my place and talk about it?”
He really did think I was easy. I didn’t blame him; I’d already dropped my panties a few times. If he knew me though, he’d know that it wasn’t something I went around doing. It started out as infatuation with who he used to be, and me trying to forget the past. Now…it felt like more in my heart, but I wasn’t’ kidding myself. I knew he didn’t feel it. I was a big girl; I could live with that. I couldn’t live with just walking away.
“Listen, Tristan…I like you, a lot. But, nothing is happening between us again unless you’re ready to get some help. I also don’t do sex unless it’s exclusive. If you’re fucking other girls, I’m not fucking you.” I was hoping maybe if I spoke his language that it would make a difference. Sex he understood. He actually listened when the subject was on the table. It didn’t help though; all it did was piss him off again. He ripped the papers out of my hand and turned and stormed out of the room. I stepped out after him and, of course, Tony the AP was standing there in the hall, looking after him. I felt nauseated. This wasn’t good.
“What was that about? Was he having another temper tantrum?” I was pretty sure if I said yes that Tony would want to know the details and my lie would have to get bigger and bigger. I hated lying. I really hated all of this. I went with the closest version of the truth that I could think of off the top of my head.
“No, I mean not really. He’s mad, but at me. It was probably my fault this time,” I said. “I was just worried because I heard a rumor that he and another contestant are messing around. I know there’s no hard and fast rule against the contestants dating, but it seems to me like it would be awfully distracting to them both this late in the game. He said it was none of my business. I guess maybe he’s right. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead. I hoped he couldn’t see it.
“I don’t think you overstepped here,” Tony said. “I appreciate that you’re concerned about the contestants, that’s actually a big part of your job. I think it’s great that you took that initiative. Thank you, Elly.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. He seemed to have so much faith in me, misplaced, obviously. I felt like a big, fat, lying jerk.