“We thought it would be fun. No, I haven’t seen them, but I was told they were outtakes from the videos and some backstage interviews. Nothing crazy there.” He turned to Tristan. “But if you don’t want them shown, that’s fine.” He looked nervous.
A muscle in Tristan’s face was twitching. Otherwise, he was dangerously still. “Tell me one thing. How many copies of this are there?”
The record company guy swallowed. “Well, I made a copy—as a backup. You never know. It’s in my desk. At work.”
Tristan looked at him. “Go and get it and bring it back here.”
The man had a shocked expression. “It’s 1 in the morning.”
Tristan took a step forward. “If you can tell time, you might keep your job. Go get it. Now. Thanks.” The man nodded, and backed out, before Tristan could say anything else.
Then he turned towards James. AC caught his arm in mid-air with a surprising amount of strength. “Don’t do it mate. Look at the scum. That’s what he wants.”
I started dialing Trevor. This needed the big guns.
Tristan pulled away from AC, who grabbed him again. The look in Tristan’s eyes was deadly. “You fucking prick. How many of these do you have?”
“Enough. Enough to insure my safe passage out of your employment and on to someone else. What, you didn’t think I knew you were about to fire me? Send me off blacklisted? You’re too caught up in yourself and your…,” he spat out the next words, “dear friend.”
“Leave Lily out of this.” Tristan moved closer. AC was leaning on him.
“Not Lily I’m talking about.” The look on Tristan’s face altered, and he threw a glance in my direction. “You thought no one knew? You’re not as smart as you pretend.” He handed over the DVDs. AC grabbed them before Tristan had a chance.
I was on my third message to Trevor. “Please Trevor, pick up. Tristan is going to kill James. He’s blackmailing him. Shit.” I hung up, and redialed Dave. He picked up right away. I looked over at James who was still talking.
“What’s on here isn’t a lot. But it’s enough. And coupled with the way you’ve acted, should be enough to stop a promising solo career. Or slow it down. Get all those stories back up in the press again.”
I held the phone to my ear. Dave had been talking. “Dave. What? Look. Tristan. James. Is blackmailing Tristan. Something about the DVD. Stopping his career. What can I do?”
It sounded like Dave was punching numbers into another phone. “Did you call Trevor? Yes? Ok, I’m trying him again. We’re ready to run with something, I just need one more answer from him. Hang on. Look. Get their attention. Then repeat exactly what I tell you.”
“Ok,” I said. “Hang on.” I took a deep breath. And I let out a shriek that was probably going to get the whole party in here. At last then there would be more people to keep Tristan from going to jail for manslaughter. They all turned to look at me.
I marched up to James. “I’ve got a message for you, you fucking worthless piece of shit.” I spoke into the phone. “Ok.” I had a feeling I shouldn’t say his name, though it probably didn’t matter. “Go ahead.”
Dave spoke slowly. “Swiss IBAN number. Starting with CH 93. Contact Idute.” He paused. “Hang on, I’ve got Trevor. Yes. Go ahead.” He repeated each part separately, and I spoke the words as though it were a magical formula that would make James disappear. With any luck it would.
James was scoffing at each one, though. “IBAN numbers, so what.” After the next part he muttered, “The Swiss ones all begin with CH.” At the name “Idute” he froze. “You’re bluffing.”
I heard Dave laughing. “I’m sure you thought of this, but ask him if he wants to take that chance.”
I did.
“I will release these. You can’t prove anything.”
Dave had heard him. “Don’t tell him this, but it was a set-up. People Trevor knows. They gave him some hacking information to see what he’d do with it. Then tested him by having a fake contact offer him money.” He paused. “Tell him it wasn’t really the FBI he passed it on to. He never left their network. And that they know where he is.”
That did get a reaction. A stream of swear words that was the most energetic statement I’d heard from him the entire tour. Then he said, “I can still do this.”
Dave laughed again. “Tell him to go ahead. Ask him where he wants to be buried when they find him. They don’t like traitors.”
After I’d repeated Dave’s question, James looked nervous. “If you’re bluffing, I have enough copies of this to make a difference.”
Tristan said, slowly, “I don’t give a shit what anyone else wants with you. We will follow you. Look behind you from now on, because it might be in 5 years, or 10. Who knows. Now. Get the fuck out of my sight. Now.”
Dave was listening. “Take the DVDs and get Tristan out of there. AC too. Go stay in a different hotel. Actually just get your bags and get the driver to take you to Austin. Get a new hotel there. Don’t stay where you’re booked.” I was listening, but I stopped when I heard James.
James had a vindictive glare as he spoke to Tristan. “And your sweet lady there. How long will love last when she knows,” he jerked his head towards AC, “about your bit on the side there? True love. She’ll like the sex tape scene.” He spat on the ground.
AC grabbed at Tristan again, who was looking between the three of us, faint panic in his eyes. Dave was silent on the phone.
I stepped up to James, taking each step slowly, fists clenched. When I was close enough to smell his breath, I started. “Did you watch it on repeat? You and the remote. Your only friend. For the rest of your sad life.” Then I was shouting in his face. “But guess what? I already knew. I already know. And I don’t care. How about that.” I stepped back. The temptation to take a swing at him was too strong. “Fucking loser. Go die somewhere.” I backed away from him, pointing at him to stay where he was.
AC looked like he was about to grab for me as well.
I tucked the phone under my ear, and linked arms with AC, who yanked at Tristan. The three of us walked away. I didn’t turn around. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Dave was talking.
“What Dave? Sorry, yes, we’re going. Car should be outside? Brilliant.” I listened. “Ask me tomorrow.” When I pressed the end call button, I realized I was shaking.
We said good night to the few people cleaning up at the bars. Like nothing had happened. The rest of the people had already left. As we got outside, the record company guy came running up to us with a bag. “10 DVDs. This is it. I swear.”
“Good,” Tristan muttered. “Because you’re the only one left who could have copies. And if there’s a leak, we’ll know it’s you. Time to go home now. Party’s over.” He hesitated, as if he were going to say something, and Tristan broke away from us, and took a step forward.
“Tris,” whispered AC. But the guy had already turned and was walking quickly back to his car.
Tristan looked at the DVDs in his hand. “I only have two,” he mimicked, horribly accurately. “You lying sack of shit. Fuck you. Fuck all of you,” he yelled out into the night.
AC had him by the arm. “It’s ok mate. It’s ok. Come on, let’s go.” The sound of his voice seemed to calm Tristan down, and we kept moving towards the car.
Tristan turned to AC. “Fuck, let’s score. You must know someone here.” He threw his arm around me. “Everything’s going to shit anyway. So much for keeping it on an even keel.”
AC was silent. Then he finally said, “Remember. Just not today. And—I don’t want this great evening to finish up in jail. I don’t think they like us round these parts.” His sudden twang in his accent made Tristan smile, but we both held on a little tighter.
We finally made it to the limo, and AC went in first, with Tristan in the middle, and me at the end. I was loo
king around to see if anyone was watching, or following us, but it seemed very quiet. Too quiet possibly, but I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t want to get paranoid. But all of us were completely on edge, and very wired. I didn’t see how we were going to get through the night, but then again, we really didn’t have a choice.
Once we were settled in, and the car had picked up speed, AC started poking around. “What, no minibar? Well, that isn’t going to fly. Lily. When we go up to get our stuff, remind me to pull out some drinks from the room.”
Tristan was just lying there, his head back against the seat, eyes closed. He looked completely drained. AC studied his face. “Tris. It’s going to be ok.”
Tristan nodded, but didn’t say anything.
AC carried on. “If you promise to be good, Lily and I will pack up. You can stay here. Fair enough? But no running off to the kitchen to score.”
Tristan coughed. He sounded exhausted. “No, I better come up with you. Maybe I’ll jump in the shower.” He sat up straighter. “I can’t believe how close I came to smashing that fucker’s face in.”
AC gave a bark of a laugh. “Yeah, mate. Neither can we.” He looked over at me, an uneasy smile on his face. I wasn’t convinced he was as in control as he appeared, but his air of relative calm was soothing to me as well. “Yeah, Tris. It’s all going to be fine. Of course—there is that one thing.”
His eyes were closed again. “Only one?”
AC pretended to look out the window. “It’s going to be hell to do the thank you videos for the regional record company PR people.”
Tristan opened his eyes, and then burst out laughing. “Fuck. You are so right.”
* * *
At the hotel, it was all business. We all went up to quickly pack. I’d barely unpacked, so it didn’t take long. Tristan jumped in the shower. AC did a sweep of the minibar, and stuck the bottles in my purse.
“You carry those. I’ll go down and do some quick check-out thing. I want to get out of here before the news goes very far,” AC said. “Wait for Tristan.”
I glanced at him from where I was arranging the bottles in my bag so they wouldn’t make so much noise banging together. “Well, yeah, of course.”
“I think it’s all drained him. We’re going to need to keep an eye on him.” He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “He’s not as tough as he looks.”
“You’ve known him for a long time.”
“Yeah, true. But you were brilliant back there.”
I caught myself smiling. “I was pissed off back there.”
The sound of the shower stopped. AC squeezed my shoulder. “Lots of questions, yeah? But not now. But…did you? Know?”
I picked up my suitcase. There wasn’t a short answer for this one. “Will you take my bag down? Later. Ask me later. I won’t lie.”
AC gave me a quick hug. “See you down there. Hurry his highness up.”
“Not a problem,” I said.
AC stopped at the door. “No. It never is with you. I can’t understand how he found you.”
I stopped rearranging the bottles and shrugged. “Simple. I fell at his feet.”
“As we do.” And he was out the door, dragging our suitcases behind him.
chapter nineteen
Dallas to Austin
Once in the car, a couple of mini bottles from the minibar better than we’d been before, talking didn’t seem like a good idea. Tristan wrapped his arms around both of us, and we both moved closer to him. It felt like he was keeping us warm, but I had the feeling it was a little bit the other way around. He needed us to hold him together, so he wouldn’t spin out of orbit and lose his center. The edge had felt very close back there. And talking seemed a waste of time. Why question what was obviously working? What really needed to be explained, after all? Particularly at the moment. No one asks why animals stand together for warmth, or why people reach out for someone’s hand when it’s dark. It could be as simple as that, our pile of bodies in the back of a limousine providing more comfort than we could on our own. I kicked off my boots and put my feet up on the seat. I looked out into the night. If it was slightly more complicated than that, asking a lot of stupid questions wouldn’t help.
I woke up a couple of hours later. I thought I’d heard something. The driver’s voice was coming through the intercom, very quietly.
“Is anyone awake?”
I pressed the button to connect. “Hi, yeah, keep it down. What’s up?”
“We’ll be there in about half an hour. It’s still early.” I looked at my watch. Ten past five. Yes it was. “Do you want to go right to the hotel, or get some breakfast first? There’s a decent 24 hour diner folks like, I can take you there if you want.”
My stomach grumbled at the mention of diner food. What had I eaten for dinner? Bourbon, champagne, and whiskey. Yeah. Maybe eating first wasn’t a bad idea. It was very early. “Hang on a sec,” I said to the driver, and took my hand off the intercom. My neck was stiff. I’d moved along the seat to get to the controls, and now I turned around to look at Tristan and AC. Asleep still, though Tristan appeared to be moving slightly. They looked angelic, AC with his curls, and Tristan stretched out, his legs looking even longer in the confined space, the circles under his eyes and pale skin making him look like a lost child. I didn’t want to wake them up. They needed to shut down, forget about everything. But food wouldn’t hurt. If Tristan didn’t want to deal with the public, we could always get takeout.
I pressed the button again. “Sure, why not? They may decide not to, but let’s head there. Thanks.” I shut off the intercom in the middle of the driver’s “thanks.” I didn’t want to bother the two of them any more than I already had. I crawled back to Tristan’s side. He sleepily pulled me to him.
His voice sounded dry. I wondered if he was getting sick. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes, no worries. Diner food soon.”
He leaned his head on mine. “Good, think I’m hungry. Bit more sleep first though.”
I closed my eyes, and leaned against him, feeling his weight on mine. Another half an hour in our cocoon.
* * *
We managed to get a parking space in the lot for the nearby shops, although it was a little tricky to maneuver the limo around. But I supposed the driver was used to that. I hoped so. Tristan offered to bring him some breakfast, and then changed his mind.
“Come in with us, man,” he said. “You’ve got to be hungry, driving overnight. And you’ve still got to go back, right?”
The driver shook his head. “No, I’m due to stay here with you, until after the concert. Then back.”
Tristan looked surprised for a minute, then nodded. “Shit, I’m losing it. That’s right. Even more reason to come have breakfast. Otherwise, I’m going to get offended and think you dragged us to some tourist place with awful food.”
The driver looked a little embarrassed. “It is a tourist place. But the food’s good. All right, I’ll come. Very generous of you, sir.”
Tristan tapped him on the back. “Don’t start saying that around me. The press’ll pick it up.”
AC let out a howl of laughter. The driver just looked confused. It took me a second to figure out what Tristan meant. Then I glanced over at AC. He just winked and shook his head.
Tristan smiled. “Don’t worry about it. And ignore him. He’s always like that. At least I can see trouble coming. Come on, let’s go before anybody turns up.”
We went in. It wasn’t exactly what you thought of when you imagined a diner, even with the counter and big clock. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was the strange stainless steel bell-shaped lights and the green walls. The circular banquette seats around a table made it feel more like a dream from a TV show in the 70s than a modern restaurant. I couldn’t decide if it was the lack of sleep, or food, or just eve
rything, but it all seemed like a set, just a little surreal.
The food was decent. AC was thrilled they had a vegetarian breakfast with homemade sausages. The driver had chicken and waffles. I had a hash brown sort of thing with real sausages. Tristan ate half of mine, and the frittata he ordered. After a long night of stress, it felt good to be somewhere else, eating some decent food. There was always that odd feeling from being in a new place, on the road, of not really existing. We could all just get back in the car, and take off for somewhere else. In less than 24 hours, we’d be able to do it. One more show.
Finally, we staggered out into the milky sunshine. Rush hour was beginning, like it did everywhere. I wished we could have a few hours of 5 a.m. lack of pressure. But the day was here, and so were we, and it was time to get back into the world. The driver held open the door for us, waving Tristan away. “Ok boss. Hotel next. Unless there’s somewhere else we need to go first?” Tristan had grudgingly tolerated being called “boss” instead of sir. “Hotel St. Cecelia, that’s right, isn’t it?”
AC whistled, and looked at me. “Ask Tristan. His idea,” I said. He’d actually called them directly, himself, after he’d gotten out of the shower in the last hotel. That we’d left. Or never really got to. Last night. This morning. Everything was really starting to blur.
Tristan bowed his head in acknowledgement. AC looked pleased. “Nice. Haven’t been there in years. Good choice, Tris. Don’t tell me—surprise me. Bungalow or piano suite?”
Tristan grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
AC reached across me and tapped him on the arm. “Wait. Did we get thrown out of there?”
Tristan frowned. “Was it that place? Fuck pool sides are all the same.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You know, I honestly don’t remember. I don’t think so. They seemed happy enough to take the reservation. I was lucky to get it—they’d had some last minute cancellation thing. Unless it’s just a plan to get us to pay for…what was it?”
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