“I am. For real.” I leant down and kissed his cheek. “Stop worrying, ok?”
Tristan moved, and half opened his eyes. “Are you two all right?” He peered at us, sleepily.
“We’re good, Tristan. All good. Go back to sleep. Well, let me get past you first,” I said. And he watched us both for a moment, something like a child’s contented smile appearing on his face, then he closed his eyes again.
AC and I looked at each other. I thought I recognized the emotion that seemed written clearly on his features, that sort of fierce pride and that other thing, the one that made people do crazy things, and change their lives. We both smiled. We had a lot in common, after all. After a minute, he started to say something, but what came out was, “I think New York City will be fun,” and he went back to his book. He squeezed my hand though, as I climbed over them to get back to my seat by the window.
* * *
But now, getting out of the cab from the airport, AC seemed a little agitated. Going up in the elevator. I wondered what he was thinking. It reminded me a little of the very first time I’d been here with Tristan, a buzzing under the skin, all anticipation. But when the door finally opened, he calmly stepped in and took a moment looking around.
“It looks good, Tris. I like what you’ve done with it. New sofa. Very eclectic.” He winked at me. “Now to order lots of takeout and leave the containers under the chairs.”
Tristan gave us both a hug. “Come on, I’m beat. Let’s go find menus. You can both order something for us while I shower.” His broad grin set the mood, as he dropped his bag and guitar case and kissed me happily. I could hear him humming as he headed for the bedroom.
AC’s presence seemed to settle Tristan, and he wasn’t as tense as he had been right after the tour. We spent a few days going to galleries, museums, finding new restaurants for dinner. It was like being a tourist, and we each had a list of things we wanted to see. And we had opinions on every painting, every spring roll, every cab ride. Talking about everything. Arguing into the night, pulling out records. Then we stopped going out, and ordered dinner in, watching old movies. And every night, AC would come with us as far as the kitchen, say goodnight, then he would head back to the living room, to the made-up bed on the sofa. And Tristan would grab his hand, and pull him into the bedroom. Nothing happened. But we were all tangled up in one way or another, the sheets pulled at angles from the pressure of our bodies. I could feel AC’s hand on my back and Tristan’s long legs against mine, one light touch, one heavy, reassuring one. Tristan seemed to be sleeping very well. But I would lie there awake in the big bed, eyes open, staring, then finally go and make some tea. Back in bed, I’d plug in my headphones in an attempt to lull myself to sleep. One night I came back from the kitchen to find AC watching me. “Are you all right, Lils?”
I brushed aside all the things I wanted to say, and looked down at the sleeping Tristan, wrapped up in the sheet. “I’m good. Really. Just insomnia. It happens.”
AC grinned at me in the darkness. “There’s a cure for that, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” There was nothing else to say.
I climbed into bed. His hand didn’t reappear on my back. I pulled the duvet up, and stared at the stairs to the bathroom. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
A few nights later, we headed off in a town car after dinner to a club Tristan had heard about. It was supposed to be hard to find, and edgy, but when the car pulled up after a 25 minute drive, it just looked like just another steel door hiding another industrial space filled with dim light bulbs and makeshift stages. AC looked at him. “How do you find these places, Tris?”
Tristan shrugged. “Come on, it will be fun. At least no one here will have heard of us, or care. I wouldn’t mind that.”
AC pushed him towards the door. “Bemoan the trappings of fame. ‘Why can’t I have a normal night out?’ If there is beer in cans in one of those silver steel tubs, you owe me 50 bucks and a night in a nice place.”
Tristan shoved him back. “Shut it. Look around. I might as well give you the cash now. Besides, you might pull. I hear the women around here go for that sad, lost look you do so well.”
“Works for you, bitch.” They both giggled as they fought over who would open the door, then who would go up the narrow stairwell first. When we got to the top, no one even looked twice. We passed over money, our hands were stamped, and we went into the darkened room. One whole side was glass windows looking out over the skyline, broken with the uneven brick walls and water towers of the warehouses and tenements. The other side was a long brick wall, half covered with what looked like an old theatre curtain. There were some rescued sofas, strategically placed in corners. Some of them already contained their complement of couples getting to know each other better. I turned around when AC squawked with laughter. “A fucking tin bucket! Cans! PBR. Bud Light.” He shoved Tristan again, then wrapped his arm around him. “Buy me a Bud Light so I can keep my girlish figure.”
“Cheap date,” Tristan snorted.
AC grinned. “No, just cheap.” And he messed up Tristan’s hair affectionately.
“Make that two,” I added, coming up behind them. “Then let’s go outside. I want to see the view.”
AC put his arm around me. “A woman who knows her own mind, I like that. And you know what? I think you’re right.” He tapped Tristan on the shoulder. “Get a six. Let’s go hide outside.”
Beers in hand, we opened the sliding glass door at one end of the wall of windows, pushing aside the draft curtain, and stepped over the ledge. There were a number of people outside, smoking, talking. A couple was leaving their spot at the corner edge, and AC quickly claimed it for us.
“This isn’t so bad,” he said. “Fresh air. Nice view of the Empire State.” He looked over the edge. “Hey, there’s another club across the way. We can check that one out too.” Tristan shot him a look. “Kidding, kidding. This is fine.”
We stood there, looking out over the low rooftops, to the glittering skyscrapers only a few miles away. A dog started to bark.
“It feels like a movie set,” I said. Tristan and AC agreed, then started talking about the videos they had done with Devised and the places just like this where they’d been filmed. I listened to them reminiscing. With the article pretty much wrapped up, it felt good to be able to enjoy their stories without keeping a tally of what might work in the writing. Still, I listened for the details. I couldn’t help it. They were arguing about which one was the best, when I interrupted.
“I finally saw the one AC starred in. Not sure how I missed that one. AC demonstrating his prowess as a lover on screen. Actually it was interesting. Not your usual boy meets girl story. And all the kissing.” I clinked my second beer with AC. “Nice.”
“Oh, really?” AC moved closer to me. “Tell me more.”
“Here we go,” I laughed. “Nothing to tell really. You just looked like you knew your way around a kiss.” AC was studying me, and I was glad he couldn’t see me blush in the dark. I looked out towards the skyline, suddenly wishing I was still smoking. I couldn’t look at Tristan. “No, it was an interesting concept. That’s all.” I swallowed some more beer.
AC laughed. “You hear that, Tristan? She thought I looked like I was a good kisser on that video we did.” He smiled. “Back in the day, wasn’t it? One of the most enjoyable shoots we ever did.”
Tristan smirked. “That’s because the director decided you should be the one kissing the girl.”
AC poked at Tristan’s chest. “Oh you poor love. You were usually the love interest—while the rest of us watched.”
“There’s a reason for that, AC.” Tristan winked.
“Is that so? I thought I was doing all right the other night.” He punched Tristan in the arm playfully and turned to me. “Watched the video a couple of times, did you Lils?” He didn’
t wait for my answer. “What do you think? One reason why you thought I was a good kisser.”
Tristan was staring at me, his eyes steady and deep. I turned from him to AC, trying for a joking tone. “You know, the usual.” I thought about the video, but different images kept appearing in my head. AC at the end of the bed. AC in the limo, teasing Tristan. AC, taking his clothes off, standing there… I tried to think of the video. “You looked like you were enjoying it. And—your face…” I faltered. I wasn’t sure how to put it. I suddenly felt the weight of every word, like a key in a cylinder lock. Every variation mattered. I felt like I’d been stripped bare. I looked away.
AC’s voice brought me back, gentle but insistent. “Go on, Lily. I’m curious, really. What did you see?”
I closed my eyes. What had I seen when I watched the video? Something that had made me curious about him, made me watch his moves, look at his eyes when he played. Something there that I hadn’t noticed before, and now I saw every time I looked. I tried to remember the scene, his arms around the woman, who seemed very willing but very normal. In fact, unlike most videos, she wasn’t the half-dressed writhing focus. It was all him. The camera closed in on him, watching him rearrange his body for a better angle, watching him make her more comfortable, bending in, her slight movement, the crease between his eyes, as his mouth moved with hers… How to say all this? I shook my head, and gazed up at him, forcing myself to look into his eyes. That look. That strange sadness and quiet observation under the jokes. Waiting. Knowing how to wait.
“You didn’t take, you gave. You looked so intense, your expression. But you were so gentle with her, you never overpowered her, never pushed her. You let her come to you. Your body was there. For the taking.” I couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that I tried to quash before I said anything else. “Like you were really enjoying yourself. Not a power trip.”
AC smiled, a slow sweet smile that reached his eyes like watercolor paint filling a wet sheet. I shifted. I felt like I’d forgotten how to stand. “Power can be fun too, though.” He turned towards Tristan and the look that passed between them was warm, grateful, secret.
Tristan smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
AC’s expression didn’t change. “I know.” He reached out and placed his elegant guitarist’s hand on Tristan’s shoulder, and gave him a quick squeeze. But then he turned back to me. “So Lils. Want to take it for a drive?”
My eyes widened. His light eyes had turned dark, full of an emotion I wasn’t sure I recognized.
AC now reached out his hand for me. I expected him to touch my shoulder, but he held my hand, softly, like we were on some teenage first date. It was reassuring. Yet. Oddly frustrating. Like it wasn’t enough. “One kiss. See if we can replicate the video. No harm there, right?” He gazed up at Tristan. “Tristan here will watch, make sure we do it right.” He paused, and this time the pressure on my hand increased slightly. I looked at him, surprised. He just smiled, that same slow sweet smile, like he had all the time in the world, and everyone else would eventually catch up. “What do you think, Lily?” Here his arm was curling around me and then we were standing side by side. “Time, that thief. But you have all the time you need now.”
I felt frozen, even with the energy of his body thrumming through me, warm, tempting. Too tempting, too much to process. I tried to stand still, pretend I didn’t feel him, so alive next to me, insinuating his arm further around me, slowly, so slowly. Another band started playing inside, louder than the last one. The bass was rattling the windows. He leaned over.
“Whisper something to me. Something you like. Follow it with a kiss. We can start there.” And he tilted his head, ever so slightly. I could see the contours of his ear, the slight slope of his neck, his skin, all clean, all perfectly shaped. It struck me that with my heels, we were almost the same height. It would be so easy, too easy, to press my lips against his ear, slip down to his neck. Would he shudder? Would he like it gentle, or wet? I shut my eyes. My mouth seemed even closer than before to his skin. I could just say something. A conversation. In a club. That’s all it was. How close did mouths get to ears when they whispered? It had to be obvious, everyone could see us, couldn’t they? I felt completely exposed, yet it seemed as though a curtain had settled down between us and the rest. They could all be staring, I had no idea. I just kept looking at his neck. Did he just bend it slightly further? He was under me now, and he was offering himself up, I could feel it. A game, a tease. Just for a moment. My eyes were fixed on the smooth line of skin behind his ear. A desperate desire to trace the ridges of his ear with my tongue came to mind. It was though one little cord was holding me back. One connection to sanity.
His voice broke through. “It’s loud out here. I’m a bit deaf in that ear from the amps. Come on, Lily, talk to me. I think you’ve got something to say.” Like a silver scissor, the words cut through my last hold on restraint. I found myself up against his ear, but there were still a few millimeters separating us, all propriety intact.
I could think of nothing to say except everything I was thinking of. And I couldn’t say that. So I repeated his words, brain already disconnected from conscious thought. The tunnel vision of desire. Sensory overload. My voice came out. My eyes seemed to be shut. Too much, too much. “It is loud. Like clubs always are.” Like a low whisper, I almost thought I could hear his thoughts. Desire entering into the game, sly as it always was, elusive, suddenly present.
“Yes.” His voice was slow, dissolving my thinking. His neck was still curved beautifully, like a dancer. I could see one vein, beating below his ear. I hadn’t realized I was still staring. “Your mouth, Lily. Use it.”
Resolve broke, and I crossed the wide river of space separating us, broke through that barrier. Then my mouth was on his ear, softly feeling it under my lips, my fingers on his neck, my nose tickling at his soft skin. I heard him sigh, from very far away. Then my tongue finally darted out to taste him, his small sculptured ear, all nerve endings. I traced the curve and bent down to his neck. The way he tilted his head, it was like total surrender. I had the impression I could do anything I liked, anything I wanted, and he would just smile that slow smile and watch. I pressed my mouth against his neck and pressed my breasts against his arm. Just a little, to try and relieve some of the pressure. It was the way he reacted, it had to be. The way he moved.
AC’s voice was firm. “Stop thinking, Lily. You’ve always been curious, haven’t you? It’s the way you are.” His hands came up and touched my face, so lightly. My eyes were closed, all sensation. Somewhere around us, I could feel Tristan, his watchful, edgy energy. It was too late to wonder or worry. His voice broke through again. “Can we kiss now?”
I moved my mouth blindly towards the sound of his voice. If I opened my eyes it would all be over. This way it was a like a dream, a pleasant, painful dream. Then his lips were just touching mine, soft, with barely any pressure, silken, a flowing circle. It made me want more, and there was no more. Just the gentle heat of his mouth on mine, promising, nothing else. Then his tongue slipped in between my lips, the same way his arm had snaked around my body, slow, waiting, exploring, like he had nothing else to do but this, forever. When his tongue pressed more resolutely against mine it was like he had entered me, the soft wet firmness of his tongue. Everywhere. I wanted him everywhere, and it scared me. I was breathing heavily, and my hands went up to his shoulders, about to push him away.
And then he pulled away first, his mouth instantly by my ear. “Imagine, Lily. The two of us. All my slowness, all his power. You could go from one to the other. Me to him. Him back to me.”
I looked at him, unable to say anything, my breath still ragged. He ran his hand, warm like honey, slowly down my neck and over my breasts, stopping finally to rest at my waist. “I could corrupt you. Tristan wouldn’t mind, he’s already there. Remember all those games we played together, Tristan. Back in the day. I think this one would
be better though.”
I looked up at Tristan, unsure what I would see in his face. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes black. I knew that look, he was making his mind up about something. But his eyes. I’d never seen them like that, like he was ill, dark circles around his eyes, his long lashes standing out against his skin, barely any color left at all. Then his jaw tightened, and he nodded to the air. Tristan watched us, and then glanced quickly around the room. He took one of each of our hands.
His voice, when it finally came, was a low steady beat. The tone alone decided everything. He spoke very slowly. “You two are probably my best friends in the world. Well, Trevor. Bloody hell, if he were here I’d probably say yes to him too.” He pulled us over to an even darker corner of the terrace. Quickly, while gazing around to make sure no one was watching, he pressed both of our hands against his hardness. Even through his jeans, the heat was rolling off him in waves. His eyes fluttered shut and his muted groan tore through my skin like a knife.
“This is a terrible idea. Or a great one. But let me direct.” He pressed us to him once more, letting out a long sigh. “Fuck,” he lowered his voice another octave, “I could come right now.” AC pulled me closer to him and dragged both our hands down Tristan’s considerable length, ducking between his legs and pressing up between them. “Fuck, Lil. AC. If this were one of the old clubs…”
AC pressed again. I was shocked how hard he pushed our hands against the darkest places, almost hard enough to bruise. Tristan took a deep breath in. “Remember that one, Tristan? You know which one I mean. That one.” It was all he said, but he turned to me, pulling our hands away from Tristan, and placing them on me, on the same spot they had been on Tristan, but with such lightness I almost wanted to feel what the other touch was like. His fingers explored briefly and I rocked against him, almost involuntarily. I let out a long sigh I didn’t know I’d been holding and it came out as a sob, almost.
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