by Cari Quinn
Besides, he had some steps to get through first before he found out the answer to that question.
Some very important people he needed to talk to.
Though he’d only been to this particular location once in his life, he didn’t need GPS. Somehow the events of that day were so hardwired into his brain that he was certain he could’ve found his way there blindfolded.
Traffic that normally would’ve made him snarl just left him quiet and reflective. Hard to worry about such pedestrian things as a minor delay when confronted with life or death.
He drove along the winding road that looped through hills of green, dotted with lovely floral arrangements and stone crosses and simpler square markers. His chest grew more constricted with every one he passed. He hadn’t come here for a number of reasons. Time got away from him, he didn’t know what to say, it felt stupid talking to a patch of earth and grass. His best friend wouldn’t be here anyway. His spirit was long gone, floating above them. Looking down because of course heaven had been his destination.
Randy Pruitt belonged nowhere else—except here, still with them. That was where he belonged most of all.
Tristan parked the Volvo and got out, gripping the door longer than necessary. Cemeteries unnerved him. That he even had to visit one at all to speak to his buddy…well, that made him sadder than he had words to convey.
Of course he’d talked to Randy in his head a few times. Never out loud. He hadn’t gone down that road yet, but it might happen one of these times when Jules vexed him.
Or when he just missed his friend so much he had to do something or he’d lose his goddamn mind.
Despite the size of the place, it didn’t take him long to find the right spot. They’d picked it painstakingly. Jules wanted it to get sun, but not so much that the grass would get brown. A large sycamore provided a bit of shade as well and palm trees added their own beauty. The marker was simple granite, but it wasn’t small. Jules had insisted on that. She’d wanted his resting place to be understated, as Randy was, but visible enough that it could easily be seen as people walked the path nearby.
Tristan had been so dazed that he’d gone along with most of her arrangements, finding more to agree with than disagree. She knew Randy as well or better than he did after all.
And Randy had adored her with every ounce of his being.
Tristan ran his hand along the smooth top of the stone, rereading the words he knew by heart.
Beloved partner, father, son, brother, and friend.
The distance between Randy’s birth and death dates wasn’t nearly enough years. He’d been so young with so much left to do.
Tristan opened up the flask he’d had tucked in his pocket and took a long belt. The whisky went down smooth, so he took another. He’d drained half of the contents before he capped the bottle and tucked it away again. Then he lowered himself to the earth, careful not to trample the arrangement of fresh lilies they had delivered weekly. Randy had mentioned wanting to name the baby Lily if she was a girl, though Jules had said that was a little too close to her manager’s name for her liking. She’d wanted the baby to be completely his or her own person, not tied to anyone who had come before.
They’d managed that for Joshua’s first name, but his middle name felt right. Some ties were necessary.
“Hey, man. Sorry it took me a while to get here.” Tristan cleared his throat and rotated his commitment ring around his finger. “It’s a pretty spot. I knew it was. Jules wouldn’t have settled for anything less.” He let out a dry laugh. “It wasn’t just her decision, but c’mon, we both know who rules the roost in our house, right?”
He could hear Randy laughing at him in his head. For a second, leaves rustled across the path and he startled, whipping his head around as if he expected his friend to be right there, grinning at him.
Jeez, Tris, easily spooked these days, aren’t you? Are you expecting ghosts to jump out at you?
Bad enough ghosts were in his head, filling it with memories he couldn’t stand to remember nor bear to forget.
He ran a hand over his face and fought the itch in this palm to reach for the flask again. Not quite yet. He needed to get through this without any more chemical courage.
“I always thought I was the kind of guy who rolled with the punches. I make decisions in a split second and handle whatever comes my way. Have to in my line of work. Being prepared means dealing with anything. Like suddenly a table of eight just came in and you’re shorthanded. Tough cookies. You do what you have to do and you make it work. But this…”
Tristan pulled his ring almost all the way off his finger before sliding it back down into the groove where it belonged. “I don’t know how to do this. It’s heading toward a year later and I still don’t. Especially now that Joshua’s here—” He broke off and sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you do and don’t know up there, but our baby’s here, man, and he’s the most perfect creature ever invented. He looks just like me naturally.” He laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “Honestly, I don’t know who he looks like. I go between wanting him to have my eyes then being sure I see your dimples. Hoping I do. It’s the weirdest fucking thing, sharing him with you and Jules. Weird only because I never would’ve guessed it’d be her and me here without you.”
He rubbed the ache brewing in his temples. “You’d know all the right stuff to do, both for our son and for Jules. You always had that way about you. She misses that even-tempered soul of yours, much as it exasperated us both sometimes. So different from us and our artistic shit, though if you ever say I said that, I’ll,” he shut his eyes, “Jesus, I can’t even make a joke anymore. Someone did kill you. For no fucking reason.” His voice thickened. “And I don’t know how I’m ever going to get past it. Or how she’ll get past it.”
The wind kicked up, skittering more leaves over the nearby walkway. Fall was coming soon. LA’s version of it at the very least, which was barely fall at all. But the days were growing just a bit shorter and the sun was a little lower in the sky. A few leaves had already dared to tumble from the trees.
The first anniversary would be upon them in no time, and he wasn’t ready. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he’d last seen his best friend.
Or five minutes.
“I keep replaying that last day with you.” Tristan shut his eyes, hoping like hell the sting in them would fade. Didn’t work. “How you kept making Jules take pregnancy tests, because you just couldn’t believe it was true. That it could be so easy. We’d barely even tried, and there we were with a baby on the way. You’d already had like ten conversations with the kid and he was probably about the size of a tea bag. He would’ve loved you so much. You would’ve been the one giving him all the important life advice. That was supposed to be your role. Me? I was destined to be the cool dad with the blue streak in his hair and the sexy sports car and quick to hand out condoms and tricks to get girls.” His lips curved despite the heaviness in his eyes. “Or boys. Or both.”
He wiped his jacket sleeve over his face. Christ, he was going to need to drive around for a while before he headed to work. Maybe finish off that flask first.
Maybe even stop at a bar along the way and get a driver to pick him up once the alcohol had done its job.
Yet another way he was different from Randy. Randy never would’ve contemplated a middle of the day bar crawl, even in this situation. It wasn’t his way. He didn’t drink to excess. His responsibilities kept him going, and if he made a commitment, he wouldn’t consider being late—even if he was the boss.
So neither the fuck would Tristan be late, especially not so he could go wallow. He’d done enough of that lately for five lifetimes.
“Again, not sure what you’ve heard up there, but Jules has a big opportunity to go on tour with Brooklyn Dawn. You remember them? Pretty sure I heard you play their stuff back in the apartment in the old days. Pre-Jules days. Though it’s hard to believe we had any of those. She kinda took over our world, didn’t
she?” Tristan managed to smile. “In all the best ways. And now Joshua’s doing the same thing.”
Tris blew out a breath and leaned back on his hands in the grass, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. He could hear a bird singing in one of the nearby trees, and even in the hush of the cemetery, the sounds of traffic sneaked in from just beyond the gates. It was a nice place. They’d chosen well.
“I’m going to go on tour with the band.” Tristan shook his head. “Even all those years knowing Hunter and his crazy lifestyle and then meeting you and seeing the people you worked with, I never expected this would be my reality. I deal with Hollyweird all the time, but I only serve them. I don’t live amongst them and play house. But I guess I’m going to now, me and the baby and Jules. If she’ll have me. Riding on a tour bus like a fucking roadie.” He smiled and blinked hard to dissipate the heat still behind his eyes. “Since the best guy I’ve ever known started out as one, guess I can’t ask for a better life than that.”
He turned his head and made a sound in his throat. An all-white bunny was on the grass behind the stone, staring at him with unblinking eyes. What the hell? It wasn’t so strange for woodland creatures to be in a…well, woodland-type area, but this bunny wasn’t the usual mottled browns Tristan had seen in the past. He was pure, crisp white. And he was focused on Tristan.
He sat up straight as slowly as possible. The bunny didn’t move, just continued watching him. He reached for his phone, drawing it carefully out of his pocket. He managed to swipe through screens fast enough to get to the camera to take a shot before the bunny scampered away and vanished.
Heart hammering, Tristan glanced at the photo he’d taken. Though he was sure the bunny had started to run before he’d hit the button, the picture was clear as day. The bunny just gazed at him unblinkingly. Calm as could be.
The wind kicked up again, heavier than before. Tristan exhaled and stared at Randy’s gravestone until the words blurred together.
“I get it, buddy,” he whispered. “I love you too.”
Nineteen
Elle took a long, slow breath and clutched her glass of raspberry seltzer water as she surveyed the crowd at her engagement party.
This was it. Tonight was the night she was getting married.
Beforehand? She was enjoying one hell of a rocking party. At a country club no less, as if she was a proper lady.
She smirked as she sipped. At least the engagement party was happening before the actual ceremony.
Small favors.
“Are these shindigs usually Jack and Jill? I’m not sure what protocol is, but I’m really enjoying the mix of genders.” Her old high school friend Teagan shoved a mini cracker laden with some kind of fancy cheese spread into her mouth.
“You’re enjoying the food and ogling the man candy. Tell the truth.”
Teagan shrugged and reached for another cracker. “Like there’s much single man candy to even ogle. Everyone is matched up or married. Like that big hunk of gloriousness right there.” Teagan gestured with her cracker before she popped it into her mouth.
Elle glanced where her friend had indicated and tried not to let out a soft sigh of pleasure as she gazed at Mal. He was deep in conversation with his brother and Chloe—if deep meant he was looking at the ceiling and tapping his fingers on the table behind him.
But hello, he was all dressed in black from his collarless long-sleeved shirt to his trousers to his boots. Silver glimmered at his wrist from the chunky ID-style bracelet he’d recently received as an engagement gift from his soon-to-be wife.
Their names were inscribed on the oval piece of silver in the center. On the underside of course, so he wouldn’t feel weird about wearing something so, well, not Mal.
At least not the public Mal. Private Mal was a different, more romantic story.
God, he was so romantic. Rushing her off to get married. And that whole JP nonsense he’d mentioned? Pure fiction.
They were getting married on the beach. At midnight. If she didn’t die from sheer joy, it would be a miracle.
Lying to their guests wasn’t the kindest thing, but she had to hope they’d be cool with the choice they’d made once they found out. Elle had already decided not to keep them in suspense too long. She still damn well wanted her bachelorette party, but it’d just be after the ceremony not before. It wasn’t like she’d planned on doing anything all that crazy that night anyway. She didn’t even drink anymore. And instead of getting hitched at Happy Acres during the tour, they would just have the most amazing reception with everyone they loved.
Well, everyone she loved. Mal was a bit stingier with his affections. Which was why she couldn’t begrudge him wanting to keep their actual wedding a little more personal. He wanted her to have the big frou frou public deal too, even if he’d rather die, but she didn’t seem to need that anymore.
All she needed was her guy waiting for her with a ring in his hand and his vows on his lips. The rest was frosting.
She couldn’t help a small, very smug smile as she sipped some more. “Yeah, that one’s definitely taken.”
“I still remember when you were staying with me and so adamant you had no interest in him.”
“Did I say that?” Elle asked innocently, watching him over the rim of her glass. As if he could feel the weight of her stare, he shifted to look her way and brushed his third finger over his fourth finger of his left hand, his version of blowing a kiss. Didn’t smile. Just fucking smoldered at her and reminded her he was about to put a ring on it very soon.
“You sure did, and the bastard is giving you sex eyes right here. Completely blatantly, and I’m completely jealous.” Teagan sighed and turned back to the side table to grab a celery stick filled with something fancier than peanut butter.
Almond butter? Could be. Jules said Tristan had been involved with tonight’s menu, and everything had been absolutely divine.
Not that Elle was able to eat much. She pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. She was so excited and so nervous, she could barely stand still.
Was this how all brides felt on the big day? Maybe it was better they were doing this thing in front of just their closest family. She might pass out, but thankfully, the witnesses would be few. Plus, it would be near dark except for tiki torches and such.
Mal was a damn near genius, along with a stallion between the sheets.
“I still want to know how you landed that redwood.” Teagan shook her head and chewed. She swallowed then kept going. “His player ways were legendary. Like…legendary. To the point that—”
Elle sat down her drink and reached over to cover her friend’s ears. It seemed counterproductive, considering Teagan’s mouth was on autopilot, but the gesture made Teagan stop talking and gaze up at Elle owlishly. “Trust me, I know his legend. I lived with him for years, remember? We just don’t talk about such things so I don’t have a meltdown and ruin my pretty party dress.” She released Teagan and swished the layer of gauzy white netting and lace that covered her skirt.
This wasn’t even her wedding gown. Nope, she’d gone completely non-traditional there. It was a long, slinky, red satin number that was backless and hugged every curve she had and probably added several new ones. She hadn’t told Mal what she was getting so he’d be completely surprised. She’d just picked it up three days ago, when she’d purchased it off the rack at Fred Segal.
Once a cheapskate, always a cheapskate. It was a Crandall family tradition.
As far as she knew, Mal was wearing his all-black ensemble. Worked for her. She glanced at him over her shoulder once more and licked her lips as their gazes met. Big time.
“That guy is so gone for you, I think a groupie could try to mount him right here and he would flick her away like a bug.” Teagan sighed wistfully. “Tell me where I find that, huh? Because it’s damn sure not on Plenty of Fish.” She gave a mock shudder.
“Oh my God, tell me you are not using dating apps. Don’t you know that’s where serial killers hang out to find th
eir victims?”
“That’s my bride-to-be, always optimistic.” Mal looped an arm around Elle’s waist and leaned behind her to pick up her abandoned glass of seltzer. He drank a mouthful and gave her a look like she’d been drinking sewer water. “What is this?”
“It’s seltzer, and it’s low in calories.”
“It’s putrid, and no one should drink this, ever.” He dumped what was left in a potted plant, making Teagan laugh.
Elle shook her head. “See what I endure? He might look hot in his clothes, but he’s basically a big jerk.” Whom she loved more than life, but whatever.
“Uh, I look hot out of my clothes too and you know it.” He brushed a kiss over Elle’s temple while Teagan let out a sound like a whale in distress.
“I can’t with these affectionate displays. It’s just so sweet. And coming from a cave guy like this dude? It’s almost existential.”
Mal stepped back. “Yeah. Okay. See ya.”
He was gone before Teagan had brushed the crumbs off her fingers.
“That is what I do to good guys.” Teagan pointed in Mal’s general direction. Or where he had been before he vanished into the ether. “I chase them off. I’m not even sure how. The bad ones? Stick to me like I’m a fly trap.”
“There’s an image.” Elle brushed her hand down Teagan’s long red hair. She’d restrained her crazy curls into a low ponytail, but they were already on the verge of escape. “Is your ex still hassling you?”
“No. All has been quiet on that front for some time.” Teagan fussed with the strap of her blue flowing top. “I think he might be dating someone.”
“Oh. Are you okay with that?”
“I have no right not to be. I broke up with him. He wasn’t the person I thought he was, Ricki.” Teagan cupped her elbows, drawing her arms in close to her chest.
Reminding Elle all over again how she’d worried that her friend had been abused by someone she’d once loved.
Last fall, when Elle had stayed with her after what had happened at the show in New York, Teagan had just gone through a difficult breakup with her live-in boyfriend. He’d broken in and trashed the place too. Or so they’d thought. Later, they’d discovered it was more crap caused by the same asshole who’d nearly ruined Elle’s life—and had ruined Tristan’s and Jules’s.
