by H. M. Ward
“I didn’t call her.”
“I know. You nailed my brother's girlfriend instead. Great choice, by the way. That made him love you even more—because you know how much Sean likes you already.”
“Sean can go fuck himself.” Why are we hashing out the past? Jon has this way of making his words fake a left followed by a right before he sucker-punches you in the gut. I brace for impact.
“He probably has, several times, but that’s beside the point. The thing that has your junk in a bunch is this girl. She's the same fucking chick from ten years ago! You nailed her. Move on!”
“It was nine years ago.” I realize I shouldn’t have corrected him after I say it.
Jon smirks and sits up, leaning forward to the edge of the couch, and slapping his hands down on the table. “That’s my point. You’re marking the days and pining over some bitch you can’t have. Get over it already!”
“I can’t. You don’t know what she does to me.”
“She’s not fucking here! Trystan, you have everything you ever wanted, and you drive your fucking car into a tree? That was for her, right? Damn man, you’re messed up. Get some Prozac or something before you do something more stupid.”
“Jon, it's not like that.”
“Then what’s it like, Trystan? From here you look fucking nuts.”
I lean forward in the chair and run my hands through my hair. I press my lips together hard, take a steadying breath and smile. I lift my hands and speak as calmly as possible. “Mari is the girl that got away, but I made her leave. I pushed her away. I burned any bridge between us and I did it on purpose.”
“What the hell for?” His voice raises an octave as he speaks. He can tell how much Mari means to me, so my actions make no sense.
“Because, I couldn’t be there for her. When she needed me most, I couldn’t be with her without bringing the fucking press along. How am I supposed to have a life with her like this? I thought one day it would die down, and everyone would forget about me.”
“You’re not a one-hit wonder, dude.” Jon laughs and sits back into the cushions on the sofa. We sit silently for a moment, both staring out the window before he shifts his gaze back to me. “So that’s why you stabbed her in the back? You didn’t know how to handle the press?”
I nod and hold my head in my hands, staring at the floor. “It was right before my first concert when her mom died. It was the only way I knew how to deal with it—what was I supposed to do? Show up at the funeral with paparazzi? That’s wrong on so many levels.”
“Trystan, this is part of your life. It might die down from time to time, but it’ll never go away completely. There will always be someone who wants to see the human side of you, and you’re right—they would have crashed her funeral and fucked it up. But that doesn't mean you should have left her.”
I put my hands on my knees and push up. I pace the floor in front of the terrace. “I can’t keep talking about this. I made the decision a long time ago, and I can’t undo it.”
“But you wish you could?”
“I don’t know. The same shit will go down at Seth’s funeral. I can’t do that to Katie.”
“But you can explain it to her and let her decide. You didn't give Marie that chance.” Jon stands up and walks over to the bar. He pulls a bottle of Coke out of the mini fridge under the bar and pops the top.
“You’re saying her name wrong. It’s Mar-ee, not Marie.”
Jon is chugging the soda. When he comes up for air, he apologizes. “Sorry, before today you've never even said her name. The point here is that Mari never had the chance because you never gave it to her. If you care about Katie, talk to her.”
“Of course I do. I told Seth I’d watch out for her if anything happened to him.”
“Good,” he says as if I'd just had a profound understanding of something.
“What’s good about any of this?” Jon is usually pretty straightforward, literal, and loyal. He’d give you the shirt off his back without a second thought.
“You may have lost one friend, but this situation gives you another chance—a chance you blew the first time that won’t come by again. You don’t make promises lightly, Trystan. I know that. Everyone knows that. But you can’t stop living your life because the press is on your ass. They're part of life for guys like us, and if I know anything about it, it’s that you need to let the people who love you decide shit like this. You belong to the public—you make your money because they like you. For them to like you, they have to have access to your life and all the shit that entails. I can tell the press to fuck off. You can't.”
I don’t know what to think about that. I’ve heard it for years—I belong to the public, my life isn’t mine, it belongs to the people who put me in this penthouse high above the city. I miss the silence, the quietness of an empty theater, and the anonymity that comes with walking down a street where no one knows my name. Those days have long passed. My friends from that era of my life are few. After the way I treated Mari the other night, I don’t know if she’ll ever talk to me again.
Jon catches my mood and walks over to me. He looks down at the city with me and slaps a hand on my back. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but I think you need to. The press has a way of destroying everything they touch, but you destroyed this on your own. You gave up before you even tried. Guys like us don’t get many real friends, Trystan. She was there for you back when you had nothing, and she would be there for you through all this, too—assuming you didn’t put a knife in her back.”
When I glance up at him, he knows I already did.
“Shit," he says quietly. "So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
Chapter 21
Trystan
I take the Aston Martin onto Ocean Parkway, heading away from the city. I floor it once as I pass the lights and feel the salty sea air clinging to my skin. I breathe in deeply, letting it fill my body. I hope I’m doing the right thing, and not dumping more shit on my friend's widow. I head toward Katie's place, hoping to find her alone. It feels wrong to have this conversation over the phone. My gut instinct says I shouldn’t attend Seth’s funeral or burial, but I need to say goodbye. I need to see the casket lower into the ground and read the headstone. It still feels like he’s alive and about to walk through the door at any second. I need closure, but I can’t take it at Katie’s expense. I promised Seth I’d watch out for her and I will.
When I’m closer to her apartment, I voice-dial her phone number. Katie picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Scotty. What’s up?” Her voice sounds so somber and not bouncy like it usually is.
“I’m headed your way. We need to talk, and I prefer to do it in person. Are you home?”
“Psh, yeah. Where else would I be?”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Sure. Just come in when you get here. The door is unlocked. Walk through the bedroom and I’m sitting on the back balcony.”
“Okay, be there in a few.” I end the call and floor it. The rush of wind in my ears drowning out the beat of my heart.
No one knows why I hit that tree the other night, and I don’t intend to tell them either. I’d rather they think I was drunk than know what really happened.
I pull up in front of Katie’s apartment, put the top up, and rush inside before someone sees me. A Yankees cap covers my face, and I keep my head down. I skip the elevator and bound up the steps, taking them two at a time. When I get to her door, I try the knob. It’s open like she said. I step inside and place my cap and keys on the table at the entry.
“Katie?” I call out to her, but I guess she can’t hear me outside. I walk through her bedroom to find her on the balcony, slouched in a plastic chair, wearing a hot-pink baseball cap with her hair tucked underneath.
I put a hand on her shoulder and crouch down next to her, expecting to see Katie. But it’s not her.
Mari jumps and nearly falls out of the chair. “Trystan! What
are you doing here?”
The touch blasts me with a jolt of calmness followed quickly by shock. I jump back up and take a step back, feeling how desperately she wants to get away from me. I don’t even need to touch her to feel that. The look on her face says it all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was looking for Katie. She said she was out here.”
Mari’s lips bunch up, and she frowns. “About ten minutes ago, Katie suggested I sit out here and read this amazing book.” She holds up a Kindle and smirks. “She’s not here. She went to the funeral home to work out the rest of the details with Seth’s mom.”
“But I just talked to her on the phone ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, like I said, she’s not here.”
It takes me a second, but I realize what Katie did. “She thinks we should talk, doesn’t she?”
“Apparently.” Mari is too quiet, and it unnerves me. She’s hurting, I can feel it course through my gut, her pain flowing into me.
I’m not sure if I caused this or if it’s the aftermath of losing Seth. Either way, I’m not going to add to her suffering. “I’ll just head out, then.” I walk quickly back toward the front door and grab my things, not turning to look at her for fear of what she'll say.
I made such a big mistake with her. If I had everything to do over again, I’d do it differently. I was so young and stupid back then. I didn’t know how to handle my life, and the casualty was my relationship with the only woman I ever truly loved.
Just as I reach for the knob, someone knocks. I pull it open and am standing face to face with a guy of my height and build, with light blue eyes, dark hair, and a frown on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He says, pushing through the doorway and shoving me back in with him.
Mari steps between us. “Trystan is here to speak with Katie.”
“The fuck you are,” the guy says to me over her head. He’s working his jaw like he’s going to unhinge it and swallow me whole. He’s a snake. Everything about him screams slime. I want to know why he’s here, but I don’t have to ask. If he hates me, he knows I had a relationship with Mari.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I say stepping around Mari. “I’m Trystan Scott, Mari’s ex-boyfriend.”
The guy swings at me.
Mari screams, “Derrick!”
I dodge his fist, grab his wrist and yank him forward. The guy does a face plant on Katie’s carpet. “Sorry, I don’t fight pussies.” I step past his spread-eagle body and flop down in a chair next to the sofa.
“Trystan.” Mari scolds me the way she used to when I was pissing off Tucker on purpose. The flecks of gold in her eyes make them look like they’re on fire.
I fold my hands in my lap and don’t move.
Derrick is off the floor and standing in front of me. He pulls Mari into his arms and practically pisses on her to mark his territory. “You had your chance asshole. She’s with me now and always will be.”
I don’t get it until he lifts her left hand. There’s a diamond ring on her finger.
Reality hooks my gut and rips it from my body. My breath vanishes from my lungs, and I can’t speak. Mari’s big brown eyes soften, and I know she didn’t want to tell me like this, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
I smile at them, grateful I can act. “That’s awesome, dude. Why don’t you go fuck her now, too, just to make sure I don’t try anything? You've marked her in every other way possible since you walked in the door.” I smirk at him, adding, “Psychotic jealousy doesn’t look good on you. Also, if you want her to forget me, you should try to look less like me. Go to the GAP and buy something else to wear, cut your hair—see if she still likes you then.”
“Trystan, stop.” Mari’s voice has a razor-sharp edge to it. She glares at me, and I look away. Her fiancé starts to say something, but Mari glares at him, and he swallows it. “Derrick, now isn’t a good time for us to talk. Katie is at the funeral home. The funeral will be in the morning, followed by the burial. I’ll be riding with Katie, but I’d like you to meet me there. Please?” Her voice is so passive it kills me.
She thinks she has to beg him to show up? Fuck. That’s my doing. She’s probably afraid he won’t show up at all.
Derrick-the-Dick pulls her into his chest and kisses her clumsily before replying. “Yeah, of course, I’ll be there. Why wouldn’t I be? You need me.”
I say nothing, silently wondering if he knows how things ended between Mari and me. Instead, I smile and wave at him as he leaves. When the door is closed, Mari turns around and presses her back against the door as if she’s relieved.
“So, a ring?”
“Yeah.” Another one-word answer. She doesn’t want to talk to me.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Why? Are you going to promise to come and then not show up?” I don’t like the tone of her voice. Mari isn’t cruel, but I deserved that.
I smile at her, but it fades quickly. “I wish you every happiness, Mari. I truly do.”
The anger on her face fades and changes into something else. I have no idea what she’s thinking—which is weird because I usually know. Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s thinking or feeling? But that look—what is that? Indifference? Annoyance? Resignation? Did she say yes to this clown because she’s tired of waiting? Did I push her to do it?
“Thank you.” Her voice is soft, barely there.
I stand and walk over to her. “I shouldn’t have said those things the other night. You were right, and you deserved to know.”
She shakes her head, almost frantically, and tries to step past me, but I don’t let her. I block her path and trap her between the door and my body. “No, it was none of my business. The past is in the past, and I should have left it there. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, and I regretted them the instant I walked out the door.”
The corner of my mouth wants to pull up into a smile. I feel my body wanting to resume old habits. My feet want to rise on the balls, and my hands want to go behind my back. I want to tease her and make her smile. I want back everything we lost, but now it’s too late.
“It’s all right. I deserved it.”
She shakes her head. “No, you didn’t.”
I glance down and then back into her eyes, careful not to touch her. I never want her to feel like she has to be afraid of me invading her thoughts. “I did. I deserved that and more. I was a shitty friend and have been for a long time. You’ve always been kind to me, Mari, and believe me, I know. It seems like everyone wants something from me, but you never have. You took me as I was, and that was good enough for you. I’m the one who fucked it up.”
Her lips part and I think she’s going to say something about the past, but she doesn’t. Her cheek twitches and her lips tug into a crooked smile. “Do you still need help running lines?” I didn’t expect her to say that. The shock must show on my face because she laughs. “A promise is a promise. And Derrick already knows. Why do you think he’s so pissed?”
“Mari,” I’m looking down at the floor when I say her name. Our shoes are inches apart, but she steps closer to me. I choke on my thoughts, and nothing comes out of my mouth. When I look up, she’s close enough to kiss. “I, uh—” I’m stuttering. Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Are you teasing me?”
“No, I uh,” I swallow hard, wishing she’d step back. I can’t think while I'm so close to her. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and what's-his-name. I can find someone else to help me out with the script.”
“Trystan, it’s fine. I took the next few days off to be here with Katie. You can hang out here as much as you want, and Derrick or Katie will be in and out, so it’s not a big deal.”
“Mari, your fiancé didn’t act like it was nothing. Seriously, I've put you through enough already. I don’t want to add this, too.”
Her eyes are locked on the coffee table when she speaks. “Normally, when something li
ke a funeral pops up, I’d drown myself in work, but I promised Katie I’d stick around so she wouldn’t be alone. It was her idea to run lines here. She wants to hear people talking and slow down the emotional assault that’s about to attack her life. I can’t blame her. It would help her to hear people, and she could help read the script, too. The distraction would be good for her.”
“You’re using Katie against me?”
“I’m not against you, dork.” She throws a pillow at me.
I catch it and hold it at my side. What the hell is she doing? I don’t understand why she’s being so nice. “Then what are you doing? I was an asshole the other night. You should be pissed at me.”
“I was. I’m over it. Life is too short to be mad at people I care about and, for some reason I can’t fathom, I still care about you, you lucky bastard. Derrick agreed to suck it up, and Katie wants to pretend we’re going to sing a Bette Midler duet together. Let her live in la-la land for a while.”
I stand there, stunned at the direction things have gone. “And you?”
A confused expression crosses her face. “What about me?”
“I’m serious, Mari, I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. I know I can’t fix what I did, but—“
She cuts me off, “How do you know? Did you even try?” She stands suddenly and walks toward Katie's room, about to shut me out. “These are strange times, and I’m going with the flow. Anything for Katie. I won’t be able to stay up running lines all night with you if I don’t lay down for a little while now. Get your script and come back. I’ll see you later.” She closes the door without another word.
Chapter 22
Trystan
What the hell just happened? I run my hands through my hair and head down to the car, but when I walk outside the paps are there. Damn it. I can’t come back here.
I jump in the car, elbowing my way through the press—knowing Bob will kick my ass later for ditching him—and peel out before a guy with a camera can jump on my hood. You have no idea what the press will do for a picture until you’ve been on the other end of their lenses. Those bastards have broken into my house, contacted my father, even jumped in front of my moving car—they're desperate. I can’t blame them for acting that way. One shot of me is worth ten grand—minimum. Ten years ago, I would have done the same thing had I owned a camera.
