Chasing Love's Wings

by Zoey Derrick

  Tristan takes a smoke from me and lights up. I scowl at him. “What are you nervous about?”

  “Not a damn thing. I just want to stand with you.” I roll my eyes and he smirks at me.

  After a couple of minutes the luggage is loaded onto the plane and the pilots are ready. Tristan and I both climb on board and head to the seats that face Tyson and Jolene. Jolene is pale as a ghost.

  “Oh shit, Jo.” She looks at me. “God, I completely forgot.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and go to the stewardesses cabin for the Valium that’s stored there. “Here,” I say as I come back with a bottle of water and the pill. “Remind me next time.” She gives me a half smile.

  I walk to the cockpit. “We need about twenty minutes before we can take off.”

  “We’re cleared to take off now,” the co-pilot says.

  “I understand, but I am not in the mood to clean up vomit, so give her a minute, would you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the pilot says, then turns back and starts talking through his headset, delaying our departure.

  I go back and take my seat across from Jolene. “Better yet?” She shakes her head at me. “Remind me next time.” I give her a half smile.

  Tristan and Ty are in their own conversation and I don’t pay them much attention.

  After a couple of minutes, Jolene’s color starts to return and her eyelids begin to get heavy. “You good, girl?”

  She nods slowly and I stand, walking back toward the cockpit. I knock on the now-closed door. It opens. “We’re good to go as soon as we’re clear.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When I return to my seat, Jolene is sleeping and breathing softly. Tyson snuggles up to her and kisses her forehead.

  Tristan does the same and whispers, “She doesn’t like flying?”

  “Not like. Loathe is probably a better term for it. It freaks her out.”

  “I didn’t notice when we left Tarah, but she did sleep all the way back to Phoenix.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.”

  It is around seven when we land in Billings. I’ve arranged for a car and driver to take us to the house I’ve rented for all of us for the next month. It is plenty big for the four of us plus the others, when and if they decide to come up. However, at the house are two rental cars — one for Tristan to use back and forth from the set, and one for Jolene and I to use wherever we want to go.

  “Should we stop for dinner?” Jolene asks as we all climb into the car.

  “Sure. The house should be stocked, but by the time we get there and make food, it will be really late.”

  Tyson turns to our driver and lets him know we want to stop somewhere good to eat and asks if he has any recommendations, and we’re off.

  “Am I going to have to worry about the fans tonight?” Tristan asks Tyson, who shrugs. “Thanks, that’s reassuring.”

  Tyson laughs. “Well it is no secret that you’re scheduled to start filming the day after tomorrow, and it is no secret that it is happening here in Billings, so I wouldn’t be surprised. But given that this place looks like a hole in the wall, I don’t think it will be too bad here tonight.”

  “Well, we will deal with it if it becomes an issue,” I say to Tristan. “Don’t worry about it until we have to.”

  He gives me a half smile. “You know I always worry about it.” I smile and nod. Yes, I know.

  “How are you feeling, Jo?”

  “Ohmygod, so much better now that we’re here. I slept like the dead,” she says a little enthusiastically.

  We all laugh. “Good. I’m glad.” I can tell that something is a bit off with Jo — something about the way she looks at me — and I get the impression that she is dying for some girl time.

  “Tristan, what time do you have to go by the set tomorrow?” I ask, trying to help Jolene see that I get her message.

  “I have to be there by ten but should only be there for a couple of hours. Why?”

  “No reason, was thinking that Jo and I could come back into Billings for some girl time. Was wondering how long we’d have.”

  “Oh, couple hours, but take as long as you like. I need to run some lines and focus a little bit tomorrow,” he says, but I can tell he is reading what I’m really asking him. More than a couple hours.

  “Great. How’s that sound, Jo? Shopping tomorrow?”

  She nods at me enthusiastically, and Tyson smiles at our plans.

  TWELVE

  ******

  Bobby

  ******

  Tristan Michaels in Billings, MT with alleged girlfriend and owner of Bold International, Cami Enders, daughter of the late Robert Enders, seen outside a family diner Wednesday night.

  Tristan is in town for the filming of a new movie, Catalyst, which started filming earlier this week.

  It is unknown whether Cami’s presence is for personal or business reasons, though they were spotted sitting pretty close together inside the restaurant, source says.

  I stop reading. Somehow I always knew they would end up together, whether personally or professionally. I’d wanted them to meet, but it just never happened.

  “So you’ve come to Montana.” My heart starts racing. Does she know that I’m here?

  I pick up my burner phone and turn on the power, wait a moment, and the voicemail indicator pops up. I press and hold 1 until the call connects to voicemail. Entering 0616 I listen as the voicemail begins to play.

  “She knows, she’s in Montana, but I don’t know what her intentions are at this point. Will let you know if I hear any more.” Click, ending the voicemail, and I delete it.

  No names, no identifying information. But I don’t need it. It’s Vincent.

  She’s been in town for two days. Tristan should’ve started filming today, but judging from the picture in the paper, they are not alone: Tyson I recognize, of course, and another gal, a redhead. I wonder who she is?

  I leave my desk and head to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, pondering how this will go when and if she does show up here.

  A small part of me doesn’t want her to. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, at least not for the fact that I faked my own death, but I would like to hope she could forgive me for the other things in her life.

  Evelyn was such a bitch. I did what I had to do in order to keep my children in my life. Well, for what they were in my life. I refused to let her win, and I refused to let her take them away from me. She hated them so much. I could never understand how. They’d done nothing wrong to her.

  When we got together I already had Mark, but things with her toward Mark were fine. Things were good between us, and somewhere between then and Cameron being born, something changed in her and I hated every single second of it. She threatened me with divorce, and I was only too happy to oblige her until she wanted more than seventy-five percent of what I was worth and the children. The money she could have, but the children, no way in hell.

  In all honesty, reflecting back on it now, my reaction to what I saw and the danger I saw myself in was no doubt over the top and unnecessary. I’m sure that there could’ve been a way to work it out. I mean, technically all I saw was a man and a lot of drugs. Not that I’d never seen drugs before.

  But there was some seriously heavy weight on my shoulders between the company, the company’s financial problems, and the fact that the supplier I’d hired to supply my clientele with drugs was likely responsible for the accidental overdose of one of my clients. Though she wasn’t a big name, her death weighed heavily on me, but I rationalized it as being Tick’s fault for changing suppliers and not telling her that she was working with the purest of the pure drugs out there.

  Of course there was my own anger at Tick, knowing full well that he switched suppliers so that he could con my clients out of more money than necessary, therefore making himself more money. I heard about six months ago that he got his own payback when someone turned on him and shot him.

  Also, by making myself disappear, Cameron and the others
in the company had plausible deniability when it came to the drugs. That operation was between Tick and myself. Though Vincent knew of him, he didn’t know details.

  The whole operation was a way to control where my clients went for their drugs, to try to protect them from crap street drugs, shit that could kill them. Was I enabling them? Sure, but in my mind it was a way of controlling the source, considering I couldn’t control the addiction.

  I bring myself back to the present, out of the thoughts that led me to this point in my life.

  Despite what I put them through, I was still at every major event in their lives, especially Cameron’s. I hope she saw that part of all those discs I sent her. She hates me so; I couldn’t even begin to tell her that I was there, and she never gave me the chance.

  I just hope she will...some day.

  THIRTEEN

  ******

  Tristan

  ******

  “All right, man, no more games. What is going on between you and Cami?” Tyson asks. We’ve just returned to my trailer on set for our lunch break, despite the two o’clock hour.

  “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  He gives me that look, the one like, Are you stupid? “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Dammit, Ty, this is not the place for this.”

  “Like hell it’s not. You guys have been boiling hot, now you’re lucky if you’re lukewarm. And I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that it is affecting everything you do. Including this crap.” He waves his arm around the trailer. “Thank God you haven’t gotten to your love scenes because, ouch.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s bothering me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I know what Tyson is getting at and I haven’t told him anything about what I found out with Cami that night. He’d have already hauled off and killed Bobby by now just to make Cami happy and take the damn man out of the equation. It is becoming clearer and clearer that the longer we’re here in Billings, the more withdrawn she becomes and I hate it. It is eating at her.

  “If I tell you, damn it, Tyson, this stays between us. You can’t go telling Jolene or anyone. You get me?”

  “I get you, but you know better than that.”

  He’s right, I do. Everything between Tyson and me stays between him and me. “This is fucking huge, Ty, promise me.”

  “Damn, yeah, I promise.”

  I take a deep breath; I might as well dive right into it. “Someone Cami thought to be dead...isn’t.”

  “Whoa. Who?” I give him a ‘Think about it, stupid’ look. “What the fuck? You can’t be serious.”

  “As a heart attack.” Fuck, wrong choice of words.

  “How the hell...” He doesn’t finish his question and he doesn’t have to. It’s something I’ve been wondering about for weeks now. “When did you find out?”

  “Do you remember the night I came home from L.A., back in July?” He nods. “When I got into the living room, she was completely shitfaced. And I mean falling-down drunk. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d taken me to the airport in.”

  “Fuck, man.”

  “That’s how she cut her foot. She shattered a wine glass when I scared the hell out of her. She was too drunk to remember about it breaking, and before I could stop her, she stepped on the glass. Anyway, the night that I left, Mick and Beau gave her a package that contained a shit ton of crap from Bobby. Which wasn’t that big of a deal until she discovered his video apology.”

  “So how does she know he’s alive?”

  “The video. The date and time stamp on the video said it was June second, twenty twelve. A week before I met her, and two weeks before her twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “That could’ve been a mistake, those things are never accurate.”

  “That was my argument too, but then she continued the video, and he showed her where to find him. It was a long shot, and I’m not even sure she knew then where it was, but ever since we got here to Montana, she’s slowly been pulling away from me. Closing in on herself. So I know now that she knows he is here and doesn’t know how to handle it.”

  “How do you know he’s here?”

  “Mick told me. It’s the house that Bobby bought and supposedly sold about three months before his ‘death.’ I’m afraid that we’re going to go home one night and she’ll be gone. Either to him or that she’ll run away from Montana. But she needs to figure it out, she won’t talk to me about it.” I take a deep breath. It kills me to have to come to work, some days for hours upon hours, not knowing what is going on with her back at the house.

  So far she’s been there every night, but each day it eats at her a little more and it’s killing me. I don’t know what to do or how to help her.

  We finally wrap with filming around eight at night and Tyson and I head back to the house. I hold my breath until we come around the corner and I can see the car in the front. I let out a rushed breath, and finally Tyson understands my own mood and how I’ve been different when I leave and when we come home.

  The weather here in Montana has grown chillier; it is creeping into September and Labor Day weekend, which I will be working, unfortunately.

  Tyson and I step into the house, and dinner smells great. We both head to the kitchen, only it is Jolene and not Cami standing over the stove. “Where’s Cams?”

  She smiles at me. “In your bedroom.”

  “Thanks.” I step out of the room as Tyson embraces Jolene. It’s sickly sweet the way he treats her, but then again, I do the same thing to Cami.

  I walk down the hall to the double doors to the master bedroom, our bedroom. I can see the light coming from under the door, but I don’t hear anything as I approach. My heart starts to pound a little harder and I’m instantly freaked out. I reach for the doorknob, and it’s locked. I knock loudly. “Cams, open up.” No response. Damn it. “Cami.” I pound harder.

  “What going on?” Tyson says behind me.

  “It’s locked.” I turn and pound on it again. “Cami, come on, open the door.”

  Tyson is at my side and we’re both trying to get her attention, and nothing. “Jo, how long has she been in there?” Tyson shouts.

  “Maybe an hour, I don’t know. She said she wasn’t feeling good and was gonna go lay down.”

  “Fuck!” I throw my shoulder into the door; it ricochets back at me and doesn’t budge. I go at it again, and finally on the third try it gives way and I storm into the room.

  Cami is lying across the bed. She looks like she is sound asleep, except for one thing: She’s holding a bottle of Crown in her hands.

  “I got this, Ty,” I say, and he understands and leaves the room.

  “Holler if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  I close the door behind him; luckily it is a French door, so I didn’t actually break anything, but it rubs a little when I close it back up. Probably knocked a hinge loose. I take a deep breath, go to the bed and sit down.

  “Cami,” I say, but she doesn’t move.

  I reach over and use my knuckles on her breast plate, and she jumps awake. “Ouch, what the hell was that for?”

  “Welcome back.” I take the bottle out of her hands.

  “Hey, give that back,” she protests.

  “Not a chance in hell. What the hell is going on with you?” My voice is harsher than I mean it to be.

  “What the fuck do you care?”

  That’s it. I stand up and walk around to the foot of the bed so that I am in her direct line of sight. “If this is your way of pushing me away, it’s fucking working, Cameron. We promised to talk about everything and you’re shutting me out, just like you’ve shut everyone else out of your life. Stop it.”

  “The son of a bitch is alive. He’s put me through hell my entire life, then he goes and dies on me just when we’re finally getting somewhere. I can’t love anyone because I don’t know how. So yes, Tristan, pushing you away is all I know how to do.”

  I’m going t
o let the ‘I can’t love anyone’ comment go. She’s drunk and I don’t believe her. “If you have so much resentment toward your father, go, talk to him, tell him, yell at him. Do not take his choices out on me. Damn it, Cami, I am not him.” I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger I am feeling toward her. “I am your boyfriend, your friend and your lover. I am not your father. Go, talk to him, find the answers you need to find in order to get back to the woman I fell in love with.”

  “Oh, great, now you don’t love me either.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Cami. Of course I love you, but this...” I wave my hand in her direction. “This is not you or who you are. This is your mind and body being controlled by something that scares you half to death. You can’t even begin to imagine how to handle it. Except for with a bottle and, goddammit all to hell, I will not let you drink yourself into the ground. You are so much better than this, and you are so much better than Bobby. Get it off of your chest. Go, dammit, go talk to him. Or I will.”

  She looks up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t face that kind of pain ever again.”

  “What do you call this? You’re tearing yourself up inside because you think you can’t face it. You’re doing this to yourself because you haven’t even tried. You once told me, on the beach, that you would give anything for one more chance to talk to him, one more chance to find out all the answers to all your questions. This is it, this is your chance, and you’re wasting it in yet another bottle of Crown.” I lean down so that I can get in her face. “I love you, Cameron, from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head and then some. I will not sit here while you destroy yourself, and you can easily fix your problem. Go, talk to him.” She lets out a harsh breath straight into my face, and all I can smell is the Crown Royal she’s been drinking. “Tomorrow.”