by Tara Brent
Does she betray her friend? Or does she protect them both by lying?
Chapter 12: A Matter of Trust
The rest of the week was a blur for Bethany. To a point, she was able to fake her way through the holiday festivities. But inside? She was a complete mess. And every fake smile and forced laugh chipped away at her ordinarily happy soul.
She really didn’t know what to think. I am NOT supposed to bear the weight of the bomb that Colleen just dropped on me. Then again, wow, I'm an awful person. She probably needed to get it off her chest and trusted me. Only, how can I lie to Tristan? If he finds out that I knew this and never said anything, could he ever forgive me? Darn it, Colleen! But again, she's the one suffering, how can I blame or judge her?
“You alive in there?” asked Tristan.
“Hmm? Wha? Who what when where why? And how?” said Bethany.
Tristan laughed. “I was asking if you’re ready for the big event.”
“Right! Yes! Yeah, I am. Sorry, spaced out,” said Bethany.
“It hasn’t escaped my attention that you’ve been doing quite a lot of that recently,” said Tristan. "Anything, in particular, bothering you?"
“Oh, no,” she said, “I guess it’s just a bit crazy having the whole family visiting for the whole week leading up to Christmas, not to mention meeting you...” her voice trailed off.
“Whatever you say, darling,” he said. “And if I might say, you look lovely.”
Bethany blushed, pushing the bad thoughts away and trying to keep the night special. “Thank you, Tristan.”
“And if I may, can I bestow upon you an early Christmas present?”
Bethany scowled at him. “I’m pretty sure tonight is already an early Christmas present, and I already agreed to let that slide against my better judgment."
“Would you rather not go?” Tristan teased.
“WHAT NO STOP SHUT UP I’m just saying that we set our cap at one hundred dollars specifically so that you don’t go crazy and buy me a space shuttle or Zimbabwe or the crown jewels or whatever.”
“How would I go about getting you Zimbabwe for Christmas?”
“Please, don’t pretend you can’t afford it!”
“This feels racist somehow.”
“What? No! It was just the first country to pop into my head! Fine, if you were to buy me, uh, Switzerland.”
“They do have fancy knives and watches.”
“Tristan I’m a girl if you’re going to buy me Switzerland at least do it because of the chocolate, not for ‘I’m a grown man and neither this watch nor this knife are impractical toys’ reasons.”
“Can I give you your present or not?”
“All right fine,” she said, smiling despite herself. To her surprise, it was a very simple necklace with a pendant in the shape of a cat’s face. It was roughly the size of a quarter, and engraved in it was a simple “TB +BB” in a heart.
“This is adorable,” she said Breathlessly.
“I didn’t think that breaking our agreement by spending a quarter million dollars on a diamond necklace was the correct course of action,” he said. “I think that part of my affection for you has been your consistent disinterest in my fortune. This seemed more personal.”
“I love it,” she said.
"You may love it, even more, knowing that I did the engraving myself," he said.
“You did what now?”
“Well, I admit that I had some guidance,” he said, chuckling, “but nonetheless, it was my doing.”
“You play me like a fiddle, Tristan Blackwood,” said Bethany. “And I don’t mind even one little tiny bit.” They kissed.
And then the reality of what Colleen had revealed to her rushed back into her mind. The only reason this wonderful, incredible man exists is because of horrors inflicted upon my close friend and neighbor. Bethany broke off the kiss abruptly. “Thank you. This was extra special.”
If he noticed her abrupt breaking off from his kiss, he showed no reaction. Shall we make our way to the concert then?”
“Yes! Let’s!” she said, willing her excitement to the surface. Maybe this night can go well after all.
They made their way into the city, all the way to Madison Garden, waited in line “like normal humans” per Bethany’s insistence, and finally found their seats. “I’m going to run to the bathroom,” said Bethany.
“Just make sure you’re back soon,” said Tristan. “I find the beginnings of the concerts to be the most magical.”
So Bethany hustled. Once in there though, the stress of the secret flared up. She pulled out her phone and began to text.
Bethany: “I’m so sorry this happened to you but I don’t know if I can continue to keep this secret. It’s eating away at me. How am I supposed to keep lying to the man I love?”
Colleen: “Yes, I can’t imagine what it’s like to hide such a gargantuan secret from someone close to you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a dark secret eating away at you from the inside.”
Colleen: “Oh wait, that’s just my ENTIRE EXISTENCE. You’ve only dealt with this for part of a week.”
Bethany: “You’re right. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. But your parents are the ones to blame here, not you. They made you lie to the world. They kept your son from knowing that you are his mother!”
Colleen: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stay out of my business.”
Bethany: “YOU MADE IT MY BUSINESS!”
Colleen: “I was drunk and emotional and surrounded by joy. I regret telling you.”
Bethany: “Well we can’t put the genie back into the bottle. Can’t we tell him? Tristan deserves to know! I think it would do both of you a lot of good.”
Colleen: “Yes I’m sure that a man with a god-complex would be thrilled to learn that he’s the bastard product of rape.”
Bethany: “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”
Colleen: "Tristan lives a blessed life and practically rules the world from the shadows. As a mother, I couldn't have wanted anything more for him. He has more than he could ever need or want, let alone deserve"
Bethany: “He’s going to find out. He is too smart and I’m not good at lying. Seriously, what Mormon is good at lying??”
Colleen: “You mean OTHER than Joseph Smith?”
Bethany: “Now you’re just being mean”
Colleen: “Hello welcome to Colleen's World. Do please enjoy your stay.”
Bethany: “Eventually I’m going to slip and he’ll figure it out”
Colleen: “Maybe, maybe not. This conversation is over. Do enjoy the concert. I can’t say my son has bad taste that at least is for sure.”
Bethany: “Are you seriously going to leave me hanging like this?”
Bethany: “???”
Bethany: “......?”
Bethany: "Yes. Yes, you are.
Frustrated, but putting on her best smile, Bethany returned to Tristan’s side. She hugged his arm and held him close. I’m so sorry I’m lying to you, she thought to him.
“You know what’s special about him?” said Tristan.
“What?” asked Bethany.
“There are essentially 4 aspects to modern music. Here, I actually made a chart,” he said.
“Of course you did,” said Bethany, rolling her eyes but smiling.
Tristan took out his phone and showed her:
Music
Words
Composing
Songwriting
Writing Lyrics
Performing
Instrumental Mastery
Vocal Mastery
“Okay, I’m with you so far,” said Bethany. “This makes a surprising amount of sense for you.”
“Indeed. Anyway, Some musicians are brilliant lyricists, like Bob Dylan, but he is not so much praised for his voice, and while his music is adequate, it's his words that make him stand out. Some like Eddie Van Halen have instrumental mastery, but he is not an especially interesting com
poser aside from his raw ability. Whitney Houston's voice is practically unrivaled, but she is strictly a singer whose most iconic song (arguably) is, in fact, a cover. John Lennon is a master songwriter with a pleasant enough voice and solid enough instrumental abilities, but it is in his composition and arrangement that he stands high in music history."
“Wasn’t he a great lyricist as well?” pointed out Bethany.
“Sure, but I was trying to make a point, and if I had to choose between his lyrics and his music, I would inevitably be forced to land on the side of music.”
“Seriously you listen to the lyrics in ‘Strawberry Fields’ and ‘Imagine’ and you’re not blown away?”
“Fair points but I’m more impressed by the inventiveness of the music itself,” he said. “Anyway, there are rare musicians who manage to successfully tackle all four categories. But tonight, that is what we shall indeed see. An ingenious composer, unrivaled poet, piano virtuoso, all with the voice of an angel.”
“What can I say?” said Bethany. “I’d have to agree with you on that front.”
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the crowd went wild. And then they heard it: the opening notes to “Miami 2017 (I’ve Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway)”—Billy Joel had taken the stage!
Bethany was blown away by the concert. It was a gift that had been planned for a while; she had mentioned to Tristan that she had fallen in love with Billy Joel's music thanks to her dad constantly playing it growing up, so, within five minutes, he had the best seats in the house picked out for them. And with different songs, she saw examples of exactly what Tristan was talking about. The complexity of "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" showcased his compositional ingenuity; the way his voice echoed through "Downeaster Alexa" showcased his vocal mastery; the disturbing yet romantic lyrics to "Always a Woman" made Bethany shudder; the way his fingers cruised across the keys in "Prelude / Angry Young Man" was beyond Bethany’s comprehension. Also, just as a performer in general, he was a lot of fun, often giving the crowd the choice between two songs and then playing the one that received the louder applause.
But looking back, the most magical moment was when he took a break from his own music to do a special treat for the audience. Bethany couldn’t help but shed a tear when the lights dimmed and, in the spirit of the season, he played “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“That was beyond amazing,” she told Tristan. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Your smile is enough thanks,” he said as they reached the street. “And yet...”
“What? What’s wrong?” she said nervously.
“You’ve been off,” he said. “Something is wrong.”
“What? Nothing’s wrong! Everything is great!” she said, averting her lies.
“You’re not an especially gifted liar, Bethany,” he said quietly.
“Well yeah probably because I’m not lying,” she murmured.
He stepped closer to her. For the first time since meeting him, Bethany felt intimidated. Comparing himself to a demigod, while comical, was not entirely inaccurate. Bethany suddenly imagined somebody using industrialized lasers to carve a sculpture out of pure steel, highlighting every angle and muscle that made him up. That would potentially approach a quarter of his splendor. However, with him glowering at her, that splendor was replaced with horror.
“You’re scaring me,” she murmured.
“You’ve never given me reason to be upset with you,” he growled, “until now. I don’t just settle for anybody. You are supposed to be special. I am giving up my freedom to be with you and only you. I do not appreciate being deceived in the meantime.”
Bethany took a step back. “Stop it. You’re being paranoid.”
“Just as delusions of grandeur aren’t delusional if the grandeur is a reality, allegations of paranoia are unfounded if there really is a secret to be uncovered.”
“UGH! Why can’t you just once talk and act like a normal person!” snapped Bethany.
"If you wanted a ‘normal person' you wouldn't have started dating me," he said calmly. "You would have settled for the likes of the clown you cast into the dirt. Or, perhaps the error is my own rather than yours? Did you make the mistake in dating me or vice versa?"
“Tristan!” shrieked Bethany. “You’re being totally unfair. You know how I feel about you. That’s real. But right now you’re being a bully, and over nothing!”
Tristan adjusted his jacket. “I apologize, I should have said more the moment I noticed it. But ever since the party at my sister's, you have been acting peculiar. This concert was a bit of a litmus test. Away from family, both yours and mine, just enjoying a show for one of our favorite musicians, and yet, you still seem distracted."
“What are you talking about? I loved it!” she said.
“Bethany, do you really think you can hide your emotions from me? Really?”
“Stop it!” she yelled. “Just stop!” by this point, people would have normally been looking, but then, it was the streets of New York at night, so the crowds simply moved past them.
Tristan stepped back. “Fine,” he said, silently fuming. “You head on home. You want me to stop? I shall. And I take my leave.”
“Tristan!” Bethany called out, but he moved too fast. Before she knew it, he was lost in the crowd, and she was alone.
Chapter 13: Fallout
Tristan stormed into Rick Garcia’s office without warning, causing the poor tech to jump out of his seat. “Mr. Blackwood!” he cried out, alarmed. “What are you, I mean, hi, what’s—”
“I want you to find out whatever you can about Bethany Ballard,” he said coldly.
“Oh, so Ms. Honeywell told you?” asked Garcia.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What are you going on about?”
Garcia paled. “Nothing. Nope. Nothing at all is going on here of an unsavory nature,” he said.
Tristan stepped close to Garcia. “Explain. Now.”
Garcia caved. “Look, a little while ago Ms. Honeywell assigned me to spy on Bethany Ballard.”
Tristan stiffened. “Go on.”
“Well, she said to keep it quiet, which made me suuuuper uncomfortable, but I mean, she’s scary, and—”
“Scarier than I am?”
“Okay, well, not even a little.”
Tristan gritted his teeth. “I truly disdain hypocrisy,” she said icily. “And yet the people closest to me are turning me into one.”
“Sir?”
“I am livid with Honeywell for going behind my back to spy on my girlfriend, yet here I am, asking you to spy on her for me,” he said, shaking his head. “Which, again, wouldn’t be necessary if she wasn’t lying to me!”
“Well, I mean, she might have a good reason,” Rick mumbled awkwardly.
Tristan gritted his teeth. “Good reason to lie to me, you say?”
"Well, I mean, let's say that you have a six-year-old nephew, and his parents want to do the whole Santa thing with him, and you know, he asks you if Santa is real, but you're not the parent, so it's not your place, to tell the truth, because it's someone else's secret, you know?"
Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle grimly. “Right. Imagine a world in which I would have a nephew. That would require Colleen to procreate, and I can’t imagine that ever happening.”
Garcia stared at Tristan, wide-eyed. “Right. Because she has no children.”
Tristan sighed. “Mr. Garcia,” he said gently. “Forgive me, but I am slightly spoiled. For more than three decades, I have always gotten my way, as a result, I do a very poor job of handling it on the rare occasion that things do not go my way. While I acknowledge that it is indeed something I need to work on, I am not about to start such work presently. So I suggest you share what you are obviously hiding.”
Garcia shifted awkwardly. “Just... please remember that I was just following orders, and I’m just a messenger,” he said.
“I believe the first half of your argument is what many
Nazis used as a defense, and the second was the defense used by the Persian who was subsequently reminded that he was in fact in Sparta,” said Tristan dryly. He sighed. “Very well. Proceed.”
Garcia cleared his throat. “Well, most of my findings were pretty mundane. It seemed like Honeywell’s worries were misguided. Bethany is everything she presents herself as being.”
“And yet...?” asked Tristan.
“Well... she still is what she seems to be,” said Garcia. “But... you aren’t.”
Tristan was confused. “Elaborate,” he said.
“At this point, I think it’s better if you read it yourself,” he said awkwardly. “Here. This is a text conversation between Bethany and your sister from earlier this evening.”
Tristan read the conversation. When he was finished, he just stared blankly. He felt his heart rate rise. “Oh no...” he murmured, sliding to the floor.
“Are you okay?” asked Garcia wildly. “Oh no, I killed Tristan Blackwood!”
“No,” murmured Tristan, “But ‘Tristan Blackwood’ will kill YOU if you don’t turn off every light in this room immediately and reduce your voice to little more than a whisper.”
“Oh! Migraine?”
“Yes, Rick, Migraine. Lights, NOW.” Garcia obeyed. “Now, Mr. Garcia,” said Tristan. “You have read about Soviet Gulags, right?”
“Um sure?” Garcia whispered back.
“And you are familiar with the conditions of Vietnamese POW camps?”
“I don’t like where this is going,” whispered Garcia.
“Imagine the worst elements of both of those and then multiply them by infinity,” said Tristan, “and that will represent only a fraction of what I will do to you and everyone you’ve ever loved if you so much as breathe a word of this to anybody.”
Garcia gulped. “So, wipe the hard drive then?”
“Destroy all evidence,” said Tristan. “And then, if you want to save your job, you will do me one more favor.”
“Anything sir,” said Garcia quickly.
