Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 16

When Asa brought Tristan back to the table, most of the seats were empty. Nick, Holly and Leighanne were the only ones left sitting and Asa considered taking Kevin's empty chair. He thought better of it when he saw Nick's face darken. Asa didn't know Nick particularly well but he suspected that Nick wouldn't manage to keep his cool as well as Kevin had tonight and reconsidered prolonging his visit. Besides, when they were dancing Tristan had mentioned the group’s recording obligations in Sweden and the fact that she wouldn't be making the trip. Maybe he'd take her out to dinner while the 'brotherhood' was away. He was disappointed to see that Tristan seemed relieved when he bid everyone a good night.

“Man, he’s like a bad penny, isn’t he?” Nick frowned as he watched Asa cross the room. “Thank God he’s gone.”

Tristan sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. It was always something. All she’d hoped for tonight, was a nice evening out with their friends followed by a nice morning in with Kevin. Now Kevin had disappeared.

“As long as Asa and I still have ties to the music world, we’ll bump into each other, Nick.” Tristan said impatiently. “Just like you and…” She paused and rethought her remark. “…and whoever.”

It was a clumsy attempt at a save, but Tristan was tired. Nick caught her drift and matched her impatience.

“Did you see Kevin’s face? Surely you know how he feels about that man, Tris! Jesus, everybody at this table knows what happened between you and Asa on the tour! Think about how you’d feel!”

Tristan had to look away. She was taken aback by Nick’s words and hurt by his implication. She had never discussed that night with Asa with anyone but Kevin but was beginning to realize that it must have been a topic of discussion among the others. She had never been used to sharing the intimate details of her life, nor did she feel the need to delve into the private lives of others unless they seemed to be searching for help or wanted her opinion. Tristan loved Nick dearly and thought of him as family but his scolding made her feel resentful. She turned back to him and leaned across the table.

“I don’t have to think about it, do I Nick? I know how I would feel. I’ve already felt it, remember? And as far as everyone knowing about what happened between Asa and me…that’s bullshit because nothing did happen! Despite popular opinion, I did not fuck Asa Whitmore.”

Tristan had begun to take short, quick breaths, Her hands were trembling. Nick glanced at Holly and then Leighanne. He had just felt bad for Kevin. He hadn’t meant to sound like he was coming down on Tristan. Leighanne placed her hand on Tristan’s shoulder in an effort to calm her.

“Look, Tris… I didn’t mean to imply…”

Tristan pushed her chair from the table.

“I’m going to the ladies room.” she said and walked away, effectively bringing the conversation to a halt.

“Good going, Nick…” Leighanne muttered across the table. “Kev will be real happy now… I’d better go see if she’s alright…” Leighanne picked up her purse and left.

“Great…” Nick mumbled as he rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “Well, I’ve driven everyone from the table with my big mouth…” He peeked past his fingers at Holly. “Sure you don’t want to take off, too?”

“Naw,” she smiled gently. “I like it here with the big mouths..”

“Shit, Holly.. I didn’t mean to make Tris upset. I was just thinkin’ about…”

“I know. Kevin.” Holly gave Nick a pat on the back. “Tris’ll be okay. She’s sensitive about some things, ‘ya know? Especially now. I don’t think she wanted to see Asa or dance with him. She just didn’t know what to do…” Holly pulled Nick’s right hand from his face and stroked his fingers. “I’ll talk to Tris. Don’t worry…”

The elevator doors opened and Kevin stepped out onto the sixth floor of the hotel. He looked around for a moment. The corridor seemed deserted and he made his way down the hallway in search of room 610. He hadn’t actually been looking for Brian when he bumped into Theresa and her boyfriend. He’d used that as an excuse to leave. He hadn’t been in the mood for party chatter. He wanted to be alone - to get out of that room. He couldn’t bear to watch Tristan and Asa together. Asa had made it clear to Kevin that the fact that they were married didn’t affect his feelings towards her. Kevin doubted that her being pregnant would affect them either. He wondered if Tristan would tell him. He wondered if Asa was holding her closer, now that he was gone. The thought of Asa Whitmore’s body touching Tristan’s was bad enough but thinking that he might be close enough to feel the rise in her belly - to touch the place on her where his babies rested - was too much for Kevin. She had glanced at him from the dance floor, knowing that he was upset but not knowing what to do. Kevin didn’t know what to do either short of knocking Asa to the floor and stomping on his throat. So he left. And the cocksucker is walking around carrying my wife’s panties in his pocket. Kevin wondered if Asa had held the blue lace to his face and breathed in Tristan’s scent - her sexuality , laced with the sweetness of honeysuckle. His brows furrowed creating deep lines in his forehead. Of course he had…. Thank God he didn’t know who they belonged to…

Kevin found 610 and was surprised to find that it wasn’t a room at all but a suite. The Gasparilla Suite, according to a small plaque on the door. He rapped on the wood a few times and was about to leave when the door cracked open, still fastened by a chain bolt.

“Yeah?” An unfamiliar face peeked through the narrow space.

Kevin whirled around to the voice behind him. The unmistakable smell of burning marijuana filled his nostrils and he allowed the familiar aroma to wash over him like a memory. Kevin relied on booze now to numb himself during rough times. It was easier and more convenient than weed but he had smoked his share of joints. They all had. Shit, they practically gave the stuff away in Europe, especially in Holland. It had been a long time…

“What do ‘ya want?” the voice repeated.

I want a hit…. “Uh..Stan sent me..” Kevin answered, remembering his instructions.

The sound of the chain being removed from the doorframe was followed by the voice calling to someone inside.

“Hey, Bobby G. ! We got another one of those Backstreet dudes out here..”

The door opened and Kevin went in.

***

“Is my baby girl avoiding her Daddy?”

The strong voice that sounded behind them cause Nick and Holly to both turn in their seats. Nick recognized Holly’s father, Warren Carmichael and tried to quickly form a battle plan. He had expected to seek him out, not the other way around. This was surprise attack.

“Daddy!”

Holly cried and jumped up to give her father a hug. Nick stood as well and smiled benignly at the father-daughter duo as the embraced. Nick wondered how Holly would introduce him. Fiancé, The man I love, the man I’m going to marry, the love of my life? The moment of truth of truth had arrived. Holly turned to him and then looked at her father.

“Daddy, this is….Nick.”

Nick looked at Holly strangely. Nick?….NICK? That’s all? The end? What the fuck? I don’t even rate a last name, for Christ’s sake?

“Carter…” Nick added as he reached out to shake ‘Daddy’s’ hand. He shot Holly a ‘look’. Warren Carmicheal seemed congenial enough. “Call me Warren, please..”

If Holly doesn’t say something soon, I’m gonna call you ‘Dad’. “Thank you.” Nick nodded. “Please, sit down.”

Warren took Tristan’s seat beside Holly. He was obviously pleased to see his daughter and began to ask her all kinds of questions about Tampa and the symphony there. Then he asked about Tristan. He hadn’t seen her in a few years, since Holly’s graduation from Julliard.

“Hard for me to believe she married a pop singer.” Warren shook his head. “And now you don’t hear a word about her playing. Is she okay? I mean has she been getting grief from the fans?” Then he glanced at Nick. “I hope this doesn’t hurt you all too much.”

Warren Carmichael was no idiot. He didn’t really expect his daughter to confide in him about her love life but he had access to a very strong grapevine. He knew that Holly and Nick Carter were more than ‘seeing each other’. He also knew of the shit that had been flung at Tristan and Kevin Richardson. He worked with and helped manage ‘the other boy band’ and was no stranger to the pitfalls of trying to combine a love life with world tours, groupies, criticism and rumors. He didn’t want to alienate his daughter but he wasn’t about to acknowledge Nick Carter as Holly’s ‘other half’ until he felt that Mr. Carter was capable of offering his daughter protection, support and fidelity as well as love. He didn’t dislike Nick. He didn’t know him, really. He wanted to know what kind of stuff he was made of, that’s all. Warren had seen the flash of stones bouncing off of Holly’s left hand.

“We don’t expect it to hurt us at all.” Nick said confidently. “After all, it’s the music that matters, right?”

Warren started laughing loudly. “Yeah…right.. That’s why you guys have all these shirtless pictures floating around and kill yourselves touring. It’s just the music. That’s funny, Nick!”

Nick wasn’t laughing. “Are you saying that talent doesn’t matter? Your guys are doing pretty good. Do you think they have talent?”

Good question, Nicky. “’Nsync is alright. BSB is better - as far as talent and style go. The difference is that my boys aren’t tired yet and they’re all available. Those facts help sell records and that’s the truth, like it or not. Richardson’s marriage is not going to help you. No marriage is.” Warren said deliberately. “Right now, my boys put their careers first. Their girlfriends are farther down the list.”

“Well, we’re not like that, Warren. Some us aren’t anyway. We think we can have a personal and professional life, if we work at it.”

Warren Carmichael rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. He decided to force Nick to lay it on the line.

“You willing to do that, Nick? Work at it, I mean?”

“Definitely.”

“When you find the right woman, you mean…” Warren was pushing…

Nick was pulling… “I have found her, Warren.” He said firmly.

Holly closed her eyes. Oh God, oh God, oh God….

“I see. Need I ask who this wonderful woman is?” he asked calmly.

“It’s Holly. I’ve asked her to marry me. She’s accepted.”

Warren Carmichael was silent. He deliberately focused his sternest glare on Nick Carter.

“Aren’t you a little young for grown up games, Nick? What if I say ‘no’?”

Warren was leaning past Holly across the table. Nick met him halfway and their eyes locked.

“This ain’t no pissin’ contest, Warren and I don’t give a flying fuck what you say. I’m just interested in what your daughter says. Capiche?”

Both of them turned their heads to Holly. It was time. She drew in a breath.

“Daddy, I love you very much and I don’t want to go against your wishes…”

“Good.” Warren snarled “Then don’t.”

“I love Nick and want to be with him.”

“You won’t be with him. That’s my point, Holly. He’ll be gone all the damn time.”

“I’m gonna marry him, Daddy.. That’s it. I am…I am.” Holly’s voice tapered off to a whisper.

“God damn it, Holly. Don’t you see the conflicts this will cause? I’m managing your boyfriend’s competition! Part of my job is to keep Backstreet down!”

Now Nick started laughing. “Shit, Warren - that won’t happen. We’ll always be an itch you can’t quite scratch.” Then he became serious. “If you love your daughter, be happy for us. Don’t make her choose - you’ll lose if you do…”

Warren discovered he was somewhat impressed with Nick’s chutzpah. He looked into his daughter’s face. This was tearing her up. He was sorry, but he was going to make her say it out loud. He had tried to raise her not to stand down to any man. If his lessons took she would give him the answer he sought. He pulled out the ‘guilt card’.

“Is that right, little girl? You would choose this blond pop singer over your Daddy? Tell me the truth, Holly. Yes or no.”

Both men were watching her intently. Both were measuring her level of commitment. Holly fought the urge to bolt and looked her father in the eye.

“I love you Daddy,” she repeated, “ but my place is with Nick. It’s a place I choose to be.”

Warren Carmichael looked back and forth between the two young people and then the hardness in his eyes began to lighten and a smile formed on his lips.

“Don’t be upset, Holly. You gave the right answer.” He said, giving his daughter a tender squeeze. Then he turned to Nick. “You hurt my daughter and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

“I’ll load the gun myself, sir…”

Warren started laughing. “You’ve got a mighty heavy set of brass balls there, son, talking to me the way you did.”

“I polished them up tonight just for you, Warren…” Nick smiled.

“Don’t push your luck. Nick…” Warren sighed as he rose from the table to leave. “I have to tell you that I still intend to do everything I can to topple you guys. Business is business.”

“I understand.” Nick nodded. “Nothing personal.”

Holly stood up to hug her father good-bye and then watched him as he left the room.

“I actually think he likes you, Nick..” she said, a little amazed.

Nick grabbed Holly and pulled her out onto the dance floor. “Hey - what’s not to like?”

***

The Gasparilla suite was one of the finest in the hotel and right now it seemed to be full of people. Kevin didn’t know a lot of them but there were many familiar faces and even some acquaintances. There seemed to be a fair share of accommodating women, as well. He returned nods as he moved through the living area past small groups and individuals who seemed content to just lean against a wall or sit on the floor and listen to Lenny Kravitz blaring through the speakers of the stereo system, singing ‘American Woman’. Someone he didn’t know handed him a lit joint as he passed and he paused to look at it for a moment. It had been a very long time….

“Man, if you don’t want a hit, pass it along…” a tall thin guy whined.

Why not? Kevin put the joint up to his lips and inhaled deeply before handing it to the tall, thin whiner. He stood for a moment waiting to gauge his reaction. Would he feel silly or mellow? Mellow would be nice for a change…. Soon the joint came around again and he took his turn. This was good shit. He was aware of the tension leaving his face. Kevin felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man. Aren’t you one of those Backstreet guys?”

Kevin automatically felt defensive. He doubted that many of the people in this room owned their CD. He’s heard the comments before - manufactured group, don’t even play instruments, canned music, fluff… Backstreet was slowly making progress gaining the respect of some of these people but there were plenty of them here who refused to acknowledge any talent in the group at all. The ‘Archie Bunkers ‘of the music world. It griped Kevin’s ass that their sanctimonious and bigoted attitudes affected him so deeply. A hidden part of him longed to be accepted by these musical ‘innovators’ and ‘cutting edge’ producers and artists.

“Yeah..” Kevin frowned. “Is that a problem?”

The stranger grinned at Kevin’s sudden seriousness. “Whoa! Jump back, Jack! It’s not a problem to me. Is it a problem to you?” When Kevin didn’t answer, the stranger held out his hand. “My name’s Bobby G. I’m your host.”

Kevin relaxed a little and shook the hand that was offered. “Kevin Richardson…”

“I’m a little surprised to see you here, Kevin. I thought you guys were pretty straight.”

Kevin glared at his host. “Do I look like I’m wearin’ a fuckin’ white hat?” he asked caustically.

Bobby G. burst out laughing. “No, man. You don’t.” he said as he pulled a small pipe out of his pocket and filled the bowl. “How do you like this stuff?”

“It’s good…” Kevin answered.

“This is primo..” Bobby G. lit the bowl and sucked deeply on the stem of the pipe. He held the smoke in his lungs as he handed the pipe to Kevin. “Hey, man. Didn’t I read about one of you guys getting married?”

“That was me..” Kevin said. His voice was tight as he struggled to speak and keep the calming soot in his body.

“Wife toke?”

Kevin paused for a moment while he imagined Tristan holding a clip and sucking on a roach. The image broke him up and he started to laugh, expelling the sweet fog he was trying to hold inside. It felt good to laugh. To hell with Asa Whitmore. Asa Whitmore, refined classical musician and conductor who is probably downstairs right now humping his pencil dick up against my wife…

Bobby G. noticed the change in Kevin’s countenance and decided to offer him a little gift. That other Backstreet guy was an occasional customer of his and he had been okay. This one probably would be, too.

“Hey, Kevin…” he smiled, reaching into his breast pocket. “Got something for ‘ya.”

He handed Kevin a small zip-locked bag that contained a half dozen joints that had been rolled in various colors of cigarette paper. “The blue is top grade buds. Just think ‘blue ribbon’. The pink is good, too, but leaves - no buds. The white is a more common grade. It’s better than street but not as good as the other two. Take ‘em. If you want more, well…” He handed Kevin a business card. Kevin laughed. A business card, for Christ’s sake… “I can get you anything you want. Anything.”

Kevin nodded and slipped the baggy and card into his breast pocket. “Thanks…”

“No problem. You looking for your friend?”

Kevin had forgotten all about Brian. “Oh. Yeah…”

Bobby G. pointed towards a closed bedroom door. “He’s in there. Go on in…”

Email Grace

"Circling" is a work of fiction.
The characters and events portrayed are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Copyright ©2000
All Rights Reserved
No part of this text may be copied or reprinted
without the author's permission.

  Direct linking to stories on this site without permission is prohibited and considered copyright infringement

~BEST VIEWED ON 800 X 600 SCREEN RESOLUTION~

Fiction by Grace