Circling

Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 20

Charlie Mancuso hurried through the busy newsroom to the entertainment editor's office. He had worked freelance for years, selling his wares to the highest bidder and today he was bringing his package to 'Reputations'. He had saved this publication for last - they were hungry and he thought that they might be willing to pay well for a choice morsel of borderline slander or, perhaps, a juicy photograph.

Charlie had spent the last couple of months on the tails of the Backstreet Boys. When the group was in the Bahamas, he was there. When the girlfriends were in Cancun, he had flown there, as well. All of the women had been interesting to watch, much more so than the guys, and he had chosen to spend most of his time in Mexico. He had witnessed and shot Amanda's flirtatious dancing and Leighanne's appreciation of male attention but what had really intrigued him was the dynamic between Tristan Mallory and Kevin's brother. That had been totally unexpected. It appeared to be a one-sided fascination but was prime tabloid material nonetheless. Things had just started to get interesting when, suddenly, everyone left Mexico unexpectedly. Charlie had never found out exactly what had happened - investigative reporting wasn't his forte - but he had already made a decision to make the Backstreet Boys his own little personal project. All he needed was the financial backing to stay on top of his subjects.

Now he waited to speak to Raymond Whay, the entertainment editor at 'Reputations'. The magazine's readership and sales had peaked last fall when their infamous 'whore' issue hit the stands. The Backstreet Boys had been in the headlines as well, breaking records with their 'Millennium' tour and the public was starving for news, photos and gossip about the Backstreet women. The timing had been perfect. It was trash but trash sells very well. If the trash is based on any fact at all - even better. Charlie had some trash and 'Reputations' wanted back on top in the sleaze game. Backstreet was coming out with a new album. It was a match made in heaven.

*********************

Raymond Whay's position at 'Reputations' was precarious, at best. He had done very well until the end of last year when his chief source for showbiz gossip and leads had suddenly left the country. Mike had been very generous in providing information he had picked up but his real source of strength had lain in his managerial relationship with the Backstreet Boys. The group couldn't have been hotter and Mike's inside observations had provided a gold mine for the magazine and for Raymond Whay. What made Mike's leads so wonderful is that they were always based on some truth. Pictures and items could be slanted so easily and still not be disputed. Raymond had felt a slight uneasiness when he had seen the shots of Richardson and his girlfriend but his flicker of doubt was quickly overshadowed by dollar signs.

The photos Mike delivered had been undoctored and voyeuristic causing Raymond to be curious about Mike's motivation, considering he was managing the group. He had been particularly vindictive about Richardson and his girlfriend but Raymond soon learned that questions were not to be part of their parasitic relationship. If 'Reputations' didn't want what Mike had to offer there were plenty of other publications that did. The only requirement had been that Mike's name be left out of any associations with the magazine. Secrecy was imperative. That was fine with Raymond and, in fact, had caused him to garnish a certain respect from reporters who wondered about his 'inside sources'. He got kudos for doing nothing but keeping his mouth shut.

Then Mike had disappeared and things had gone quickly downhill. The managing editor and the publisher were on his back constantly. The magazine had gone weekly four months ago and that meant more dirt more quickly. They wanted a repeat of last years record breaking sales and expected Raymond to lead them to that goal. He had expected to be fired some time ago. Dismissal had been an ongoing threat - and then Charlie Mancuso had walked into his life. As he looked over Charlie's photos taken over the past several weeks, Raymond paused to give thanks to the garbage gods of tabloid journalism. He was one lucky son of a bitch-.again. And he was going to go for the jugular.

****************

Tristan stared at the small screen in amazement as Dr. Malone pointed out tiny hearts and splaying fingers. An arm moved - a tiny foot wiggled and she was overcome with bittersweet tears. As thrilled as she was at the black and white images, she also felt an emptiness. Kevin was supposed to be here for this. She had to try to imagine his reaction and guessed that he would probably have tears, too. The device that the doctor moved over her stomach was equipped with a small amplifier so that heartbeats could be heard. The little thumps were so fast. Tristan couldn't believe that all of this was happening inside of her. She should be able to feel the babies move any day now.

The house seemed unusually quiet when she got home at 5:30. Tristan sighed and opened the refrigerator, trying to sort through the emotional events of the day. She pulled out the cheese she had bought for Kevin and herself along with a few strawberries and crackers and took them to the kitchen table. She sat alone in the silence and stared at her plate. She hadn't felt this lonely in a long time and it made her a little afraid. Dr. Malone had explained the eclampsia to her and told her of his concerns about her condition but he had ended their discussion on an upbeat note and the sonogram had had verified his hopeful prognosis. She shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Kevin had known about this from the beginning. He was in 'protective mode'. This trip to Sweden was probably killing him and Tristan suspected that he was under a great deal of pressure from the label. He hadn't said so but she was fairly certain that they hadn't been thrilled with his announcement. It had been too late to exercise much damage control and the fallout was already beginning to cause small shifts in the fan base. The other four guys were being watched carefully by admirers who feared that Kevin might have started an avalanche. Sooner or later they would notice Holly's ring and Tristan wondered what would happen then.

Mike had been right - the fans didn't seem to feel as threatened by Leighanne or Amanda and Howie seemed light years away from a permanent commitment. Tristan had read some of the comments written by loyal supporters - "It's all about the music.." Yeah, right-. Even in the classical world, it was never totally 'about the music'. She shook her head, recalling the sexy dresses that Mason had purchased for her performances.

As the light began to fade, Tristan wandered through the house looking into empty rooms and straightening the occasional stray pillow or displaced book. This was definitely too much house for one person and she wondered how Kevin must have felt on restless nights when he was here alone. She went into his office and sat at the computer. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a black floppy and inserted it into the A drive before logging on to the internet. She had something to show him. When he got around to checking messages on his laptop, he would be able to download the first pictures of his babies. Tristan just wished she could be there when he saw them.

*****************

Charlie sat expressionless as Raymond checked proof sheets with a small, lighted magnifier. The first page was labeled 'Bahamas' and there were several photos of the group on the beach and in clubs. The beach shots were fairly innocent although there were several bikini-clad women around and even a couple who preferred the topless approach to sunbathing. Shots taken from the beach of the large deck surrounding their living quarters were a little more incriminating. These were taken with a telephoto lens and there were pictures of all the guys in one shot or another. They were in cozy conversations, dancing and playing board games with various female partners. Charlie's club pictures were interesting as well. Not all of the clubs that the group visited had a public dance floor. A few had stages where individual women danced in various states of undress and posed suggestively. Their appreciative audience included all five members of Backstreet - even the underaged Nick. Raymond's mouth actually began to water as he imagined captions and headlines. 'As Long As You Strip Me', Show Me the Meaning of Being Boney' or maybe 'Quit Playing Games With My Hard-on'.

Shots of the girlfriends followed. Various bikini and thong shots took up an entire proof sheet. Charlie seemed to favor the Mexican beach over the Bahamian one. Shots of Holly laughing with an unknown man, Amanda bumping asses with a dance partner and Leighanne on the floor under what looked like a limbo stick. She had fallen and was being lifted by a muscled surfer type. Raymond mentally rewrote the caption for this one, replacing the word 'lifted' with 'embraced'. Finally there were those wonderful shots of Tristan Mallory with Jerald Richardson - shots of them shopping, of Tristan holding up a bikini as if she was seeking Jerald's approval. Shots of them on the beach together, dancing together and dining together on a covered veranda. The fact that there were others at the table didn't seem to matter. They could easily be cut out. Raymond particularly liked the one of Tristan bending over to spread her towel on the sand. Jerald's lurid stare, aimed directly at her ass, couldn't have been more obvious. He was even licking his lips-

Another folder contained pictures taken at the recent Jive party. Although Charlie had shots of dozens of the celebrities who attended, he kept to his purpose and concentrated on the group and their girlfriends. There were shots of Leighanne who looked 'falling down' drunk and of Amanda dancing with J.C. Chasez. Holly was dancing with Chasez, too and Tristan was pictured dancing with Nick. Share and share alike- Holly was photographed with Nick at the table, evidence of an engagement sparkling from her left hand. Raymond shook his head, smiling. Pictures of Asa Whitmore holding up a pair of panties and Tristan dancing with him finished off the sheet. Raymond quickly flipped to the next one. Shots of Kevin looking pissed and Brian looking wild. Shots of-- Raymond looked across his desk at Charlie.

"Who the hell is this?" he asked, pointing to a square on the sheet.

Charlie smiled perceptively. "He goes by the name of Bobby G. He's in the import/supply business," he teased. "Keep looking.

Raymond hesitated and then went back to the proof sheet.

"What's he doing with Brian Littrell?"

"My guess is that he's probably supplying.." Charlie smirked. "Bobby G. is a dealer, Mr. Whay - a dealer who supplies nose candy, reefer, speed, ecstasy, downers- Whatever the market demands. From what I understand, he's a pretty good guy as far as dealers go. He's discreet, not overly greedy and prides himself on customer service. He works out of LA and Miami. I don't know who he works for and I don't want to know." Charlie laughed at the surprised expression that had spread across the editor's face. "Think your readers would be interested in knowing about drug use within the ranks of their favorite, angel-faced pop idols?"

Raymond Whay paused to consider his position here. These proofs were practically giving him a hard-on and he still had two more sheets to examine. He forced himself to be fairly nonchalant. The negotiating game would begin soon. Raymond knew what a treasure trove he had here but so did Mr. Mancuso.

"A picture of two guys talking doesn't prove much, does it? Brian Littrell probably doesn't even know who this guy is."

"Keep looking, Mr. Whay-"

After a few minutes, Raymond set the magnifier down and regarded Charlie carefully. This guy was a real shark.

"How did you get these pictures?" he asked seriously. "Somehow, I don't think you were walking around with a Nikon strapped to your neck, flashing snapshots."

"Not your typical Kodak moments, are they? Actually, it's not all that hard, Raymond-" Charlie sighed as he shifted into the familiar use of the editor's first name. "A hundred bucks given to the right person will get you into almost any private party, especially a big one like this where you won't be noticed anyway. Cameras so small that they're practically invisible can be bought at any store that supplies private investigators or conspiracy nuts - no questions asked. Some of these cameras are designed with infrared for low light situations and work pretty damn well with a high-speed film. I know who Bobby G. is. I see him schmoozing with the celebs and follow him to a room in the hotel. Later, I knock on the door and say that 'so and so' sent me up. Easy entrance. There's plenty of dope and plenty of people using. Let's just say that some of these people are more -. interesting--than others." Charlie paused as Raymond resumed his study of the proof sheets. "I'm a plain guy - a regular 'invisible man'. I can blend in anywhere which is good in my line of work."

Raymond shook his head as he moved the magnifier down the page. Littrell and coke? Jesus-. And who is this bimbo he's with? He stopped again when he came to a shot of Kevin toking.

"Shit! Richardson?" he asked looking up from the sheet.

Charlie laughed. "Oh, he did more than a little weed, my friend. I just didn't get the shots-"

The last sheet was fairly dull in comparison. The only shots that peaked Raymond's curiosity were the ones ok Kevin pulling Tristan away from the table and pictures of what looked like a truck in a parking garage.

"What's this?" he asked pointing to the truck shots. They were dim and close to unrecognizable.

"Oh, that-" Charlie frowned. "Damn batteries started to go bad on me. They were too far away anyhow."

"Who?"

"Richardson and his better half-." Charlie answered without expression.

****************

Kevin's frustration had finally begun to give way to complete ambivalence. He was tired even though it was only about nine PM according to his watch, still set at Eastern Standard Time. Everyone else had decided to go out as soon as they threw their bags down. It was early Saturday morning in Stockholm but clubs and bars were still open.

The villa looked virtually the same. Kevin found it difficult to suppress the memories that overtook his mind's eye. It would be worse when he went into the studio. He could still see Tristan subjecting herself to their arrogance and accepting Nick's offer of an autograph on the first day that he saw her. The way she listened so intently to his boring childhood stories. His assumption that she and Mutt were having an affair-.. So much has happened since then. So much-. He shuffled slowly up the stairs and paused at the doorway of the room he had occupied when they were there last. Then he took a few more steps and opened the thick door to the room thatTristan had slept in. It would be his now.

He set his larger bags in a corner and then unzipped his carry-on one more time as if its contents had magically changed since the last time he examined it. There were still no lollipops. He had found no 'surprise' from Tristan and more disturbing, there was no pink satin camisole. There was nothing of her anywhere. Fuck-. A light tapping on his door momentarily distracted Kevin. When he opened it, Nick and Holly stood on the other side.

"Come on with us, Kev.." Nick pleaded. "We won't be out that long. We're just gonna unwind from that God-awful flight."

"No thanks. I'm gonna crash."

Kevin's tone was gentle but Nick noticed the melancholy in his eyes and wasn't sure whether or not to push. The longer he hesitated, the harder Kevin's expression became. Nick decided to back off. He seriously doubted that Kevin would be crashing anytime soon. He wanted to be alone.

"Okay, man. If you change your mind, call me on my cell and I'll tell you where we are." Nick nodded and then he and Holly left. After a few steps down the hall he heard Kevin close his door and lock the latch.

Kevin's laptop sat on the floor beside his luggage. He stared at it for a moment before deciding to plug it in, doubting that it would be worth the trouble to check for any messages. At least he could send Tristan a note. He plugged in the hard drive and adjusted the peripherals before logging on to the internet and then he waited through the familiar tones that indicated a connection to the server. He typed in his password and waited for the email screen to come up as he tried to form a message to Tristan in his mind. He wanted to sound upbeat but felt like whining and complaining. He was surprised to look up at the screen and find that she had beat him to the punch. Unread messages - 1. The sender: tris_p&o@aol.com.

********************

Raymond Whay reared back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. The dance of the dollars was about to begin.

"What do you want, Charlie?" Raymond nodded towards the pictures. "Don't waste my time trying to feel out my position. Just lay it on the table and we'll go from there. State your case. Please."

Charlie took a breath. He didn't like playing these games, either. He decided that he would be blunt with Raymond Whay. The worst that could happen is that Whay would laugh him out of the door. Charlie didn't think that would happen. Raymond had a certain air of desperation about him.

"Okay, Ray. I will. But first let me tell you what I think you might want and I'll tell you how I think you might get it. You may discover that what we want isn't too different."

"Go ahead-"

"I think you want this magazine to come up with new and fresh material. New and fresh dirt. I think that you can see that I can give you that. I think the Backstreet Boys still sell magazines. They may not be getting the teenaged heat that they got a year ago but that's better for you. Their appeal has shifted upwards to that beloved 18 - 35 year old bracket that advertisers love. You're a weekly now, which means you need a constant supply of dirt. It might be beneficial to follow one person or group for several months, sort of like a serial. Keep the repeat readers. I think you could have a regular Backstreet column, as it were, with regular reports and background on these guys - complete with photographs, of course." Charlie rose from his chair and began to pace. "And what do I want? I want a regular paycheck and publication bonus if you use my shots. I want the funding to be able to travel if necessary to follow these guys. In return, you'll get shots, and I'll try to make them provocative. Simple really."

Raymond smiled humorlessly. It was almost too simple. "Would you object to a reporter being assigned to you? You know, to cover the story while you do the pictures."

"If they stay out of my way- fine."

"Tell me, Charlie," Raymond turned his chair so that he was facing the window. It was a particularly clear day, today. The sky was blue and cloudless. "Do you have some axe to grind with these guys? Are you pissed at anyone connected with them?"

"No, Ray. I don't and I'm not. I don't give a shit about the Backstreet Boys one way or the other. I don't care about their girlfriends or family. I don't hate them. You told me to be blunt, so I will. Right now, I care about Charlie Mancuso. I want money and I want it on a steady basis. I figure if I can give you the goods, I won't have much of a problem getting assignments when this one runs it course. If not here, then someplace else." Charlie decided now was a good time to turn the question back to Ray. "How 'bout you? Do you have something personal that you're dealing with? These guys do something to you? You hit 'em pretty good last year."

Raymond turned abruptly and faced Charlie. The audacity of his question hit him the wrong way at first. After all, he was the boss. Charlie would be reporting to him. Then he relaxed. Charlie had been right. They did want essentially the same things.

"I have no personal agenda. The information we printed last year fell into our laps and we ran with it. It paid off - very well. I need- we need another pay off. Now you've fallen into my lap. Maybe it's fate or just coincidence. I need to jump-start this mag. I want the money, too, Charlie. It is simple. You deliver the goods and we'll deliver the cash. Just get me something that sells paper. Stay on these guys until interest runs its course. Deal?"

"Deal.." Charlie extended his hand and Raymond accepted the gesture of good faith. "The group is going to be in Sweden. I should be there."

"Then go. But first, bring me the negatives for these shots. We'll start our little column right away-."

********************

Darling Kevin,
The house seems so empty already but my heart is full of you. I'm sorry that I didn't pack 'everything' for you. I though we would have more time. I know that you did, too. I don't know how you did it, but I was so happy to see you step into the gate at the airport. I'm grateful for the few seconds we had together. Dr. Malone said that everything looked good. He told me about the eclampsia. It must have driven you crazy keeping it from me. I wish you hadn't felt like you had to do that but I think I understand the motives behind that decision. I'm going to try very hard to follow his instructions and keep an eye on my pressure. God, Kevin! I wish you could have been with me today. The sonogram was amazing! I can't tell you how much I wanted you there. Fortunately, Dr. Malone is very much into the technology of the day. I have an attachment for you. The rhythm you hear is our babies' heartbeats.
I love you and wish I could be there - especially there.

Tristan

Kevin smiled sadly and clicked on download. From what he had read of Tristan's note, he had expected an audio file. His eyes widened when he realized that he was about to view a video. After a few seconds, cryptic images filled the screen. Soon the audio kicked in and he heard the sound of racing heartbeats. His fist was pressed to his mouth as he realized what he was watching and he had to blink many times to clear the wetness from his eyes so that he could see his children.As he watched the download again, his emotional response turned into excitement that he wanted to share. He rose from his chair and then remembered. He was alone. There was no one to share with. He reached into the cargo pocket of his pants and pulled out one of the joints that Bobby G. had given him. After downing a Librium, he lit up. The grass did nothing to rid him of the smothering feelings of loneliness, but he would be asleep soon and it wouldn't matter. Kevin sat in the darkness and put his finger against the screen of his laptop, tracing one tiny arm from shoulder to fingers. He took another hit. You can even see the cords-

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Tristan Trilogy - Story III

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

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