Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 31

Kevin was waiting when Etienne descended the stairs. The Frenchman looked very tired. He had called a cab several minutes ago from the phone in the bedroom. The car was just pulling up when Kevin met him in the foyer. His somber expression changed when he saw Kevin waiting but his smile did not erase the weariness in his features. The hour Etienne and Tristan spent together had been an emotional one.

“How did it go?” Kevin asked. “Is Tristan all right?”

“The woman was starving. Now she is not so hungry.”

Kevin fully understood Etienne’s analogy and he nodded. “Thank you for coming. She knew very little about Rebekah.”

“Yes, she had an empty place in her heart. I’m glad I came. I am not so hungry anymore, either - yes?” Etienne chuckled but then his smile faded. “She is much like her mother. I felt as if I were speaking to Rebekah again. Tristan is a remarkable woman. She has been through a lot of badness but she still seems to be very… how do you say it?”

“Innocent?” Kevin finished.

Etienne nodded. “Oui! Je ponce… oh, je regret.. I think I see naiveté. Yes?”

“Yes." Kevin sighed. "She can be almost childlike.”

“Oh, c’est bon! She will stay young! Not get sour like us, eh?” Etienne laughed again as Kevin opened the door. “Bon jour, Monsieur Richardson. I thank you for the pleasure.”

“And I thank you for your hospitality in Paris and for coming to see my wife.”

When Kevin went back up the stairs, Tristan was staring out of the window at the departing taxi. Her eyes were red. She had been crying, but no longer seemed upset.

“How did it go, baby?” Kevin asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“You were right, Kevin. He is a nice man. I’m glad my mother loved a nice man… I just wish…” Tristan took a breath and looked again at the small portrait in her hand. She subject was suddenly changed. “I wanted him to take the picture back, but he wouldn’t. He told me to keep it.”

“He doesn’t need it, Tris. He had a huge oil portrait done of your mother. It was taken from the photograph but the artist made it a full body portrait. Etienne described a gown that your mother wore in concert and she was painted wearing it.”

Tristan seemed enthralled by this news.

“Really? Did you see it, Kevin. Was it pretty?”

“Beautiful, baby. It's hanging over his fireplace.”

This bit of trivia seemed to placate Tristan. She broke away from Kevin and leaned her mother’s picture against the mirror on the dresser among the many photographs that Kevin always carried of his family.

“Is it all right?” she asked Kevin wide-eyed. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Jesus, Tris…. “No. It’s perfect.”

It was the only photograph of her family that Tristan ever had. It was the only one she ever would have.

*****

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me he'd come back?" Charlie shouted as he threw his envelope onto a table top. "What happened? Was there a fight?"

Martina was disgusted. She was rapidly loosing her taste for this assignment. She hadn't expected these people to be so decent and considerate. She hadn't expected to be affected by their personal problems. She didn't know that they worked so hard or that their success came at such an enormous price. She had overheard Nick on the phone with his younger brother, offering him encouragement and talking him through some rough family problem. She knew that AJ had called his mother everyday, inquiring about the health of a sick relative. Howie had come in from an afternoon of shopping one day and had wanted her opinion on the things he had bought - all gifts for friends and family. Brian had asked her last week to let Kevin know that he'd be away for a couple of hours because he was going to visit some children at a local hospital. Even Kevin, who seemed to have been deteriorating before her eyes for most of their stay, had never failed to treat her with politeness and respect. She liked these people.

She had begun to remember why she had wanted to be a reporter in the first place. It was easy to be noble in college when you had nothing, but reality sometimes has a way of eroding honor. Over the years her goals had changed and she had become materialistic. She hadn't intended on a career with a rag like 'Reputations' but she accepted a position, assuring herself that it would be temporary. Months turned into years and she had become caught up in the celebrity game. She had wanted to be a part of that game. She wanted power because she thought that power equaled respect. She wanted to make these people fear her. It was a goal that had remained desirable until this assignment. This was the first time she'd ever gotten acquainted with her victims.

"Well?" Charlie shouted. "Was there a blow up, or what?"

"I don't know!" Martina spat. "He went upstairs. I didn't hear anything! The only thing I know is that she made a reservation to fly back to Orlando later today!"

This was interesting. Charlie mused over the possibilities. Martina was going soft on him - he knew that, but she was a help. Kevin and his wife must have battled over this. He probably jumped all over her ass about his brother. He hadn't come back with the others and now she was leaving - going back to Orlando. But why Orlando if she wanted to leave? Charlie could only think of one really good reason and his name began with J. Then he considered another possibility. Maybe he told her to get out. Hmmm. He picked up the phone and started dialing.

“What are you doing?” Martina asked impatiently. She was growing increasingly uneasy with the ‘cat and mouse’ game.

"I’m making myself a reservation.” Charlie smirked. “Let’s see who’s going to be waiting to pick Mrs. Richardson up at the airport.” He booked himself on the same five PM flight. “You do what you did before. If anything looks good, call Eric….”

“Yes, sir!” Martina saluted dramatically.

Not only was Martina’s conscious working on her - Charlie was working on her nerves, too. When this weeks issue of ‘Reputations’ hit the Swedish newsstands, Martina discovered that she had no byline. There were plenty of ‘Photographs by Charles Mancuso’ but Martina was not mentioned one time. Her first reaction was anger. After all, she was the one who had put herself on the line by lying to get hired as a housekeeper and she had arranged for Charlie to have a place to stay. She was the one who had been feeding him tips and she was the one who had submitted the stories about Tristan’s mother and the girlfriends’ catfight. The whole spread looked as if Charlie had orchestrated it by himself. She suspected that he had cooked up some kind of deal with Raymond Whay. She found that now, although she was feeling somewhat used and was angry about her lack of credit, part of her was relieved. The absence of her byline might be a blessing in disguise. Catching celebrities in the act of doing something that was illegal or could be proved to have a negative impact was one thing. The pictures and articles in ‘Reputations’ were contrived, twisted and presented in a way to purposely foster ugly speculation about the group based solely on misleading and deliberate innuendo. ‘Reputations’ made the ‘National Enquirer’ look like ‘Newsweek’.

She was glad when Charlie left to run some last minute errands and confer with Eric.

*****

“Well, let’s get your bag zipped up, Tris. You got everything?” Kevin glanced around the room and opened drawers, checking to make sure that Tristan wasn’t leaving anything behind. “You want to take your Mom’s picture or do want me to keep it with the others?”

Tristan drew a breath. She was expecting him to protest her leaving. His mood was relaxed. This seemed fine with him.

“I’ll take it…”.

"Okay. Here you go.” Kevin handed her the photograph and picked her purse up as well. “Here, don’t forget this…”

“Thank you..” she muttered.

“Oh… you should have some cash. You might need it.” Kevin pulled out his wallet and handed her four fifty-dollar bills. “A woman should never go anywhere without some money on her.” He looked around one more time. “That looks like everything. Better get a move on…”

He was smiling at her. Actually smiling. Her feelings were hurt. The only thing that kept her from crying was pride.

“It’s a little early…” Tristan sniffled.

Kevin looked at his watch. “Not that early, babe. Don’t want to take a chance on missing that plane…” When glanced up at her, he looked concerned. “You’re not catching a cold are you, Tris?”

“No!”

“You’re sniffling…”

“I’m fine!”

“Oh.. okay. Good. Have you called a cab, yet?”

“No…”

“Why don’t you do that while I run in the bathroom?”

Kevin whirled around and went through the bathroom door. He was humming. Humming…. Tristan grabbed the phone, dialed an operator and was connected to a local taxi service. A cab would be at the villa to pick her up in fifteen minutes. She was standing near the bedroom door with her suitcase when Kevin came out.

“Well, goodbye Kevin. I’ll try not to let the door hit me in the ass as I leave!”

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Where are you going?”

Tristan’s mood was swinging from feeling wounded to feeling pissed. “To the airport, Kevin. Remember?”

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” he grinned back at her.

“What? Why?” Tristan felt a headache coming on.

Kevin put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Now Tris…. Do you really think I’d let you fly off to Orlando and leave me like this?”

Tristan was puzzled. “Is this a trick question?” she frowned.

“Baby….” Kevin held his arms out, inviting a hug.

Tristan didn’t move. She just looked at him warily. What is he doing?

“What?”

“Darlin’, we’re both leaving. I booked us seats on an earlier flight. Now give me some sugar…”

Tristan stood firm. Her arms crossed. “There is no earlier flight to Orlando, Kevin….” Her foot was tapping.

“Not to Orlando, Tris… We’re flying to DC and connecting to Lexington. I thought we’d spend some time in Kentucky.”

Tristan kept her eye on him. He was grinning again. He was still holding his arms out to her only now his fingers were wiggling - beckoning her. She hesitated for only a moment.

“You asshole!” she mumbled before she ran into his arms. “I hate you!”

*****

Martina answered the door when the bell rang. She was a little surprised to see a cab waiting outside. It was early. Tristan suddenly appeared at the bottom of the steps, suitcase in hand. Martina decided to play dumb.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she asked.

“We’re leaving, Martina….”

Martina’s face spun around to the landing. Kevin started down the last steps, also carrying bags.

“I… I don’t understand. I thought everyone was leaving tomorrow.”

“Everyone else is.” Kevin answered. “Tristan and I are packing it in a little early. We’re going home for a few days.”

“To Florida?”

“Naw…” Kevin smiled at Tristan. “We’re heading for the blue grasses.” Kevin paused before they went out of the door. “Thank you Marina, for everything. You’ve taken good care of us and we appreciate it. If you ever need a recommendation or anything…”

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson. I’ll remember that. Have a good trip…”

An hour later, Charlie came barreling into the servants quarters. He immediately started throwing his things into a bag. He was thankful at times like these, that he traveled light. He’d already arranged for a cab to pick him up. It would be here in five minutes.

“God damn! I’ve gotta get going….” He cried as he loaded his cameras into his carry on bag. “Has she left yet?’ ‘She’, of course, was Tristan.

Martina nodded seriously. “Yes. She’s gone..”

“Does he know she’s leaving?” he asked as zipped up his suitcase.

“Yes. He knows..” she replied truthfully.

“He didn’t try to stop her?”

“No.”

“Shit. That’s what I thought. He’s kicked her pregnant ass out!” Charlie sounded almost gleeful. “Okay, doll. I hear my cab - gotta run - Orlando’s waiting!… I’ll just load my cameras on the plane.”

Charlie ran out of the door and jumped into the back eat of the cab as Martina waved him goodbye - and good riddance. Then she closed the door and leaned against it. A small, self-satisfied smiled curled her lips.

I have a feeling that you’re not going to be using much film, Charlie…

CHAPTER 32

Kevin hadn't told his mother that he and Tristan had planned to come home. He was ready for a few weeks of free time and was hoping to go through September with a minimum of promos and scheduled activities. He did have to go to LA in a couple of weeks for a video shoot and would probably have to do a couple of interviews while he was out there but other than that, he was essentially a free man. His only plans were to try and write a little, see old friends, help with the addition to his house and build another cradle.

Coming home to Lexington had another advantage at this time. Reporters and columnists would expect him to come back to Orlando with the rest of the group. He didn't have the strength to deal with those people right now and he knew they would be ready to pounce - to ask him and Tristan about the magazine spread. Plus, the world knew that Tristan was pregnant now. He had deliberately avoided the internet. Neither of them needed to be attacked or interrogated about such a personal event. The people outside of the city, where the Richardson's lived, were protective of the couple. Kevin felt safe there. He knew there would be fallout. Jive would not be happy. They already tried to fight breakup rumors on a daily basis. Now they would have to deal with the speculation that would ensue following the return of four Backstreet Boys to Florida.

His thoughts turned to Nick and Holly. They would have a lap full of shit to deal with, too. The picture of the engagement ring… The others would be all right. Howie would ingratiate himself into the press' good graces by smiling, winking… and stuff like that… Brian had become extremely adept at avoiding the press, the fans and the photographers. Amanda and AJ could handle things. The press liked those two. They were sassy in a fun sort of way. Nick could get flustered. He was always afraid of looking stupid but Kevin thought that Holly, when backed into a corner, would be just fine. The girl did have spunk. He chuckled when he thought about Holly's comments to Amanda concerning 'battery operated devices'. Yeah, she could throw it back if she had to. He had overheard Holly and Amanda come to a truce after the infamous catfight but not before a few more barbs had been thrown. They had decided to call it a draw after Amanda had, once again, attacked Nick's fluctuating girth and Holly had countered with a suggestion that AJ change the name of his alter-ego from Johnny No-Name to Johnny No-Ass.

The cab pulled up in front of Ann's house just as she was passing through the living room. She peered through the sheers at the window wondering who would be coming to her house in a cab. Squealing with delight when she saw Kevin unfolding himself from the back seat, she ran out of the front door just in time to see him pull Tristan out of the taxi.

“Oh sweet Jesus! I can’t believe it!” she cried as she blew right past Kevin and threw her arms around Tristan's neck. “Oh sweetheart! Let me look at you!” she said stepping back to examine her daughter-in-law. “Oh, look at those babies! The dough is rising isn’t it?” she laughed, patting Tristan’s tummy.

Kevin shook his head and walked back to the trunk to gather their bags. The two women were still babbling. Then he paid the driver and thanked him. They still hadn’t taken a breath. Kevin stood and watched them for another minute or two before he felt compelled to interrupt.

“Hello, Ma… Remember me?” Kevin pouted.

Ann turned to face her baby boy. “Oh, hello baby!” she smiled and stepped over to him. Kevin automatically lowered his head to receive his kiss. “Am I neglecting you, dear?”

“Well,” Kevin whined. “I’m expecting, too, ‘ya know…”

“I don’t think it works that way, dear…”

“Yes it does…” Kevin argued. He sounded like he was ten years old.

“Alright, dear… if you say so.” Ann reached up and pushed Kevin’s hair back from his forehead. “You need a haircut. Do you want me to call Lester?”

“Nooooo… Jeez, Mom. You treat me like I’m a baby…”

“No, dear - you’re a big grown up man, now - with whiskers and everything…” She rubbed Kevin’s chin affectionately. “Now, come on in the house. I’ve got Rice-Krispy bars and Kool-Ade…”

Kevin perked up. “What kind of Kool-Ade?”

“Black Cherry?”

“Cool…” Kevin picked up the bags and followed Tristan and his mother into the house, unmindful of the fact that they were rolling their eyes.

Kevin was also unmindful of the fact that they were being watched from an upstairs window. Jerald was home, too.

*****

Charlie was beyond pissed. He had purposely taken the worst seat on the flight because of it location. It was at the front of coach section and he could make sure he was the first one off the plane. He hadn't seen Tristan board but he had been running late and assumed that she was already on the plane. When they finally landed in Orlando, he grabbed his bag and practically pushed his way through the exit, camera in hand and ready to go. He looked around the gate, trying to spot someone who would be there to meet Tristan and hoping desperately that the someone would be Jerald Richardson. No one looked familiar so he waited. When she deplaned, he would be ready and if no one were there to meet her, he would follow her out of the airport and see if she had a ride. If she took a cab, he would follow her home. Any reunion pics might come via a telephoto lens but that was okay.

Several minutes passed and Charlie was beginning to panic. There was no sign of her. Raymond Whay had specifically ordered him to stay on top of this story. It had to be followed through and the veiled allegations had to be substantiated. The publishers had begun to get a little nervous. They wanted dirt, but they wanted real dirt. Remarks and innuendo in last year’s expose, although lurid and hurtful, could be defended. Mike had seen to that. Last weeks issue had certainly been sensational but Backstreet fans had sent hundreds of letters and emails that questioned the magazines motivation and integrity. Owners began to worry when this weeks issue caused even more of an uproar. The advertising revenue that the rag had been expecting as a result of these stories and pictures wasn't coming. Advertisers were leery and, in fact, some of their current clients had started sweating a little, too. The fans that were protesting and questioning 'Reputation's' spread were the same people who bought their products and services. The magazine was getting an unexpected backlash. Fans may not like the fact that Kevin was married and expecting a baby but they were insisting on some degree of fairness.

Tristan never did get off the plane. She wasn't on the plane. Charlie pulled out his cell and began to dial furiously. In Sweden, Martina sat at a small table in her kitchenette. When the private line in the servants quarters began to ring, she glanced at her watch, smiled and raised her glass of wine in a silent toast. She knew who was calling. She didn't answer.

*****

“Let me help you.” Tristan laughed as Ann tried to juggle two trays of food in her arms. She scooted her chair back as Ann tried to kick the refrigerator door closed with her foot.

“No! You sit! I can get it.”

“I’ve been sitting all day…”

Ann stumbled across the kitchen to the counter. “Okay, dear. You get he potato salad and iced tea…”

As Tristan bent herself into the refrigerator, Ann looked at her youngest son. She wouldn’t dare mention the magazine - not with Tristan here, but she wanted to know what was going on. Kevin hadn’t asked about Jerald as he had about Tim, Tracy and their children. The spread had upset her greatly but she had gotten no relief from talking to Jerald. His replies had been superficial at best. Her questions had seemed to anger him at first and then he had laughed them off. The bottom line was that he didn’t want to ‘dignify such trash by discussing it’. Ann’s sense of unease grew when he admitted that he hadn’t spoken to Kevin and it blossomed when she found out that Tristan had unexpectedly flown to Sweden. The subject would have to come up although it would probably have to be forced. The two brothers hadn’t seen each other or spoken since the printed attacks began.

The food was spread out on the table. All that was needed for the casual supper were napkins. As Tristan carried the pitcher of tea to the table, Ann made a request of Kevin.

“Honey, go upstairs and tell Jerald that supper’s ready…”

The look that passed over Kevin’s face was fleeting and indescribable. Ann might have used the word ‘odd’. She noticed that Tristan hesitated for a split second and that Kevin glanced at her quickly and then back down at his plate.

“I didn’t know Jerald was home.” Kevin mumbled, catching Tristan’s eye once again.

“Well, you didn’t ask.” Ann answered. “You asked about everyone else.”

“I figured he was still in Florida.”

“Is that why you came to Kentucky?”

Kevin sighed impatiently and threw his napkin down on the table. “No, mother. I came to Kentucky to get our house ready for our children and to spend some time with my family!”

Ann frowned at Kevin’s attitude. “Well, that’s good, Pumpkin, ‘cause all of your family is here. And Kevin,” she said, leveling her eyes at him, “you would do well not to take that tone with me. I didn’t tolerate it when you were eight or eighteen and I won’t tolerate it now that you’re twenty-eight…”

“Fine! Maybe I should just leave, then…”

“That’s your call, dear…”

The argument had created a prideful standoff between mother and son, one that Kevin didn’t have a prayer of winning and he knew it.

“Come on, Tristan. Let’s go home!”

Tristan placed her napkin on the table and scooted her chair back. As she began to rise. Ann stepped over to her, placed her hand on her shoulder and forced her back into her seat, glaring at her son.

“Tristan’s not going anywhere - not until she eats something!”

Tristan began to shake her head. “No, Ann. It’s okay - really. I’m not hungry anyway and we have plenty of stuff in the freezer and….”

“No, Tris." Kevin huffed. "Mom is right. You stay here and eat. I’ll take the bags over and turn on the AC and stuff. I’ll see you later.”

“But…”

“Later…” Kevin repeated as he backed out of the door. He paused briefly to issue a reminder. “Just don’t forget what I told you, Tristan. I mean it…” He waited until he was sure that she understood and then he left.

Ann sighed and then turned to Tristan with a weak smile.

"Well… I'm sorry, Tristan. I didn't mean to upset your homecoming. Kevin will be alright."

"Yes, I know…"

Anne reached over and touched her arm reassuringly. "What did he tell you? What is it he doesn't want you to forget?"

Both women were startled by another voice that echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

"That's what I'd like to know, too, Tris. What did Kevin tell you?"

It was Jerald. He had overheard the entire exchange. Tristan smiled brightly and looked from mother to son.

“Oh, it’s nothing. You know Kevin…. He just wants me to take it easy, that’s all.”

Jerald looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. He seemed to insist on putting her on the spot and she found that she resented it. All she wanted was to let it go.

“God, Tris. You are such a lousy liar…”

“Actually, Jerald, it may surprise you to know that I’ve turned out to be a pretty good liar, especially lately….,” she spit back at him.

Ann suddenly looked as if she might faint. “Oh dear Lord…..” The color had completely drained from her face. “Please don’t tell me….”

“ANN!” Tristan shouted. “Nothing happened between Jerald and me!” She looked across the table. “Tell her Jerald!”

“Nothing happened, Mom! For Pete’s sake….”

Ann began hurriedly arranging food on a plate. She couldn’t stop the thought that rolled through her brain. Not because you didn’t want it to, Jerald…. When she had finished, she stepped to the counter and pulled a roll of plastic wrap out of the drawer and wrapped the plate. Within three minutes, she was opening the back door to leave.

“Where are you going, Mom?” Jerald frowned.

“I’m taking this to Kevin….”

“NO!” Tristan cried. “I mean… just wait a minute Ann. I’ll go with you…”

“No, dear. You and Jerald eat your supper. I’ll be back in…”

“I can’t…” Tristan choked. “Kevin told me…”

Tristan couldn’t get out the words. She groped for a way to explain without being hurtful but she was having difficulty. Jerald watched her carefully as she struggled and then the realization hit him.

“Kevin doesn’t want you to be alone with me, does he?”

Tristan’s silence provided him with his answer.

“Give me that plate, mother! I’m going to go see my baby brother.”

“Don’t, Jerald…” Tristan pleaded.

Ann held her tongue for several seconds before she interrupted.

“Let him go, Tristan. Let’s get this over with…”

Forty minutes later, Jerald returned. His eye was cut and swollen and his lip was split open. A large bruise was forming on his right cheek and he was holding his stomach. Ann looked him over and then, satisfied that his injuries were fairly superficial, sent him upstairs with orders to soak in the tub for awhile.

“H….How’s Kevin?” Tristan whispered as Jerald was leaving the room.

Jerald stopped and turned slowly. “His goddamn fists are probably killing him!” Jerald hissed. He turned back to go up the stairs and stopped again. “I keep forgetting that s.o.b. is ambidextrous. Christ, he was wired!” Jerald paused one more time on the stairs. “And Tris? Fuck those hardwood floors!”

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