Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 59

It was hard to beat Florida in April. Humidity wasn't a problem yet and daily afternoon showers cleaned the air and helped give gardens a head start. Tristan's roses were already budding.

Kevin watched her from the French doors. He had been trying to do some work in his study but he couldn't seem to concentrate. Inspiration eluded him on this Sunday afternoon, just as it had yesterday and the day before that. The joint didn't help his creative processes but by the time he had taken in half of it, he didn't really care anymore, either. Normally, he wouldn't have taken the risk of toking at home but Tristan was outside with the babies. Besides, he had sprayed the room with Lysol after he flushed the roach down the toilet - and it was his house.

The group had already begun preliminary work on the next album. They were going to try this one without the guiding hand of Max. Oh, the songs would be pop-flavored - some of them anyway. But songs that the group had written for Black and Blue, either together or as individuals, had been well received and had given them a dose of courage. Jive was balking. They preferred the tried and true formulas. When it came to quality versus quantity, sales totals were the bottom line as far as the label was concerned. They didn't give a rat's ass about creativity, accolades or even respect.

Respect... Kevin shook his head and then gazed out at Tristan again. She had respect - respect from her peers, her audience and now, her students. Her trophies were unimportant to her, gathering dust in a box hidden under attic eaves. Kevin's were lined up and polished, demanding recognition. The group had made some strides in regards to other musicians and singers who occasionally sang their praises, yet sometimes, especially when he was feeling fed-up and a little paranoid, Kevin wondered if these same people weren't really laughing behind their backs.

Tristan turned and handed Ben and Mallory two small plastic pots to play with. It was an idyllic scene - the kind Kevin had always dreamed of. His wife was out in the yard, planting Gerber daisies, his children laying nearby on a blanket, swinging their arms and kicking their legs... God's in His heaven and all's right with the world...

Except that that wasn't entirely true. He had checked the answering machine a few days ago and a man's voice - one he didn't recognize - had blasted out of the speaker. Hey, Tris! This is Stan... I'm sending over the Mozart and Debussy. You have the Handel, right? We haven't finalized everything, I know, but we had to book the studio time so let me know if there's a problem. There had been a problem, alright... The problem had been that Kevin knew nothing about the recording session. Tristan had explained what the situation was very calmly and reasonably. She wasn't nervous about saying anything because she could think of no earthly reason to be. She hadn't said anything because she hadn't learned of the details and there was a possibility that the recording would be postponed indefinitely or cancelled altogether. Besides, what reason would he possibly have to object? She would be playing five pieces - her contribution would take a week - maybe less. They would record at the university. It was no big deal.

But the news had hit Kevin a little differently. She was 'in demand' again and it made him feel uneasy. He could attribute no logic to his feelings but that hadn't stopped him from blowing up and storming out of the house. He'd gone to AJ's angry and in need of sympathetic support. Unfortunately he found none. AJ didn't accuse him of being an ass but it was clear that he didn't know why Kevin was making such a big deal of this. After he left AJ's he drove by the house that Brian still had in Orlando. The lights were on and he stopped.

Brian was more sympathetic. He listened and nodded at the appropriate times. It wasn't like Kevin to air any dirty laundry but the beers he'd had at AJ's had loosened his tongue a little more than usual and he had hoped that Brian, being family, would understand his exasperation. He wasn't disappointed. By the time he had gotten home, it was after two AM and he was drunk. He shouldn't have even been driving. Tristan had fallen asleep sitting up in their bed with sheets of music spread across her lap.

It didn't get past Kevin that she had not called around looking for him. He was sorry that he had gotten so angry but he was also a little angry that she had not been sorry or understood why this might bother him. He picked up her music, slid her down onto the mattress and turned off the lights before falling into the bed beside her and burying his face in her breasts. He was still fully clothed, too drunk to care.

"I'm sorry, baby.." he drawled softly against her bosom as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was only vaguely aware of her hand in his hair and her returned whisper.

"I know, Kevin..."

In two weeks, the Backstreet Boys would be on their way to Europe.

*****

Tristan spent five days with Kevin in Europe. They were good days, full of laughter as well as romance and despite the challenges of the tour and the constant barrage of fans, they managed to spend some time alone. Halfway through Tristan's visit, Mason also joined the tour. It was a little easier if Tristan or Holly was with the group when Mason came. Although the inner circle knew by now that Mason and Jack had formed a 'relationship', no one felt any need to add to any sexual speculation regarding any part of this world tour.

Milan, of course was Kevin's favorite European city. He had made no secret about that and took some pride in his knowledge of its history and points of interest. Plans had been made to do a little sight seeing on the day before Tristan had to head back home and before long, a small group had formed, eager for some fresh air, a change of pace and some authentic Italian food. Kevin was happy to lead the charge.

Kevin couldn't help but notice Mason's snippy attitude. He chalked if off to jet lag at first, but before long, it had become evident that Mason's brusqueness seemed to be reserved for him, alone. He tried to ignore it all morning but by that afternoon, he had had enough of Mason's frowns, rolling eyes and pouts.

"What's your problem, Mason?"

Kevin had cornered Mason after he had moved to the other side of a picturesque fountain to take some photographs. Mason all but ignored Kevin, keeping the camera in front of his face as he continued to snap away.

"I don't have a problem. Kevin? Do you have a problem?"

Kevin was confused. He hadn't even seen Mason in weeks and since he had arrived in Europe, he hadn't picked at him once or even scowled.

"No..."

"Well, then - I guess we are two happy sons of bitches!" With that Mason had turned and walked away.

Nothing more was said until Kevin pointed out the famous opera house, La Scala and went on and on about its design, acoustics and what an honor it would be to receive an invitation to perform on it's stage.

"The famous 'La Scala'! I guess every singer would love to be able to perform there one day.." he finished.

Again with the frown - a little more pronounced this time. Mason couldn't contain himself and had to make a comment.

"Yes, it would be quite an accomplishment for any musician to receive an invitation to perform at La Scala! Right, Tristan?"

Tristan had smiled weakly, said 'Sure..' and immediately changed the subject, reminding Kevin of his promise to take her shopping. Thus ended the brief and strange tour of Milan. The group separated and Tristan and Kevin headed for the designer houses.

Tristan left very early the following morning allowing Kevin to see her to the elevator and no farther. Fans were camped out in the lobby and arrangements had already been made for her to leave through a service entrance. After sleepy good-byes, the elevator doors had closed and Tristan was gone once again. For several seconds, Kevin just stood and stared at the brass plated doors, which reflected his image back to him in shades of gold and ochre. She's here, she's gone, she's there, she's here... He finally shook himself and went back to their room, now feeling edgy and awake. The room seemed empty and cold now - almost like she had never been here. God, he missed her already and she had barely left the hotel. Kevin leaned over the bed, picked up a fistful of sheets and held them to his face, closing his eyes when he captured a remnant of her scent. The luxurious room was suddenly too small and Kevin wanted to get out. He slipped on a baseball cap, sandals and sunglasses and took the service elevator downstairs, not bothering to call Carlos. Tristan's perfume still lingered in the small space leaving Kevin feeling agitated and melancholy at the same time.

*****

Mason could feel him standing nearby yet he pretended not to notice. He shook the front page of his English language newspaper and reached for a scone, never moving his eyes from the fine print.

"Why don't you move your purse, Mason, so I can sit down?"

"Look who's talking.." Mason grumped as he leaned over to move his bag. "'Mr. Pocketbook', himself..."

"At least my bag doesn't have a gold clasp, for God's sake..."

Kevin reached over and helped himself to a pastry as Mason gave him the evil-eye and lifted the paper once again. From behind the page, he leveled another observation.

"Nice of you to dress for breakfast, Kevin. Who's you stylist these days? Boxcar Willie?"

Kevin's mouth stopped moving mid-chew as he glared at the other side of folded newsprint.

"It's seven fucking o' clock in the morning, Mason... I didn't know breakfast was a black-tie occasion."

"It's not a 'Led Zeppelin Meets DMX' occasion, either, Kevin. You're mixing decades!"

"Jesus Christ, Mason! What the hell is your gripe with me?" Kevin's voice rose as he threw his half-eaten croissant back onto the plate. "Tristan left this morning and I'm not in the mood to match wits with you so why don't you just tell me what's up your ass..." Kevin paused for moment. "...unless you'd rather not discuss your personal life..." he smirked.

That did it. Kevin had thrown down the gauntlet.

"You sure seem to know an awful lot about gay sex, Kevin! Maybe I can introduce you to a couple of friends of mine. You can model your pink shirt and pearls for them, you...you..Back-It-Up Boy!"

Mason had risen out of his chair. His face had grown red. Thankfully, the dining room was practically empty at this hour. Kevin rose as well and met Mason's challenge. He leaned across the space that separated them and spoke evenly through clenched teeth.

"I'm not the one wearing lace to bed every night, Mason. Unlike you and your 'friends', I'm a pussy-man..."

Mason was not intimidated. He narrowed his eyes and glared back at Kevin.

"Hey, Libarace... You said it - I didn't. 'Pussy-man' is right! With the emphasis on pussy!

Kevin stepped back and looked at Mason incredulously. He wasn't even sure what had brought this clash on.

"Mason?. Am I hearing you right? Are you calling me a pussy?"

"Not only am I calling you a pussy, Kevin - I am calling you a manipulative, control seeking, insecure, selfish, sexist pussy!" Mason threw his napkin onto the table, crossed his arms and waited for the return volley.

Kevin had had about all of this he could stand. He was tired, sad, pissed and mystified. Mason looked like he was ready to explode and Kevin had no idea why. He took a breath and tried desperately to calm himself down. Finally, he shook his head, closed his eyes, counted to ten and then looked Mason in the eye.

"You're gonna have to help me out here, Mason. I really don't know what's wrong with you..."

"Have you asked Tristan about the CD she made with Andrew Michaelson and Peter Reubens?"

"Asked her what?"

"Asked how it's doing, numb-nuts! For your information, the thing is climbing up the classical charts! It'll hit the top before the end of August, I guarantee!"

"Well, that's... that's great, Mason. I had no idea..."

"'I had no idea'..." Mason mimicked sarcastically. "It would be greater if she'd done the tour. Or should I say - if she had been allowed to do the tour! I swear to God, Kevin - you kill me. You're a member of the number one musical act in the world but you can't give Tristan an inch, can you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Mason...?"

"I know that the CD thing pissed you off! Tristan didn't say it but I could tell when she avoided talking about your reaction to her doing it. This magnificent tour is arranged... I was going with her and help her with Ben and Mallory..."

"What tour?"...

".... But nooooo.... Suddenly, she's not interested! 'I should stay here with the kids, Mason'..." he sing-songed.

"What tour?..." Kevin repeated.

"...'Besides, I thought I'd spend a few days with Kevin, on the road'... 'But Tris' I say, 'It's only for a couple of weeks! You can still spend time with Kevin!'... 'No'..., she says, 'One musician in the family is enough right now. It gets rough on the road sometimes and Kevin doesn't need to be worrying about me and the babies being halfway around the world'...."

"What fuckin' tour Mason!"...

"...and so I say 'Kevin doesn't want you to do this, does he Tris? He wants you to be handy in case he snaps his fingers!'... and she says 'That's not true, Mason'... and I say 'Bullshit, Tristan! He doesn't like the idea of you being in demand and successful! Think about it! You haven't played in over a year - almost a year and a half!' and she says..."

"MASON!"

Mason skidded to a stop mid-tirade and scowled at the interruption.

"WHAT!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, man. Tris never said anything to me about a tour."

"Sure, Kevin." Mason groaned, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I was there yesterday when you made your little appeasement speech about La Scala, remember?"

"La Scala? The opera house?"

Kevin looked genuinely puzzled. His brows had furrowed high on his forehead and his eyes had grown wide in his search for understanding. Mason quickly concluded that if Kevin was acting the innocent, he was doing one hell of a job.

"Are you telling me that you didn't know?"

Kevin sighed in exasperation. "I told you that I don't know what you're bitchin' about! Now stop bein' a cunt and spill it! What does La Scala have to do with all this shit you're pissin' about?" he growled.

Mason blinked. Fuck me... I was so sure he knew.. He really didn't know how he could get out of this one. His righteous indignation had unexpectedly morphed into embarrassment mixed with a soupcon of guilt.

"Uh?... I had some promoters and symphony people contact me about Tristan. There's been some interest in her - you know - playing again..."

"Yeah? And...."

"Well, I talked to these people and we came up with the idea of a mini-tour. Important venues. Not many, but prestigious.. Kind of a quick world tour - five dates over two weeks.."

"Go on..." Kevin reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt tired and headachy.

"Buenos Aires. Moscow, Sydney, Milan and New York... We were supposed to finalize by the end of April. The performances were to be in August."

"I see..." Kevin pursed his lips and looked down at the carpet. "And Tris was invited to play La Scala?"

"Yes - and the Bolshoi, and Carnegie Hall..."

"I get it, Mason..."

Kevin turned to leave. He wasn't sure what to think and decided that maybe he didn't want to think at all. His head was beginning to throb. He wanted to go back to bed. Maybe a Percodan... He stopped when he heard Mason call to him and twisted his head to see what he wanted.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I'm sorry I called you manipulative, selfish and a pussy... I thought you knew."

"What about 'sexist, controlling and insecure'?" Kevin mumbled.

"I'm still reserving judgement on those..."

CHAPTER 60

"I'm telling you, Holly! I want you to stay out of this. I know Tris is your friend but it's none of your damn business. This shit is between her and Kevin..."

"I thought she was your friend, too!"

Nick gripped the steering wheel tightly, cast his eyes to the right and frowned. "She is my friend and you know it. I love Tristan but I love Kevin, too, and this has nothing to do with us!"

The second leg of the U.S. Tour was over. In a few more weeks, the group would be heading for Asia and Australia and then it would end - at least for a while.

Holly pouted, folded her arms and looked out of the passenger's side window. Nick was right. It was none of her business. She had been flabbergasted, that's all. Tristan had never mentioned it. Apparently Kevin had never mentioned it either or Nick would have told her.

Mason had stepped out for a meeting when he had received a call during Symphony rehearsals. The orchestra was on a break anyway, so Holly had taken the call, thinking it was the rare book dealer that Mason had been expecting to hear from. He had left her a list and had asked her to talk to Mr. Greenberg if he called while he was out. As it turned out, it wasn't Mr. Greenberg. The call had been from Louisa Manning, who happened to be the assistant to the director and manager of Carnegie Hall. She had called, asking if Mason thought it might be possible to reschedule Miss Mallory's performance, especially considering that 'Baroque and Beyond' - the CD on which Tristan was one of the featured artists - had hit the number one spot on the classical charts three weeks ago and was holding fast. The CD was threatening to go platinum, which was a rare occurrence in the classical music world.

Holly, of course, had known about the recording. What she hadn't known about was Tristan's tour proposal. When Mason returned, Holly had cornered him immediately and pumped him for information until she had the whole story. Mason had managed to convince her that Kevin had known nothing about the tour but Holly was still pissed. Tristan had passed up a golden opportunity, but why? It was only five performances. Tristan blooms when she plays and she misses it sometimes - I know she does. I could have gone along and helped out with the children - it would have been fun! Holly could come up with only one reason that Tristan would forego these honors and that reason had long black hair and green eyes. Kevin's assumed disapproval was the only thing that had stopped Tristan and she had felt forced to choose between her music and her husband.

Holly tried not to think of the story Mason had told her of Tristan's parents after the trip to Sweden last year. There were differences, of course, but Holly couldn't help but think of the old adage about history repeating itself. She just prayed that Kevin wasn't playing the role of Edward Mallory to Tristan's Rebekah...

Holly knew that she was taking a large risk whenever she questioned Kevin's motives or demeanor. Tristan rarely spoke of any personal issues, fears or problems and most of Holly's information came second hand. She didn't want to cause problems and she wasn't trying to be nosy but it never failed to amaze her how everyone seemed to 'circle the wagons' when it came to Kevin Richardson. Tristan was very protective of him and Holly considered that her defense of him was based half on insight and half on naiveté.

"I hope Kevin's gotten over that head cold or allergies or whatever he had..."

Nick's attempt at conversation roused Holly from her reverie, but presented a whole other concern - one that she had been chewing on for quite some time and one that Nick didn't wish to consider.

"Yeah. Me, too..."

Kevin was using. She felt it in her gut. She wished she could talk to somebody about it but that had already proved to be impossible. Holly wanted somebody to convince her that she was being paranoid - that the things she had seen on the tour this year were easily explained and laughable. Even indirect questions about Kevin's mood swings, anxiety, lethargy and weight loss were dismissed as tour stress. The only flash of truth had unknowingly come from Tristan when she casually mentioned Kevin's neck injury one day over lunch. Holly recalled the brief exchange clearly.

"Kevin hurt his neck?"

"Yeah, during a rehearsal, but he's okay now. He took something for it..."

"What did he take?" Holly was deliberately indifferent in her tone but a red flag was waving in her brain. "I didn't think there was such a thing as 'neck medicine'..."

"I don't think there is!" Tristan laughed. "No, this was just some temporary stuff for the pain - you know until the swelling could go down. It began with a 'P', I think... Per - something. I don"t remember."

Percodan? Percocet?... "Well, I'm glad he's better..."

Nick had known nothing about Kevin hurting himself and had dismissed Holly's claim, patronizingly stating that 'she must have misunderstood'.

Nick's reference to Kevin's 'head cold' brought with it another disconcerting memory. She remembered Kevin's runny nose and itchy eyes. She also remembered walking towards him as he popped a tiny white pill into his mouth one evening about an hour before the show. He hadn't seen her coming towards him and almost choked when he heard her speak.

"What's the matter, Kev? Feeling bad?"

"Uhhh.. Yeah. Got this head cold, 'ya know? Thought I'd take an aspirin..."

He's lying... "Those are the tiniest aspirin I've ever seen!" Holly had chuckled in spite of her true fears. "What brand is that?"

"Oh - uhh... Something I picked up in Europe..."

Within an hour, Kevin's 'cold' was no longer a problem. In fact, he became almost energetic and driven. By the time Tristan had arrived later that night, the 'cold' seemed to have disappeared altogether. Two days after her departure, his runny nose had returned.

*****

Dinner was going fairly well despite Holly's uneasiness. She thought she was doing a good job of hiding it until she felt the rubber sole of Nick's shoe plant itself on her ankle. When she jerked her head towards him, he cut his eyes towards Tristan who was eyeing her expectantly.

"I'm sorry... What did you say?"

"Where are you?" Tristan laughed as she picked up the breadbasket and passed it around. "I said that Mason told me that you were going back to Atlanta for a performance."

"Oh...yes that's right.." Holly murmured.

"That's great, Holly. You'll be able to see old friends." Kevin said absently as he reached for the wine.

Holly couldn't bite her tongue any longer. She'd tried to be good and she really didn't want to ruin a pleasant evening but she had a strong urge to stand up for Tristan, even in some abstract way. She could feel the heat of Nick's eyes on her as she began her reply.

"Yes, Atlanta is great but most of the people I knew there have moved on. I appreciate them asking me to play but let's face it - it's not exactly the Bolshoi or Carnegie Hall..."

All conversation ground to a halt before Nick and Tristan both burst into spontaneous chatter about nothing. They were attempting to make a quick change of the subject. The air had suddenly seemed thick.

Although Holly kept her eyes glued to her plate, the absence of Kevin's voice was quite noticeable - at least to her. It took her several seconds to summon up the courage to glance his way and when she finally did, his glare was unmistakable and hard. Holly suddenly wondered what she had hoped to accomplish by making such a comment. Tristan had ignored her reference completely. That fact, combined with Kevin's obvious displeasure at her innuendo made her realize that one of two things had taken place. Either Kevin and Tristan had fought about her tour or they hadn't discussed it at all.

"Hey Kev, how's the cold? You seem okay now."

Nick was desperately trying to recapture the earlier ambiance of their casual dinner party. Little did he know that he had thrown one more stick onto Kevin's smoldering fire - and Holly never even had to say a word.

"You had a cold?" Tristan asked as she placed her flatware onto her plate. "When? On the tour?"

"Yeah, yeah... No big deal. It's gone.."

"Did you take something for it? An aspirin or something? Those things can really knock you for a loop, sweetie..."

"Hell, Tris, it was just a cold. Aspirin doesn't do a damn thing to help a cold, anyway. You know that."

As soon as he'd said it, he was sorry. The conversation he'd had with Holly at the venue filled his brain. The one where he had told Holly that he was taking some aspirin for a head cold when in fact, the little white tablet had been a potent amphetamine. This time it was Kevin whose gaze rested on his plate before he raised it to meet Holly's eyes.

Holly's heart skipped a beat when she locked eyes with Kevin. She had seen him angry. She had seen him secretive. She had even seen him desperate and hurting but she had never seen the coldness that froze her heart at his moment. Holly tried to return Kevin's icy stare with a flicker of concern and compassion but he looked away, then stood and began to clear the table. If Holly had had any doubts that Kevin was heading for trouble, they vanished then and there.

*****

The foursome had settled in to watch a movie, which had become a regular part of their visits. Nick had kicked off his shoes and assumed his position on the sofa after grabbing 'his' afghan from the chest.

"Jesus, Nick.. Why don't you make yourself at home?" Kevin was grumbling but his words weren't meant to be unkind.

Nick lapped up his teasing like a hungry cat. "Fuck you, Kev! I'm a guest here and I know Tris would want me to be comfortable, even if you don't." Nick threw his head back and hollered. "Right, Tris?"

"Absolutely!" Tristan giggled from the kitchen entrance.

Tristan looked around the room and experienced one of those rare moments of contentment and peace. Although Holly seemed a little distracted tonight, it didn't appear to be anything major. Thankfully, they had managed to avert the 'tour' issue. Nick had cuddled up under his afghan, his head on Holly's lap. He and Kevin exchanged their usual barbs while movie trailers played across the screen. Occasionally, Holly would playfully slap the top of Nick's head. Kevin sat back in the overstuffed chair, his legs spread eagle across the ottoman, waiting for her to take her seat between his thighs. It was a familiar and comfortable scene.

"Come on, Tris!" Kevin yelled into the kitchen.

"Just a minute, Kevin." She answered. " Let me check on Ben and Mallory."

"The movie's starting, baby! Hurry up - you're gonna miss the beginning!"

That's when Nick decided to put in his two cents worth.

"Well, hit the goddamn 'pause' button, you dumb-shit..."

It took Tristan a few minutes to change diapers and settle the babies in for the night. She could hear the rumbles of conversation coming from downstairs and occasional bursts of laughter and so she didn't hurry. When she finally returned to the group, there seemed to have been a slight shift in the general atmosphere. Kevin seemed fine but Nick and Holly had become quiet.

"At last..." Kevin patted the space between his legs, signaling Tristan to come and sit. "Everything okay?"

"Fine..." Tristan glanced at Nick and Holly whose expressions could best be described as 'perplexed'. "What were ya'll talking about while I was gone? Did I miss any good gossip?"

There were a couple of silent beats before Holly answered.

"Uhhh... Kevin was just talking about the possibility of you moving to LA..."

Tristan's first instinct was to laugh and she would have had it not been for Kevin's failure to correct Holly's misconception.

"What? Oh, he was kidding!" She turned her head to Kevin smiling, waiting for him to admit that he was joking. He didn't.

"No. I'm not." Kevin gave Tristan a squeeze and pulled her against him. "I've been thinking about this. The tour will be over in December. I thought we'd go out there then and take a look around - maybe look at a few places..."

"But I don't like LA!" Tristan interrupted.

"You don't really know anything about the city, Tristan." Kevin shifted and Tristan could detect impatience in his voice. "We'll talk about this later..."

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