Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 63

They didn't stay in Kentucky for very long. Although they both seemed to relax noticeably as soon as the plane landed, it wasn't long before Kevin began to feel a little 'antsy'. He enjoyed family life but a large part of him missed the action in LA as well as the satisfaction of being regarded as an individual and not part of a unit.

In Kentucky, he was the hometown boy - son of Jerald and Ann, brother of Jerald, Jr. and Timothy. In Florida, he was a Backstreet Boy. In both instances, he was one of five and, at the age of thirty, he had decided that it was time to be one of one. He didn't want to let go of the group but he needed something for himself - something apart from the pop music scene. He loved the fans but he no longer relished the thought of teenagers screaming after him and throwing marriage proposals and underwear his way. It didn't make him feel 'hot'. It made him feel stupid. He was searching for an identity and he didn't feel like he would find it in the shadows of Disney World or the Appalachian Mountains. California just had more to offer - more choices. He could remain connected to the music he loved by writing and producing or he could dabble in film - if not in front of the camera, then behind it. He was actually more comfortable behind the scenes controlling the action. In California, he might even be afforded the opportunity to combine the two art forms. The idea of directing music videos was very appealing to him. He had enjoyed editing "I'll Be the One" and had received praise for his virgin efforts.

He certainly didn't want to be known as 'the oldest Backstreet Boy' for the rest of his life. Hell, his father had died when he was only forty-nine. Kevin would reach that age in less than twenty years. His friends in Hollywood seemed to understand his anxiety over being tagged. 'Sure...' one actor friend had said. 'Just like Ron Howard didn't want to spend his life being known as Opie Taylor...'. That was it - exactly.

Tristan didn't complain when he bought the tickets for their flight back to LA. She rarely complained anymore. Kevin had made his feelings about the matter quite clear in a way that had made her feel somewhat petty and selfish. She took out her frustrations on the piano. That's where she complained and whined. Kevin could determine Tristan's state of mind by the selections she banged out on the keys. Her playing had always contained emotional elements but now, even the untrained ear could pick up on her anger and discontent, her melancholy and wistfulness. Kevin rarely detected happiness in her strokes and he never picked up on the fear.

Tristan was supportive of his ambitions but not as enthusiastic as he would have liked. When he allowed himself to think clearly, he recognized the small bits of negative energy creeping in between them. They both felt it, but they didn't talk about it. Kevin refused to deal with it and Tristan couldn't seek solace without him. She was his anchor and his children were his hope and legacy. He wouldn't - he couldn't - consider them less. Last year's world tour had taken its toll on both of them in more ways than they realized. Tristan had been forced to become more independent. She had children to care for and couldn't always run to Kevin for comfort. Likewise, Kevin had been forced to realize that Tristan couldn't always be there for him. She played her fears out on the piano while he covered his with pharmaceuticals.

*****

Kevin was delighted when he discovered that some of his new friends had planned a little 'Welcome Home' celebration for them, to be held at a posh gathering spot in LA. Tristan wasn't quite as thrilled. She didn't think of LA as 'home'. The dinner party had been scheduled for the evening on January 1 - their second anniversary and Ben and Mallory's first birthday. Tristan felt that Kevin's friends were being presumptuous. Kevin thought they were being generous. The ride to the restaurant was a bit quieter than it should have been on such a momentous day. Tension was a little thick.

"For Christ's sake, Tris! The kids had a great birthday! They'll be asleep before we sit down to dinner. Don't make out like this is the end of the world. They won't even remember this birthday!"

"I'll remember it, Kevin! And Mallory wasn't herself. I think she's coming down with something..."

"You left the babysitter a phone book's worth of instructions! She'll call us if there's any problem."

"It's our anniversary." Tristan was pouting.

"I know that, Tristan. For shit's sake - will you try to enjoy yourself? There's nothing wrong with celebrating our anniversary with our friends!"

"Your friends..." she grumbled. "Our friends aren't here..."

Kevin pulled the Mercedes into the lot, threw it into park and waited for the parking attendant. His patience was fading fast.

"Look, Tristan - you may be bound and determined to have a lousy time tonight, but I'm not. We haven't been out in a while and I plan to enjoy myself!"

Tristan responded by turning her head to gaze out of the window.

Fuck! Kevin climbed out of the sedan, slammed the door and handed his keys to the attendant before meeting Tristan near the entry. He was ready to party and didn't look forward to dealing with an attitude. He made a conscious effort to change directions. He would have to tease her out of her 'mood'.

"You gonna be mad all night?" He was bending down to meet her face and sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. He looked as if he were going to burst into tears.

"Do you care?"

Tristan's anger now shifted from the ensuing party to Kevin's dramatic attempt to goad her out of her indignation. She was mad because it was working. He looked ridiculous and found herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. When he started to make his chin quiver, she gave up and slapped the top of his head.

"Stop being such as asshole, Kevin..." she growled in mock exasperation. "I'll be nice. I promise."

"I love you..."

"You'd better..."

"I'll tell you what," he whispered into her ear. "We'll cut out early and take a ride down to the beach. You gonna be ready for some hot anniversary sex later?" He stood back and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"On the beach?" she asked wide-eyed.

"Under the pier." Kevin nodded. "Big waves tonight. Nobody will hear you when I make you scream..."

"Humph.. You're sounding mighty confident, Mr. 'I'm all that' Richardson..." Tristan was deliberately making an attempt to sound unimpressed but Kevin caught the change in her eyes. Her violet irises had lightened considerably.

"Come on, baby. You know you want it..." Kevin placed his hands on her hips and began to grind his groin against her abdomen.

"Jeez, Kevin!" Tristan cried, as she glanced quickly around the parking lot. "Stop that!"

Her embarrassment only egged him on. "God, baby..." he moaned in her ear as his subtle grinding became rhythmic. "You are soooo fuckin' hot...."

Tristan finally broke down and laughed at his uncharacteristic display. Pushing him away, she took Kevin's arm and pulled him towards the door determined to have the final word. He was still grinning when she came to a sudden stop.

"Listen, Kevin. The beach scene sounds real good..." She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, her eyes had darkened and her voice became smoky and thick. "... but, you know, I'd like to hear you screaming for a change."

Kevin's mouth had opened slightly. He was staring. He seemed to have exchanged his smart-ass hat for a dunce cap.

"What do you mean??"

"Oh, baby..." Tristan whispered. "Think about it. What would it take to make you scream? Maybe a two-hour blow job? You think you could hold off for two hours? Don't you want to deep-throat me, Kevin? Push yourself down my throat so deep that I could lick the sweat off your balls?"

Kevin's mouth was hanging open now. He was looking at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. When he finally found his voice, it was raspy and low.

"What the fuck have you been reading, Tristan? Goddamn! You don't know what that is! You'll gag yourself to death! Jesus... You been renting porn or something? I don't believe you!"

Tristan made it a point to stare at Kevin's crotch for a full five seconds before raising her face to lock her eyes onto his. She chuckled with way too much confidence.

"Looks to me like you believe it, darling..."

Kevin was experiencing one of his 'mixed emotion' moments regarding Tristan. He was both highly agitated and profoundly excited. She also appeared to have taken the upper hand in their provocative exchange. Kevin decided counter with a patronizing tone.

"Now, Tris honey... I don't think you really understand this concept. You're talking about an acquired skill, here.."

"Yes, Kevin darling. I know that and I'm ready - if you are. I was going to surprise you. I've been practicing..."

Tristan could almost see her words reforming in Kevin's head. She began a slow mental countdown. 5...4...3...2...1...

"What did you say?" Gotcha!

"That I know.."

"No. Not that."

"That I'm ready if you are?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Um...That I was going to surprise you?" Tristan was giving him her sweetest smile.

"Keep going..." Kevin didn't look happy.

"Oh, let me see..." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then her eyes lit up. "Oh! That I've been prac..."

"BINGO!" he interrupted.

Tristan played dumb and shrugged.

"Yeah... So?" She crossed her arms and shivered. "Come on, Kevin! Let's go inside - I'm freezing out here.."

For a second she feared she might have gone too far. She felt Kevin grab her arm and pull her back. It was not a gentle yank.

"Hold up, Tris!" Kevin's eyes bore into hers with a look of utter disbelief. He was trying hard not to yell in a public place. "Do you mind telling me what you...practiced on?"

"God, Kevin! Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You're acting all mad and I thought you'd like this! Jeez - everybody knows that oral stuff isn't really sex! It's not like sex-sex!"

Once again, Kevin was stunned into silence. After a noticeable pause, he blinked and stared at her incredulously. He was frowning. The last thing on his mind right now was a 'Welcome Back' party.

"Pardon me? Did you say that deep-throating somebody is not sex?" He took a deep breath. "Would you like to tell me what it is then?"

"I think it's just - you know - recreational. Sort of like kissing or something. It's not really intimate or anything..."

Kevin closed his eyes and began to rub the sides of his face. Even in the dim light, she could see him turning pink. Payback is hell, isn't it baby... After a moment, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to speak evenly and calmly like a teacher trying to instruct a confused pupil.

"Tris... Kissing is foreplay. Going down on somebody is....play. Do you understand what I'm saying? Me kissing you and putting my dick in your mouth are two different things altogether. Now - where did you get the idea that oral sex is not real sex?"

"Are you mad with me?"

"Tristan. Please..."

"You look mad."

"TRISTAN!"

"Okay, okay! I've been reading some stuff on the internet. Everybody says that doing that is kind of... well, I think they used the word 'benign'."

"Okay..." Kevin was trying his damndest to be patient. "Now tell me this - were these opinions from men or women?"

"Mostly men, I think. Why?"

Kevin hung his head in exasperation. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Tris! Men have been pushin' that load of crap forever. They say that shit because they want to get blown! Goddamn..."

"Oh..."

"Now. Back to the original question...."

"Which was?"

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU PRACTICE ON?"

Tristan took a step back and pushed his hands off of her shoulders.

"God, Kevin! You don't have to yell! I can hear you! I practiced with vegetables. Zucchini and cucumbers, mostly."

She told him this in the same tone that she might use to describe a piece of furniture. It was as if she just couldn't grasp the reason for his irritation. She acted as if they were talking about something totally insignificant. Tristan scurried to the door and waved for Kevin to come. He was looking up at the night sky and shaking his head. God, please don't let there be a raw vegetable tray at this party...

*****

Today would be like a hundred days rolled into one. Kevin and Tristan joined their party and after several minutes of chit-chat ordered drinks. Tristan just wanted a ginger-ale with lime while Kevin opted for a double bourbon on the rocks. He spotted a buffet table against a nearby wall which held a large assortment of appetizers. The hors d'oeuvres were not what captured his attention, however. The table had been decorated with two very large cornucopias, one of which was filled with fruit. The other was over flowing with vegetables - all kinds of vegetables but Kevin couldn't help but focus on just a few. Celery, zucchini, carrots, cucumbers, leeks... When he turned back around, Tristan was looking at him. She was smiling.

CHAPTER 64

"Come on, Kev... I got something to show 'ya..."

Tristan had been talking to one of the other women at the table - the longtime girlfriend of an independent film producer. She turned when she heard the invitation but, clearly, it was intended for Kevin alone. He seemed to stumble just a bit when he rose and Tristan wondered at the effect of two double bourbons on his empty stomach. She glanced at her watch. It was after eight and dinner hadn't been served.

She didn't like being left alone with these people but, hopefully, Kevin would only be gone for a few minutes. She could talk music with them - if they talked music but their interest seemed to lie in film and video. These people had a history with each other and Tristan was left out of the conversation a bit. They didn't attempt to expand on their stories of past adventures for her benefit. They probably would have if Kevin had been there. She checked the time again and glanced in the direction Kevin had taken when he left. fifteen minutes.... Waiters were beginning to serve dinner.

"Where in the hell are Jimmy and Kev?"

Jimmy produced videos. Tristan guessed that his girlfriend, a whiney Aguilera lookalike named Ronni, produced blow-jobs. It irritated Tristan when these people referred to Kevin as 'Kev'. She didn't even call him that. She thought nothing of it when their friends did but it just seemed too familiar for these people to use. Be nice, be nice, be nice...

"They'd better not be having any fun without us! Right, Trish?"

Ronni laughed knowingly as if she and Tristan shared some private joke. Then, everyone at the table chuckled. Tristan smiled and nodded. What in the hell are they talking about? She suddenly wanted a drink. A real drink. But she didn't dare. Kevin was already on his way to being loaded. Someone would have to drive home. He had been away from the table for twenty-five minutes now. Happy anniversary... The party continued without the company of Kevin and Jimmy. Tristan was halfway through her dinner when she heard him laughing across the room. He and Jimmy seemed to be sharing some great joke on their way back to the table. When they arrived, Tristan couldn't help but notice Kevin's newfound animation. He was starting to slur words a little before he left now he was talking a mile a minute and demonstrating some 'attitude', much to the amusement of his friends. Tristan felt like she had missed the first two acts of the play.

"Must have been pretty fascinating back there." Tristan' smile was strained. "What did Jimmy have to show you?"

Kevin's brows furrowed as if he were trying to remember. Recall came a beat later.

"Oh... He was telling me about a video he'll be doing next month for Destiny's Child. He wants me to take part in it. Edit, maybe..."

"Oh, she prolly doesn't even know who that is..." Ronni smirked. She directed her attention towards Tristan. "It's a girl group, Trish. They did that song..."

"I know who Destiny's Child is." Tristan cut in.

"Oh? I thought you just played the piano. You know - that long hair stuff that they always show on PBS."

Tristan tried not to bristle but Ronni's tone was condescending. Kevin's friends all laughed at the remark. What stung was that Kevin laughed along with them. She tired to remain polite but a little sarcasm laced her reply.

"No, Ronni. I watch the...'stuff'...they show on MTV, too, believe it or not."

"Oh, really?." Ronni nodded. "Then tell us, Trish..."

"It's 'Tris'." Tristan corrected.

"Oh, pardon moi! Tell us, Tris. What do you think of...well, let's say... Eminem?"

Tristan found herself at a crossroads. Kevin was glaring at her, seeming to dare her to start some kind of battle of musical tastes. The two of them had discussed Eminem before. Kevin liked the rap and thought he was cutting edge. Tristan thought he sucked. She knew that she stood alone in her opinion, as far as the other dinner guests went. In deference to Kevin, she tried to ride the fence.

"I think that taste is subjective," she answered glancing his way. He looked relieved.

"Well," Ronni countered, "I think that you're trying not to step on any toes. Come on! Don't be a wimp! We already know that you're on a different wavelength. Say what you think!" As an afterthought, she added, "We won't let Kevin hurt you..."

Now Kevin wasn't laughing. He could see that Tristan was irritated. Ronni was making an attempt to ridicule her and her music. He just hoped that Tristan would rise to the occasion and refuse to be baited. The last thing he needed was for Tristan to be pitted against his friends. She should just let it go. Ronni had been drinking. Ignore her.... He tried to settle himself down enough to intervene on her behalf.

"Tristan's training is in the classics," he explained. "Her opinions are not going to be mainstream. Rock and roll music and video generally contains a sexual element, for example. Classical music doesn't really..."

"Whoa, Kevin!" Jimmy laughed. "I've seen Tris perform. Those little dresses she wears are pretty sexy. Sex sells rock and pop. Sex sells classical, too!"

Now it was Kevin's turn to bristle. "Not in the same way, Jimmy. I don't remember seeing any drawings of Mozart wearing a thong." Kevin chuckled although it was a hollow laugh.

Kevin's attempts to defend her seemed weak. Tristan knew that he would just like for her sit quietly and 'behave', but she wasn't going to be able to do that. He shouldn't expect her to do that.

"I don't mind saying what I think," Tristan smiled, "if you don't mind hearing it."

"Tris - let's just move on and agree to disagree, okay?" Kevin wanted this conversation to end and his suggestion was actually a thinly veiled demand.

"Let her talk.." Ronni purred, assured that Tristan was about to hang herself.

The table grew quiet as eyes fell on Tristan. The waiter was delivering another round of drinks. She was in the hot seat and felt compelled to speak her mind. Kevin wouldn't like it. She glanced at him again before making her statement. He was glaring at her as he picked up his glass and downed half of its contents.

"Okay..." Tristan cleared her throat and began. "I said that taste was subjective. I deliberately didn't say musical taste because I don't think that the term 'music' applies to Eminem."

Kevin was frowning. "I'm sure Jimmy appreciates your feelings on the matter, Tris, considering he just finished producing Eminem's newest video." He calmly took another sip of bourbon. The effects of his earlier 'meeting' with Jimmy were wearing off quickly. "Is your opinion better than anyone elses?" he growled.

Tristan was taken aback by Kevin's obvious lack of support. He wanted her to shut up. She didn't feel that she could do that now.

"My opinion isn't 'better' but I don't think it's worse, either," she said quietly. "I'm sure the video is very good but that has little to do with the actual music. Eminem does not produce music. There is no melody, unless you consider the busy signal on a phone melodic. Rhythms are syncopated and stylized without regard to lyric which may be just as well since his lyrics are generally violent, crass and unsubstantial - not to mention demeaning to women. His music is neither soothing nor thought provoking. It's a rant - not poetry. It contains no happiness, love, regret or idealism. It's not even sad. It's merely unframed anger that offers no solutions. The lyric doesn't stand alone and neither do the notes. Sorry, but I don't hear any music."

You could have heard a pin drop.

Ronni didn't seem to share Tristan's view. "Eminem, Kid, DMX - all of those people have been recognized in the music industry. They've received or been nominated for Grammy's, for God's sake - just like your husband! That should say something about musical integrity!"

Another deafening silence and then a voice calling from across the room.

"Precious! God, I'm so glad I found you!"

Mason's interruption couldn't have been more timely if it had been scripted. He practically pranced over the table, out of breath and waving a sheet of paper above his head.

"Jesus..." Kevin muttered as he finished off his drink. He had yet to touch his meal. "What the hell does he want?"

Tristan was just happy to see a friendly face. Mason didn't wait to be invited to join the group. He pulled a chair from a nearby table and insinuated himself between Kevin and Tristan, forcing Kevin to shift his chair back several inches.

"Well, who is this?" Jimmy asked, amused.

Kevin was trying to smile and remain casual but he was annoyed. Mason was always so dramatic.

"This is Mason MacArthur?" Kevin replied with a sigh. "Tristan's..."

"Manager." she finished.

Mason's eyes lit up. "Ooooh, I've been promoted!"

"What do you want, Mason? Our friends are having a little dinner party for us..." Kevin said pointedly.

Mason caught Kevin's point but he ignored it. He was there to see Tristan, not him.

"I guess my invitation got lost in the mail." Mason shot back sarcastically before turning back to Tristan. "The babysitter told me where you were! I just had to come! I have wonderful news, Precious! 'Baroque and Beyond' has been nominated for a Grammy! And so have you!" Mason flapped the paper in Tristan's face, giggling with delight.

"What?" Tristan was dumbstruck. So was Kevin.

"You, Peter and Andrew! Nominated for best classical instrumental artists! Sweet Jesus, Precious! You're on you way to the Grammy's! Can you believe it?" Mason was almost swooning. "And 'Baroque' got a nod for classical album of the year, too! Of course, the producer gets that, but still... God! I could just die! I am dying!" Mason was fanning himself with the paper by now. "I swear if anyone else had given you the news I would have killed them!"

Tristan didn't know what to say. She was a little embarrassed by Mason's excitement but considering the context of the conversation she had been having before Mason flew into the room, she also felt a tinge of self-righteous gratification.

"Who else was nominated?" she asked softly.

Mason look momentarily puzzled and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh - Oh! Here's the list!" he exclaimed, once again waving the paper at her. "All the classical stuff is on here." He suddenly shifted his chair back and stood. "I'm going to go. I didn't mean to interrupt but I couldn't wait with the news. Please forgive me?" Mason bent down to give Tristan a peck on the cheek. "Congratulations, Precious.." he whispered, "And happy anniversary..."

"Thank you..."

As Mason departed, Tristan looked over the list of nominees. Kevin ordered another double. He was well on his way to becoming completely sloshed.

"Well, congratulations, Tris. Who else is on the list?" he asked, feigning interest.

Even in his drunken state he knew he was being a little jerky. He wanted a Grammy so fucking badly. She doesn't even give a shit, so naturally, she'll probably bring one home... He didn't miss the irony of the situation. The group hadn't garnered a nomination this year.

"You probably don't know any of them..." Tristan said dismissively and folded the paper. Why isn't he happy for me?...

She was about to put the list into her purse when Kevin snatched it out of her hand. The table had grown quiet again. He smiled at her in an almost conspiratorial way as he carefully unfolded the paper and perused the page.

Funny how a single name will jump out at you from a list of dozens. There he was, listed under Best Orchestral Performance. 'Berlin Symphonies' performed by the Miami Symphony and conducted by Asa Whitmore.

Kevin smiled at Tristan over the top of the page. It was a humorless smile, edged with anger and paranoia.

"Oh, I recognize a name or two..." he said evenly as he handed the list back to her. "Although I wouldn't pretend to know them as intimately as you do, darling..."

Kevin's hard eyes locked on hers and for a split second she was almost frightened. She knew, of course, whose name he had seen. What's the matter with him? I haven't seen Asa since he has. That was a year and a half ago... Her memories carried her back to that night and what happened in the parking garage after they left the party. Tristan's stomach did a little flip.

Idle chatter spontaneously erupted from the table as the group attempted to break the tension that had suddenly invaded the party. Only four people remained quiet and thoughtful. Kevin shook himself out of his somber mode and ordered another drink before leaving the table to go to the men's room. Jimmy had given him a sample of coke earlier and he planned to use it - again. Tristan was reserved but distracted. Jimmy and Ronni were both watching her and mentally replaying the last thirty minutes or so of the evening.

Ronni pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it, evaluating Tristan as she exhaled her first lungfull of smoke. Look at her. She thinks she's a bit better than the rest of us... Jimmy tried not to be obvious in his staring. Tristan was clearly uncomfortable. She's absolutely right about Eminem. The woman's got some balls...

Tristan didn't have to worry about Kevin's anger that night. She didn't have to worry about any hot anniversary sex, either. She wasn't even sure how she managed to get Kevin into the house.

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