Rock Bottom - Lilley R. K. - Страница 42
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“I’d do it,” she said passionately.
My hands clenched.
She continued, “I’d do whatever it took to keep a guy like Tristan, even if it meant leaving my whole life behind. Don’t you think he’s worth it?”
It was a much stronger effort this time to keep my tone polite. “I know better than anyone what he’s worth. He means the world to me, but he wouldn’t ask me to do something like that. And besides, he hasn’t said a word to me about the band going on tour.”
She shot a pointed look Tristan’s way. His back was to us as he cooked, oblivious to our conversation, in the kitchen.
“Well, you should ask him about it. I don’t know why he hasn’t told you, but the band is planning a three month tour just as soon as they finish recording.”
“Three months?” I burst out, loud enough to turn Tristan’s head. He shot me a questioning glance, but I just shook my head. I’d bring it up to him later. It would be ideal if we could have that conversation when we were alone.
I gave Dahlia a rather stiff smile. “He and I can discuss it later. Let’s you and I find something else to talk about, huh?”
Tristan made us enchiladas, which he knew were my favorite.
I set the table, getting all three of us tall glasses of ice water.
He brought the bottle of Jack to the table, pouring himself a generous amount. He’d been much better in general since the pregnancy, but his drinking was hitting new levels.
I stared at the bottle. The drinking was becoming more and more troublesome. There was a time when what I thought was his occasional, casual drug use bothered me the most, but the drinking seemed, to me, to be turning into the bigger problem.
“Just to take the edge off,” he explained with a charming smile, flashing me his most dangerous dimples.
I thought about how he hadn’t used to need to take the edge off around me. It used to be just my company was enough to do that, especially for an evening spent at home.
We ate, and the food was wonderful. I wondered how it was that none of Tristan’s cooking ever seemed to set off what seemed to be my constant nausea.
I lasted until dessert before I had to ask, but it was a struggle. “So what’s this I hear about a three month tour?”
Tristan froze, a spoonful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He set it down, looking sheepish, then stern as he shot Dahlia a reprimanding look.
Now that I didn’t like. If they had spent enough time together to have some sort of silent language, that wasn’t good for my peace of mind. What the hell was going on here?
“The record producer is trying to put something together, but I haven’t signed on. I haven’t committed to anything yet. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I was going to ask you what you thought about it.”
“You know, it’s funny how you always say you don’t know what you’ll do, but you always seem to do whatever the hell they ask you to. I’m thinking you have your decision already, you just don’t want to tell me, because you know it’s a terrible idea, and I won’t approve.”
His hand covered my clenched one on the table. “Sweetheart, my decision is made, now. I can see that you don’t like the idea, so I won’t do it. Simple as that. Like I said, I’d never agreed to it. It was just something that the record producer wanted to do. I have no problem saying no.”
He sounded so convincing that I let myself be convinced.
Dahlia wound up crashing on the couch, rather than driving all the way back home late at night, and it wasn’t until Tristan and I were alone in the bathroom adjoining his room, brushing our teeth, that I brought it up again. “Why didn’t you tell me you had met each other? Why would you keep that from me?”
He spat, setting his toothbrush down, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“What does that mean?”
His brow furrowed as he scratched at his jaw. “Don’t get upset—“
“That’s never a good way to start off.”
“Yes, I know. It’s not good. Dahlia started coming to the house maybe three months ago. She was hanging around a lot. I tried to warn her off, and I made sure all of the guys knew that she was off-limits, but, I don’t know. I thought you’d worry about her, hanging around the guys that much, getting into that scene. She’s a very nice girl, but she doesn’t listen to me.
“I was hoping,” he continued, “when she met up with you again, that you could talk some sense into her, but she just kept putting off the meeting. She stopped coming around the house in L.A. a while ago, so I thought the problem was solved, but I was worried it would hurt your feelings that she’d spent time with the band, and still hadn’t so much as called you. I’m relieved you two seemed to hit it off, after all.”
“You two seem to have hit it off, as well,” I muttered.
He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess. When she came around to the house, I was usually locked up in my room to avoid whatever mess Dean was cooking up, but I did see her a few times. I just assumed she was there to visit one of the other guys, though I couldn’t have said which one.”
“And she told me you still have groupies visiting the house.” I wasn’t exactly shocked by this, but even so, I wasn’t pleased.
“You know I wouldn’t—“
“Yes, I know, but that’s not the point. The point is that you promised me you’d make some house rules over there.”
“I did, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been able to enforce them. Every time Dean does it, I refuse to work in the studio the next day, but I’ve got to tell you, that seems to be just what he wants. He’d love it if we were stranded there inevitably. The first three times he brought random chicks back, I left, went to a hotel, but that didn’t change a thing either. I try to kick them out myself, but they’re girls. I’ve kicked Dean’s ass, but he doesn’t give a shit what I do. I could leave, but at this point, I’d owe the studio more than I can afford to pay back if I back out of this deal. I’m sorry, but it’s become a mess that I don’t know how to clean up. Right now I just want to finish up and get the hell out of there.”
“How come you didn’t tell me about any of this before? It’s been going on for months?”
He shrugged, looking unhappy. “You have enough on your plate. What kind of man would I be, if I can’t even handle my own problems, especially considering your condition?”
“Just don’t go back,” I said suddenly, decisively. “It’s bad for you. This thing is taking its toll on you. We’ll figure out a way to pay back the studio, and if they try to sue, we’ve got Bev and Jerry to help you fight them.”
He moved behind me, both hands going to cup my belly very, very gently. “I can do this. I’ll finish it and walk away. We’ll need all of our spare money when this little angel comes along.”
I smiled, my heart in my eyes. I couldn’t help it, every time he talked about the baby, I melted into a puddle at his feet.
“She has a huge crush on you,” I told him after a time my voice very quiet. I did not want to be heard through the walls.
He winced, which told me that he already knew that. “Trust me, I hate that even more than you do. But what am I supposed to do? I have to be nice to her. She’s your sister. I’ve already asked her to back off twice. She stopped hanging around the house, so I think she got the picture.”
That satisfied me, at least on his end, but I had no clue what to do about her. Hopefully she’d just get the picture and move on.
He kissed my neck, one hand going up to palm my breast.
“Tristan,” I told him, trying to sound stern, but falling far short. “We can’t. Not with my sister under the same roof.”
“Oh, hell no. I’ll kick her out right now, if it’s going to be like that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re just going to have to get over this type of shyness. We’ll be living in a house with a baby soon. Are we going to abstain just because our baby is under the same roof?”
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