Lovely Trigger (4 page)

“How’s work going?
 
Did you get that part you were auditioning for?” I asked him.
 

“I did.
 
I start shooting next month.
 
Also, I agreed to do a project with our dad.”

My eyebrows shot straight up.
 
He’d always been vehement about the fact that he didn’t want to ride his father’s coattails to success.
 
He’d never used his connections to get ahead in Hollywood.
 
Until now, that is.
 

“Hey now, don’t judge me,” he said with an irrepressible smile.

“What?
 
I didn’t say a thing.”
 

“You didn’t have to.
 
You have very judgey eyes.”
 
I laughed, because he’d gotten it right.
 
I did have expressive eyes.
 
“The fact is, the part is a dream, and I do think I’m perfect for it.
 
I auditioned, and I think I would have gotten the part, regardless of who my father is, just based on that audition.
 
I’d rather he weren’t part of the project, but that’s not up to me.”
 

“You don’t have to be defensive with me.
 
I’m happy for you, and I’m excited to see how it turns out.”
   

“You still seeing that girl?” I asked, changing the subject again.
 
He’d been really into some chick he’d just started dating the last time we’d talked.
 

He grimaced.
 
“Nah, that’s done.
 
I told you she was an actress, right?”

I nodded.
 

“Well, I learned something.
 
Never date an actress.
 
She was sleeping with the director of her TV pilot.
 
The casting couch stereotype comes from something, I guess.”

“That sucks.
 
How did her pilot do?”
 

He grinned.
 
“Bombed, so there’s that.
 
I wouldn’t have hard feelings, but she was lying to me for a while before I caught on.
 
Now what about you?
 
You seeing anybody?
 
Did you go on a second date with that accountant?”
 

I made a face that got him to laugh.
 
“I didn’t.
 
I’m very good on a first date, but I can’t vouch for my second date skills.
 
I can’t recall if I’ve ever been on one.”
 

We both laughed, though it wasn’t far from the truth.
 

“Well, I know they all call.
 
Why don’t you pick up the phone?”
 

“This is going to sound awful, but I just don’t feel like it.
 
I’ll go out to dinner once, but if I don’t enjoy myself much, why try again?
 
I like my own company just fine.
 
I suspect that I’m just one of those people that’s destined to stay single.
 
It’s fine.
 
There are worse things than being alone.”
 

He waved that off.
 
“You’re just young.
 
You’ll grow out of it in a few years.
 
Or maybe you just need to find the right guy.”
   

I didn’t tell him that I had found that guy, once.
 

I had no desire to talk about
any
of the T words.
 

TRISTAN

I’d been torn apart and put back together, and though I knew the end result was better now than who I’d been before, some days it didn’t feel that way.
 
Lots of days, it just felt like like the world had lost its color, and the only things that defined my life were the things I’d lost.
 
I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I was okay without her, and some days I even believed it.

It was well over a year before I could admit that she was lost to me, and that was with almost no contact at all.
 

James hired me on to do a show, far sooner than planned.
 
He reasoned that it would take time to rehearse and to help get the theatre together.
 
I had to immerse myself in the entire process, every bit of it.
 
It was my baby after all.
 
The theatre had to be completely renovated.
 
He wanted me to go live within a week of his current act retiring, and it would take a year for me to prep.
 

It was a Godsend for me.
 
I kept busy, productive, active.
 
There was less time to dwell on the past.
 

The casino’s retiring magician, Tony Biello, had no hard feelings about me being his replacement.
 
In fact, he turned out to be something of a father figure and a mentor for me.
 

I’d admired his act since I was a kid, so when he started coming by the theatre to see how things were coming along, I was more star struck than I’d ever been and stressed out to boot, since I had no clue whether his retirement was voluntary.
 

He quickly set my mind at ease.
 
He was a strange old coot that wore a top hat in the middle of the day and large white framed glasses that matched his wiry hair.
 

He was a large man, and in his seventies was heading in the direction of overweight.
 

I was on my semi-built stage, showing the architect I’d been working with just what I needed for the spot directly below our feet, when Tony came striding into the theatre.

He took one look at me and started laughing.
 
“Let me guess.
 
This is going to be some sort of act where they make you take your shirt off a lot.
 
No doubt about it, I’ve been outclassed.”
 

My mouth quirked up in a grin, and I hopped down to shake his hand.
 

“I made them put it in my contract that I wouldn’t go shirtless more than twice a night,” I joked.
 
“Had to put my foot down somewhere.”
 

He clutched his big belly while he laughed.
 
“And you can take a joke.
 
Outclassed indeed.”
 

I scratched my head, trying to find the words to broach an awkward subject.
 

“Don’t worry, my boy, my retirement was voluntary.
 
I’m old, I have a bad heart, and it’s time I started taking better care of myself.
 
I’ve just come to welcome you to the team, and to let you know that my door is always open, if you need any advice.
 
Hell, I’d love to help.
 
I’ve been in the magic game for fifty years.
 
I’d hate to think I was letting go of it completely.
 

I was inordinately pleased by this.
 
Tony Biello offering his support was all that I, who’d been practicing tricks from the first time I’d gotten my hands on a deck of cards, could ever want.
 
It was a surreal, dream come true kind of moment.
 
“Thank you.
 
I’ve been a fan of yours since I was a kid.
 
That means a lot to me.
 
I’m sure I’ll be taking you up on that.
 
Also, I wonder if you could make some guest appearances, if you’re up for it.”

He grinned his jolly grin.
 
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

He came by almost every day after that, watching the work being done, giving advice, and asking a million questions about the show I was planning.
   

I tried to stay busy twenty-four seven, but unfortunately, there was always downtime, while I waited for contractors to show up, or found myself at loose ends.
 
Still, I avoided downtime like the plague.

Of course, the time that I did spend dwelling was more agonizing than ever now that we worked in the same damned building.
     

The art gallery was made of glass, placed high above the ground of the casino floor, designed to be a piece of art itself.
 
Watching someone inside of it and not letting them know that you were watching them, well, it couldn’t have been more perfectly designed for just that.
 

There was a small indoor courtyard there, just some tables and chairs attached to a coffee shop.
 
It was set below and at an angle to the glass gallery.
 
I could sit there and stare for as long as I wanted, and she never saw, never took notice.
     

I did this a lot.
 

This was pure masochism, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
 

Every break I had, every time I came or went I stopped at that little spot.
 
I’d grab food from somewhere else and bring it there.
 
I put in time at that torturous little spot.
 

This was all particularly unfortunate when she started seeing some motherfucker in a suit.
 

He must have worked in the building somewhere, because he started showing up often to take her to lunch.
 

It took every ounce of self-control, every minute of anger management and therapy I’d participated in, to keep from going up there and wringing his neck the first time I saw him wrap his arm around her waist, but I did it.
 

I walked away.
 

She’d smiled at him, looked genuinely happy to have him touch her.
 

No one deserved happy more than Danika.

Certainly not me.
 

My recovery had felt solid at the time, all of my twelve steps right where they should have been, but that night I very nearly had a relapse.
 
With what felt like my last ditch effort, I called my sponsor, and he effectively talked me down.
 
It wasn’t the first time, or the last, that I knew I owed him my life.
 

It was a mercy when she moved to L.A., and still I hated it.

I fell back into old patterns.
   

I started sleeping around.
 
At first, it felt good.
 
Abstinence was a bitch, and I’d been damn near a monk for two years.

It took a few months to realize that this was triggering the addict in me.
 
I began to crave alcohol more than I had since my rehab days.
   

I went off sex cold turkey again, then tried something in between.
 

I was in denial at first, for months in fact, that it was a relationship, but those things had a way of sneaking up on you.
 
I broke up with the poor girl immediately, trying to be as gentle as I could about the whole thing.
 

It was difficult to sleep with only one woman and not give her the idea that it was something more than friendship, something more than comfort.
 

I started dating.
 
Not just sleeping around, but dinner, the whole deal.
 
It was a new experience for me, and spending a bit of time with a woman before fucking seemed to be a necessary component for me.
 
The other way, with one-night stands and one clear cut agenda, hadn’t worked.
 

I became good at it, at seeing a woman for two to three months, and then ending things in a friendly way.
 
No real emotions were involved in it, but I didn’t feel like I was using anyone, so it seemed to be the best solution for me, all things considered.
   

Sex with Danika had been mind-blowing for me.
 
Incredible.
 
Amazing.
 
The best.
 
It had been so good, my need to give her what
she
needed became so strong that I’d developed another level of kink from the experience.
 
Still, it was never the same.
 
Not even close.
 
Domination felt like a silly game when it wasn’t with Danika and the restraints were a cheap imitation.
 

What we’d had together; it was beautiful.
 
Nothing else had ever come close, and a day didn’t go by that I’d forgotten that.
 

But I couldn’t have that again.
 
I’d lost the privilege.
 

And life moved on.
     

CHAPTER THREE

TRISTAN

I’d barely gotten out of my car before a screaming Jack was jumping into my arms.
 
Grinning, I lifted him high, then threw him higher, catching him.
 
He was a fearless little guy, not a bit scared.
 

He giggled and clutched me around the neck.
 
“Unca Twistan, I missed you!”
 

“I missed you too, buddy.
 
It’s only been a few weeks though.
 
How did you grow so much in just a few weeks?”

“I ate my bwoccoli, just like you told me to.
 
I’ll be as tall as you soon.”
 

I patted his head, carrying him to the single level condo where his smiling mother waited for us in the doorway.
 

I hugged Dahlia, and she kissed my cheek.
 
I pulled back as soon as it was politely possible.
 

I was well aware of how she still felt about me, and I did my best not to encourage her.
   

She had cut her streaky blonde hair into a pixy cut.
 
It made her look like a sweet kid, which was how I’d always think of her.
 
I knew she’d celebrated her twenty-second birthday recently, but to me she looked about sixteen.
 
She’d been my sister-in-law at one point, my kid sister by extension, and she’d never fill a different role for me.
 
No matter how much she pressed me, that just wouldn’t change.