My phone chimes with a text.
“Tristan,” Bobby says.
“Probably.” I pull the phone from my jacket pocket.
Stay strong. I love you. We’re wrapped for the day. Explain later. Heading your direction.
“Give him the address, have him come.”
“I think that’s a bad idea, he punches a lot harder than I do.”
“You slapped me, you didn’t punch me.” I can still feel the sting of my slap across his face, but I won’t apologize.
“I was afraid I’d break my hand. I already spent a week on crutches because of you.” A puzzled look crosses his features and the image is similar to that of my own, but I owe him an explanation. “The night Mick gave me your package, I started watching the videos.” I take a deep breath. “I spent two days in the same clothes, drinking myself into oblivion. Tristan came back from Los Angles sooner than I thought and he scared me, causing me to drop my glass and shatter it. Apparently when no one would get me a new glass I stood up, barefoot, before the glass was picked up.”
“That was not the type of reaction I was expecting you to have. Though I’m not surprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words come out pretty harsh.
“You’re my daughter, I would’ve done the same thing. In fact I did. I went through four bottles of brandy over a week before I was finally able to make that final video.”
I’m not sure that I really want to hear how much I am like Bobby. I barely spent any time with the man growing up; it’s hard to take, and I flinch slightly.
I decide to text Tristan with the address, telling him that I’m all right and that the choice is up to him if he wants to come in when he gets here.
After a while, Bobby and I move into the kitchen. He offers me a bite to eat and I decline. Eating is the last thing I want to do right now. Seeing him move around this kitchen is so surreal. He’s been dead to me for the last year plus, and it’s a lot to take in. “Have anything stronger than water?” I finally ask. He doesn’t answer, but I watch him pull some glasses and pour some amber liquid into them. He stops after about two fingers full. “More,” I say, and he obliges me.
He turns and hands me the glass. I take it from him and take a huge swig, gulping it back, and it burns even worse than Crown does. But rather than let it bother me, I soak it up. Feeling that burn lets me know that I’m alive.
The doorbell rings, and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll get it, Alfred.”
“Bruce Wayne,” I mumble under my breath, and I hear Bobby chuckle as he leaves the room.
I can hear the squeak of the door. “Hello, Tristan.”
“Son of a bitch.” I hear a loud thud.
“Ouch, dammit.”
I come around the wall and see Bobby holding his nose and Tristan shaking his hand back and forth, flexing his fingers. I lean against the wall, watching as Bobby gains his composure.
“Feel better?” I say to Tristan, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face at the satisfaction I feel for the fact that he probably broke Bobby’s nose.
“A bit,” He responds back to me. “All right?”
“All right.”
“Tristan,” Bobby says through his hands that are trying to hold his nose and probably hold back the blood. “Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I slap him and you punch him. Please tell me that Tyson isn’t here. I’m afraid of what he might do too.”
“Well, might as well get it over with,” Bobby says as he comes into the kitchen, going for the towel on the counter. He goes into the freezer, grabs a few cubes of ice and holds it to his nose. “Tristan, would you like some ice for your hand?” he asks, and the whole scene is fucking comical and I bust out laughing. Every ounce of tension I’ve been feeling for the last month an half washes out of my body and I crumple to the floor, laughing hysterically.
******
Tristan
******
I can’t decide whether Cami is laughing at me, Bobby, or the whole fucked-up situation we’re all standing in. I won’t apologize to the idiot; he deserved what he got and so much more. I really wanted to shoot him, but Tyson wasn’t stupid enough to give me his gun. Though it would be the perfect murder; everyone thinks he’s dead already.
I don’t go near Cami — she needs to let this mess work its way out of her system — but Bobby hands me a dishtowel full of ice for my hand, then hands me a beer.
“Well, I have to admit, I’d rather see her in hysterics laughing than the mess you’ve put her into these last few weeks.”
“Believe me, Tristan, I wanted it to be over far sooner than it was, and I am sure I should’ve told her sooner than I did, but I needed to make sure we were in the clear.”
“That doesn’t excuse you from what you’ve done. You’ve damn near destroyed her.” I breathe.
“I know, and I can’t take it back, I can only try and change it going forward.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about it,” I say to him; I’m not sure how I want to go about letting this jackass back into her life. “I’ve seen her at her lowest and I won’t have her back there again. Do you understand?”
“Believe me, Tristan, I want nothing more than to see her happy. If it means I never see her again after today, then that’s her choice. But when she leaves here, she will have all the tools she needs to get in touch with me safely, if she needs or wants to.”
“Don’t hold your breath just yet, Robert.” Cami finally comes to life and out of her hysteria.
I suddenly feel the need to defend Bobby from Cami’s words, but he holds up his free hand. “I’m not. Just want you to know I’m here.”
“Duly noted.”
“Have you said everything you wanted to say to him?” I ask her, hoping like hell we can get out of here; it’s awkward and extremely uncomfortable, and I’m not sure I can stay here anymore, but I won’t leave without Cami.
“For now. I need a little time to cool off. Who else knows you’re alive?” she asks Bobby.
“I’m afraid to tell you.”
“Well I can tell you that the two of us are not the only ones. Tyson, for obvious reasons, Mick, and Beau know as well.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cami, who the hell else knows?”
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, asshole. Tyson knows because Tristan told him, because Tristan didn’t know how to handle me anymore. Beau knows because she is my best goddamn friend, who has been there for me through everything. Unlike someone else in this room. Mick knows because he is my financial advisor and my contact when it comes to your fucking estate because I refused to deal with it and you forced him to deliver your dirty work. Mick and Beau are my two best friends, so yeah, they fucking know you’re alive. Who else, Robert?” I can see Cami’s face turning red with anger as she says all of this to Bobby, and so help me God, I understand why and I am more than willing to punch him again.
“Vincent.”
“Son of a bitch! For how long, Robert?”
“Since the beginning. He helped me set it up.”
Cami takes the glass she has in her hand and throws it up against the cupboard behind Bobby’s head. “You son of a bitch. You get pissed off at me because the people closest to me know you’re alive, but yet Vincent helped you orchestrate this whole fucking disaster?” I suddenly understand why Cami did not want me here; she’s angry, beyond angry, and it’s not something I’ve ever seen before when it comes to her. “I’m done.” I watch as Cami takes off through the living room and toward the door. She throws the door back and steps onto the porch. “Dammit! Tristan, where’s my car.”
I set my bottle down on the counter and follow Cami out. Tyson’s taken her car home, leaving us with this one. She is standing next to it, and I click the button so she can get in. Bobby is hot on my heels. I turn around, and this time he dodges my swing. “It’s bad enough she doesn’t trust you, but now, one of the two people she’s confided in and turned to in the last year in regards to your business has been in cahoots with you this whole time. Un-fucking-believable, Robert.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“For what? For yourself?”
“No, I did it for her.” The car horn blares from behind me. “I did it to protect her. To give my daughter what she so rightfully deserves — a loving father, not a dead one.” I can see it in his eyes: the pain that he is enduring seeing this, seeing his daughter so angry with him. “She deserved so much better than what I gave her, Tristan. She deserved a loving family to grow up in and I couldn’t give that to her. I wanted out. I needed out, and it was the only way I could without seeing everything I worked for and everything I gave up fall to pieces. I gave up her life to build a business that destroyed mine and hers.”
“It’s still selfish. No matter how you slice—” The car horn blares again and I hear the car door slam shut.
“Tristan, dammit, let’s go. Or I’m walking.”
“Here, take this.” He hands me an envelope. “When she’s ready, give it to her.” I tuck it into the inside pocket of my jacket, turn around, and head toward the car. Cami jumps back into the car. “Take care of her. She deserves the best.”
“I have every intention of doing just that.” I try not to let the anger filter through my mouth, and I don’t let the one thing I want to say to him slip past my lips.
I climb into the car. Cami is bouncing with rage and I can see the tears and frustration etched into her features. I don’t say anything to her because I know that’s not what she wants. She needs a chance to calm down and gain her own composure. I put the car in reverse and back up so that I can turn around. Once we’re off of the property and out of sight of the house, I can see her visibly relax, but she is mulling something over pretty hard and I’m scared about what that might be.
After about five minutes in the car, heading back toward our rented house, she finally breaks the silence. “How’s your hand?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. She’s the one who’s hurting here and she’s worried about my hand. “It’s a little tender, but I’ll be fine.” I sneak a glance at her, debating, weighing the consequences of asking or not asking, and decide that asking is probably my better option. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
So this is how we’re gonna be. “Please do not make me get angry with you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Jesus Christ, Cami, I told you last night, stop hiding this shit from me. I can’t take it when you hide shit from me. I know damn well you’re not fine, so stop with the bullshit.”
She just looks at me, but I can’t look at her for more than a few brief seconds. I have the disadvantage because I’m driving; thank God because she’d have us in Phoenix by now.
“Tristan, I don’t know how in the hell to process all of this shit. Put yourself in my shoes, what would you do if it were your mother?”
My heart aches. “You can’t ask me that. Our situations are completely different, Cami. I spent the whole first year after her death begging for one more chance to talk to my mother for no other reason than to tell her goodbye and that I loved her insanely. I didn’t get that chance, and the last time we talked, I was too busy with school and we talked for all of thirty seconds. Then she was gone.” My heart hurts, not only for Cami but now at the thoughts of my mother. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her at least once, but this is harsh.
“How can you possibly understand what I’m going through then? So what’s the point in talking about it?”
“Jesus, Cams. Whether it is me or a shrink, you have got to talk to someone. I’m sure I’m more equipped to be your sounding board than a shrink would be, if for no other reason than I’ve seen it firsthand. I am begging you, do not shut me out of this.”
She doesn’t say anything the rest of the drive back to the house. I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I realize that Tyson has taken my advice, come back for Jo and taken off. The car is nowhere in sight, and Cami and I have the entire house to ourselves.
“He had no choice. Tristan, he is under witness protection. The death was his way of protecting me, of protecting his own ass, his employees and his business.”
The car swerves slightly as I take in what she’s told me. I can’t even begin to really process it at this point, but dammit. “What the fuck?”
“It’s a long damn story, Tristan. I barely had time to get through it when you texted me. Bobby changed the subject and told me to invite you over. I guess he figured the broken bones should all be managed in one visit.” I look at her, and the look in her eyes is dancing with humor. “Thank you for punching him.” I snort. “Is it broken?”
“No, I’m all right.”
“Where’s Ty and Jo?” I can tell in her voice that there is disappointment and maybe even a little frustration. I think she was hoping to use them as a buffer, and I take a little pleasure in the fact that it is just she and I.
“They went into town.”
“Damn it,” she spouts as I put the car in park.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”
The look she gives me tells me she’s pissed, and I don’t care. She climbs out of the car, slams the door and heads straight for the house. I’m hot on her heels because I don’t want her to lock me out.
She gets through the door first and slams the door in my face, but it’s not locked. Opening the door I can hear the click of her heels across the hardwood floor, but she isn’t in the kitchen; she’s headed straight for the bedroom. “Oh, shit.” Fear races through me that she’s going to pack her shit and leave. I go running down the hall after her.