Finding Love's Wings (13 page)

I laugh out loud. "I highly doubt that. Besides, those trunks leave very little to the imagination." I wink. "See you in a couple of hours." I take two long strides into the suite, and before I manage to shut the door, I hear a grunt and a Tristan-style groan.

"You're killing me, woman!" I hear him shout as the door clicks closed.
 

I laugh and head for the shower to get cleaned up. I manage to disengage the leather throng from my back so that I can restring it.
 

Once out of the shower, I put on the panties, garter belt, and thigh highs I ordered from downstairs. I'm going braless tonight because the dress has a fully open back. Not wanting to get makeup or anything else on it, I save the dress for later.

Just over an hour later my makeup is done: in light purples and looking smoking hot. My eyes are accented with diamond-like pasty-gems that bring out the blue in my eyes.
 

My hair is a curly, messy, up-do style that is swept to my right side. I'm head over heels in love with the way it turned out. The flowers in the sitting room were changed while I slept, and in the vase is a beautiful white with purplish colored trim water lily. I decapitate it and place it in my hair as an accent piece over my left ear.

I lace my corset with black and purple ribbons braided together. Braiding them makes them easier to pull through the hoops, and the two colors look great together.
 

The dress is made of silver satin with a tank top-style top that has narrow shoulder straps that wrap around my arms. The back is completely open with a small gathering of material that falls just to my hips. The front is loose across my chest.
 

Standing in front of the full length bathroom mirror, I can see the entire ensemble come together. Turning to my right and looking toward my left shoulder in the mirror, I can see that the top half of my corset is clearly visible, which was the idea. My wings are in full view, except for the outer tips, which are under the shoulders of the dress. The straps of the dress match up perfectly with the top of my shoulder caps. My hair is over my right shoulder slightly.

The dress also came with a beautiful, deep purple lace shawl I plan to bring with me. A smile of satisfaction spreads across my face as I climb into the five-inch purple Christian Loubtin Alti evening pumps. I'm beyond satisfied with everything: the hair, the flower, the dress, the makeup, the shoes – it's the perfect combination. Tristan will be brought to his knees.

With everything in hand and ready to go, I head to the elevator and downstairs, into Blu.

PART THIRTEEN

From the moment I walk into Blu and see Tristan, I know nothing will ever be the same. He has not yet seen me, but he is wearing a beautiful black suit with a purple silk shirt, accented with a silver tie. Seeing him dressed like this makes my heart skip a beat; my breathing has altogether stopped and my knees start to tremble. I do, however, manage to keep my mouth from falling to the floor.

I'm seated immediately at a booth off to the right of the bar. It's quiet and the lighting is low. Taking my seat, I wait for Tristan to join me. Jessie comes over with a martini glass filled with the same color liquid as my Cosmo from last night. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I take a sip. It's so good that a small moan escapes my lips.
 

As I finish up my drink, it registers that Tristan has yet to join me. Just as I start to worry that he's changed his mind about dinner, I feel a soft tickle on my left shoulder. Looking to my left, I see sitting on my shoulder, in brilliant white, pinks, and purples, a beautiful stargazer lily.
 

The soft petals on my skin cause goose bumps to rise, first on my shoulder and then beginning to radiate out across my entire body. Lazily my eyes follow the stem of the flower to his hand, arm, shoulder, and finally to a beautiful, warm, inviting smile that is attached to the face of none other than Tristan Michaels.
 

"Hi," My voice is soft and breathy.
 

"Good evening, Cami." His voice is soft, sweet. He hands the lily to me and I place it gently on the table.

Turning back to him, “I was beginning to wonder if I should start worrying," I say softly. "Would you please join me?" I gesture to the bench seat across from me. As I do this, he grabs my hand. Bringing it his mouth, he softly brushes his lips against my knuckles, planting a soft, chaste kiss on the back of my hand. Oh my word. If I wasn't getting excited before, I certainly am now.
 

"I would be honored," he says. I notice with great satisfaction that he does not release my hand as he sits. The gesture, while seemingly small, sends my heart into overdrive.
 

"Thank you for my drink. Jessie said you had called ahead." I smile remembering Jessie's face, which told me that he was disappointed that I was having a date with 'Mr. Rubble. I think he'd wanted to claim me for himself.

"You're most welcome." He is smiling, practically from ear to ear. No doubt it's a direct reflection of my own smile. God, how has this man made me so weak in the knees in only such a short amount of time? "Did you have a good day today?" he asks, interrupting my admiration.

"I did, thank you. I even managed to take a nap while the Gucci reps went shopping on my behalf." I giggle. "I never thought I would ever say that."

He was laughing a bit too. "Yeah, the idea of being waited on is something that is hard to get used to. I’m not even sure I'm used to it."

"Right! I’m pretty sure that I’ll never get used to it. This was never the life I expected to lead. But I’m on vacation after all. It’ll go away when I get back to Phoenix."

"Phoenix, huh? I thought you lived in L.A."

I laugh. "No, L.A. and I do not get along well. Phoenix and I, however, are made for each other. The sun, the warmth, the fact that it hardly ever rains."

Jessie brings us another round of drinks and departs quickly. “That may be, but a hundred and twenty degrees is a bit much for my taste."

"You get used to it. Plus as they always say..." In the most obnoxious voice I can manage and with a ridiculous grin on my face I say, "It's a dry heat."

He laughs, surprised. "That is probably the best impression of Walter I've ever heard."
 

For a moment I'm stunned into silence. I can't believe he knows who Jeff Dunham and all his lovable friends are. Then I bust out laughing. It takes me a minute to settle and catch my breath. "Yes, Walter is by far one of my favorites. Peanut, however, takes the cake."

"Ah, lest we forget our dear friend Peanut." His smile lights up the room. "Jeff Dunham is my favorite comedian. I got to meet him once and was surprised to find out that he is just as funny in real life as he is onstage."

"Mr. Michaels, I do believe I'm officially jealous now." I smile.
 

He laughs some more. "I'm sure we could arrange a chance for you to meet him. You are, after all, the CEO of the largest PR firm in the world."

"Non-active CEO," I correct him.
 

"Oh, I think that has officially changed as of today. You were absolutely brilliant with Trinity this
morning. I'm not sure I have had the chance to thank you properly for handling that. I have no doubt that had you not stepped up, I would be facing off with her about this story." He shrugs and his smile starts to fade. "I have to admit that having this story squashed was the first thing I thought of when all this went down. I don't like my private life plastered all over every news outlet in the world. But in the end, letting it run seems like the best thing I could do for Layla, as messed up as that may sound."

I can't help but continue smiling at him. I'm completely in awe of the fact that he can take this whole situation in stride and be so determined – no matter what the cost is to him – to let this story run its course. "I hope you realize, if I had it my way this story would die before it even had a chance to blossom. I don't at all like the thought of all those tabloids having a go at you because of something your ex-girlfriend did. However, I will accept the fact that this is solely your decision to make. Should you change your mind, though, we have until noon our time tomorrow to try and stop it."

"Forget it. Not going to happen. Though I am truly sorry that a child is going to be dragged along by a mother that can't seem to make good choices. No doubt, in the long run, he will be the one to suffer. Especially if she never discovers who the father is."

The tone of this conversation has gone from playful to gloomy quickly. "Ok, enough about her and about business," I say. "This is our date and it's time to discuss something else." I smile a genuine smile. "So, we have discovered that we both like Jeff Dunham, what other type of entertainment do you enjoy?"
 

"I love music, live music especially. I enjoy local unknown bands more than I do the mainstream, or even those with record labels. The passion that comes with the music they play inspires me." I'm happy to see that his smile has returned and his eyes warm again.

"I could not agree with you more on that. I love live music. I do enjoy the mainstream artists that write their own music. Lyrics speak volumes, and to hear them sing something that has been written solely for the purpose of expressing themselves make me the happiest."
 

"Why is that?"

"Because I usually feel a better connection to the song. Take the winners of those reality shows. Sure, they get singing contracts with a pretty big label, but they are at the mercy of what their new managers and or 'crew' think they should be doing and singing."

"Very well said. Not sure I could have said it better myself. Music is a pretty big passion of mine, personally. Writing music is something I enjoy doing. A lot." His smile has reached his eyes, causing a slight crinkle in the corner. He looks very carefree, younger even.

"Really? I never pegged you for a songwriter, Tristan. A director or even an author maybe, but a songwriter?" I get a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach, mainly because I'm certain that I'm about the only person that knows this about him. "There is a bit of irony in the fact that you like to write songs."

"Oh?" He is looking at me with an intent expression on his face. "Why is that exactly?"

"Because not only do I love music, I play music and sing."

He actually looks surprised at my response. "I think that is something I am going to have to hear for myself."

"Good luck with that." I purse my lips. "I have not sung in front of anyone on purpose since my junior year of high school."

"Why did you stop?" He asks the obvious follow up question.
 

Shit. Can I tell him this, or do I just brush it off? I'm not sure that I'm really ready to go into why I don't sing anymore. "I'm not really sure you want me to answer that question."

He frowns. "Cami, I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want the answer. However, I will respect you not wanting to answer—"

"It is because of Bobbie," I blurt out.

"How does Bobbie have anything to do with you not wanting to sing?"

The question has me wanting to answer. Tristan doesn't deserve secrets. Plus, my hesitation is more to do with not wanting to talk about Bobbie. "It wasn't so much that he didn't want me to sing, simply that he felt I wasn't good enough." He nods gingerly and I continue with my tale. "During my junior year of high school I became friends with a group of girls who, one day, decided that we should start a band."
 

I take a deep breath, trying very hard to settle my nerves, but then I remember the very expensive Cosmopolitan sitting in front of me and take a big swig. God it's good.
 

"I took piano lessons as a kid and continued with them when I went to boarding school. In third grade I received a very nice acoustic guitar, anonymously, and decided to teach myself how to play. I was good. Still am good." Ok stop babbling and get to the point. I look up from my Cosmo and Tristan is looking at me, his eyes warm, almost liquid. A gentle smile on his face, a smile of encouragement that I've never seen from him, or from anyone for that matter. The smile gives me the confidence to continue.
 

"But anyway, it wasn't until my junior year of high school that I really got to play with other people. Evelyn – my mom – had passed away and I'd convinced Bobbie to let me finish out high school in the States. Some of my friends from school wanted to start a band and asked me to join. We jammed really well together, but when we started rehearsing cover songs we discovered that the girl, Jessica, that wanted to sing, really couldn't sing. Everyone took turns at giving the songs a go. Lisa could sing nicely enough, so I was thinking that they would stop there and just let us continue with her as our lead singer. But after Lisa was finished, Jessica said, 'Let's let Cameron have a try.'"
 

I'm blushing now, remembering how it felt to put the microphone to my lips and start singing. "I was so embarrassed. I still am, just thinking about it. But I walked up to the microphone and we started to play Shakira's 'Underneath Your Clothes.'" I laugh at that. "God, how things have changed." Waving it off, I say, "Anyway, I was half a verse through the song and the next thing I knew I was the only one playing as all three girls were flat-out staring at me. When I realized this I stopped, but they said 'why did you stop?' They said I was awesome and immediately promoted me to lead singer. Eventually I started to get over my stage fright, and we practiced and practiced."