Finding Love's Wings (14 page)

Deep breath, here it comes. Looking down at the table, I continue, "Then one day we were practicing at Jessica's house and, unbeknownst to me, my father was in the house because he and Jessica's dad had some business to attend to. When you live in Hollywood, everyone knows everyone. Anyway, apparently – and I only found this out later from Jessica's dad – Bobbie got completely sidetracked from whatever they were doing because he could hear us practicing in the garage. According to Jessica's dad, Bobbie was so engrossed in what he was hearing that he just stood there listening. You know Bobbie; when he hears talent, he pounces.
 

“So, after we finished the song, Bobbie comes out to the garage where we were set up. Starts raving about how awesome we sound, so on and so forth, but he doesn't see me in the room. I was bent down behind an amp. He asked us to play another song, and of course the girls agreed. Then I stood up, guitar strapped to my back, and I see Bobbie's mortified expression. He had no idea that I was part of the band. But he shrugged it off, maybe figuring I was just a guitar player. Every one of us had a microphone to our face because we all usually had some part in a song.

“As soon as we started to play, Bobbie’s eyes lit up like Christmas. Then I started to sing, no back up, no nothing – just me, myself, and I. Bobbie's reaction was over the top. His face turned red. He started screaming at no one in particular and it was enough to make us all stop. Bobbie started yelling about how awful of a singer I was and that Jessica and her friends needed to find a new lead singer, so on and so forth. I am sure you get the idea."

Tristan's body is visibly shaking. His face betrays the fact that he’s really pissed off. "I cannot believe that asshole. How could he do that to his own daughter?"
 

"He sent me to boarding school, remember?" I'm upset at telling the story, but also relieved that Tristan, though he’s never heard me sing, is angry at Bobbie. It makes me feel important in a very strange way.
 

"In the long run I figured that it just had to do with Bobbie wanting to keep me from the industry and that he really thought I was a great singer. But as time went on, he proved otherwise. Anytime he would catch me singing or humming around the house he would yell at me and tell me to shut the hell up, though that is putting it mildly. When you put it into the whole picture of my and Mark's lives, he really did despise us on many different levels, especially after Mom passed away."

"Well, I doubt that you have a horrible voice. I would really love to hear you sing sometime." He is smiling now at the idea of hearing me sing. To my surprise, I realize that I actually want to sing for him.

PART FOURTEEN

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The idea of hearing Cami sing excites me to no end. How can I make this happen? There is the grand piano in my suite, but I'm really trying to behave tonight.
 

Norah Jones's "Come Away with Me" starts to play. The Goddess of Love is smiling on me. (Love – did I really just think that?) I take my cue, extending a hand to Cami. "Would you dance with me?"

"Uh..." She flushes a little, then says, "Yes."

I stand, her hand still in mine. Helping her to her feet, I walk us toward the dance floor. I turn and pull her into a warm embrace, and we start to move. She's a great follow; her movements mirror mine without her even seeming to think about it. "Is there anything you cannot do, Cami?"

She giggles. "I am sure there is plenty that I can't do, but I love to dance."
 

Wow. As I start considering the possibilities of dancing with Cami, she leans into me, pushing her breasts against my chest. Dammit! This girl is going to kill my good behavior if she keeps this up. I look down into her eyes. Her face is turned up slightly, looking like she wants to kiss me. Then her lips start to move. It takes me a minute to realize that it's no longer just Norah singing. Cami has started to sing along.
 

I inhale very sharply. Her voice is breathtakingly beautiful. She sounds a little like LeAnn Rimes; it's wild. I just stare at her. We continue to dance, without missing a beat. Then the song comes to a close.
 

"My God, Cami! That was absolutely beautiful."

"Thanks, Tristan."
 

She turns her head to the side, bringing her ear to rest on my chest, over my heart. Looking down, I see the faint flush of red coloring her skin. I hope I didn't embarrass her.
 

"That's the first time anyone has complimented me like that about my singing."
 

The music starts back up again with none other than Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You." At Cami's urging, we start to dance again. And she immediately starts singing again. Jesus, she can hit the notes with very little effort. It makes me wonder what her true range is.
 

Her singing is infectious and I find myself singing along, turning it into a duet. This time she's the one that’s staring.
 

When the song ends, she's panting slightly for air and giggles. "I think if I am going to do that again, I should really quit smoking." I laugh too because she is so damn cute when she laughs that it becomes contagious and I can't help myself.
 

"There are worse things you could do. Thank you, Cami, for the dance and your singing."

"Me? Man, Tristan. You can act, sing, dance. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?"

I smile and laugh a little. "Oh, darling, you have seen nothing yet. But our dinner reservations are upon us. Are you hungry?

"Famished."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We move away from the dance floor back toward our table, grabbing our drinks. Then we walk over to Caran. Tristan is ever the gentleman when it comes to escorting me through the restaurant to our table. The maître d’ beats him to pulling out my chair, and he looks disappointed. It's kind of cute, actually.
 

We chat all through dinner. About anything and everything: our friends, the things we like to do for fun. I’m surprised to learn that Tristan loves to read books when he has the time. Even more surprising is that he has a degree in English Literature, and before his acting career took off he had full intentions of completing college with a Ph.D. so that he could become a college professor of English Literature.
 

"My mom had been doing everything she could to put me through college, and when she passed away I was left to find ways to pay for school. I managed school okay, but finding money from one month to the next became difficult when it came to food and necessities, until I found the add for extra's on
Love Is Burning.
I received a rather large advance prior to starting the shoot and was only about two weeks away from graduating. I was able to payoff my student loans, pay back the people that I owed, and make it through my last two weeks of school before filming began.

"I realized quickly, after I'd nearly spent every penny of my initial paycheck, that I'm truly crap with money. I was nearly broke when the filming started."
 

Laughing, I say, "Good thing you don't have to worry about that now."

"Honest to God, Cami, I can’t even tell you or myself how much money is in my bank account right now. I just know when my credit card bills are due and I pay them."

"Sounds to me like you really need to meet Mick." I laugh.
 

"Who's he?" He's smiling from ear to ear.
 

"Mick is a financial advisor and planner. Also a good friend of mine. He was also Bobbie's main financial genius and also happens to be dating my best friend, Beau. Beau is, well, Beau. She's my best friend and my assistant who handles my day-to-day finances. She is also a brilliant artist." I pull out my iPhone and show him some of her work. He is duly impressed.
 

"So are you saying that I can have someone who handles my money for me?" He is positively laughing at this proposition.
 

"I have a confession." I pause for effect, and he raises an eyebrow at me. "I want to invite Mick and Beau to come out here on Wednesday so that they can spend next weekend with me." His face falls like I've just given him bad news, and my own smile fades in response. "What's wrong, Tristan?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he chews on the inside of his cheek, looking like he is mulling over his response. I nervously start to chew on my tongue ring. A long series of emotions flits across his face.
 

"Tristan, what's wrong? You actually seem upset."

"I just—" He takes a ragged breath. "It's just that next week is going to be a bad week for me. With the story dropping and all."

"Are you worried that Mick and Beau are going to either spill where you are or judge you because of a tabloid?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that."

Oh boy. "Tristan, Mick used to work for Bobbie. He has been in and around Hollywood for as long as I've known him, though now he lives in Phoenix with Beau. He knows the business and he can be trusted. Beau has not been around Hollywood besides visiting, but she is not the type to gossip, and she would not run to a tabloid and tell them anything." I let out the breath I was holding in a rush. "You have nothing to worry about. Besides, they are a little miffed at me for running off right before my birthday. Apparently I spoiled some serious plans for Saturday night."

He's gawking at me. "Well, don't I feel stupid. I'm sorry, Cami. I didn't realize."
 

"I wouldn't expect you to know, Tristan."

He takes a long, steadying breath. "To be honest, the reason I'm kind of upset has more to do with the fact that I don't like the idea of having to share my time with your friends."

My heart sputters and a feeling of dread washes through me. Mick and Beau are the two single most important people in my life. After a beat, though, the dread turns to a warm sense of flattery at the fact that he wants to spend more time with me. And I quickly realize that I, too, want to spend a lot more time with him.
 

"I...I...think we can all four have a great time together. Mick and Beau are some of the best partiers and funniest people I know. I think you'll really like them. And I can almost guarantee that your anonymity will remain intact because they're the type of people that won’t care." Though the idea does occur to me that Beau might spill the fact that I've had this obsession with Tristan for the last few years. She's not well-known for having a brain-to-mouth filter.
 

He pauses, then says, "All right, I trust you."

I release a breath that had gotten caught in the back of my throat at his admission of trust. "Thank you!" is all I can manage to say.
 

"So," he says gently. "You love the color purple, piercings, music, and tattoos." I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering where he is going with this. He continues, "What inspired your tattoos?"

I'm instantly praying that my face doesn't portray the shock I feel at his question. To be honest, no one has ever asked. Only admired my work. Beau knows, of course. She was with me when I got all of them.
 

I take a moment to take a sip of wine. "Well, the corset started off as the piercings. I saw one in a tattoo magazine somewhere and I thought it was really cool. Had I known then how much pain I was going to have to go through, I might have thought twice. Fortunately, X, my tattoo artist and piercer, has a very cool contraption that actually completed six of the piercings at a time. So I only had to go through it four times." I watched him wince. "I decided to tattoo it later after X brought up the idea of how cool it would look to fill it in like an actual corset."
 

Taking another sip of my wine, I move on to the next piece. "Next came the shoulders. Beau actually drew up the design. I wanted to portray good and evil, and she knows my affection for tribal. I'm constantly battling with good verses evil, or bad. Growing up the way I did, I had religion forced on me at the boarding school I attended. I constantly challenged the teachers and priests with their religious logic, pointing out the holes in what they preached. But despite my 'anti-religious' arguments at school, I do still believe in God, or a higher power. So Ariel and Lucy were born and inked." I stop talking, not entirely sure that I can explain the wings.
 

"And..." His voice is soft, welcoming. "The wings?" he asks.
 

"Yeah, those."
 

Pausing for more than a few moments prompts Tristan to say, "It's okay, Cami." He takes my hand across the table. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Taking in my expression, he quickly adds, "I know how hard it can be to discuss something so personal."
 

Instant respect and gratitude warms my heart at his words. He gently begins stroking the back of my hand.
 

"It's not so much that I don't want to tell you, Tristan. It's more that..." I feel my throat tighten. "The wings were my first, at barely nineteen. I wanted to fly away, away from life, away from Bobbie, away from my past, and having the wings on my back gave me the freedom I needed." I feel my eyes prick with tears. "I finally felt free of the burden of never really knowing my mother. And of hating my father for the fact that he was never there for me when I needed him. When I was growing up."