Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ (12 page)

Tristan could feel the accusation in his tone and spit back at him, “Yeah, ya got a problem with that?”

Chris shrugged, “Not at all. Would’ve been cheaper to send her in as a friend if I’d have known you wouldn’t boot her ass out the front door the minute she got there.”

“She’s tenacious. That girl doesn’t put up with anybody’s shit,” Tristan answered. “Why did you feel you had to send somebody to take care of me? I would’ve managed,” he added.

“Eventually, you probably would’ve… But,” Chris paused for a brief second and took a deep breath, “I’ve been alone most of my life. Didn’t want you to go through something like this the same way, but I knew you wouldn’t be thrilled with
me
as your nurse maid,” he added with a laugh.

Tristan laughed with him, and added with a huge smile on his face, “You’re right. Peyton is amazing at this. I think she actually lights up from the inside when she’s taking care of others.”

Chris gave him an equally large smile, “Sounds like she would make the perfect submissive, if you’re interested in trying the lifestyle again when things settle down.”

Tristan didn’t even hesitate in answering, “Nah, buddy. I think that was a one-time deal for me. I don’t think I can handle all…this,” he waved his one hand around the loft.

Chris just nonchalantly lifted his hands, “It’s not for everyone. So, I don’t think you came over here just to shoot the shit with me, Tristan. What can I do for you?” He sank back into his chair and crossed his leg over the other at the ankle.

“To be honest, I’m kind of in limbo right now and need to take care of a few things. I need to haul some stuff out of my old apartment, and Peyton said that you might have a vehicle that would fit the bill.”

Chris quickly answered, “Sure, I’ve got a pickup you could borrow, no problem. I’m actually thinking of selling my little Nissan pick-up, if you’re looking for a vehicle.”

Tristan pretended to consider the offer for a minute, then answered, “Let me think about it, man. Thanks.”

“No problem. Your Uncle Morgan tells me that you are coming back to work for him soon. Is that true?”

Tristan had been thinking a lot about what he could do for work and was desperately trying to think of a place he could go that didn’t involve working at a plant anymore. Or even working anywhere near his uncle and everything the bastard took pride in.

“Hope not. My options are limited, though. Didn’t graduate from high school, no college degree, and everyone knows that I was a hired thug, so to speak, for my uncle. Still trying to sort through that mess. I guess I didn’t know you knew Morgan. Please tell me you aren’t considering dealing with him business-wise?”

“Good God, no, Tristan. I met him on the street recently and asked him how you were doing is all. I wouldn’t go near that badger’s den.”

Tristan released his pent up sigh and nodded his head a few times.

Chris continued, “Sara and I have talked about opening another club in the near future. I could use some help that wouldn’t actually involve any BDSM participation, if you’d still be available in a couple of months. I could use help with managing the business, especially after dealing with all these bank loans.” Chris rolled his eyes as he said
bank
.

Tristan liked dealing with the business side of things, but because numbers weren’t his forte, no one ever took him seriously when discussing the more detailed parts of his uncles’ operation. But he still knew an awful lot about the business sector.

“Sounds great, Chris. Thank you. For everything. I will pay you back all the money that you gave Peyton to work for me. She’s an awesome girl, and I don’t know what I would’ve done without her around.” Tristan had gotten out of his chair and extended his arm to Chris, who continued to sit.

Chris cocked his head to the side, while he shook hands with him. “Alright, when you’re ready for all of that, just let me know.”

Chris got up, ushering Tristan to the front door. “Might as well grab the case of beer, and we can go up on the roof patio with the girls. Once Sara gets into her wine, she becomes a complete chatterbox.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
ristan and Peyton spent the next week getting into a routine, which included working out together at the gym, cleaning out the remainder of his old apartment, and the occasional doctor’s appointments. Peyton’s job working overnights mean she usually wasn’t moving until close to noon each day. It was a blessing for both of them that she wasn’t around Tristan during late evening hours, because he was damned sure if she was anywhere near his bed, she would be staying there with him every night. Hopefully with her beautiful body devoid of clothes, but he was trying to follow her rules…for now. Plus, he wasn’t sure how she would react to his horrible sleeping habits.

Tristan had found out that his uncle had sold off his Audi pretty much the day after he was hospitalized and the car was long gone. There really wasn’t any logical explanation why his uncle had gotten rid of the car, other than it had quite the collection of parking tickets on it. The last Tristan knew, it was sitting behind the Club Red building, waiting for him to come back out. Morgan would never admit to anything, in fact he’d told Tristan that he bet the city impounded it and sold it off. It was the bank that told him that Morgan had brought cash to pay off the loan, and the lien card was given directly to a man that accompanied him to the bank. No one said a word to stop him, especially since Morgan went directly to the bank president, demanding the situation be handled immediately.

Truth be told, he was somewhat glad that he didn’t have to worry about the outrageous payments and insurance on the luxury car anymore, but he still needed to find himself a mode of transportation. It was getting down-right pathetic that his girlfriend had to drive them around everywhere they went. He hadn’t even officially asked her to go on a date, because he wanted it to be an official date, where he picked Peyton up at her house, and the whole works.

Tristan was scanning the local classifieds for not only a car, but a job to go along with it. He knew that he would be able to work for Chris and Sara in a few months, so that was a positive, but if he didn’t find a good paying job, and fast, he would be stuck working for Uncle Morgan to pay off his so-called “debts” for living in his rat-hole apartment while he recuperated.

Unless Tristan decided that he wanted to broach the next dangerous subject of what happened to the money left after his car was sold. He really didn’t pay much attention to the equity on his Audi, but assumed maybe there was a little bit left. Tristan was honestly happier with his life now than he’d ever been before. If he could get a job and car, then he could easily walk away from that shithole apartment and find somewhere else to live. So if letting Morgan keep whatever bit of money was left from his car made things stay on the straight and narrow, then so be it.
Vaya con dios.

The only thing that seemed remotely worth his time in the classifieds was a bartending job over on the other side of town at a supper club called “Gabriel’s.” The ad was pretty simple and just said to stop in and apply. Still, it was on the other side of town from him, and he needed to be able to get there. It’d been an unseasonably mild November, and there usually was snow on the ground by now, otherwise walking was an option. The busing system in town was decent, but if it was late at night when he finished, the buses only traveled on the hour. It would be a bitch to get back and forth.

Peyton was due to arrive at any time, and Tristan had been ready to go for the last hour. His gym bag was waiting by the front door, and he’d already had lunch. Well, it was more like brunch a few hours ago, but he needed to eat before he took his meds, and he was half starved by the time he got up mid-morning.

His new routine for the last week had included some pretty fucked up dreams that kept him from sleeping well. His childhood house was always somewhere in the middle, but he always woke himself up before he made it all the way into the tiny bedroom. There were other dreams, too, mostly of high school, and being bullied constantly by his classmates. The Valerie dream was coming at him less often, but it was still on his list.

Tristan would have a variation of the same dreams over and over, and he was starting to expect them. He would wake up feeling like he was being held down by something and would have to mentally count to a hundred to keep himself from panicking. Some nights he would wake up in the midst of an all-consuming panic attack, one that would make him claw at his chest to ease the ache. Tristan still had no clue how to keep those under control and the only thing that made them stop was his anxiety meds.

During his therapy appointments, Tristan would often skim over many of the things from his nightmares. He didn’t completely understand most of the ones involving his childhood home, and the ones from the club had already been thoroughly discussed and were old news. His therapist had told Tristan that he was pleased with his progress, but it was a small victory as far as things went. There was one thing that he knew for certain, and it was that thing that he felt like was holding him back. There wasn’t going to be a single fucking day that he didn’t have to fight his bi-polar disorder. It was always going to be a part of him; he would never be cured, and it sucked.

His days were much better than his nights. It was a relief every day when Peyton would come bounding through the door, her dark hair framing her face and an award-winning smile lighting her up. It was the highlight of his day, but it also scared the shit out of him.

Tristan had always been a loner. He was an only child, really didn’t have a huge collection of friends in school, very few friends once he dropped out of school and was working at J-View Plastics and he had next to no family. He didn’t rely on people to take care of him. Even as a young teenager, he’d taken care of his ailing grandmother before he left for school every day, and then when he came home. Then there were the faint recollections of taking care of his mother. There wasn’t much in his brain about his father and if he did try to remember the man, it usually left him feeling cold and alone. So often times, he slammed the door on those memories, and moved on.

There wasn’t a time that he could remember being dependent on any one person. So this was all very unfamiliar territory for Tristan, and the jury was still out on whether or not he was comfortable with the way things were. But right now, he needed to focus on the small things that he could handle and go day by day, just like he’d told Chris has was doing.
One foot in front of the other
, he reminded himself…
Nice and easy
.

Peyton bounded through the door, right on time as usual. She was wearing a pair of black second skin leggings, and when she slipped off her jacket, she had on a simple sports bra and flimsy tank top.

Practically dancing over to him, she sang, “Good morning, sweets.”

“Hey, baby. Sleep good?”

“Yes, I did. Thank ya. You?”

Tristan hadn’t told Peyton about his sleeping issues, and had no intentions of sharing any more of his faults than what she was already privy to. It just seemed like she had the upper hand in their relationship in everything, and there were some things that just didn’t need to be shared.

“Yup. Like a baby.”

“Hmm,” she answered as she gave him a tender kiss as he sat at a bar stool next to the kitchen counter. “How’s the job search coming?”

Tristan shrugged and pointed to the bartending job that he’d spotted earlier. Peyton read the posting out loud, and then added, “Look! He’s got another ad in the next column for a Jeep for sale, too!”

Laughing he asked, “How do you know that?” He was scanning the classifieds at the same time as she was, looking for any ads that would be similar.

Peyton used her manicured fingernail to point at two different ads on the same page. “See? This has to be the same dude. Look, the copy number in the corner. It’s the same. Plus, both of them have the same address, and say that you have to stop by…you can’t call for information.”

Tristan looked over at Peyton, and saw the furrow in between her eyes and the crinkle in her nose as she carefully studied the paper. The woman was alluring to him in so many different ways; she was caring, thoughtful, kind, considerate, patient, plus hot as sin and she was like a siren calling to him. She must have sensed that he was looking at her, because she turned and caught him and laughed, “What?”

“Nothing, baby, just thinkin’ about how I must’ve done something right in another life to deserve you.” He accented his words by running his finger down the tip of her nose.

“Aww, Tristan. That was sweet…but you don’t think you deserve me in this life?”

Tristan was quick to pull her into his arms, and hoist her up onto the counter. “Nope. But I’ve decided that I like being on the good side, if I get awesome rewards for it. Like this…” Tristan nuzzled his mouth in between her covered breasts, and slowly moved his face to the left, inching closer and closer to her nipple that was straining to get through her layers. Using the tip of his nose, he brushed the peak and felt Peyton tense in his arms.