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Tristan looked away. “Fuck.” A big smile spread across his face. “I guess we were
distracted.”

I tried to contain a laugh.

Trevor looked at me, then back at Tristan. “If it makes you forget this, then I’m
all for it.” He took my hand. “Lily. You have the patience of a saint. Don’t forget
to give Dave my regards.” He raised both our hands to look at his very expensive watch.
“Time for you to get ready. If AC ever relinquishes the shower. Let’s say our goodbyes
here, kiss kiss, yes, both of you. And try to behave. Try.”

An hour later we were all walking through the bright sunlight to our cars. I waved
to Trevor as he got in. He wagged his finger at me, but the look of concern on his
face was real. I nodded to him, acknowledgment, understanding. He inclined his head,
then gave me a sharp look. I mouthed back, “I will.” His thin smile reappeared. Then
the door shut. I waved at the tinted glass as the car pulled out.

I was standing there, thinking what it meant for a man like Trevor to trust you, when
Tristan and AC’s voices broke through. “Lily! Come on sweetheart.” They were both
standing there, a poster shot, sunglasses, leather, holding the car door open, dark
and light so close together, one taller, almost menacing, the other, more slight,
his crooked smile more of an invitation.

I got in.

chapter twenty-seven

L.A. to New York

The flight back seemed longer than usual. Tristan slept mostly. AC was reading. I
kept dozing off then waking up with a start. I’d look down at the land below, when
there was a break in the clouds, and you could see the earth, alarmingly vast, yet
almost touchable, like a map come to life. So much had happened down there. Restless,
I walked around the plane a bit, just to get my legs moving. It all appeared normal.
Just another flight. Rows of heads. The haphazard collection of people coming or going.

When I came back to my seat, AC touched my arm. “All right?” he said. That same way
he had, a little like Tristan, of seeing into you.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just taking a tour of the plane,” I answered. He reached for my hand,
and glanced over at the sleeping Tristan. He looked so tired, yet softer, calmer in
sleep.

“Thank you for letting me come back with you.” AC looked at me. “You didn’t…you don’t
have to do this.”

“What?” I stared back, surprised. “No, I’m glad you’re here. Really.” I nodded towards
Tristan. “He wants you here. I don’t think I could have stopped him, even if I’d tried.
Or wanted to,” I added, seeing the expression on his face.

AC took my hand. “Oh, you could have, Lily. You really could have. I don’t think you
realize…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I hope you’re glad I’m here.” He smiled, a little
too brightly.

“I am. For real.” I leant down and kissed his cheek. “Stop worrying, ok?”

Tristan moved, and half opened his eyes. “Are you two all right?” He peered at us,
sleepily.

“We’re good, Tristan. All good. Go back to sleep. Well, let me get past you first,”
I said. And he watched us both for a moment, something like a child’s contented smile
appearing on his face, then he closed his eyes again.

AC and I looked at each other. I thought I recognized the emotion that seemed written
clearly on his features, that sort of fierce pride and that other thing, the one that
made people do crazy things, and change their lives. We both smiled. We had a lot
in common, after all. After a minute, he started to say something, but what came out
was, “I think New York City will be fun,” and he went back to his book. He squeezed
my hand though, as I climbed over them to get back to my seat by the window.

* * *

But now, getting out of the cab from the airport, AC seemed a little agitated. Going
up in the elevator. I wondered what he was thinking. It reminded me a little of the
very first time I’d been here with Tristan, a buzzing under the skin, all anticipation.
But when the door finally opened, he calmly stepped in and took a moment looking around.

“It looks good, Tris. I like what you’ve done with it. New sofa. Very eclectic.” He
winked at me. “Now to order lots of takeout and leave the containers under the chairs.”

Tristan gave us both a hug. “Come on, I’m beat. Let’s go find menus. You can both
order something for us while I shower.” His broad grin set the mood, as he dropped
his bag and guitar case and kissed me happily. I could hear him humming as he headed
for the bedroom.

AC’s presence seemed to settle Tristan, and he wasn’t as tense as he had been right
after the tour. We spent a few days going to galleries, museums, finding new restaurants
for dinner. It was like being a tourist, and we each had a list of things we wanted
to see. And we had opinions on every painting, every spring roll, every cab ride.
Talking about everything. Arguing into the night, pulling out records. Then we stopped
going out, and ordered dinner in, watching old movies. And every night, AC would come
with us as far as the kitchen, say goodnight, then he would head back to the living
room, to the made-up bed on the sofa. And Tristan would grab his hand, and pull him
into the bedroom. Nothing happened. But we were all tangled up in one way or another,
the sheets pulled at angles from the pressure of our bodies. I could feel AC’s hand
on my back and Tristan’s long legs against mine, one light touch, one heavy, reassuring
one. Tristan seemed to be sleeping very well. But I would lie there awake in the big
bed, eyes open, staring, then finally go and make some tea. Back in bed, I’d plug
in my headphones in an attempt to lull myself to sleep. One night I came back from
the kitchen to find AC watching me. “Are you all right, Lils?”

I brushed aside all the things I wanted to say, and looked down at the sleeping Tristan,
wrapped up in the sheet. “I’m good. Really. Just insomnia. It happens.”

AC grinned at me in the darkness. “There’s a cure for that, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” There was nothing else to say.

I climbed into bed. His hand didn’t reappear on my back. I pulled the duvet up, and
stared at the stairs to the bathroom. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A few nights later, we headed off in a town car after dinner to a club Tristan had
heard about. It was supposed to be hard to find, and edgy, but when the car pulled
up after a 25 minute drive, it just looked like just another steel door hiding another
industrial space filled with dim light bulbs and makeshift stages. AC looked at him.
“How do you find these places, Tris?”

Tristan shrugged. “Come on, it will be fun. At least no one here will have heard of
us, or care. I wouldn’t mind that.”

AC pushed him towards the door. “Bemoan the trappings of fame. ‘Why can’t I have a
normal night out?’ If there is beer in cans in one of those silver steel tubs, you
owe me 50 bucks and a night in a nice place.”

Tristan shoved him back. “Shut it. Look around. I might as well give you the cash
now. Besides, you might pull. I hear the women around here go for that sad, lost look
you do so well.”

“Works for you, bitch.” They both giggled as they fought over who would open the door,
then who would go up the narrow stairwell first. When we got to the top, no one even
looked twice. We passed over money, our hands were stamped, and we went into the darkened
room. One whole side was glass windows looking out over the skyline, broken with the
uneven brick walls and water towers of the warehouses and tenements. The other side
was a long brick wall, half covered with what looked like an old theatre curtain.
There were some rescued sofas, strategically placed in corners. Some of them already
contained their complement of couples getting to know each other better. I turned
around when AC squawked with laughter. “A fucking tin bucket! Cans! PBR. Bud Light.”
He shoved Tristan again, then wrapped his arm around him. “Buy me a Bud Light so I
can keep my girlish figure.”

“Cheap date,” Tristan snorted.

AC grinned. “No, just cheap.” And he messed up Tristan’s hair affectionately.

“Make that two,” I added, coming up behind them. “Then let’s go outside. I want to
see the view.”

AC put his arm around me. “A woman who knows her own mind, I like that. And you know
what? I think you’re right.” He tapped Tristan on the shoulder. “Get a six. Let’s
go hide outside.”

Beers in hand, we opened the sliding glass door at one end of the wall of windows,
pushing aside the draft curtain, and stepped over the ledge. There were a number of
people outside, smoking, talking. A couple was leaving their spot at the corner edge,
and AC quickly claimed it for us.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said. “Fresh air. Nice view of the Empire State.” He looked
over the edge. “Hey, there’s another club across the way. We can check that one out
too.” Tristan shot him a look. “Kidding, kidding. This is fine.”

We stood there, looking out over the low rooftops, to the glittering skyscrapers only
a few miles away. A dog started to bark.

“It feels like a movie set,” I said. Tristan and AC agreed, then started talking about
the videos they had done with Devised and the places just like this where they’d been
filmed. I listened to them reminiscing. With the article pretty much wrapped up, it
felt good to be able to enjoy their stories without keeping a tally of what might
work in the writing. Still, I listened for the details. I couldn’t help it. They were
arguing about which one was the best, when I interrupted.

“I finally saw the one AC starred in. Not sure how I missed that one. AC demonstrating
his prowess as a lover on screen. Actually it was interesting. Not your usual boy
meets girl story. And all the kissing.” I clinked my second beer with AC. “Nice.”

“Oh, really?” AC moved closer to me. “Tell me more.”

“Here we go,” I laughed. “Nothing to tell really. You just looked like you knew your
way around a kiss.” AC was studying me, and I was glad he couldn’t see me blush in
the dark. I looked out towards the skyline, suddenly wishing I was still smoking.
I couldn’t look at Tristan. “No, it was an interesting concept. That’s all.” I swallowed
some more beer.

AC laughed. “You hear that, Tristan? She thought I looked like I was a good kisser
on that video we did.” He smiled. “Back in the day, wasn’t it? One of the most enjoyable
shoots we ever did.”

Tristan smirked. “That’s because the director decided you should be the one kissing
the girl.”

AC poked at Tristan’s chest. “Oh you poor love. You were usually the love interest—while
the rest of us watched.”

“There’s a reason for that, AC.” Tristan winked.

“Is that so? I thought I was doing all right the other night.” He punched Tristan
in the arm playfully and turned to me. “Watched the video a couple of times, did you
Lils?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “What do you think? One reason why you thought
I was a good kisser.”

Tristan was staring at me, his eyes steady and deep. I turned from him to AC, trying
for a joking tone. “You know, the usual.” I thought about the video, but different
images kept appearing in my head. AC at the end of the bed. AC in the limo, teasing
Tristan. AC, taking his clothes off, standing there… I tried to think of the video.
“You looked like you were enjoying it. And—your face…” I faltered. I wasn’t sure how
to put it. I suddenly felt the weight of every word, like a key in a cylinder lock.
Every variation mattered. I felt like I’d been stripped bare. I looked away.

AC’s voice brought me back, gentle but insistent. “Go on, Lily. I’m curious, really.
What did you see?”

I closed my eyes. What had I seen when I watched the video? Something that had made
me curious about him, made me watch his moves, look at his eyes when he played. Something
there that I hadn’t noticed before, and now I saw every time I looked. I tried to
remember the scene, his arms around the woman, who seemed very willing but very normal.
In fact, unlike most videos, she wasn’t the half-dressed writhing focus. It was all
him. The camera closed in on him, watching him rearrange his body for a better angle,
watching him make her more comfortable, bending in, her slight movement, the crease
between his eyes, as his mouth moved with hers… How to say all this? I shook my head,
and gazed up at him, forcing myself to look into his eyes. That look. That strange
sadness and quiet observation under the jokes. Waiting. Knowing how to wait.

“You didn’t take, you gave. You looked so intense, your expression. But you were so
gentle with her, you never overpowered her, never pushed her. You let her come to
you. Your body was there. For the taking.” I couldn’t help the small nervous laugh
that I tried to quash before I said anything else. “Like you were really enjoying
yourself. Not a power trip.”

AC smiled, a slow sweet smile that reached his eyes like watercolor paint filling
a wet sheet. I shifted. I felt like I’d forgotten how to stand. “Power can be fun
too, though.” He turned towards Tristan and the look that passed between them was
warm, grateful, secret.

Tristan smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

AC’s expression didn’t change. “I know.” He reached out and placed his elegant guitarist’s
hand on Tristan’s shoulder, and gave him a quick squeeze. But then he turned back
to me. “So Lils. Want to take it for a drive?”

My eyes widened. His light eyes had turned dark, full of an emotion I wasn’t sure
I recognized.

AC now reached out his hand for me. I expected him to touch my shoulder, but he held
my hand, softly, like we were on some teenage first date. It was reassuring. Yet.
Oddly frustrating. Like it wasn’t enough. “One kiss. See if we can replicate the video.
No harm there, right?” He gazed up at Tristan. “Tristan here will watch, make sure
we do it right.” He paused, and this time the pressure on my hand increased slightly.
I looked at him, surprised. He just smiled, that same slow sweet smile, like he had
all the time in the world, and everyone else would eventually catch up. “What do you
think, Lily?” Here his arm was curling around me and then we were standing side by
side. “Time, that thief. But you have all the time you need now.”

I felt frozen, even with the energy of his body thrumming through me, warm, tempting.
Too tempting, too much to process. I tried to stand still, pretend I didn’t feel him,
so alive next to me, insinuating his arm further around me, slowly, so slowly. Another
band started playing inside, louder than the last one. The bass was rattling the windows.
He leaned over.

“Whisper something to me. Something you like. Follow it with a kiss. We can start
there.” And he tilted his head, ever so slightly. I could see the contours of his
ear, the slight slope of his neck, his skin, all clean, all perfectly shaped. It struck
me that with my heels, we were almost the same height. It would be so easy, too easy,
to press my lips against his ear, slip down to his neck. Would he shudder? Would he
like it gentle, or wet? I shut my eyes. My mouth seemed even closer than before to
his skin. I could just say something. A conversation. In a club. That’s all it was.
How close did mouths get to ears when they whispered? It had to be obvious, everyone
could see us, couldn’t they? I felt completely exposed, yet it seemed as though a
curtain had settled down between us and the rest. They could all be staring, I had
no idea. I just kept looking at his neck. Did he just bend it slightly further? He
was under me now, and he was offering himself up, I could feel it. A game, a tease.
Just for a moment. My eyes were fixed on the smooth line of skin behind his ear. A
desperate desire to trace the ridges of his ear with my tongue came to mind. It was
though one little cord was holding me back. One connection to sanity.