My Rock #5 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #5) (4 page)

“I am?” Daddy said. Tristan was even more amused
now. I could just hear him in his head: “Fucking Ward and June Cleaver.”

“Well, I guess I could postpone my plans…” he said
with a sideways glance at me. I wanted to choke him and he knew it.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

TRISTAN

I lived through dinner with the parents. I was
twenty-eight years old and it was the first dinner with the parents I’d ever
had—that included my own. It wasn’t bad, really. Mike and Carol Brady were nice
and amusing. Susie was a crack-up and Elly’s obvious discomfort made it all worthwhile.
Plus, I had some damned good steak and shrimp at no cost at all to me. Not bad
for a homeless guy.

“So, Tristan, how long have you been singing?”
Elly’s mother asked me at dinner.

“Um…pretty much as long as I can remember,” I told
her.

“Did you have any formal training?”

“No ma’am, my mom entered me in a contest when I was
six. Everything just kind of happened after that.”

“Why did that band break up…the one you were in,
what was it called?”

“Mom, give the guy a break from the questions so he
can eat, will you?” Elly said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrogate. I was just
trying to get to know you.”

“It’s okay,” I told her. I was really hoping she was
finished though. From the band on forward, there was nothing much I wanted to
talk about with Elly’s mom.

“I’ll bet your parents are proud of you,” she said.

I glanced at Elly. She looked like she wanted crawl
under the table. I said,

“They are, they could almost bust.” I could see
Elly’s amused expression out of the corner of my eye.

“Where do your parents live?” Elly‘s father got in
on the interrogation then.

“They’re island people,” I told him. “They only come
back here to reality a couple times a year.”

Elly was losing it. She had to excuse herself and go
to the bathroom. By the time she came back we had changed the subject to
football. It was another thing I didn’t know or give a fuck about, but I
bullshitted my way through that one as well. Overall, I thought I did a pretty
damn good job.

I got another middle finger from Elly when I just so
happened to have tickets to the results show. I thought Donna Reed was going to
cry and Father knows Best looked pretty damned happy about it himself. Susie
ditched us for a date. I had to wonder what kind of being would date Susie. She
was hot, don’t get me wrong, but she was an ornery one. He must be one of those
submissive types.

I got to the results show early and I saw Elly’s
friend Molly in the back.

“Hey, I thought I saw Elly in the audience last
night. How is she? She won’t return my calls.”

“She’s great,” I said. I figured she was embarrassed
and that’s why she didn’t want to talk to anyone from the show. I also knew
that it was mostly my fault. I still wanted to kick that little prick’s ass.

“Oh good, I’ve been worried about her.” Molly said.
“Will you tell her I’d like her to call me?” I suddenly realized this girl was
talking to me like me and Elly were in a relationship. Dinner with the parents
and now taking messages for her…I was going to have to put a stop to this shit
before it got out of control. I was not boyfriend material.

“You might want to just keep calling her,” I said.
“I don’t know when I’m going to talk to her.”

She raised up her eyebrows like she thought I was an
ass all of a sudden. Good, that’s better.

As I sat on my bench on the stage next to the crying
girl and the guy who was actually competition, I could just make out Elly’s
face in the audience. She looked nervous for me. I wasn’t at all. I felt really
good about my performance the night before and the judges had loved it.

The other two contestants and I did our song
together and then the MC started his dramatic bullshit. When all was said and
done, the crying girl went home to Bum-Fuck and I was left with the real
competition. I was going to feel those nerves. I had to win. I needed that
money.

When I got back to Elly’s, her parents were just
leaving to go back to their hotel. Elly’s mom hugged me; that was weird for me,
but nice.

“I wanted to congratulate you again. I’m so excited
for you. I’ve been telling my husband since the first night that you were going
to win. You know, back when Elly had her crush—“

“Mother!”

“I know you had a crush on me, Elly,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me and her mother said, “I’m
sorry honey.” Then back to me she said, “Anyways, I just never really listened
to you sing back then. I had no idea just how talented you were.”

“Thank you,” I told her. I bid them a good night and
headed for the kitchen to grab something to drink.

Before I made it in there, Elly’s dad said, “Tristan,
will you be joining us at Elly’s concert tomorrow night? My girl has got a set
of pipes on her that would make an angel cry. I know that you know that or you
would have never taken a chance on having her sing with you the other night.”

I cut my eyes over at Elly who was standing behind
them. She had a horrified expression on her face. She was almost imperceptibly
shaking her head no. She didn’t want me to go. She still didn’t have faith that
I wouldn’t screw it up. I guess I couldn’t blame her.

“I think I’ll have to beg off. I re-scheduled those
plans from Tuesday night for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” her mother said, disappointed.

I could still see Elly’s face. She really didn’t
want me to go. I didn’t want to be there if she didn’t want me.
 
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I said to her mom and dad.
Ward and June Cleaver were disappointed in me.
 
I did my best Eddie Haskell and acted as if I gave a shit.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

ELLY

Tristan was up and out of the house before I got up
the morning after the results show. I thought that was weird—it was early for
him. Then I remembered that he said he had an appointment with his outpatient
director to set up his meetings—or I guess our meetings—for the following week.
That should be fun. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear any more about his
life and how he grew up. It made my heart ache for the little boy that he
didn’t get to be.

I met my parents for breakfast and I couldn’t
believe how my mother went on about him.

“You know, when you used to be so crazy about him, I
really didn’t think he could even sing.”

“Really?” I said, amused.

“Really. I didn’t like that music, I guess. But
listening to him live the other night…that was just such a treat. I can see
what you see in him.” She was babbling so much I was sure her meal would go
cold.

“Saw in him, Mom. I was twelve.”

“You were fifteen as I recall before you took that
poster off the ceiling.”

“You knew about the poster?”

“What am I, blind?” she said. “Every time I made
your bed, he was staring at me.”

I laughed, “Well, fifteen then…”

“He’s so sweet.”

I laughed even harder at that. “He would die if he
heard you call him that, Mom.”

“Why?” she said.

“Because grown men don’t want to be called sweet,”
my dad said. That was as good an answer as any.

“Well, whether he wants to be called that or not, he
is,” she insisted. I smiled and shook my head. I was beginning to think my
mother had a crush on him.

I took them to the museum after breakfast and we saw
the
DaVinci
exhibit, then they went back to the hotel
to get ready for the show. It wasn’t for five more hours, but if I knew my
father, getting ready would include a nap.

I started getting ready about six. I had to be there
at seven and my parent’s would be there before the curtain went up at eight. I
was nervous; I always was when it was a live audience. My teacher had given me
the lead as usual. I was just really glad Tristan had the good sense to turn
down my mother’s offer. I doubted that he wanted to be there anyways. I hadn’t
seen him all day. I was trying not to worry, but I really hoped that he wasn’t
using again. I pushed those thoughts away and finished getting ready to go.

I put my hair up in a loose bun and curled the long
pieces that hung down around my face. I put on my make-up a little darker than
usual so that I didn’t look completely washed out on stage, then I put on the
dress I’d bought for the show. It was a dark blue, 50’s style swing dress with
a flared skirt that was held out by a stiff petticoat. The songs we were
singing were all from the 50’s, so the instructor asked that we all get
something blue that came from that era. The university wasn’t rich enough to
spring for costumes…unless it was for football.

Susie and I found the dress at a vintage store
downtown. I loved it and she said it was a good color on me. I wore a pair of
flat sandals with it. I had a fear of tripping in heels on stage almost as
ingrained in me as my fear of singing in front of a live audience was.

I took one last look before I left and, finally
satisfied, I headed for the chorus hall. We did our warm-ups in the back room
and finally took our places on-stage. When the curtain went up, I could see my
parents front and center. My mother waved; I smiled. We were gearing up to
start when I saw Tristan walk in. I was utterly shocked. I couldn’t believe he
came. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He’d heard me sing before, so I
wasn’t so much nervous about that. I think I was more nervous about the fact
that I was more and more confused about what we were to each other.

When I got my cue, I told myself to forget he was
out there and just sing. I sang, but there was no forgetting him. He sat right
up front next to my mother. It was a sight that a week ago I would have sworn
I’d never see. After we finished each song I saw him clap and at the end of the
show when the rest of the audience got to their feet, he did too.

There was a little reception afterwards; of course,
I found my parents at the buffet table. My mother brought roses for me. They
were beautiful. I hugged her and that’s when I saw Tristan. I was stunned,
thinking that he would have left as soon as the show was over. My parents
finished fixing their plates and I was suddenly overcome with a desire to touch
and be touched by Tristan.

Bolder than I had ever known myself to be, I went
over to him and said, “Thanks for coming.”

He grinned and said, “You’re not pissed?”

I smiled back. “We’re you trying to piss me off?”

He shrugged and surprised me by saying, “You did
good. You look good too.”

I wanted him right then, right there and I blurted
it out, “There’s a nice little couch in the dressing room in back. My parents
eat slowly. How’d you like to see how good I look without this dress on?”

His grin turned lecherous and he said, “Lead the
way.”

I led him to the back discreetly. When we got to the
room before I’d even got the door closed all the way, he was on me. It had been
a while; we were both horny as hell. This had to be quick, so we weren’t
wasting any time. He had his back to the door, so I reached behind him and pushed
it all the way closed and turned the lock. When I straightened back up he took
me around the waist and pulled me into him. His lips came down to meet mine and
I felt his hot, now familiar tongue snake into my mouth and search mine out.
While we kissed, he walked us backwards towards the leather couch. We more
tumbled than sat down on it and as soon as I was down on my back, Tristan
pulled up my skirt and slid his fingers into the side of my panties.

“Fuck, Elly! You’re so wet!”

“I’m a little bit excited,” I said, breathlessly.

His fingers felt so good as they delved in and out
of my soaking wet pussy while his other hand roamed across the rest of my body.

After a few minutes I pushed him back a little and
stood up. He looked surprised until I leaned my back against the wall and
stripped off my dress. Then I kicked off my shoes. He had a lustful grin on his
face when I reached back and unhooked my bra. He stood up and I could see how
excited he was. When he got close enough, he put his hands against the wall on
either side of me and kissed me again, harder this time. While we kissed, I
unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips. He wiggled his legs,
brushing his still trapped cock against my belly as he did and sending shivers
down my spine. He finally kicked off his jeans and then broke the kiss long
enough to peel off his shirt.

I reached up and raked my fingernails across his
chest. He growled and pulled me up against him tight so that my breasts and
hard nipples were smashed against his chest. He sucked my bottom lip into his
mouth and flicked it with his tongue. His hands were on my ass and I felt his
lips slip from mine, down across my jaw, landing on my neck. He sucked the skin
there into his mouth and I knew from the amount of suction that he was going to
leave a bruise. I didn’t care; it felt so erotic to have him squeezing my ass
cheeks while he sucked on my neck.