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There was a beat of silence when he’d finished, like everyone was trying to figure out where they were and what they were supposed to do, and then the place erupted with shouts and applause. And Tristan sat there, on his chair, and waved, and looked so happy and pleased I understood why Trevor had committed himself to the task of saving him. And I made up my mind that I would do everything I could to make him happy, and when it ended, as it was bound to, I’d just feel fucking lucky that I’d had any part of him in my life. And when I decided that, I took my first deep breath in days, and everything slowed down—just a little, just enough. I was in love. And damn, I had chosen a fucking special person to lose it all over. Nothing was forever.

The interview was winding up and they were now standing, hugging. Tristan went around to all the sound engineers, the camera guy and thanked them, shook their hands, posed for some phone pictures. He was smiling, his hands gesturing in the air as he spoke to each person. Then to everyone’s delight, he hopped off the stage, and signed autographs and posed for more pictures with fans. I stayed close, just enough to hear him talking to people, coaxing forward the shy ones, agreeing to pose for one more photo when the first one didn’t come out right. He was calm, endlessly patient, very polite. It didn’t seem like an act. Watching him sign over and over again, make a rock and roll face in between two fans, move on to the next one, never rushing anyone, never looking nervous despite the fact he was surrounded. I took a couple of pictures with my phone. This side of him needed to be written about—even if it didn’t really jibe with the dark sex god. Maybe that was good. Or maybe people wouldn’t be able to handle the complexity. Figuring out the public. Good to think about, but not for too long. Some of it had to be spontaneous, based on instinct, not design. Otherwise it felt too cold.

He spotted me, in the middle of one of my phone pictures, and waved. No one noticed—they were too busy thrusting things at him to sign. But it was winding down, the radio people were beginning to pack up, and a big man I hadn’t ever seen before was coming forward, a light touch on Tristan’s shoulder, which he acknowledged with a nod. “Thank you all so much for being here tonight!” Then he let the man put his arm around him, and guide him through the crowd, being a little more forceful than Tristan would have been on his own. I followed them, keeping my distance, but also keeping an eye on where they were headed. They went through a door to the back, and a minute or so later, I was there, showing my laminate to the guy by the door, who examined it minutely, looked me up and down, eyeing the bulge in my leather jacket, and finally letting me in. Tristan was standing by one of the metal pillars that were scattered through the room, drinking from a little bottle of water, chatting to the man who I supposed must be a bodyguard. I walked up, slowly, a little unsure of how I was supposed to act.

Tristan caught sight of me and waved me over. “Lily, there you are. Did you see the interview? I think it went well. Didn’t you? Decent questions. Nice crowd. Guitar playing—hey!” His words came out in a rush, and he seemed incredibly wired. “Have you met Rick? No? Rick, Lily, Lily, meet Rick. He’s my fixer—he does everything—really.” He smiled and punched Rick in the arm with a big flourish. Tristan was taller than he was by a few inches, but Rick gave off a feeling of being grounded, the way trees are, and had a slightly dangerous air beneath his easy smile.

Rick said hello to me and we shook hands, mine disappearing in his. “Murderer’s thumbs, I’ve got,” he said amicably, “but don’t worry Lily love! They look worse than they are.” I examined his hand over mine for a moment, and tried to laugh.

Tristan spoke up, his voice still fast and jagged. “I’ve known Rick forever,” he said. “Since the Devised days. You should talk to him. He’ll tell you the truth. The real dirt. No. No, he won’t.” Tristan laughed. “He never says a word, that’s why he’s brilliant.” He put his hand on both our shoulders for a moment, and then excused himself.

I was left alone in the makeshift green room with this man, who looked me up and down, then smiled. “So you’re Lily Taylor, the writer,” Rick said. “I’ve read some of your stuff. It’s good.” I thanked him, but he waved me off. “You’re writing about Tristan now? He’s a good man he is. Has always treated me right. Keeps his enemies close, but his friends closer, you know what I mean? His only trouble, is he tries to do things alone, when he needs help. I keep telling him to move over here, we’ll look after him.” I raised my eyebrows, and was about to say something, but he kept going. “California. No. He didn’t know the right people out there. Come back, mate, I’d say. And he did for a while. Got himself straightened out, now look. Going to be a success again. But you never know what they’re going to do. I’ve worked for a lot of people. You just never know.”

I nodded. “It seems like he has had people who wanted to…” Here I stumbled. I didn’t know what to say. What was I supposed to admit I knew? “He hasn’t had an easy time of it.”

Rick shrugged. “No. Sort out what I can. Some things…some things you can’t tell the boss, you know what I mean?”

I thought I did know. “Rick, are you his bodyguard while he’s here?”

“I’m everything! You heard the man.” He laughed. “Why, have you got a problem?”

“I want to take him on a walk. Do you need to follow behind us, or something? Should I let you know where we are going?” I quickly tried to think of where I wanted us to go. Parliament Hill. Walking by the Thames past the Tate. Holland Park. Back to Primrose Hill. Victoria Park. No, we’d only get a chance at one. The Thames. Something about the water. Soothing. “I’d like to walk with him down by the Tate. Can we all go in a cab? I’ve got something…”

Tristan came out and interrupted. He still seemed wired, but a little bit calmer. “What’s this? Sightseeing? A walk. What do you think Rick? Can we do this? With everything going on?”

I snapped my head around to look at him. “What’s going on?”

Tristan shook his head. “Just the usual. Nothing to worry about.” Hearing him say that made me worry more than before.

“Look!” I suddenly remembered. I unzipped my jacket, and pulled out the bundle of tissue paper wrapped items and held it out. It wasn’t how I’d planned to give it to him, but needs must. “Remember we talked about sneaking out? Knowing London? Needing a hat? Here.” I thrust it at him. “These are for you.” I could see Rick examining me out of the corner of my eye. There was no point pretending. I looked at him, and smiled, and quickly returned to watch Tristan unwrapping his gift. He pulled them out. There was a long striped Paul Smith woolen scarf, and a simple grey hat, with a few stripes on them to match the scarf, but not too much. Before he could say anything, I jumped in. “You can wear them, cover your face, make it harder for people to tell who you are. Then we can go out by the Thames. Rick can come too.” Tristan was wrapping the scarf around his neck, slowly. “Say you will.”

His expression was hard to read. “By the Thames?” I nodded. He looked down at the scarf. “This is beautiful, Lily, thank you.” And he threw a look at Rick, and crossed the space between us. He took an end of the scarf and wrapped it around my neck, and gave me a kiss. “You’re always surprising me,” he whispered. I pressed myself against his chest and felt his arms go around me. I wasn’t sure what Rick knowing would mean, but I wasn’t going to think about it. Not as long as Tristan was right here, warm and real and wanting me.

Tristan kissed my cheek and then my nose, and then I was sure Rick had no doubts that maybe we were more than friends. Maybe not. People kiss each other a lot. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I looked up at him, and I wasn’t trying to hide. Tristan smiled down at me. “Ok doll. Give us the orders. Rick, let’s get a taxi. Can you take care of that? Lily, where are we going?”

I laughed. Give him orders. Well, you could try. “Tate Modern. We can walk towards Tower Bridge, on to Rotherhithe. See the river. ”

Tristan laughed, low in his chest. “You heard the lady.” Then more seriously. “We’ll be out in a second.” Rick moved fast for such a big guy, and then we were alone. “Put the hat on me, doll. Hide me.” He laughed again, while I adjusted the hat. “Now show me you still know who I am.” And his mouth was on mine, biting at my lower lip, hard enough that I gasped slightly. He covered my mouth with small bites, small flicks of his tongue, then pulled me tight against him, running his tongue along my neck. I could feel him, getting hard, the heat rising from his body. Tristan dropped his hands to the tops of my thighs and pulled me up and in against him until he was practically holding all my weight in his arms. He pressed my body against his cock, which was now a heavy, solid presence between us. Then he was kissing me, possessively, gently, his tongue teasing, exploring, pulling away and coming back, sucking on my tongue, over and over again. I would never get over how fast it had happened, from nice and familiar to hard and wanting, so fast. Then Tristan was breathing into my neck. “Don’t forget Lily. You forget. And then I have to remind you.” He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled it back, hard, exposing my neck, then bit down, harder. I couldn’t have stopped the sound that he pulled from my throat.

Tristan had his eyes shut tightly. “Lily…fuck…we’ve got to go. Just…a minute more…let me.” And he turned me around and bent me over the table with the paper table cloth and bottles of water. He leant over me, his warm body pressing me down. I thrust up against him, the pull on the muscles in my legs as I felt his weight on me both making me tense and opening me up. I could feel the hollow want inside as I breathed out slowly. His hand ran over my ass, then pressed between my legs, holding me still. When he finally slapped the sensitive skin at the juncture of hip and thigh, it was like he had gone inside my body, my mind, he knew. Tristan murmured against my shoulder. “Say yes. I want you so much. I want to feel pain with wanting you.” And his hips swept the air between us, rubbing up on me, quick and dirty, and then pulled away. It was suddenly cold and I waited, eyes shut. Anyone could walk in. I was sure anyone who was still here could hear me, needy, even if I was trying to be quiet. Tristan was lifting me up and spun me around, his mouth burning, taking my hands and pressing them both against the swell of his cock, moving them down over his balls, between his legs, pressing in. “So hard. You make me want to do everything with you. Want everything
…
” He raised my hand to his mouth and thrust in three fingers and sucked on them. His eyes met mine, as he licked up the length of my fingers. “You can take me too. You’d like it. I’ll show you how…” Like a lightning strike right to the core, my skin was vibrating with want. My legs were shaking. He stopped and kissed each fingertip, biting on one hard enough that I shrieked. “Not too long an outing, doll. I think it’s time to try something new between us. Tonight. That empty bed…”

“Short walk. Short walk,” I mumbled, trying to make my mouth form words.

Tristan laughed again, that dark, dirty laugh that seemed to bubble up out of him, as he let me go, watching me stand up, trying to come back to earth. “Let’s go find Rick.” He kissed my hair. “Lily…you’re so wonderful. Thank you for this—for thinking of it.” He kissed me and stopped, pulling the scarf higher up. “Am I hidden?”

I tried to laugh, my voice still shaking with need. “As much as you can be.”

We went out to the street, and found Rick with a cab. Tristan pulled him aside for a moment, and I watched them as Rick nodded, then pulled out his phone. Tristan told the cab driver we’d be just another minute, and he shrugged. The meter was on already, he didn’t care. Rick was talking very fast, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, with Tristan standing between us. Then Rick whistled, softly, clearly, and Tristan turned around. Against the closed shop on the corner, the shadows cast by the overhead train bridge, and the old brick, dark with rain and dirt, they became silhouettes. Some signal was exchanged, and Rick spoke into the phone, pocketed it, then came over to us. We got in first, followed by Rick, who glanced around as he shut the door. Then Rick said, “Tate Modern” to the driver, and we were off.

Chapter 18

We were approaching the Tate and Rick told the driver to drop us at the main entrance on Holland Street. I raised my head and looked quizzically at Tristan, but he put his finger to my lips. “You’ll see,” was all he said. We all climbed out of the cab, and Rick paid the driver, Tristan watching and looking around. They were both so edgy. Something had to be up. But I wasn’t going to ask or point it out. Rick tucked his wallet back in his pocket, and we all began walking down the grey slope to the revamped power station. Just as a monument, it was incredible. The sheer size of the turbine room was a spectacle in itself. But this wasn’t walking along the Thames.

“Where are we going?” I asked. They both had a very similar smile. It was somewhat unnerving. The row of glass doors seemed shut and the interior looked completely dark, except for the lights on in the bookshop, but then I saw there was a man at the corner, opening a side door for us. Tristan waved, and Rick gave him a quick hug.

The man turned to us. “I’m Julian Cross-Ashby. A pleasure to meet you. On behalf of the Tate, welcome.” We all shook hands. “Let me take you up to the members’ dining room. We won’t be doing our final shut down for another hour or so, but certainly you are very welcome. Some of the staff will be at your service.”