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Trystan couldn't believe she hadn't put two and two together. She'd wondered constantly who the mysterious "P. Dez," could be and nearly stumbled in realization that she'd known him almost her entire life.
She wasn't too sure of who this Peter person was, or even P. Dez for that matter, but the Bruno she'd grown up with had been the mischievous child of her mother's best friend and co-worker.
Yvonne, Trystan's mother, worked night-shifts as a bartender, and that was where she met a waitress named June. June, though a great worker and asset to the bar, didn't speak very good English having immigrated from the Philippines only two years before, which made her a prominent victim of teasing by customers. Yvonne made it a priority every night to toss out those who made fun of her and stuck up for her even when their own associates would whisper about the Filipina woman's foreignness. June, grateful for Yvonne's kindness, would return the favor by taking over Yvonne's shifts when she couldn't make it some nights.
Their acquaintanceship blossomed into a friendship. They would speak of their lives and New York and their families, and that was how they both figured out they both had children the same age and that they lived a block apart form each other.
Trystan could remember her mother telling her that Miss June had a son and that he, his parents, and older sister would be coming over for dinner on the coming Sunday. Trystan, then, had been excited to meet a new face, but that excitement dimmed to aggravation when she figured out that the shy boy who met her family as he hid behind his mother's legs, was only an impending indication of annoyance in their future.
Pulled hair, pranks, and once, a lifted skirt that left Bruno with a black eye he had to explain to his parents, made up most of their elementary and middle school life. During high school, however, the two drifted a part, only forced to be in the same region during summer cookouts. Bruno had gone off and made his own mark as the class clown, or Trystan's nickname for him, "The asshole in my seat," for he made an effort to sit in the same spot she proclaimed in Algebra class every day.
No one would ever have figure the two had known each other as well as they did, and as far as Trystan had been concerned, that was fine by her. She didn't want to be associated with someone as cocky as Bruno was.
After graduation, his father had mentioned to their family that Bruno would be moving to Los Angeles the year after. For what, Trystan hadn't remembered, but figured it had to be to get away from the New York scene. She was sure Bruno loved Brooklyn just as much as she did, but he was too spontaneous by nature to not want to explore different places.
Alas, too consumed with her own dreams of becoming a top lyricist and producer, Trystan hadn't been concerned of his future plans. The next year came and he soon became a faded memory.
"I mean can you believe it? He's the P. Dez. Never would have imagined he'd be the one to make it big." Trystan's cell phone was perched between her ear and shoulder as she spoke to Angelique on the other line. She sat with her thighs crammed to her chest on a wooden bench out on the back porch, a bottle of plum nail polish balancing on her knee as she painted her toenails. She glanced occasionally into the backyard to keep an eye on Bella, who was having the time of her life running around chasing grasshoppers and nipping at dandelions .
"That is crazy. That class clown did pretty good for himself, huh?" Angelique chuckled to herself. "So, how was the first day with Mr. Big Shot?"
Trystan wished she hadn't cringed as hard as she did.
"That bastard's just as cocky as he was in high school."She shook her head as she twisted the top closed on the nail polish.
Angelique gasped on the other line. "Really? Tell his ass to humble himself." Trystan could picture the screwed-up expression on Angelique's face and nearly snickered.
"His head's so far up his ass I couldn't! I mean, he's good and all—," Good, really good. Immensely good. Amazing at his craft, "—but he's not willing to be open to new ideas. The only reason I travelled all the way here was to help him out, and every time I tried to put in an idea, he'd shut it down. I mean, his friend Neal, he's cool and all. He actually thought my ideas were good. And their other little friend, this younger guy named Roger, he's alright when he's not undressing me with his eyes. But Bruno? God. I don't know how well I'm going to do with him."
A moment of silence surged from the other end before Trystan heard Angelique sigh. "Well, don't be so quick to judge him, I guess. I mean, you knew he was tough before you met up with him. Maybe he wants everything to be perfect."
"Oh, and perfect means only doing what he wants? Girl, please. He's not the only bomb producer out here. He needs to be knocked down a few inches and get off his damn high horse." Trystan could feel the anger boiling through her.
"Well, if anyone needs to knock him down a few inches, it should be you," Angelique concluded.
"Huh?"
"You said it yourself. If he needs to get off his high horse, you're gonna have to be the one to bring him down. He's probably never been told no in his whole career—"
"It's probably because he's been told no so many times he doesn't want to hear it anymore."
"Whatever the case may be, you're the one who flew your ass all the way here to help him. You're the one his boss or whomever wanted him to work with. You may not have as many hits as he does but every song you've done in your career has become one. You have the credentials and I'm pretty sure he knows that. He just doesn't want to see anybody doing better than him. Get back in there tomorrow, and tell him what's up. You both could make magic together."
"We'll see," Trystan replied half-heartedly before hanging up. She exhaled, exasperated, and looked out in the backyard. Bella dug at the underpart of the fence, pulling at roots. Trystan called out to her. The piglet looked back, chewing on the sprout, before rotating back around to return to her digging.
Groaning, Trystan stomped out barefoot into the grass, her toes stretched heavenward so not to ruin her freshly-painted nails, to retrieve her. Bella squealed as she was lifted, but tried snuggling against Trystan's breast as she walked her back to the house.
"No, not with your dirty self." Trystan dropped Bella at the bottom hinge of the back door, scooting her through the threshold with her foot when Bella tried scurrying back out.
Trystan followed her inside and plopped onto the couch, wishing she had a glass of wine to soothe her rattled nerves.
Trystan couldn't believe the way Bruno had acted toward her! They hadn't been the best of friends growing up, but she was sure she'd never done anything to receive the treatment she'd been given.
"That wouldn't sound right. What kind of lyrics are those? Nobody will listen to that." Trystan had never been so offended in her life. She'd never been told anything like that in her life. She thought she had offered the Great P. Dez gold and he'd handed it back to her as if it'd been absolute trash. She'd reviewed the artist's lyrics and composition over a hundred times. She knew what sounded good and what didn't. She'd spent nearly a month prior to her short move to L.A. redoing the song only to have it thrown back in her face. To make matters worse, Bruno had offered nothing to the table.
"This is bullshit," Trystan rose sharply from the couch, stalking to the kitchen to grab her cell phone she'd left on the counter. She had a few choice words to say to Bruno. She would let it be known that she'd socked him once in grade school and she wasn't afraid to do it again if he ever embarrassed her like he did earlier.
Before her thumb pressed his contact, another call came through. It was Neal.
Brow crinkled, Trystan answered it. "Hello?"
"Hey, Trystan?" Neal sounded as though he was whispering.
"Yeah. Hey, Neal. What's up?" Trystan lowered her voice, too.
"I just wanted to call and say sorry for the way Peter acted today."
Trystan's brow lifted in surprised. "Isn't he the one who should be calling and saying that?"
"Yeah, but, I'm pretty sure you know better than I do how prideful Peter can be sometimes. Look, he's been really stressed with the whole "getting married" thing, so he comes off a bit harsher than he intends to. Truth is, he feels threatened by you."
Trystan would have gasped had she not caught herself. "Threatened by me? Bruno's a helluva good producer. Why would he feel threatened by me?"
"Because he knows how good you are. Hell, he knows you could be even better than he is. You proved that as soon as you came in today."
"Really?"
Neal chuckled. "Yeah, really. He just doesn't want to see anybody doing better than him."
"Well," Trystan sighed, leaning against the island. "That's . . . petty."
"To say the least."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Trystan inquired. "All he's gonna do is keep bashing my ideas."
"Not necessarily."
"What do you mean?" Trystan moved out the kitchen and back to the living room, careful not to sit on Bella who'd found her way onto the cushions.
"Peter . . . he's a tough guy who only wants to do his best and doesn't necessarily care for much help outside of me and Roger, but he can be persuaded. Just takes the right words. You came in strong and you can go out strong, too. Seriously, don't let his "tough guy" act discourage you. You're a great producer and I thought your ideas were great. He's just being an ass. Come back in tomorrow with the same mindset you had coming in today. He'll come around."
Oh, I'm sure he will, Trystan thought decidedly as she hung up. She'd held back because she assumed her position was too new to challenge Bruno's authority, but she realized now, he was nobody but the boy down the block.
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