Two weeks sped by, almost each day spent preparing for the impending function between the music and fashion company. The air tinged with electricity every time its mention was spoken of. It had begun to garner the attention of many of the locals who wished they were of the elite bunch on the invite list. Trystan's own name had even popped up on media outlets who were discussing the events and the guests attending. Certainly, the night would not be about her, but she blushed at the recognition nonetheless.
Because it was partly Kimioko's event, her name was mentioned countless times, if not about Debonair Inc., about she and Peter's forthcoming marriage. Trystan always turned the station, swiped her phone, or turned the channel when that happened. She did not need the reminder, and certainly did not need for thoughts of Peter to resurface.
She internally prided herself on having kept control of her lust and love for Peter for the past fourteen days, many of which they were tormented by being in the same room. So much work had to be done by the producers and executives that it could have been easy for them both to disregard the other and become drowned in their responsibilities; alas, there were multiple occasions where their eyes met and subtle smirks formed on their lips.
It was not easy forcing herself from Peter, but it gave Trystan much time for thinking. Peter had an unnerving way of clouding her better judgement, and if she could be grateful for anything about their agreement to steer clear of each other, it was that she had time for some clarity. Of course, she still cared for him deeply and thought about constantly, but she realized the the entire situation, the ball was in his court. She could do nothing more to persuade him out of his engagement. The adoration he had gained for her was all she could give. She would not tell him what to do or how to handle the situation, but she hoped she had given him enough to think about as well in the time spent away from her.
" . . . I swear to God, Tree. You always tune me out!"
Trystan turned to Angelique who wore a look of disdain. "Did you hear what I just said?"
She had not, but the last thing she heard before she slipped into her reverie was that Angelique had been excited to go to the gala as well. Trystan revealed that, and Angelique rolled her eyes. "You clearly blocked me out."
"Sorry," Trystan apologized with a laugh as she rummaged through a few expensive dresses hanging from a sophisticated rack. "I was just thinking. This whole gala thing is gonna be massive."
"Which is why you need to hurry up and find a dress and date! Seriously, Tree. We've been to seven stores in the past three hours. Why're you so damn picky?"
"Would you relax?" Trystan furrowed her brow. "You know how hard it is for me to make decisions."
Angelique scoffed, "Tell me about it," and crossed her arms as she walked little ways down the aisle to eye other gowns for her friend. "And why don't you have a date yet?"
"Why do I need a date? I can just go solo."
Angelique groaned, "Tree, everyone knows you'll get looked at harder if you bring a date."
Trystan gave her a short look. "And why would I want that? The paparazzi will already be annoying enough."
"But you wanna get more notoriety, don't you?"
"My bank account seems to think I have plenty notoriety, thank you very much," Trystan teased and Angelique sighed accordingly.
"You are impossible," she murmured under her breath as she fingered her way through the costly clothing.
"Why don't I just third-wheel you and Melissa?" Trystan offered. "I don't mind being the third girlfriend."
It had been said half-jokingly, but Angelique twisted her lips and gave her comrade a sympathetic look. "If you'd been listening to me earlier, that position's already been filled."
Trystan halted her search and shot her a wondrous eye. "By who?"
"Neal. He asked me and Melissa if we wanted to go with him. And who are we to turn down an event like the Debonair-Vivacity gala?"
Trystan chuckled softly then sighed, "Well, looks like I really will be going solo-dolo. It's fine, though. At least I won't have to share the attention."
"Atta girl!" Angelique pointed a finger at her teasing and the two continued down the ingress of beautiful dresses that failed to catch either of their eyes.
When Trystan was ready to call it quits for the day, her keys in hand ready to drop Angelique off at her place, her companion gasped loudly and pulled a lengthy black fabric from off the rack.
"Tree, I swear if you don't get this one I'm calling off our entire friendship. It's perfect!" Angelique ogled the gown so admiringly that Trystan had to physically take it from her just so she could see what had her in such a tizzy.
"Don't you think this is a little too much?" Trystan chewed on her bottom lip, eyeing the dress warily. "It's not very . . . gala-ish." The obsidian number Angelique had all but snatched off the rack could have passed for nightclub apparel had it not been for its length. It was a wrap-around, spaghetti-strapped dress with a plunging neckline and daring slit. The silk material is was made of was smooth and definitely alluring. "You don't think its too sexy? I mean, I'm supposed to be meeting some of the head honchos from corporate around the nation."
"Girl, so?" Angelique waved her hand flippantly. "If your words don't persuade them, your legs definitely will."
"Lique!"
"What? I'm telling the truth! I can't help what goes through straight men's minds when they see a pretty girl in a bomb ass dress."
"That's not all I'm trying to be while I'm there, though–,"
"Hey!" Angelique grabbed Trystan's face between her palms. "It's one night, Tree. Loosen up!" Her brow deepened as she squeezed her friend's cheeks. "You hardly ever go out as it is, so why not stunt on 'em for the one time? It'll only be for a few hours, then you can take off this "too sexy" dress and go back to normal."
When Trystan sighed in reluctant resignation, Angelique relinquished her face. "Besides, you'll definitely need to show off for Derek."
Trystan's eyebrows crinkled as she questioned, "And why in the hell would I want to do that?"
"So you can show him all he's missing."
"Well, I don't want him, so he can't miss out on anything he won't ever get again."
Angelique rolled her eyes. "Fine. You may be over him, but there's no fun in showing that without showing him all he gave up on."
"You know you're petty, right?"
"And you know you're no fun, right? But it's okay, because we work that way. Now hush! You're getting this dress and you're going to wear this dress and you're going to like it! Now let me go find you some heels!"
Angelique scrambled off giddily to the nearest shoe section, and all Trystan could do was shake her head at her effervescent friend. Too preoccupied with her idea of "revenge," Angelique did not realize that Derek was not the man Trystan was concerned about noticing her.
After hounding Trystan will another billion shoe and jewelry ideas that landed them in the store for another two hours, they were both able to settle on each and leave.
"I'll do your hair and make-up, too. Be here at three o'clock sharp, Tree. I don't care that the gala starts at nine. If you get here at seven, I swear I'm making you do everything yourself. Oh, and I scheduled mani-pedis and waxing at two, so actually be here by one–,"
"For the thousandth time, I will be at your place on time, Lique," Trystan stressed from the driver's seat as Angelique badgered her from outside the passenger side.
"Okay. Because I will not have you stressing me out like how you did for prom!"
"That was high school! And seriously, I was only like an hour late."
"You got to my house ten minutes before the limo drove off. And even now you still manage to always be late! I'm serious, me and Melissa will leave with Neal before you're finished getting dressed if we have to."
Trystan groaned and dropped back against the headrest. "Lique, I'm going home. I'll be here at one o'clock, Saturday afternoon, ready for you to torture me with all your pushiness, okay?"
Angelique squinted her eye at her friend before giving a ceding smirk. "Alright." She backed away from the car. "Saturday. One o'clock. My place." She gave her a last pointed look before making her way toward her apartment door.
Once she was inside, Trystan pulled off and occupied her thoughts with all that would be happening on the coming Saturday.
Not only did she have to talk to businessmen and women to make a good impression for Vivacity, now she had to make sure they focused entirely on what she was saying because her friend had persuaded her to get a dress that called for attention all elsewhere. Not to mention Derek was going to be there. Trystan silently hoped what Angelique had said would not be a premonition.
It was bad enough he was in Los Angeles—she did not intend to pull him back in with a dress, or at least make him see what he had given up, as her friend had so delicately put it. If she were being honest, she did not give a damn what Derek would think of her; she did not want him thinking of her. Their past was dead and she did not aim to resuscitate it for the present or future. Besides, was he not seeing someone? He made that clear in New York with the picture of the blonde woman, so what would Trystan want to do with a taken man?
Slow your roll, sister, Trystan thought as she slowed to a stop in her driveway. That ship has already sailed way off the shore.
Thinking of that made her think again of Peter. Would he like the dress? Would he like her in it?
Bella's excited oinking as Trystan entered through the front door recovered her from those thoughts, which she was grateful for. She did not need those thoughts of him invading her head space after doing so well without them.
She carried her shopping bags into her bedroom and settled them properly into her closet, Bella close at her heel. The piglet did not want anything in particular, but was always clingy when Trystan arrived home.
She stooped down to her level and scratched the top of the animal's head. "If you were in my position, would you think my man problems were ridiculous?"
Bella oinked, and Trystan nodded accordingly. "Yeah, I think they are, too."
She heard her cell phone ring inside her purse where she had left it on the kitchen table. She hurried to retrieve it before the call was sent to voicemail. Again, Bella was right at her foot, hoping that she would be offered a snack while Trystan was near the kitchen.
She rummaged through her purse until she finally located the device and hardly gave a second thought as she answered the unknown number. "Hello?"
"Trystan? Hi, it's Derek."
She paused, pulled the phone away from her ear, canvassed it uncertainly, and then replaced it back. "Derek? How'd you get my number?" Did this man intend to bother her at every turn? First back in Brooklyn, then at her job, now at her home? She could hardly stand it.
He chuckled, "I should know by now not to be expecting any pleasantries from you, shouldn't I?"
"Don't avoid the question."
"Okay, okay. I got it from Benson. I wanted to talk to you about something."
Trystan frowned and wrapped her free arm around her stomach, because the mention of him having to speak of her about something that was so important that he had to call her made her queasy. "What is it?" she queried uneasily and began to pace.
"I'm giving you a choice on this, you can definitely say no, but I think you'll agree when you know the reason why."
"What is it, Derek?" she inquired again, becoming frustrated.
"Would you be my date to the gala?"
Trystan could have asked him had he lost his fucking mind, but instead, after gathering a couple breaths, replied, "Your date?"
"Yes. I know I'm asking for a lot–,"
"Yeah," Trystan huffed out a humorless laugh. "You are."
"But it's not for the reason you think. Business people tend to flock more toward people they see as couples. It makes them question, if they can work well in something as hard as a relationship, they can definitely work well in a business. One of the secrets I learned from corporate."
"So basically, you want me to be your fake girlfriend? Why're you asking me? Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes, I do, but she isn't here, remember. The only reason I'm here is on business. And I've already spoken to her about it, and she understands how these business things work."
"Derek, I already told you I'm involved with someone else."
"Where are they? I haven't heard about them."
Trystan's eyebrows pushed together. "So you've been spying on me?"
"No, but I figured a well-known producer like you would have already had her relationship business aired out to the public by now."
"I'm very good at keeping my business my business."
She heard his light chuckle on the other line and became even more annoyed. She did not like him being entertained at her expense. "You know you're impossible, right?" he asked, and Trystan realized two people had told her that in one day.
"Derek, what do you think this is?" she demanded of him cautiously, her shoulders becoming more taut the more she paced. "Out of all the women you could've asked, I was the one you called? Do you think this is a game?"
"Trystan, no. I'm asking you this as a friend–,"
"I thought I made it clear to you that we are not friends, Derek. Haven't been for three years. And excuse me for being "impossible," but what on Earth did you think I would think? You call me, asking me to be your "fake girlfriend" for a night just so you can help land some deals? I wasn't good enough for you back then, so why would I be good enough for you now?"
"Whoa, whoa, Trystan. I didn't mean–,"
"I don't care what you mean. I have the right to ask. What do you think this is, Derek?"
Trystan sat down onto one of the kitchen chairs, weary with the man. He could not possibly expect her to do him favors after all he had done to her.
He sighed on the other end and she was glad he had become as overwhelmed as she was. After a long moment, he responded to her in a serious tone, one she had yet to hear from him.
"Trystan, listen. From the bottom of my heart, I want you to know that I'm sorry. If I have to tell you that a thousand more times, I will. I know what I did hurt you, and honestly I thought that after three years that you would've let everything that happened go, and I was wrong to assume that. I called you knowing I wouldn't get off easy even if I told you why. I know asking this is almost out of line considering all that happened between us, but I promise you, I'm not doing this in hopes of getting back with you. I don't even deserve to be of your acquaintance right now, let alone trying to rekindle what we had. That would be disrespectful to you and that's the last thing I want to be. If you say no, I completely understand and I won't bother you unless I absolutely have to. I didn't come out here or talk to you to make things harder. I'm sorry."
Trystan did not like that she had exposed to him that she had not completely healed from all the bruising he had done. If she had had it her way, she would have treated him as if he were irrelevant, a stranger even, but her emotions had yet again gone and betrayed her. She liked herself better before she had opened up to Peter—she was able to hide almost anything from anyone. Now it seemed as if she wore every emotion on her face, and she did not like the feeling of vulnerability.
She exhaled, rubbing away the tension that had settled in between her eyes. She did not know what to say at the moment. Though she could tell his apology was heartfelt and hoped his intentions had been as pure as he claimed they were, she was still on edge, so she told him quietly, "I'll think about it, Derek."
Peter entered his home through one of the double doors, a bag with two cases of salads in one clutch and his keys in the other. He would have killed for a burger or Chinese takeout, but Kimioko insisted that for the entire week before the gala, they eat light and healthy. "We have to look fit and trim for the cameras, babe," she had rationalized when she had smacked his hand away from reaching for a doughnut at the grocery store. She had already gotten her dress fitted for the gala, and if it did not encase her slim waist perfectly on the forthcoming Saturday, she would have a tantrum. He was sure if he had to eat one more salad he would go crazy.
"Hey, I'm home," he called as he walked down the foyer, dropping his keys onto one of the hallway tables. Kimioko's quotidian response did not meet his ears, and he thought that strange, because for the past few days, it was like she had been suffocating him with all the love and attention he could have asked for, had he asked for any. They had had sex more consecutive times than they had had when they were first together, and though Peter knew he was not very into it nor giving his all, Kimioko still wanted more and more. She asked him about his day and engaged him in conversations that she could hold for longer than five minutes. She did not forget things Peter told her, and her "I love you's" were more frequent. Peter would have accepted all the gestures more had she done them before he had begun to love someone else.
Trystan had not made any of this easy for him. Peter thought she had some nerve, coming into work looking as good as she did, completely aware of the effect she had on him and acting flippantly as if she had not known it at all. He would sometimes fantasize of her when having sex with Kimioko, and only those times would he actually be satisfied. He could not remember when this little deal of theirs would end, but he did know it had gone on for far too long. It was approaching three weeks, and that was a long time to go without someone you would put everything on the line for.
When he was able to break free from the thoughts of his lover, Peter called out to Kimioko again and was met with silence. He knew she was home—her red Mustang was out in the driveway. She was not in the kitchen, living room, or bedroom, so Peter thought to check the basement. Neither went down often though it was completely laid out in some of the finest interior design that went to little use, so he could not think of any other reason for her to be there.
"Kitten, you down here?" He traipsed down the steps and saw the dull light of the storage room around the corner. He went to it, and as he came about the open door, there she was, sitting on the hard, cold floor with her back facing him. Her frame appeared rigid as she was settled in front of a box, looking at something Peter could not see.
He approached her slowly. "Kim?" It was not until he reached out and touched her shoulder lightly that she jumped and faced him.
"Oh, baby." She quickly used the heel of her hand to wipe at her cheeks. "You scared me. I didn't hear you come in."
"Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asked as he realized she had been swiping away tears.
"Nothing, I'm fine," she answered quickly with a semi-convincing smile and shrug. She grabbed the hand he offered to help her stand.
"What were you looking at?" Peter peered around her shoulder to see what looked like a document. It was too far away to read, and Kimioko regarded him irreverently.
"Oh, it was nothing. Just a copy of my parents' immigration papers. I thought about it today and came to look at it. It always warms my heart to see all they went through and still are together. Reminds me of us and what we're about to be." She grinned and pinched one of Peter's cheeks.
Kimioko grabbed his hand and led him out of the storage room. "So how was your day, baby? Anything new with the gala?" She tried to string him into conversation, and Peter answered accordingly, although his mind was someplace else.
Peter knew, not to her awareness, that she kept a copy of her parents' immigration papers inside of her bedside drawer, so whatever she had been looking at in the dark dankness of their basement, had not been them.
. . .
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Thanks for reading ^_^