Peter had held in his suspicions of Trystan for nearly three days before he felt he was about to burst at the seams with the secret. It was not that he felt indebted to tell anyone what he was suspecting, but he wanted reassurance that what he planned to do was not absolutely crazy.
He asked Neal and Roger to meet him on his lunch break at a men's club where he was a member. He knew the owner well and had even invested a small portion of his money into the establishment, so he was free to bring whomever he pleased. His friend's were ecstatic to have received the invitation. Both had the social status to be apart of the club, but they left that objectification to Peter, constantly jesting about how he fit right in with "uppity, frat boys." Nevertheless, they were always up for free meals, drinks, pool, and enough sport games that made one feel as if they were an athlete themselves from watching so many.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hernandez. I've been informed you will be joined with some guests today?" A young man, Peter could only assume he was a college student, welcomed him as he entered the large space, quality air-conditioning warding off the hot, still air of the late Californian summer.
Peter nodded at the appropriately dressed greeter, affirming, "That's right," before removing his sunglasses and placing them inside of his suit jacket. "They should be arriving shortly."
"Okay, sir. I'll bring them to you when they arrive," Johnny—his assumed name from the tag on his vest—assured, and Peter patted his shoulder before giving him a twenty-dollar tip.
"Thank you–thank you, sir!" the younger man appreciated graciously as Peter walked away to his usual table. Peter knew well enough that the employees within the establishment were not all sons of millionaires; hell, they would not have been working if they were. He knew most were only working at the "uppity, frat-boy" club as his friends had so eloquently put it, to pay for college. Peter himself had not gone so never knew the life of debt, and he knew that with every new year, school got more and more expensive, so he did little things like large tipping to help some of the young men out. It was least he could do knowing they had to kiss butt to some of Los Angeles' biggest assholes.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hernandez," a second man, a waiter this time, greeted him. "Can I get you anything while we wait on your guests to arrive?"
"A glass of scotch would do me fine right now. Thanks, Al."
The server ambled away and then returned just as briskly, pouring a small amount of the strong ember liquid into a rock glass, diluted it with a little water, and left Peter to his lonesome, which inevitably, led him to his thoughts.
As he swirled the scotch around in the cup and took an uninterested sip, his mind reeled to the very thing he wanted to talk to his friends about: Trystan and seeing her.
He had not seen the woman and wondered how much she had changed. Was she still the same bubbly woman who was prone to playful teasing? Was she still anxious, clicking pens to ease nervousness but was quick to stand her ground if need be? Was she still looking out for everyone's best interest even at times where she should have been looking out for herself? Was she still loving? Was she still Trystan?
The hypothetical interrogation Peter had involved himself in was so loud that he had not known his friend's had approached until Neal poked him roughly in the shoulder.
"You with us, P?" he chuckled as he sat in one of the chairs adjacent to his spaced-out friend. Peter blinked and then glanced at them both as if surprised to him there.
"Oh, sorry. Hey, man." He looked at his other dark-haired friend who was donned in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. "Roger, did you know where you were coming today?"
Roger looked down at his outfit, extremely plain compared to the rest of the members walking around proudly in either suits of polos. The younger man shrugged. "You're lucky I didn't walk in here with a bridesmaid dress on. Em's had me looking at wedding catalogs since I proposed."
"Damn, really?" Neal tittered. "It's barely been three weeks—wasting no time, huh?"
Roger shrugged and snickered. "She's just excited—we haven't even picked a date yet."
"Are you excited?" Peter asked while simultaneously calling Al back over to take their drink requests.
"Of course. Couldn't be happier. But you know how some women are—the entire wedding schedule is planned out as soon as that engagement ring is put on their finger."
Peter nodded, remembering a time where he had been in the same exact situation. Kimioko could have written her own book with how many magazines she had studied throughout their engagement.
"Well, congrats again, man." Peter shook his friend's hand. "Nothing better than being able to marry your best friend."
Al tended to his servitude duties with a swiftness that would earn him a fifty dollar tip, and after Peter's buddies were fed with some of Los Angeles' finest burgers and fries, he finally indulged them in why he he had brought them there in the first place.
"Guys, I think I may have found Trystan," he came right out with it, and as he anticipated, both Neal and Roger looked at him as if he had grown two heads.
"Trystan, as in Trystan Wildes? What are you talking about?" Neal questioned as if he had not heard correctly the first time.
"You know how Bennett-Price wants me to fill in as chairman?"
Both men nodded.
"He told me that he was going to work with a business called Sovereignty for the recruitment department of the business. So, I looked them up, and came across a bunch of names. The only one that stood out to me was Calm Disengagement. I thought it was a group at first, but after looking around a little more, I found out that it was a woman. There was no other information about her but what she'd done for Sovereignty, which I thought was weird, and I kept thinking about the name until I realized that it was probably her."
He was unaware a smile had grown on his face while he explained, but his friends still looked at him confusedly. Roger piped up after a moment of trying and failing to understand Peter's angle, "How do you figure it's Trystan?"
"The name—Calm Disengagement. It's the opposite of Trystan Wildes."
Neal and Roger thought it over for a bit, and while reckoning there was a possibility Peter had stumbled upon their old friend, they were not completely convinced.
"Okay." Neal held out his hands. "Suppose there is an off-chance of this actually being Trystan; you seem pretty excited about someone you swore you've been over for the past two years."
"Yeah," Roger agreed, "I would've thought you'd turn down the offer just so you wouldn't have to face her."
Peter tried not to appear offended. "I don't hate the girl, damn."
"We know, but considering how long it took for you to let her go and how adamant you were about her being a thing of the past, it's just kinda funny seeing you fawn over her again," Neal pointed out and they both snickered.
"I'm not fawning, I'm just saying."
"Or that you even want to see her again after disappearing on you," Roger added and Peter could not help but to make a face. Maybe he had gone a bit too far when he told them one drunken night that he would be fine if he never saw her again. At the time he had been angry, but he had not meant it. Certainly he would survive but his comrades had to have been crazy to think he would miss a chance of at least seeing her again.
"Look, I had a lot to do with why she left in the first place, so I'm not mad at her about that, at least not anymore. If I get the chance to meet up with her, I wanna take it."
Roger made a sound of tentativeness before he voiced, "Well . . . okay. I guess it's cool if you wanna see her but . . . do you think she wants to see you?"
Neal chimed in, "Yeah. I mean, you did just say she left because of something you did, and considering all the work she went through to keep her image private, how do you know she's even willing to work with you?"
Peter considered making new friends who did not point out things that he had personally ignored, but he knew they were right. The thought of Trystan not wanting to be in the same room as him had definitely crossed his mind, nevertheless, "Whether or not she'd want to see or work with me is insignificant—I'd have to meet up with Sovereignty anyway. It's really all business. We wouldn't have to be friends—hell, we wouldn't even have to like each other—we'd just have to get work done." Some of his words were lies, but all in all reality.
He could not force Trystan to like him, but if he took the position at Bennett-Price, they would have to work together whether either liked it or not. The decision to work for Robert's company was not ultimately hers, but Sovereignty's director and Peter himself. He would not let their shattered past get in the way of a potentially good thing, and he hoped he knew Trystan well enough to know that she would never be so vain to do so either.
"Well, I guess that's cool then," Neal submitted, and Roger shrugged in agreement.
He added, "Trystan may have held a grudge, but she wouldn't let it get in the way of her work. She's not that type of person. As long as you guys don't end up on TMZ for throwing glasses at each other at a dinner party, I guess it's alright."
"And don't get ahead of yourself, P," Neal warned as he straightened his glasses. "We're only speaking hypothetically here. You don't really know if it's her or not yet."
Peter was back in his office two hours later, one hand stuffed in his pocket as the other stretched his desk phone to his ear while he looked out at the expanse of the city through his large window.
The other line rang for nearly a minute before Peter was put on hold by a secretary, and another five minutes passed before the voice of Jacob Howard, Sovereignty's director, came through the receiver. "Jacob Howard speaking," he introduced himself and waited for whomever was on the other end to speak their purpose.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Howard," Peter's voice transformed to its depth of professionalism. "This is Peter Hernandez, the Chief Marketing Officer of SoulWork in Los Angeles."
Jacob seemed to have lost his bearings for a second; hearing the name of one of the most-prized workers in the music industry on the other line of his small company had him sputtering, "Oh-uh-yes! Hello, Mr. Hernandez! Excuse me for stammering; I wasn't expecting your call so soon. What can I do for you?"
Peter silenced the sympathetic chuckle in his throat. The man sounded younger than he, and Peter had definitely been in places of incredulity on his way up the industry ladder. He could not fault him.
"I'm hoping you've already been informed about my being offered the chairman position at the Bennett-Price Company."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Price's assistant spoke to me about it a week or so ago. I'm supposed to be flying over to L.A. next week to speak everything over with him personally. He mentioned that your name was at the top of the list for the position and that I would be speaking to you soon."
Peter bit at his thumbnail. He had not expected Jacob to fly out, but it was not unlikely for him to do so—it just put a screw in Peter's plan.
"Next week you say? Hm. Well, I was hoping to speak with you within the week. If you're free, I can come to Savannah so we can examine Robert's proposal before we speak with him here."
"Oh, uh, yeah, that can work. On Monday I'll be out of town, but I'll be back on Wednesday. We can discuss it all then?"
The two men made the plan for Peter to fly out to Georgia in the midst of the week, but before he let the excited man go, Peter asked, "Oh, and there's someone on your team I don't think I've been acquainted with yet. Calm Disengagement, right? I just found it a little strange that they're actual name wasn't listed as all the others were."
"Oh, yes. She likes to keep a low profile."
Peter's ears perked up. "Would you mind giving me her name? I think it's important to know everyone I may be working with."
Jacob became hesitant. "She prefers not to give out her name. She does her work covertly."
Peter had already assumed he would be met with reluctance, but with Jacob still being wet behind the ears, he felt her could still persuade him with a little effort. "I'll have to meet everyone eventually, and I don't like to be unfamiliar before doing so. It looks unprofessional if you're trying to make negotiations and you don't even know the person's name."
It was not a lie even if Peter had wanted it to be, and the piece of useful information seemed to weaken the younger man's resolve.
Though still sounding uncertain, Jacob revealed, "Well, her name is Trystan Wildes. She started this business with me, but chose to only continue her work in songwriting, producing, and editing to keep her low profile. If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Hernandez, I'd like for you to keep her name under wraps. She made it clear on more than one occasion that she only wants to be known through her alias."
Peter could have jumped into the air at having his suspicions proved correct, but he remained calm as he replied, "Thank you, Jacob. If I have any other questions, I'll be sure to contact you."
He hung up the phone, feeling both waves of anxiousness.
"And . . . sit! Good girl." Kneeling, Bill offered Jewel a tiny dog biscuit after she finally understood and obeyed the command after the tenth try. He rubbed a beefy hand across her head and she nuzzled against his leg, ready to try and follow whatever he said if that meant she would get another treat.
"Shepherds are usually easy to train; innately love to learn new things," Bill told Peter as he watched on carefully as his puppy began conforming to the life of instruction.
"Now you try." Bill offered Peter one of the bone-shaped snacks, and the younger man mirrored the elder. Jewel adhered to it promptly, settling on her haunches as she anxiously anticipated her reward.
"Now, it's gonna get a little harder when you have to train her without the expectation of getting a treat, but since she's doing so well today, we'll let it slide," Bill chuckled at the happy puppy.
He looked over at Peter, who had not spoken much that evening. From the moment he greeted Bill's wife with a respectful kiss on the cheek and followed his friend into the backyard and quietly followed the steps of training, he had only said a few words, chuckled twice, and nodded once.
"Something on your mind, kid?" Bill wondered aloud. Peter looked at him as if surprised he was there. He had been buried in his thoughts of the near future as he had been the moment he ended the call with Jacob.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, then leaned his head back and sighed. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and said, "Bill, I need some advice."
"About what?" Bill queried, concerned. He had never known Peter to stress over anything, and even if he did, he would always hide it with a joke. But now, being open with it, Bill wanted to help out the son he never had especially since he had asked for it.
Peter kicked at a few rocks on the ground that Jewel hurriedly ran after. "I may . . . be seeing Trystan soon."
Bill's face lit up. "Miss New Yorker? That's great!" He monitored Peter's face and saw that only a line of worry was etched between his brow. "You don't look very excited about it."
"It's just . . . I don't know how she's gonna feel seeing me after all these years." Peter knew he was telling on himself; Bill had been the only friend he had not told about what had actually happened between he and Trystan. He hid the truth from Bill because he had not wanted to disappoint him. He could face his younger friends' ridicule, but upsetting Bill would be like upsetting a father who had only wanted to see his son succeed. Plus, he really liked Trystan. If he had known it was Peter's fault she left, Bill would pummel him for hurting her. Alas, if he was going to receive help, he needed to get it for the truth.
"Why wouldn't she wanna see ya? You guys were great friends before she left."
"We . . . had a falling out; a big one, and even though she never told me, I think she left to get away from me." Peter had accepted that fact but had tucked it away with the rest of their crippling memories, but the conversation he had with Neal and Roger had revived them.
"Well, damn, Peter, what'dya do?"
Peter was uneasy; Bill was asking the tough questions. "I just . . ." he sighed, taking a moment before revealing, "We had an affair while I was engaged, and we fell in love. Before you say it, I know it was wrong and I didn't have a good excuse for hurting Kimioko that way. I should've just left her, but I didn't, and Trystan was tired of all the sneaking around. So she left, and I haven't heard from her since."
The hardest part was over; admitting his faults. He looked at Bill and was not surprised to see the disappointed deepening of his brow, however he continued on, "But now, we might be working together. I'm flying down to Georgia to meet with the director of the music company she's with. I wanted to go see her while I was there, but after all that's happened and all this time that's passed, I don't know if she'll wanna see me."
Bill did not speak for a long time, his disposition that of thinking. When his eyes finally lifted to Peter's, they were mixed with sympathy and you should have known better.
"Well, son," Bill sighed and ran a hand through his thinning, gray hair. "I'm not gonna scold you or anything; you probably did enough of that yourself to last a lifetime."
You got that right, Peter nodded in affirmation.
"Do you still love her?" he asked, and though it was a sane question, it still managed to have Peter feeling as if he had just been hit in the chest.
He tried answering the best way he knew how, "No. At least not in the technical sense. Of course I don't hate her, or dislike her even. It's just been so long that I've gotten to the point where I'm indifferent, y'know? I don't think I've ever completely stopped caring for her, but everything is just . . . impartial."
Peter hoped he was making sense. Many things in his life were clear, but when it came to Trystan and their past, that was the only thing that more often than not appeared fuzzy. Some days his mind locked on their best moments, and other times he did not think of her at all.
"Shit," Peter muttered and looked up at the sky as if he would find the answer there. "I just . . . I don't know. It's a lot I'm trying to take on all at once. So many things could go wrong and I don't want them to."
Bill had listened quietly as the younger man spilled the best way he knew how—nonsensically, but nevertheless truthfully. He did not expect Peter to be perfect, he himself had gone through his own bouts of mistakes in his youth, but he still attempted to help however he could.
"If you want to go and see her, don't go in expecting open arms. You don't know what you're really up again, and many women have mastered the art of being completely over someone who's hurt them. If you want to just grab a coffee and catch up, make that point clear. She won't have to meet any foreseen expectations and you won't either."
Peter thought over his words, and after a moment, thought them best. What else could really be done? If he was going to see her, he could not go in expecting a hug, smile, anything. And though Bill had not said it, Peter knew he was hinting toward 'Don't try to rekindle what you used to have,' which he had not planned on doing. He had moved too far on to even entertain the idea, and she was sure she had, too.
"Oh, and for God's sake, Peter," Bill added before he let the thought slip his mind. Peter looked at him, waiting.
"Don't go and hurt her again."
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Thanks for reading ^_^