Do not break. Do not break. Do not break, I tell myself over and over as things get fuzzy.
He leans in, planting his hands on the wall, caging me in, and whispers, “I fucked them. You think that’s unforgivable? I forgive you already for fucking him, because I know damn well when he’s above you and you’re looking up at him, you see me. When you come, it’s me you’re thinking of. I forgive you, Tris. I forgive you for the songs you sing about me and even for the global fuck you that you give me. The shows ending in paybacks, captured on thousands of screens, posted on every social media platform, just so I have to see it. What will not be unforgivable is that you know you’re fucked up in the head right now and you’re trying to talk yourself into loving him just to hurt me. I hate him, despise him, but I wouldn’t wish this hurt on anyone, so pack your fucking bags and come home.”
When I hear Ranger’s angry voice sneer, “Get the fuck off her,” I finally breathe. When he grabs him and throws him down the hall, I start to shake. When he grabs me and walks me into the elevator and the door closes behind him, Marcello yelling then hearing Sabato’s and Mel’s voices, I close my eyes.
“Breathe, Trouble. He’s not coming after you again.”
I let out a breath and words fall out. “I thought you were gone. Done with me since the tour was over.”
“Your dad—”
“No. If you stay, I pay you, not my dad.”
“Contract was with your dad and the label. Your dad—”
“I want you to work for me, me and Matteo. Just—”
“You really making that move so soon after—”
“I’ve lived in a hell of my own making for two years. I want out, I want happy, I want him. And I don’t want my father or the label paying you.”
“You think I want a seventeen-year-old throwing tantrums and—”
“Write up a contract, Ranger. I need you.”
He turns and looks at me, concern etching his features. “No drugs. No drinking. No—”
“Okay.”
“No, Tris, hear me when I say all those emotions you’re feeling, you need to know if it’s real or the shit you’re putting in your body.”
“Okay.” I hug myself and lean against the elevator wall.
“And you need to go chill before you sneak off to see him. And that shit stops, too. I know where you are at all times.”
“As long as you’re not playing double agent with my parents, fine.”
“You’ll be my boss, but hear this well … I won’t work for someone who’s gonna make my job harder than it has to be.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“He’s gonna pull this shit for a beat or two, Tris. And don’t you think for a second his ego isn’t driving it. Fucking kid’s an asshole.”
“I know.”
“And one more thing, your family is gonna be pissed. I’ve worked for them off and on for years, so this stays between you and I.” He turns as the door opens. “Now, go find your chill and, when you’re ready, I’ll get you to him.”
“Thanks, Ranger,” I say as I walk past him and toward the suite.
Something Extraordinary
Matteo
When her bodyguard came to my door, I feared something had happened to her. That fear was correct. Marcello had confronted her once again.
Now, in her suite, her parents are in her room with her, and I am waiting for permission, perhaps, to do the same attempt to comfort her.
“No. He’s gonna call when he wakes up. He’s going to—”
I can visibly hear the storm clouding her by the tone of her voice.
“I’m here, Tris.”
She comes running out the door, eyes a blurred mess of confusion and anxiety. “You didn’t call or message. I was worried.”
I take her hands and step back to the sofa. “You should have called me.”
“You were resting and—”
“Sit, please.” I turn her so her back is to it.
“She needs to take—”
“That doesn’t help, Dad,” she snaps at her father.
“Tris,” I whisper, “neither does that.” I sit down next to her. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“Just Marc. You know, two years later, thinking I love him and we should be together.”
“That’s shit, Tris. He had you caged in. It’s about fucking time you file a restraining order on him.”
“For what? He hasn’t hurt me,” she snaps at Ranger.
“Not physically, no. But here.” I push her hair back that’s been dampened by tears. “Emotionally. And here”—I point to her heart — “because you offered him friendship and he’s unwilling to take that.”
“One more time, and I’m going to—”
“Dad, his parents are your friends,” Tris again defends him. “His mother is a shrink. She’ll deal with him. Fix him—”
“People can’t be made to do anything unless they truly want to. And those who are ego-driven are—”
“Well, he’s certainly that,” she huffs as she continues to shift in her seat, knee bouncing and head no doubt racing.
“You are not responsible for his—”
“She’s aware, Matteo,” Zandor cuts me off. “And she needs to take her meds because —”
“Dad, just stop, okay? Just stop!” She lets go of my hand and fists her hair as she rocks back and forth.
Unsure of how her parents will feel, but also not truly concerned about that yet, I sit back, wrap my arm around her shoulder, and gently pull her head to my chest. “Rest your worries.”
She looks up at me, lip quivering, and whispers, “I don’t mean to be like this.”
“Be like what?” I whisper back, looking into her eyes, hoping to see them brighten a bit.
“A mess.”
“But what a beautiful mess you are.”
She smiles, albeit sadly, and asks, “Does your head hurt?”
“It has been a long day,” I admit.
“Okay, then we rest.”
“Si.”
Her parents don’t leave the room, although they do sit on the sofa opposite us. I see them out of my peripheral vision, but I stay connected with Tris and watch her eyes finally begin to get heavy.
“Rest your eyes.”
She fists my shirt. “Don’t leave, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You all set for the night? You staying put?” Ranger asks.
“She will be. Thank you, Ranger.” Zandor stands and shakes his hand. “I’d like to discuss something tomorrow with you.”
He lifts his chin. “Sure.”
Once he’s gone, Zandor sits back down.
When she finally allows her eyes to close, I wait a couple minutes before looking at her parents.
“Are the two of you well?”
Zandor scowls at me. Bekah smiles.
“Did I speak it erroneously?”
“You did just fine, Matteo,” Bekah says, leaning back. “We’re well. Better now that she’s calmed down.”