the most successful and secretive private investment guru on Wall Street. In a profession that values discretion, he seemed to be a master of it. In fact, most of what I read about him was pure speculation. Unschooled though I am a bout the world of finance, I knew enough to know when I'm reading filler bullshit in an article. A lot of his press centered on the fact that he had garnered vast power and wealth at such a young age. Apparently, that's all the reporters could come up with.
I did an image search next. Jenn and Tom hadn't been off the mark in their assessment. Tristan seemed to have a penchant for model/actress types. There were several pages of images of him arriving at this or that gallery opening, art show, theater, opera and on and on. Every woman seemed more beautiful than the last. He certainly got around.
I went back to the engagement announcement. The contrast was striking. Elsa looked like Jenn, or any number of pretty all-American girls I had known in college. The women Tristan appeared with in New York were far more like Victoria's Secret models or Hollywood types.
There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask Tristan. But just how does someone start a conversation with "I researched your background on the internet for hours after I learned your fiancé had been killed. Let's talk about it."?
***
Jenn and I had a great picnic. I caught her up on the 'situation' with Tristan. She seemed impressed that I would even have the courage to get as far as I had with him. She knew me pretty well, maybe better than anyone. She knew how out of my element I was.
I filled her in on the things I had learned about him--both the gossip from Tom and the internet research.
"You've got yourself a complicated man on your hands."
I chuckled. "I wouldn't go so far as to say 'on my hands', Jenn. But I do agree that he's complicated."
"You better keep me posted. This ships-passing-in-the- night thing of ours is keeping me too much in the dark."
"It's only going to get worse, too. Tom called and said that Brian is having an early cast party to celebrate the christening of the set tomorrow night."
"I know how that goes. Get ready for some heavy partying and late nights."
"So I've been told. I sure would like to get Tristan alone. But I don't see much chance of that happening tomorrow."
"Raina," Jenn took my hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, will ya? This guy is a lot of things. And now I'm wondering if he's not just a rich playboy, but maybe a dangerous man, too."
"No one has said anything like that! I didn't uncover even a hint of scandal."
"But you didn't find answers, either. Just keep your distance until you know him better."
"Umm…it's a little too late for that."
"You know what I mean. You don't have to take the sex any further and you can certainly reign in the emotions until you know more."
"You're right, Jenn," I agreed. But was she? I felt like a virgin teenager who goes to third base and can't get her mind off of what a home run would feel like. The thought of really fucking Tristan was pretty much running in a continuous playback in my mind.
And the emotional part? There was so much more to him than I originally imagined. I wanted to know more. I had to know more.
Six
Rehearsal couldn't have been better. Somehow having the set nearly complete made the actors really kick their performances up. It was the first run through for Act 2. The men all had their lines pretty much down pat and Tom blocked it quickly with me furiously taking notes of every move the five players would make.
I didn't have any opportunity to talk to Tristan at all. Once in a while we'd make eye contact--enough to raise my pulse a notch or two--and then it was back to work. It was quite amazing to see the ensemble evolve. Every time they took the stage the roles crystallized a little more.
Brian wasn't wasting any time giving his party a kick start. Single malt scotch played very prominently in the script. It
I did an image search next. Jenn and Tom hadn't been off the mark in their assessment. Tristan seemed to have a penchant for model/actress types. There were several pages of images of him arriving at this or that gallery opening, art show, theater, opera and on and on. Every woman seemed more beautiful than the last. He certainly got around.
I went back to the engagement announcement. The contrast was striking. Elsa looked like Jenn, or any number of pretty all-American girls I had known in college. The women Tristan appeared with in New York were far more like Victoria's Secret models or Hollywood types.
There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask Tristan. But just how does someone start a conversation with "I researched your background on the internet for hours after I learned your fiancé had been killed. Let's talk about it."?
***
Jenn and I had a great picnic. I caught her up on the 'situation' with Tristan. She seemed impressed that I would even have the courage to get as far as I had with him. She knew me pretty well, maybe better than anyone. She knew how out of my element I was.
I filled her in on the things I had learned about him--both the gossip from Tom and the internet research.
"You've got yourself a complicated man on your hands."
I chuckled. "I wouldn't go so far as to say 'on my hands', Jenn. But I do agree that he's complicated."
"You better keep me posted. This ships-passing-in-the- night thing of ours is keeping me too much in the dark."
"It's only going to get worse, too. Tom called and said that Brian is having an early cast party to celebrate the christening of the set tomorrow night."
"I know how that goes. Get ready for some heavy partying and late nights."
"So I've been told. I sure would like to get Tristan alone. But I don't see much chance of that happening tomorrow."
"Raina," Jenn took my hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, will ya? This guy is a lot of things. And now I'm wondering if he's not just a rich playboy, but maybe a dangerous man, too."
"No one has said anything like that! I didn't uncover even a hint of scandal."
"But you didn't find answers, either. Just keep your distance until you know him better."
"Umm…it's a little too late for that."
"You know what I mean. You don't have to take the sex any further and you can certainly reign in the emotions until you know more."
"You're right, Jenn," I agreed. But was she? I felt like a virgin teenager who goes to third base and can't get her mind off of what a home run would feel like. The thought of really fucking Tristan was pretty much running in a continuous playback in my mind.
And the emotional part? There was so much more to him than I originally imagined. I wanted to know more. I had to know more.
Six
Rehearsal couldn't have been better. Somehow having the set nearly complete made the actors really kick their performances up. It was the first run through for Act 2. The men all had their lines pretty much down pat and Tom blocked it quickly with me furiously taking notes of every move the five players would make.
I didn't have any opportunity to talk to Tristan at all. Once in a while we'd make eye contact--enough to raise my pulse a notch or two--and then it was back to work. It was quite amazing to see the ensemble evolve. Every time they took the stage the roles crystallized a little more.
Brian wasn't wasting any time giving his party a kick start. Single malt scotch played very prominently in the script. It
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