“Long enough to know you’re pretty damn good. And the kids loved you.” Tristan’s eyes twinkled. “As did their moms.”
Seeing Tristan so unguarded and relaxed uncurled something dangerous inside Sean. Between his physical tenderness when they were together and now his teasing words, Tristan was proving himself to be a different man than the cold, standoffish person Sean had originally believed him to be.
“I like kids. Whenever I visit my nieces and nephew, Char uses me as her secret weapon to get them to take their baths and go to bed. ‘Uncle Sean won’t sing for you unless you do what Mommy says.’”
“How many kids do they have? Ray told me, but I forgot.”
“Three. Ray’s older, so maybe he’s making up for lost time. Charlotte told me she wanted a big family as well.” He’d been surprised the first time he’d met Ray to see that he was in his early forties—that was seven years ago. He’d worried that because he was so wealthy and Charlotte was almost half his age, Ray would expect her to be nothing more than arm candy and a baby-making machine and he wouldn’t be a faithful husband. But in the time he spent with them, Ray’s devotion to her and their children was obvious. He loved and respected Charlotte, and when he was away on business, they spoke every night. Charlotte trusted him implicitly.
“I saw their wedding picture on his desk but didn’t think anything of it until now. You and she look alike. There couldn’t be any doubt that you’re related.”
They shared other, darker similarities as well. While Charlotte might’ve had the stability of growing up with both parents, she hadn’t had it easy at home. Their parents had fought constantly about money, and her mother would scream at her for not helping enough at home. Abuse came in all forms, and Charlotte hadn’t escaped unscathed.
“Yeah, well. It was still a shock when we first met. I never imagined I had a sister. I was always told my mother gave me up because I was too much for her to handle on her own.”
“I guess children can never understand why parents do what they do. Especially when it turns out so wrong.”
Grabbing an opening, Sean decided to do a little digging. “Sounds like you have a story of your own.”
All the good humor vanished from Tristan’s face, and that stony exterior Sean hated returned. “No. No story at all.”
But Sean wasn’t about to be shunted off after he’d revealed so much. Not after the night they spent together. “I call bullshit. It doesn’t work like that. You can’t be all Mr. Nice and Sweet, getting me to open up but giving nothing in return. Not only is it unfair to me, but it hurts you.”
“I never said I was hurt. I’m fine. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Again with the ostrich act. You can pretend all you want, but you can’t bullshit a master bullshitter. I know a survivor when I see one.”
Refusing to meet his gaze, Tristan slid his glasses down, hiding his eyes, but not the flush that had risen over his cheeks. “I have to go.”
Without another word, he walked away, leaving Sean seething. His appetite gone, Sean dumped the rest of his food into the trash and finished his water. The laughter of young children from the playground filled the air, and Sean scrubbed his face.
“Business first, but someone and I are gonna be having words.”
He pasted a smile on his face and picked a spot. With a few curious onlookers, he set up and began to sing, choosing his Disney lineup, then moving into popular show tunes, finishing up with some old favorites for those in the crowd who had no children with them. It was nice to see the bills piling up, but his mind wasn’t on the money. He and Tristan were going to have a face-off when he got home.
* * *
But Tristan wasn’t there when he opened the door to the apartment. It was dark and soundless, but to make sure, he flipped on the lights and peeked into the bedroom. It was empty.
Asshole.
He tossed his backpack onto the couch, kicked off his sneakers, and stretched out. All the goodwill and optimism of the day faded, neither his conversation with the mother who wanted him to sing for her friends, nor the wad of bills he’d gotten gave him pleasure. He’d counted on treating for dinner, then attempting to get Tristan to open up about his past.
Whatever. Time to count up the profits.He dug around to find his wallet and his phone and spread out the bills in front of him.Damn, this is pretty good.His phone buzzed, and though he hoped it was Tristan, which made no sense since they hadn’t exchanged numbers, he still smiled when Charlotte’s name popped up.
“Hey, Char. What’s up?”
“Not much. Just seeing how it’s going. Any luck finding a job?”
“I’ll let you take a look.” He put her on FaceTime and turned the phone so she could see his haul. “What do you think?”
When they were face-to-face again, he laughed at her shocked expression. “And no, in case you were wondering, I haven’t resorted to robbing banks.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. But where the hell did you get all that? Did you get another job waiting tables? Or something else?” He could see she was running through the alternatives in her mind and didn’t want to be negative. “Are you holding out on me on a new business venture?”
“Jeez, Char. Chill out. No, it’s not from waiting tables. And not from anything illegal either.” He explained his street-singing plan and how he’d already made some contacts on both the East and West Side. When he finished, she huffed out a breath, and he lifted his chin, waiting for her to tell him he was wrong.
“Don’t get mad at me, but I’m going to play devil’s advocate. How can you be so sure people will continue to donate to you every day? And what happens in the winter? You won’t be able to sing in below-freezing weather when there’s no one outside. You have to think about these things if you want to get on your feet and into your own place.”
