Finding Love's Wings Read online

  "You're most welcome." He is smiling, practically from ear to ear. No doubt it's a direct reflection of my own smile. God, how has this man made me so weak in the knees in only such a short amount of time? "Did you have a good day today?" he asks, interrupting my admiration.

  "I did, thank you. I even managed to take a nap while the Gucci reps went shopping on my behalf." I giggle. "I never thought I would ever say that."

  He was laughing a bit too. "Yeah, the idea of being waited on is something that is hard to get used to. I’m not even sure I'm used to it."

  "Right! I’m pretty sure that I’ll never get used to it. This was never the life I expected to lead. But I’m on vacation after all. It’ll go away when I get back to Phoenix."

  "Phoenix, huh? I thought you lived in L.A."

  I laugh. "No, L.A. and I do not get along well. Phoenix and I, however, are made for each other. The sun, the warmth, the fact that it hardly ever rains."

  Jessie brings us another round of drinks and departs quickly. “That may be, but a hundred and twenty degrees is a bit much for my taste."

  "You get used to it. Plus as they always say..." In the most obnoxious voice I can manage and with a ridiculous grin on my face I say, "It's a dry heat."

  He laughs, surprised. "That is probably the best impression of Walter I've ever heard."

  For a moment I'm stunned into silence. I can't believe he knows who Jeff Dunham and all his lovable friends are. Then I bust out laughing. It takes me a minute to settle and catch my breath. "Yes, Walter is by far one of my favorites. Peanut, however, takes the cake."

  "Ah, lest we forget our dear friend Peanut." His smile lights up the room. "Jeff Dunham is my favorite comedian. I got to meet him once and was surprised to find out that he is just as funny in real life as he is onstage."

  "Mr. Michaels, I do believe I'm officially jealous now." I smile.

  He laughs some more. "I'm sure we could arrange a chance for you to meet him. You are, after all, the CEO of the largest PR firm in the world."

  "Non-active CEO," I correct him.

  "Oh, I think that has officially changed as of today. You were absolutely brilliant with Trinity this morning. I'm not sure I have had the chance to thank you properly for handling that. I have no doubt that had you not stepped up, I would be facing off with her about this story." He shrugs and his smile starts to fade. "I have to admit that having this story squashed was the first thing I thought of when all this went down. I don't like my private life plastered all over every news outlet in the world. But in the end, letting it run seems like the best thing I could do for Layla, as messed up as that may sound."

  I can't help but continue smiling at him. I'm completely in awe of the fact that he can take this whole situation in stride and be so determined – no matter what the cost is to him – to let this story run its course. "I hope you realize, if I had it my way this story would die before it even had a chance to blossom. I don't at all like the thought of all those tabloids having a go at you because of something your ex-girlfriend did. However, I will accept the fact that this is solely your decision to make. Should you change your mind, though, we have until noon our time tomorrow to try and stop it."

  "Forget it. Not going to happen. Though I am truly sorry that a child is going to be dragged along by a mother that can't seem to make good choices. No doubt, in the long run, he will be the one to suffer. Especially if she never discovers who the father is."

  The tone of this conversation has gone from playful to gloomy quickly. "Ok, enough about her and about business," I say. "This is our date and it's time to discuss something else." I smile a genuine smile. "So, we have discovered that we both like Jeff Dunham, what other type of entertainment do you enjoy?"

  "I love music, live music especially. I enjoy local unknown bands more than I do the mainstream, or even those with record labels. The passion that comes with the music they play inspires me." I'm happy to see that his smile has returned and his eyes warm again.

  "I could not agree with you more on that. I love live music. I do enjoy the mainstream artists that write their own music. Lyrics speak volumes, and to hear them sing something that has been written solely for the purpose of expressing themselves make me the happiest."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because I usually feel a better connection to the song. Take the winners of those reality shows. Sure, they get singing contracts with a pretty big label, but they are at the mercy of what their new managers and or 'crew' think they should be doing and singing."

  "Very well said. Not sure I could have said it better myself. Music is a pretty big passion of mine, personally. Writing music is something I enjoy doing. A lot." His smile has reached his eyes, causing a slight crinkle in the corner. He looks very carefree, younger even.

  "Really? I never pegged you for a songwriter, Tristan. A director or even an author maybe, but a songwriter?" I get a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach, mainly because I'm certain that I'm about the only person that knows this about him. "There is a bit of irony in the fact that you like to write songs."

  "Oh?" He is looking at me with an intent expression on his face. "Why is that exactly?"

  "Because not only do I love music, I play music and sing."

  He actually looks surprised at my response. "I think that is something I am going to have to hear for myself."

  "Good luck with that." I purse my lips. "I have not sung in front of anyone on purpose since my junior year of high school."

  "Why did you stop?" He asks the obvious follow up question.

  Shit. Can I tell him this, or do I just brush it off? I'm not sure that I'm really ready to go into why I don't sing anymore. "I'm not really sure you want me to answer that question."

  He frowns. "Cami, I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want the answer. However, I will respect you not wanting to answer—"

  "It is because of Bobbie," I blurt out.

  "How does Bobbie have anything to do with you not wanting to sing?"

  The question has me wanting to answer. Tristan doesn't deserve secrets. Plus, my hesitation is more to do with not wanting to talk about Bobbie. "It wasn't so much that he didn't want me to sing, simply that he felt I wasn't good enough." He nods gingerly and I continue with my tale. "During my junior year of high school I became friends with a group of girls who, one day, decided that we should start a band."

  I take a deep breath, trying very hard to settle my nerves, but then I remember the very expensive Cosmopolitan sitting in front of me and take a big swig. God it's good.

  "I took piano lessons as a kid and continued with them when I went to boarding school. In third grade I received a very nice acoustic guitar, anonymously, and decided to teach myself how to play. I was good. Still am good." Ok stop babbling and get to the point. I look up from my Cosmo and Tristan is looking at me, his eyes warm, almost liquid. A gentle smile on his face, a smile of encouragement that I've never seen from him, or from anyone for that matter. The smile gives me the confidence to continue.

  "But anyway, it wasn't until my junior year of high school that I really got to play with other people. Evelyn – my mom – had passed away and I'd convinced Bobbie to let me finish out high school in the States. Some of my friends from school wanted to start a band and asked me to join. We jammed really well together, but when we started rehearsing cover songs we discovered that the girl, Jessica, that wanted to sing, really couldn't sing. Everyone took turns at giving the songs a go. Lisa could sing nicely enough, so I was thinking that they would stop there and just let us continue with her as our lead singer. But after Lisa was finished, Jessica said, 'Let's let Cameron have a try.'"

  I'm blushing now, remembering how it felt to put the microphone to my lips and start singing. "I was so embarrassed. I still am, just thinking about it. But I walked up to the microphone and we started to play Shakira's 'Underneath Your Clothes.'" I laugh at that. "God, how things have changed." Waving it off, I say, "Anyway, I was half a verse
through the song and the next thing I knew I was the only one playing as all three girls were flat-out staring at me. When I realized this I stopped, but they said 'why did you stop?' They said I was awesome and immediately promoted me to lead singer. Eventually I started to get over my stage fright, and we practiced and practiced."

  Deep breath, here it comes. Looking down at the table, I continue, "Then one day we were practicing at Jessica's house and, unbeknownst to me, my father was in the house because he and Jessica's dad had some business to attend to. When you live in Hollywood, everyone knows everyone. Anyway, apparently – and I only found this out later from Jessica's dad – Bobbie got completely sidetracked from whatever they were doing because he could hear us practicing in the garage. According to Jessica's dad, Bobbie was so engrossed in what he was hearing that he just stood there listening. You know Bobbie; when he hears talent, he pounces.

  “So, after we finished the song, Bobbie comes out to the garage where we were set up. Starts raving about how awesome we sound, so on and so forth, but he doesn't see me in the room. I was bent down behind an amp. He asked us to play another song, and of course the girls agreed. Then I stood up, guitar strapped to my back, and I see Bobbie's mortified expression. He had no idea that I was part of the band. But he shrugged it off, maybe figuring I was just a guitar player. Every one of us had a microphone to our face because we all usually had some part in a song.

  “As soon as we started to play, Bobbie’s eyes lit up like Christmas. Then I started to sing, no back up, no nothing – just me, myself, and I. Bobbie's reaction was over the top. His face turned red. He started screaming at no one in particular and it was enough to make us all stop. Bobbie started yelling about how awful of a singer I was and that Jessica and her friends needed to find a new lead singer, so on and so forth. I am sure you get the idea."

  Tristan's body is visibly shaking. His face betrays the fact that he’s really pissed off. "I cannot believe that asshole. How could he do that to his own daughter?"

  "He sent me to boarding school, remember?" I'm upset at telling the story, but also relieved that Tristan, though he’s never heard me sing, is angry at Bobbie. It makes me feel important in a very strange way.

  "In the long run I figured that it just had to do with Bobbie wanting to keep me from the industry and that he really thought I was a great singer. But as time went on, he proved otherwise. Anytime he would catch me singing or humming around the house he would yell at me and tell me to shut the hell up, though that is putting it mildly. When you put it into the whole picture of my and Mark's lives, he really did despise us on many different levels, especially after Mom passed away."

  "Well, I doubt that you have a horrible voice. I would really love to hear you sing sometime." He is smiling now at the idea of hearing me sing. To my surprise, I realize that I actually want to sing for him.

  PART FOURTEEN

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  The idea of hearing Cami sing excites me to no end. How can I make this happen? There is the grand piano in my suite, but I'm really trying to behave tonight.

  Norah Jones's "Come Away with Me" starts to play. The Goddess of Love is smiling on me. (Love – did I really just think that?) I take my cue, extending a hand to Cami. "Would you dance with me?"

  "Uh..." She flushes a little, then says, "Yes."

  I stand, her hand still in mine. Helping her to her feet, I walk us toward the dance floor. I turn and pull her into a warm embrace, and we start to move. She's a great follow; her movements mirror mine without her even seeming to think about it. "Is there anything you cannot do, Cami?"

  She giggles. "I am sure there is plenty that I can't do, but I love to dance."

  Wow. As I start considering the possibilities of dancing with Cami, she leans into me, pushing her breasts against my chest. Dammit! This girl is going to kill my good behavior if she keeps this up. I look down into her eyes. Her face is turned up slightly, looking like she wants to kiss me. Then her lips start to move. It takes me a minute to realize that it's no longer just Norah singing. Cami has started to sing along.

  I inhale very sharply. Her voice is breathtakingly beautiful. She sounds a little like LeAnn Rimes; it's wild. I just stare at her. We continue to dance, without missing a beat. Then the song comes to a close.

  "My God, Cami! That was absolutely beautiful."

  "Thanks, Tristan."

  She turns her head to the side, bringing her ear to rest on my chest, over my heart. Looking down, I see the faint flush of red coloring her skin. I hope I didn't embarrass her.

  "That's the first time anyone has complimented me like that about my singing."

  The music starts back up again with none other than Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You." At Cami's urging, we start to dance again. And she immediately starts singing again. Jesus, she can hit the notes with very little effort. It makes me wonder what her true range is.

  Her singing is infectious and I find myself singing along, turning it into a duet. This time she's the one that’s staring.

  When the song ends, she's panting slightly for air and giggles. "I think if I am going to do that again, I should really quit smoking." I laugh too because she is so damn cute when she laughs that it becomes contagious and I can't help myself.

  "There are worse things you could do. Thank you, Cami, for the dance and your singing."

  "Me? Man, Tristan. You can act, sing, dance. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?"

  I smile and laugh a little. "Oh, darling, you have seen nothing yet. But our dinner reservations are upon us. Are you hungry?

  "Famished."

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  We move away from the dance floor back toward our table, grabbing our drinks. Then we walk over to Caran. Tristan is ever the gentleman when it comes to escorting me through the restaurant to our table. The maître d’ beats him to pulling out my chair, and he looks disappointed. It's kind of cute, actually.

  We chat all through dinner. About anything and everything: our friends, the things we like to do for fun. I’m surprised to learn that Tristan loves to read books when he has the time. Even more surprising is that he has a degree in English Literature, and before his acting career took off he had full intentions of completing college with a Ph.D. so that he could become a college professor of English Literature.

  "My mom had been doing everything she could to put me through college, and when she passed away I was left to find ways to pay for school. I managed school okay, but finding money from one month to the next became difficult when it came to food and necessities, until I found the add for extra's on Love Is Burning. I received a rather large advance prior to starting the shoot and was only about two weeks away from graduating. I was able to payoff my student loans, pay back the people that I owed, and make it through my last two weeks of school before filming began.

  "I realized quickly, after I'd nearly spent every penny of my initial paycheck, that I'm truly crap with money. I was nearly broke when the filming started."

  Laughing, I say, "Good thing you don't have to worry about that now."

  "Honest to God, Cami, I can’t even tell you or myself how much money is in my bank account right now. I just know when my credit card bills are due and I pay them."

  "Sounds to me like you really need to meet Mick." I laugh.

  "Who's he?" He's smiling from ear to ear.

  "Mick is a financial advisor and planner. Also a good friend of mine. He was also Bobbie's main financial genius and also happens to be dating my best friend, Beau. Beau is, well, Beau. She's my best friend and my assistant who handles my day-to-day finances. She is also a brilliant artist." I pull out my iPhone and show him some of her work. He is duly impressed.

  "So are you saying that I can have someone who handles my money for me?" He is positively laughing at this proposition.

  "I have a confession." I pause for effect, and he raises an eyebrow at me. "I want to invite Mick and Beau to come out here
on Wednesday so that they can spend next weekend with me." His face falls like I've just given him bad news, and my own smile fades in response. "What's wrong, Tristan?"

  He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he chews on the inside of his cheek, looking like he is mulling over his response. I nervously start to chew on my tongue ring. A long series of emotions flits across his face.

  "Tristan, what's wrong? You actually seem upset."

  "I just—" He takes a ragged breath. "It's just that next week is going to be a bad week for me. With the story dropping and all."

  "Are you worried that Mick and Beau are going to either spill where you are or judge you because of a tabloid?"

  "Yeah, I guess you can say that."

  Oh boy. "Tristan, Mick used to work for Bobbie. He has been in and around Hollywood for as long as I've known him, though now he lives in Phoenix with Beau. He knows the business and he can be trusted. Beau has not been around Hollywood besides visiting, but she is not the type to gossip, and she would not run to a tabloid and tell them anything." I let out the breath I was holding in a rush. "You have nothing to worry about. Besides, they are a little miffed at me for running off right before my birthday. Apparently I spoiled some serious plans for Saturday night."

  He's gawking at me. "Well, don't I feel stupid. I'm sorry, Cami. I didn't realize."

  "I wouldn't expect you to know, Tristan."

  He takes a long, steadying breath. "To be honest, the reason I'm kind of upset has more to do with the fact that I don't like the idea of having to share my time with your friends."

  My heart sputters and a feeling of dread washes through me. Mick and Beau are the two single most important people in my life. After a beat, though, the dread turns to a warm sense of flattery at the fact that he wants to spend more time with me. And I quickly realize that I, too, want to spend a lot more time with him.