Playing with Forever

Chapter 47: Tristan's Threats

Anatomy was getting particularly boring as the school year was winding down. We'd stopped learning anything new, and instead did nothing but review for the end of the semester exam. I sat drumming my fingers on my desk one afternoon as we waited for the bell to ring after a class of review of the endocrine system.

"Nice ring," Tristan said, looking at the gas station opal ring that Sam had bought me. I glanced at Tristan in surprise. I hadn't known he was there. I looked away, still strumming my fingers impatiently. I tried a bit of Mason logic: if you ignore someone, they'll just go away.

It didn't work. That's what I got for following the philosophies of a three year old. It was worth a try, though.

I saw Tristan's smirk out of the corner of my eye. "I suspect Eric would have bought you something of higher quality than that, wouldn't he have?"

Ice crept up my spine and my bones froze solid in my body. Time screeched to a halt.

Thousands of thoughts of anxiety flew through my mind. I just stared at him, vision throbbing and pulsing with my pounding heart. How... I...? No way.

Tristan knew.

How in the world did he find out?

Useless.

Tristan smiled at my fear, my eyes wide and face as white as a bleached sheet. He leaned against the desk in front of me, knowing now that I wouldn't do anything to stop him. He had infallible leverage over me.

"He kept you in the nicest things, didn't he, Abby? You were always dressed in the latest fashions, the nicest things available. Nothing that wasn't designer, and you were dripped with jewels. You had everything you wanted."

No, I didn't. I most certainly did not. I hadn't wanted any of that stuff—He had wanted it. He wanted me to be flawless in my appearance. He arranged hair and nail and aesthetician appointments. He had arranged for a stylist to present him with high end clothing on a monthly basis and picked out my outfits. He controlled it all, my hair style, my nail color, each and every article of clothing. I had worn jackets and long pants a lot, needless to say. He tried to be smart, but when he really got going, he would forget to only strike me where my clothes would hide the bruises and cuts.

My eyes slid shut in fear, my chin quivering. Tristan was going to tell everyone.

"And just look at you now," he continued. "You're with Durand, and you're wearing rags and starving to death."

"Just don't, Tristan." Just stop taunting me.

He pouted. "Don't you want to know how I found out?"

"No," I snapped. Of course I did. If he knew, who else did?

"I guess you didn't know that my dad lives in Sacramento, did you? That I don't go by his last name." He paused for drama. It worked. Fear rippled. "Guess who he is."

No, I didn't want to. Whoever it was, it didn't even matter because Tristan already knew.

"Howard Harrigan. He's a terrific lawyer," he added pointedly. "Usually, anyways."

Of course. With my luck, of course Tristan was related to Eric's lawyer.

Useless.

"It's private. Confidential," I breathed, begging the tears in my eyes not to spill down my cheeks. I was so ashamed.

Tristan gave me a mock-sympathetic look. "Well, we're all human. When you get a juicy piece of gossip, you just can't let it escape. Not such a good secret." Yes, it definitely was sensational, I was fully aware of that. He continued, "I have to admit, Abby, you're doing an excellent job of hiding it. I had to do some research when I found out, not believing it was the beautiful redhead I knew. You are a fantastic actress, acting so normal after all that, after all the things he broke."

Freaking Howard Harrigan. He had told Tristan everything. Everything. No doubt with a comment like that, not with the emphasis of how interesting my story was and what he broke.

He had told Howard everything, boasting of his successes. He was a disgusting man. But I hadn't placed Howard as evil. Just doing what he needed to do to be clear of him, doing what he could to not upset him. Not that telling people would upset him, though. He wasn't ashamed.

Howard's loose lips were a mistake. A mistake that was only going to make my life hell again. Now everyone was going to know. "Yeah, well, I try to forget it ever happened," I said, trying to not let Tristan know just how scared I was of his threat.

"Eric wouldn't be pleased about that. From what I heard, he misses you."

"I just bet he does. His little dog to kick around."

"You were the one that let him."

A bitter laugh burst out of my chest at that. It was true, after all. "So, what now? Are you going to tell everyone now? Let everyone know about my tragic past? You know it'll just give me sympathy attention. It wouldn't be a bad thing," I bluffed.

"Yes, that's why you've kept it a secret all this time."

I couldn't hold my poker face, tears breaking through at the thought of my truth being spread around. I couldn't hold the whimper back, nor the trembling of my chin. "Please don't, Tristan. Please don't tell anyone."

He shrugged. "I don't think I will, not for now. But if you upset me, or that douchebag boyfriend of yours does, trust me, I'll plaster your story everywhere."

"Fine. Anything."

I regretted my choice of words immediately. He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind. Have a great day, Abby. Oh, and by the way, Dad ran into your mother the other day." I tried not to let my surprise show. She was back in Sacramento? Why? She hadn't even come back for the trial, leaving me without support. "Thought you might want to know. Catch you later."