Identity of the Heart (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 1) Page 15

  Ivy strokes my shoulder above my bandage, “That’s okay. I think we’re all capable of changing. I’ve done some things I’m not so proud of either.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever being anything but perfect,” I comment as I kiss her tenderly.

  Ivy chuckles softly as she pulls away. “I think you must have me mixed up with some other spoiled suburban Princess, but I’ll just leave that to your imagination.”

  “Ivy, I hate to admit this, but I think I recognize the garlic pizza I ate last week. I don’t think I have much more sweat left in me. So what’s next?”

  Ivy grins mischievously as she says, “It depends. How adventurous are you feeling?”

  Well, that’s an open-ended question if I’ve ever heard one. My mind goes in a million different places, so I decide to take a gamble.

  “I’m not the kind of guy to play it safe. Give me what you’ve got,” I challenge.

  “Did I tell you I like a man with a true sense of adventure? Do you know what I love even more than that?”

  I shrug, totally clueless about where she’s going with this, but completely intrigued. A few weeks ago, she was calling my bluff about not really being an edgy, bad boy, so I’m very curious where she’s headed.

  “Well, I love a guy who’s willing to trust me implicitly. Especially when you don’t know what I’ve got up my sleeve.”

  I give her an appreciative once over as I quip, “Not to be technical or anything, but from where I’m standing you can’t exactly be hiding much in that gorgeous outfit, so I guess I’ll just take my chances.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised…” Ivy teases as she grabs my hand and leads me out of the sauna. At the last minute, I scoop up our towels.

  As she quickly escorts me down a series of short corridors, I ask, “Where are we going?”

  Ivy grins. “Trust me?”

  “Sure, what do I have to lose?” I reply philosophically.

  Ivy giggles as she responds, “Okay, I’ll remind you that you said that when you hate me. Close your eyes.”

  I dutifully close my eyes. How bad could this possibly be? The sauna was weird, but it wasn’t bad. So, whatever she’s got planned can’t be all that terrible.

  Suddenly, I hear instructions from Ivy, “Hold your breath and jump on three. One. Two. Three. Jump!” She is giggling so hard that she can barely speak. Fortunately, all the years I spent jumping off docks as a kid pays off and the movement is almost instinctual.

  I had conveniently forgotten the sensation of being immersed in ice water which is made ten times worse by our recent trip to the sauna. Immediately the breath rushes out of my lungs and my skin feels like it’s on fire.

  As I break the surface of the water and wipe the chlorinated water out of my eyes. I immediately search around for Ivy.

  She is about two feet away treading water like a synchronized swimmer with a wide smile on her face. “Isn’t this great? It’s my favorite part of using the sauna.”

  “I’m not sure I classified this as ‘so great’. I may be talking like a soprano for a week. You could warn a guy.”

  “But what fun would that be? I tried to warn you that I’m not quite the angel you think I am.”

  “Well, the least you could do would be to come over and warm me up.”

  Ivy appears to contemplate that option but then yells over her shoulder as she takes off, “Swimming laps is a good way to warm up too. I’ll meet you at the other end of the pool and give you your reward for being such a good sport.”

  “I’m good with that, I’ll see you on the other side,” I shout my reply to her retreating figure.

  Ivy is a remarkably fast swimmer. Still, she’s no match for me. I was born with freakishly long arms and hands the size of Ping-Pong paddles. It was an interesting challenge to learn to handle the small delicate tattooing equipment. It took me a while to find a brand of tattooing machine to fit my hand comfortably. Sometimes I work on a big back piece for hours and holding the wrong size equipment can cause real pain.

  Lounging against the edge of the pool, I wait for her to reach me. When she does, her expression is comical. “How did you do that? I even had a head start! I usually win these things,” she exclaims as she tries to catch her breath. “You’re right, it is pretty cold in here. Do you want to steam things back up in the sauna?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her question.

  Ivy blushes as she realizes her statement can be taken multiple ways.

  WHAT IN THE WORLD AM I doing here? That’s my overwhelming thought as I sit in the middle of the bed in a hotel room that probably costs as much as three months rent where I live. Granted, I live in a dump, but this place is just too excessive. Who lives like this? Oh yeah…Tristan lives like this. So, why is a guy like that with someone like me? Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with me. It’s just that Tristan and I don’t really travel in the same circles. I’m the person that usually waits on the people like Tristan at the fancy parties he goes to. In fact, the restaurant that I sometimes work at to pick up extra hours just did a catering job for an entrepreneurs lunch. Tristan would’ve fit right in there. Unlike most of the catering jobs that I work, those people were actually pretty nice to me, looked me in the eye and asked my name. I actually made pretty decent tips that night.

  Tristan went to find some ice for his knee. Apparently, driving all those hours irritated an old injury. I teased him about having the concierge do it for him since we were living the high life. But, he simply blushed and said that he doesn’t take advantage of people like that and insisted that he was able to get his own ice. He’s an interesting mix. He thinks nothing of slapping down his ultra-platinum card and instructing that no expense be spared if any of us need anything, but he insists on doing everything himself even though he tipped the bellman and valet attendant as if he’d used their services.

  I didn’t bring much with me. But fortunately, I’ve been on so many modeling gigs that I’ve learned to always stick a basic swimsuit in my suitcase just in case. Tristan said we could buy whatever we needed to make ourselves comfortable. But, I don’t really want to buy a new wardrobe just to look cute on the date. This isn’t Pretty Woman after all. I pick up a ponytail holder and my swimsuit from the suitcase and head to the bathroom to change. I have to laugh out loud when I open the door. I didn’t realize that bathrooms like this existed outside the pages of magazines. This is ridiculous! One whole wall of the bathroom is occupied by a huge marble tiled shower with frosted glass doors. I walk over and gingerly peek. I’m almost afraid to touch anything. All of this looks nice enough to be in some fancy museum exhibit or something. The inside of the shower looks like some study in decadence. There are two built-in benches and no fewer than six shower heads. There are even stereo speakers in the shower. Slowly, I back out of the shower, uncertain what to think of all of this sensory overload.

  I turn around and look at the rest of the restroom. There is actually a bidet. I’ve read about those in magazines. But I’ve never seen one. On the vanity there’s a cornucopia of beauty products that put my own to shame. I pick up a couple of bottles and notice that there is both conditioner to curl your hair and to straighten it. Talk about your full service hotel.

  I close the door and lock it while I quickly change into my bathing suit. As I got back into the bedroom suite and try to find a place to put my suitcase, I find a plush robe with the hotel’s insignia on it. I smile to myself because I always assumed that was something that they made up only for soap operas on television. I didn’t realize it was a real thing. I feel so spoiled.

  I turn the television on and I’m astonished at the sheer number of television channels available. It’s not a surprise there are more television channels than I have at home because I only have the smallest cable package available. My budget simply doesn’t allow for more. However, I didn’t even realize there were this many cable channels available on the planet. Flipping through the premium movie channels, I see almost 100. Who knew
there were so many? I’m starting to feel like a real backwoods hick. Tristan comes through the door holding the ice bucket and what looks like some sort of pie.

  He sets it all down on the dresser and glances at the television set as he comments, “Isn’t that ridiculous? A person can only watch one channel at a time. What do you like to watch?”

  “I don’t really have a lot of time to watch TV. You’ll probably laugh if I tell you what I watch.”

  “Oh come on, it can’t be any nerdier than what I watch.”

  “You might change your mind after I tell you. As they say in my marketing class, I’m not the typical demographic for these shows.”

  “Okay, now you’ve got me curious—”

  I try not to cringe as I reveal, “I like to watch the Antique Roadshow and the History Detectives on Public Television. Sometimes people get really lucky and they discover that they have paintings or pottery worth millions of dollars. I just think it’s really interesting to learn about that kind of stuff.”

  “I don’t find that strange. In fact I think it’s totally sexy that you have a brain and aren’t ashamed to use it. I like those shows too. We can totally geek out together when we watch TV. One of my guilty pleasures is to watch the National Spelling Bee— that’s not exactly nail biting television, but I watch it every year because I have such admiration for those kids. Spelling was always my weakness.”

  I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. “I thought I was the only one who watched it from start to finish. When I was a freshman in college, my lab partner thought I was absolutely nuts when I turned down the chance to go to a huge party because I wanted to watch the Spelling Bee live.”

  Tristan walks over to the dresser and picks up the pie. “I hope you don’t mind. I ran into the pastry chef when I was looking for ice. He just made a key lime pie; he tried a new recipe and he was looking for guinea pigs. So, he gave us a big piece. Do you like key lime pie?”

  I smirk at him as I ask, “Do I live in Florida? Of course I like key lime pie and virtually every other kind of pie.”

  “Okay, for fun let’s make this a game. For every bite we take, we have to say one thing that’s true about ourselves and one thing we wish was true.”

  “Does it have to be true in the present or could it have been true in the past?” I clarify.

  “You are such a stickler for the rules. Are you sure you don’t have a secret desire to be a lawyer under all that artsy stuff you do?”

  “Oh, no thank you!” I protest. “Could you see me in a suit all day? I don’t think so. I just wanted to be sure I understood what you wanted from me so I don’t cheat.”

  “Rogue, it’s no big deal. This is just a fun game for me to get to know you better. No life or death consequences here. For all I know, you could lie your way all the way through the game.”

  “That would be stupid. Then you wouldn’t learn anything new about me.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that you actually lie, I was just saying a person could if they wanted to. I would much prefer you tell me some things you’d like me to know about yourself,” Tristan responds with a frustrated sigh.

  I almost laugh out loud at the look of angst on his face. I hold my hands up in surrender as I remark, “Okay, I wasn’t trying to be difficult, I promise. I understand now. Fun game. No rules. Silly icebreaker. Social interaction. I think I’ve got it. I’ll try not to over analyze everything.”

  “If you took that as a criticism, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m fascinated by the way your mind works. I’m almost tempted to have you read all my contracts because you’re so quick to think of all the loopholes. It’s a handy skill to have in business.”

  “I’ll let you tell Mama Rosa that when you meet her. It used to drive her crazy when I was growing up. Whenever she laid out a punishment or a new household rule, I was always trying to define all of the outer edges. She got pretty used to it, but when she married my stepfather, he interpreted my curiosity and need for precise details as mouthiness and disrespect. I think he pretty much hated me on first sight. I was pretty devastated. All my life I had looked forward to having a dad like everyone else, so I wanted it to be like I had seen on television where the stepdad comes in and loves the new daughter like his own. Unfortunately, that was so far removed from what happened to me I didn’t know how to react. It became an all-out battleground in our house. My mom was forced to choose sides. To save her marriage, she chose to side with Clive. I’m not sure that I’ll ever fully understand how she could do that. But, I guess being alone for so many years took its toll and she was willing to sacrifice everything.”

  Tristan puts the pie on the nightstand and sits down on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. He pulls me up so that I’m sitting next to him. He places his arm around my shoulders and murmurs against my temple, “I’m sorry. That was too high of a price to pay.”

  “I thought so too. So, I quit high school and came to Florida. My relationship with Mama has never been quite the same.”

  “What about Clive?” Tristan asks, offering me a bite of pie.

  “That’s the tragic twist. They’ve been an on-again/off-again thing. I’m not really sure if they’re even together right now.”

  “It must have been painful to be essentially thrown away for a new guy after it was just you and your mom for so long.”

  "You have no idea," I confess wryly. "I felt like my whole world was collapsing."

  "I can sympathize. I felt much the same way when my mom took in Elliott. I didn't know whether to consider him my brother or my nephew. But it was like the whole world revolved around him for a while. Still, I was in a better situation than you were. My parents didn't really choose between the two of us, it just felt that way. They always still loved me, their focus just moved to Elliott for a while because he was in a crisis since his mom died. After I finally got some perspective, I understood that. But, I was lonely for a while.”

  "How is your relationship now?" I impulsively ask and then I wish I could take back the question because it feels intrusive.

  "It’s fine. My parents are split up now, but I still see them both if I go home for a visit. They still don't understand the whole software industry. My dad reads about the dot.com bust and he's pretty sure that everything related to computers and the Internet is going to go belly up at any moment. So, he tells me that anytime I want it, there is a job for me at his construction business. Elliott is a natural at construction. He has absolutely no fear. I stopped by to see my dad the other day when I was in town for business and Elliott was walking along the top of some framing 12 feet off the ground as if it was nothing. That kind of stuff scares the crap out of me, but more power to him."

  "That's freaky. Was he at least wearing a safety harness?" I ask with a shudder.

  "He’s got one. But my dad says he has a hell of a time getting him to wear it."

  "Your mom must be thrilled," I remark sarcastically.

  "I know. My mom says Elliott gets his hard headedness from his grandfather. My dad once had to have his fingers surgically reattached because he cut them off in a band saw because he took the guide off so it would cut faster."

  "Yikes! Do you have any of these dangerous tendencies?"

  “Not unless you count an addiction to coffee, all night chess matches and a little day trading on the stock market.”

  I narrow my gaze at him and ask, "Enough day trading that you might be standing out in the middle of the street in your underwear if the DOW crashes?"

  Tristan laughs out loud at my assertion. "No, I had a CD mature and rather than reinvest it, I took the money out and decided to try my hand at day trading. It turns out I'm pretty good at it. For the most part, I am in the black by a pretty good margin. If I didn't have forty thousand other things on my agenda, I might actually do more day trading. It's pretty fascinating and it's good mental exercise.”

  “I guess I’m just too risk-averse with money for that, but if you’ve got a talent for the m
arket, I guess you should go for it. I just couldn’t imagine doing it myself. I would be catatonic if I lost money. I can’t even buy a lottery ticket.”

  “So, I’m guessing that Vegas is not your speed?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been. But, I don’t think I would enjoy it very much. I work too hard for my money to spend it on the mere chance of getting more. The odds don’t seem very good.”

  Tristan chuckles as he says, “See, you and I just keep finding more and more things we have in common. As a mathematician, I don’t play the lottery or do Vegas. It just doesn’t make logical sense to me. All my friends call me a stick in the mud. They think now that I have money, I should just throw it away. I’ve never quite gotten the logic of that either. Just because I worked hard and developed a product that no one else did, why should I blow my money on some worthless activity?”

  “This is just a theory, but did any of these friends by chance want you to blow the money on them?”

  Tristan feeds me another bite as he says, “Smart and beautiful. It’s my favorite combination. It just so happens that one of the guys was getting married and couldn’t afford a bachelor party. It’s funny how a guy who barely spoke to me during college suddenly considered himself my best friend once my software sold.”

  “So, did you throw him a bachelor party?”

  Tristan grins widely as he answers, “I sure did. We went bowling and I had it catered by Panda Express.”

  “Yum! I love Panda Express; the orange chicken is my favorite.”

  “Mine too. We would’ve probably had a really good time at night except the guy told all of his buddies that I was going to fly them on a private jet to Vegas for a night with some private entertainment from some showgirls.”

  “Well, that’s just gross and he deserved to have a bad night for lying to all of his friends. Not to mention that he completely planned to use you.”

  “I sort of figured that that was his plan all along, which is why I didn’t go all out for his party. If he had shown any respect to me, I might have actually flown him to Vegas like he was expecting— minus the showgirls of course, because that’s just disgusting. I still gave him what could reasonably be expected for a bachelor party when you’re a college student. The food was good and the bowling was fun. I even hired a DJ to play music.”