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Aithan didn’t look happy, but he released Tristan and took a large step back. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Tristan said nothing. He just glared at us and massaged his chest.
When we were seated in Aithan’s SUV, he fished a packet of facial wipes from his glove box. “You okay?”
“Thanks.” I took it, pulled one out, and scrubbed my cheek. My hands shook a little but it felt more like adrenaline than fear. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Freaking out?”
“Not as much as you’d expect. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s coming. Maybe I’ll flip out in the middle of the grocery store or something. But I’m mostly sad that he’s fallen apart like this. Tristan just seems lost.”
“He’s always been that way. Like a lot of what he says and does is an act to fool everyone into thinking he’s got his life together.”
I looked around for someplace to throw away the used wipe.
Aithan started the engine and pointed out a little paper bag on the floorboard. “Trash goes there.” He was so fucking put together.
I stashed the wipe. “The only person Tristan is fooling is himself. And not very well.” I didn’t say anything about the trouble he’d gotten into during high school. It wasn’t my place to tell his boss about that. As big a dick as my ex was being, he’d worked hard to put his messed up childhood behind him. “He needs to get back into therapy.”
My phone rang as Aithan pulled away from the curb.
I answered, “Hi, Dad.”
“Get a protection order, Zelda. Today. And stay away from him. Don’t return his texts or his phone calls. Don’t have any communication with him. Period. Get your goddamned locks changed — I’m sure you haven’t yet — and save all his messages. I’ve got a call in to Ross Henderson. He’s an excellent defamation attorney. I’ll give him your number. You need to retain his services about this video threat.”
“Yeah, my next stop is the courthouse.”
“Good.” He hesitated. “Isthere a video?”
“Not that I know of. If he has that, he never got my permission to film it and he sure as hell doesn’t have my permission to show it to anyone or sell it. I’ll sue his ass off.”
“That’s right. That young man has shit for brains.”
“Yeah, he does.” I didn’t mention the spitting. My dad would lash me for going over to Tristan’s place.
“Talk to Ross. He can advise you on informing the publishers and your authors about this situation. I’m not sure what the best approach is and I don’t want to steer you wrong.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the help. And ... I’m sorry you had to read that.”
“I’m glad you trust me to help, Punky. It’s not like I think you’reinexperiencedor anything.”
I laughed. “No, I guess not. Does Mom know what’s going on?”
“Some. I didn’t share the messages. She’d drive down there and cut off Tristan’s balls.”
“Yeah, she would.”
Then he zigged on me. “Zel, who’s the tattooed fellow you’re hanging out with?”
“Huh?”
“Your sister forwarded a picture of you with some tatted up loser. Is that circus sideshow what this mess with Tristan is all about?”
We’d stopped at a light and Aithan must’ve heard, because I could see him pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh.
I rolled my eyes. “That tattooed loser makes more money in a month than you earn in a year, Dad. He’s not a freak or a deadbeat. And he’s not the reason I kicked Tristan to the curb.”
