Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ Read online

  Tristan was scanning the local classifieds for not only a car, but a job to go along with it. He knew that he would be able to work for Chris and Sara in a few months, so that was a positive, but if he didn’t find a good paying job, and fast, he would be stuck working for Uncle Morgan to pay off his so-called “debts” for living in his rat-hole apartment while he recuperated.

  Unless Tristan decided that he wanted to broach the next dangerous subject of what happened to the money left after his car was sold. He really didn’t pay much attention to the equity on his Audi, but assumed maybe there was a little bit left. Tristan was honestly happier with his life now than he’d ever been before. If he could get a job and car, then he could easily walk away from that shithole apartment and find somewhere else to live. So if letting Morgan keep whatever bit of money was left from his car made things stay on the straight and narrow, then so be it. Vaya con dios.

  The only thing that seemed remotely worth his time in the classifieds was a bartending job over on the other side of town at a supper club called “Gabriel’s.” The ad was pretty simple and just said to stop in and apply. Still, it was on the other side of town from him, and he needed to be able to get there. It’d been an unseasonably mild November, and there usually was snow on the ground by now, otherwise walking was an option. The busing system in town was decent, but if it was late at night when he finished, the buses only traveled on the hour. It would be a bitch to get back and forth.

  Peyton was due to arrive at any time, and Tristan had been ready to go for the last hour. His gym bag was waiting by the front door, and he’d already had lunch. Well, it was more like brunch a few hours ago, but he needed to eat before he took his meds, and he was half starved by the time he got up mid-morning.

  His new routine for the last week had included some pretty fucked up dreams that kept him from sleeping well. His childhood house was always somewhere in the middle, but he always woke himself up before he made it all the way into the tiny bedroom. There were other dreams, too, mostly of high school, and being bullied constantly by his classmates. The Valerie dream was coming at him less often, but it was still on his list.

  Tristan would have a variation of the same dreams over and over, and he was starting to expect them. He would wake up feeling like he was being held down by something and would have to mentally count to a hundred to keep himself from panicking. Some nights he would wake up in the midst of an all-consuming panic attack, one that would make him claw at his chest to ease the ache. Tristan still had no clue how to keep those under control and the only thing that made them stop was his anxiety meds.

  During his therapy appointments, Tristan would often skim over many of the things from his nightmares. He didn’t completely understand most of the ones involving his childhood home, and the ones from the club had already been thoroughly discussed and were old news. His therapist had told Tristan that he was pleased with his progress, but it was a small victory as far as things went. There was one thing that he knew for certain, and it was that thing that he felt like was holding him back. There wasn’t going to be a single fucking day that he didn’t have to fight his bi-polar disorder. It was always going to be a part of him; he would never be cured, and it sucked.

  His days were much better than his nights. It was a relief every day when Peyton would come bounding through the door, her dark hair framing her face and an award-winning smile lighting her up. It was the highlight of his day, but it also scared the shit out of him.

  Tristan had always been a loner. He was an only child, really didn’t have a huge collection of friends in school, very few friends once he dropped out of school and was working at J-View Plastics and he had next to no family. He didn’t rely on people to take care of him. Even as a young teenager, he’d taken care of his ailing grandmother before he left for school every day, and then when he came home. Then there were the faint recollections of taking care of his mother. There wasn’t much in his brain about his father and if he did try to remember the man, it usually left him feeling cold and alone. So often times, he slammed the door on those memories, and moved on.

  There wasn’t a time that he could remember being dependent on any one person. So this was all very unfamiliar territory for Tristan, and the jury was still out on whether or not he was comfortable with the way things were. But right now, he needed to focus on the small things that he could handle and go day by day, just like he’d told Chris has was doing. One foot in front of the other, he reminded himself…Nice and easy.

  Peyton bounded through the door, right on time as usual. She was wearing a pair of black second skin leggings, and when she slipped off her jacket, she had on a simple sports bra and flimsy tank top.

  Practically dancing over to him, she sang, “Good morning, sweets.”

  “Hey, baby. Sleep good?”

  “Yes, I did. Thank ya. You?”

  Tristan hadn’t told Peyton about his sleeping issues, and had no intentions of sharing any more of his faults than what she was already privy to. It just seemed like she had the upper hand in their relationship in everything, and there were some things that just didn’t need to be shared.

  “Yup. Like a baby.”

  “Hmm,” she answered as she gave him a tender kiss as he sat at a bar stool next to the kitchen counter. “How’s the job search coming?”

  Tristan shrugged and pointed to the bartending job that he’d spotted earlier. Peyton read the posting out loud, and then added, “Look! He’s got another ad in the next column for a Jeep for sale, too!”

  Laughing he asked, “How do you know that?” He was scanning the classifieds at the same time as she was, looking for any ads that would be similar.

  Peyton used her manicured fingernail to point at two different ads on the same page. “See? This has to be the same dude. Look, the copy number in the corner. It’s the same. Plus, both of them have the same address, and say that you have to stop by…you can’t call for information.”

  Tristan looked over at Peyton, and saw the furrow in between her eyes and the crinkle in her nose as she carefully studied the paper. The woman was alluring to him in so many different ways; she was caring, thoughtful, kind, considerate, patient, plus hot as sin and she was like a siren calling to him. She must have sensed that he was looking at her, because she turned and caught him and laughed, “What?”

  “Nothing, baby, just thinkin’ about how I must’ve done something right in another life to deserve you.” He accented his words by running his finger down the tip of her nose.

  “Aww, Tristan. That was sweet…but you don’t think you deserve me in this life?”

  Tristan was quick to pull her into his arms, and hoist her up onto the counter. “Nope. But I’ve decided that I like being on the good side, if I get awesome rewards for it. Like this…” Tristan nuzzled his mouth in between her covered breasts, and slowly moved his face to the left, inching closer and closer to her nipple that was straining to get through her layers. Using the tip of his nose, he brushed the peak and felt Peyton tense in his arms.

  Tristan stopped, slowly moving his face back just enough to look up. He was shocked when a pair of darkening green eyes, and a face filled with passion was gazing back at him. She was holding her bottom lip in between her teeth, and sat stone cold still.

  “I’m sorry, baby. Ready to go?” Tristan held out his hand to help Peyton off the counter, but she refused it and shook her head. Then she did something that completely surprised him; she grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it up and off her body. She crooked her little finger at him a few times and gave him a sexy come-hither look that nearly melted him into a puddle on the floor. Still, he’d started something that both of them wanted, but Peyton would regret later. He needed to put the brakes on this, and fast.

  “Peyton,” he said sternly, but with a smile on his face. “You have rules, and I’m trying to be good. If you keep looking at me like that, I might take your rule book and throw it out the fucking window.”

&nb
sp; Peyton didn’t falter at all, just tipped her head to the side, and winked at him. “You don’t think we can handle fooling around? Does foreplay always lead to sex for you, Tristan?”

  “The good kind….yes, and frankly, I don’t think there will be any other kind of foreplay with you than the good kind.”

  Peyton leaned towards him and held his face in her hands. She softly kissed his lips, but quickly let go and moved back to her spot. “Well, I know I can handle myself, and I think I’ve proven that I can handle you, too. So…” Her words were drowned out when she ran her hands down her sides, over her thighs and back up her flat tummy. She slowed the speed of her ascent, and teased him as she used her hands to push her breasts up, moving even slower as she crested the peaks.

  Tristan prided himself on having rock hard self-control and being able to quit while he was ahead. That faltered dramatically when he went through his manic episode, but he was quick to get it back. Standing here, watching his siren caress and hold her breasts in her hands, made every last inch of that restraint snap in two. He lunged forward, pushing Peyton’s hands out of the way, and lifted her sports bra up.

  The sight of her bronzed skin, contrasted by her rosy red nipples was just about his undoing. Each of her nipples was indeed pierced, with small silver bar bells on either side. Tristan’d had his own nipples pierced since he was eighteen years old, so he was very familiar with the heightened sensation that came with them.

  With sheer need honing his reflexes, Tristan latched on to Peyton’s left breast, wrapping his lips around the metal stud and gently pulling back. He was rewarded with a groan from deep inside her body, so he did it again, this time just a bit harder. She hissed for a second and grabbed the back of his head firmly in her hands, holding him to her. Tristan couldn’t help but smile against her flesh, loving the way that she directed him. He did love to be the one in control during sex, but to have his sweet and tender woman telling him exactly what she needed in this way, was fucking hot.

  Tristan moved away from the overly-erect and glistening wet nipple and inched towards its lonely partner. He lavished the same attention on this one, using his teeth to slide the stud back and forth as he pulled the nub out.

  “Oh, God, Tristan. That feels good. More.”

  Tristan wrapped his hands around Peyton’s back and lifted her off the counter. She clung to him, as he nipped and licked every inch of her neck and then her face. He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and let go of his hold on her. Peyton slid down his body and her hands fell to her sides. Tristan told her with a laugh, “Nope. No more for you, Fancy Pants.”

  She put her lips out in a mock pout and smacked him in the arm. “Ah! There are other areas involved in foreplay, Tristan Hart! If I knew your middle name, I soooo would have used it there, buddy!”

  Tristan pulled her tight up against him, and kissed her long and hard. When he let go, she was panting and she was looking up at him through her eyelashes. “My middle name is Blair, and when you’re ready for me to see all of your areas,” he gave her a jerk against his body for emphasis, “it will be when you are ready to scream my name a good half dozen times.” He gave her a kiss on the nose, and let go of her, leaving her standing there completely dazed.

  “Come on, baby. Let’s go to the gym and work off some of this extra energy.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Work outs completed for the day, Tristan and Peyton were cleaned up and headed to Gabriel’s Supper Club. As they pulled into the parking lot, Peyton belly laughed at what was sitting in front of the supper club. It was an older, hard body, green Jeep that had seen better days. There was a for sale sign fixed to the spare tire on the back end, and Tristan couldn’t help but join Peyton in her laughter.

  “Told ya, baby. I have a few errands to run, so I’ll be back to pick you up in a bit. If the interview doesn’t go well, just call me and I’ll come back ASAP. Okay?”

  Tristan nodded and then gave her a kiss, before hopping out of the car. Gabriel’s looked pretty well worn down from the outside and he wasn’t so sure about even going inside to ask about the job, let alone go in and apply for the job. But no sooner did he have second thoughts about the whole thing, than a dark skinned, muscular, middle aged man that looked a lot like Mr. Clean came to the door, carrying a box in his arms.

  Holding the door open for him, Tristan was told by the man, “Don’t open until five. Come back then.”

  The door slid out of Tristan’s fingers and slammed shut. He felt like he was standing at a crossroads right now. He had the perfect opportunity to get away without looking like a lame ass, and forget the whole thing. But, this was the first place that he even felt as if he had a shot at getting a job, even if it was more than likely going to be at a dive. At least it was work.

  “I’m actually here about the bartending job.”

  The man looked up from fumbling with the keys in his hand, and gave Tristan a once over. “Alright. Any experience, tending bar?”

  Tristan shook his head, but still confidently said, “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

  “Where do you work now?”

  “I don’t.”

  “College?”

  “Nope.”

  “Finish high school?”

  “Nope.”

  “Look, kid. I know my place isn’t much to look at, but we serve good food and it’s cheap. I have a fairly large clientele that comes every weekend, and they like to drink. I need someone that is prepared to work hard, can shoot the shit at the same time he mixes drinks, and keeps everything flowing nicely. I don’t have time to be picky about who I choose, but I at least gotta know that you will work your ass off when I ask of it.”

  Tristan didn’t hesitate, “Sounds good. I’m no stranger to hard work.”

  “Really, kid? Have you ever even held down a job?”

  The words left Tristan’s mouth before he realized what he was doing, “Sure. I worked for J-View Plastics for a handful of years.”

  Saying that you worked for J-View Plastics was going to get you one of three things: a pat on the back with anything complimentary you wanted, a swift punch in the gut, or a ride downtown. This guy didn’t look like he was real happy right now, so Tristan was bracing for a punch in the gut.

  “But you don’t work there anymore?”

  Tristan was relieved that he wasn’t doubled over, clutching his stomach, but still leery of the old guy.

  “No. Got a problem with them?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. The fucker that runs that place will rot in hell one day, I know that for a fact.”

  Tristan did everything he could to steel his features so that he wouldn’t seem shocked by the words. It was very rare to hear anyone talk badly about J-View Plastics, let alone his Uncle Morgan. It didn’t bother him in the least, in fact, it was the truth. There were so many shady business deals, strange union rules, unexplained employee injuries and deaths, as well as more than enough pollution concerns to shut the entire place down, but yet it still stood and made Morgan a very rich man.

  “Yeah, you got that right. Morgan’s my uncle, but I gotta get out from underneath the bastard or, I’ll end up going nowhere even faster than I already am.”

  The man stood there, holding his box in one hand and the keys to the front door in the other. It seemed like he was contemplating something, and felt it necessary to stare Tristan down as he did it. Whatever he was thinking, the tight frown lines on his face were softening with every moment that passed.

  “Any addiction problems? Drugs? Alcohol?”

  Tristan shook his head and added, “Never. I enjoy a beer every now and then, but my kidneys work hard enough as it is. I only drink when there is a solid purpose for it.”

  “Okay, fine. Medical condition that I need to be aware of?”

  Tristan was ready to dismiss the question when his conscience stopped him dead. The old man didn’t ask the question with malice, and he didn’t want to start off working for the guy with a big lie
hanging between them. If he was going to work here, even if just for a few months, someone was bound to see him that knew his history, and then it would feel like his omission was a flat out lie. If he didn’t want him working there, it was better to get it out now before he got excited about the possibilities.

  “Physically…no. Mentally…yes. I was treated recently for a severe manic episode; I’m bi-polar.”

  The audible gasp that came out of the man’s mouth was disturbing, but he quickly closed his mouth and looked away. Long minutes passed before he finally spoke to Tristan again. “That isn’t something to fuck around with, kid.”

  “I know,” Tristan answered. “Christ, I know,” he added sullenly.

  The man set the box down on the retaining wall for the flower bed surrounding the building, and held his hand out to Tristan. “Name’s Gabriel. You can start this Friday at five on the nose. We’ll just throw you in and see if you sink or float. Got it?”

  Tristan smirked as he said, “Yes, sir.” Gabriel might be ornery, but he was honest and obviously knew the meaning of hard work. There was something about the way that he didn’t look at him with pity when he found out that he was bi-polar, and didn’t hold it against him. It was also nice to know that he would be working somewhere that didn’t have a standard operating procedure for how to inflict the most damage on a person with the least amount of force.

  “Okay, then. We’ll see you on Friday. We’re pretty informal, there are no uniforms. Just make sure that you wear good solid shoes. You’ll be on your feet all night.”

  Tristan nodded, and looked over his shoulder at the Jeep that was sitting in the parking lot. It was pretty rough around the edges, sporting rust throughout the body, but it seemed to be solid.

  “How much do you want for the Jeep?”

  Gabriel looked over at the aged beast, and answered, “Hey, if you’re gonna work for me, you can have it and I’ll take a few dollars out of your paycheck. Deal?”