Books, Writing

Tristan Harty

Tristan Harty. Once a teenage heartthrob sporting floppy hair that dusted over his striking blue eyes now a thorn in her side, he climbed the charts with a handful of songs plucked out on his guitar. The trajectory of his career followed most who began the same. He grew older, teenage girls moved on, his star faded. Now, he was trying a comeback thanks to the rise in ‘90s nostalgia and his PR team had finagled an exclusive interview with her boss.

Instead of the leather jacket overtop an expertly distressed t-shirt, he was dressed like Father Christmas. A black suit coat tailored tight to his thin frame was unbuttoned over a crimson vest. There was even a pocket watch of all things attached to the vest as if he was about to recite some Dickens to the flocking photographer. Time had thinned the soulful mane of his younger years, the locks shorn to an inch and a receding hairline revealing a great forehead.

While most men his age would have wrinkles piling up across that vast brow, the cold demeanor of Tristan Harty kept his face nearly as preserved as if he were a botoxed socialite. Somehow, his record company convinced an entire generation of fifteen-year-olds that he was the deepest, most soulful man in existence. Beth wanted to laugh at the thought when the man in question focused away from his photographer to the woman dripping at the front door.

Eyes bluer than a sapphire burned into her soul. She tried to swallow but her throat constricted. Even turning her head was proving impossible as ten thousand watts bore down upon her.

Meet Tristan and Beth Cho in Pride & Pancakes coming December 17th.