Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) (4 page)

For now anyway.

Good riddance? ~ Jeff

Seventeen plus years…

You think you know someone and then they pull a Dr. Jekyll on you. Tristan taking off in the face of conflict isn’t too much of a divergence from his norm though. Usually he just self-medicates so I’ll admit I was a little surprised to not find him hiding at home, bombed out of his mind. The dude has never dealt with shit like this very well. He doesn’t like talking about stuff. Hell, he doesn’t even like thinking about it. Still, he’s never shut me out like this. And that’s what hurts the most.

I shook myself and all the soft, fluttery feelings from looking at pictures of us on his bulletin board evaporated. Kind of like my ex-best friend.

Shit!

I don’t know what I’m more pissed about…that he’s gone or that I’m relieved he is.

Hide and Seek ~ Pete

It was almost too easy. I mean it wasn’t actually easy after the effort I put in, but even after the guy at the reservation shack at the second beach campground I stopped at verified they had a vehicle with the bus’ license plate registered since Sunday, I honestly had to blink a couple times to make sure the bus I pulled up next to wasn’t a mirage.

Like I said, it was too easy…because of course, he’s not actually here.

Lots of empty bottles of liquor were though. I stepped back outside the bus and stood there, just staring at it, thinking about what he might be going through. He was hurting. I’d read in him on that video something not many would’ve seen even if they’d been paying close attention because he’d held onto it with an iron fist. He’d worked hard and successfully kept it from surfacing so Camie wouldn’t see it, almost like he was keeping it all for himself so she wouldn’t suffer like him, and as I thought about the pain that drove him here and listening to the ocean waves below, I realized all his surf boards were still strapped to the roof. Then I did the math.

OH FUCK!

Time is valuable ~ Jeff

“No, he’s not here.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“I dunno, Katy, I might go out to the lake and see if he’s hiding out there, but I kind of doubt he will be.”

“Then don’t waste your time going out there…where do you think he might be?”

“Drunk on a beach somewhere, but you know, right now I don’t really give a shit where the fuck he is. As far as I’m concerned, he can rot in hell.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Katy, stop. Right now I’m so pissed at him that I want you to let me wish him dead for a little while, okay?”

“Alright. Are you gonna keep looking?”

“Nah, I’m done wasting my time on him...see you in a few.”

Simple addition ~ Pete

When I put two and two together, I hauled ass. If I hadn’t…well, to put it simply, sixty seconds later it probably would’ve been too late. And I’ll never forget the icy fear of seeing Tristan stumbling around in the water and the enormous waves come crashing down on him.

“Tristan! Jesus Christ!”
He didn’t move. He was just letting the current take him out to sea and by the time I finally got to him, shoulder deep in the water and rolled him over, I thought for sure he was unconscious, or worse…dead.

He was neither. He was, however, kind of pissed.

Being as drunk as he was, the punch he landed was pure luck. Also, if he’d had decent footing or really put anything behind it, I have not a doubt that he would’ve fractured my jaw. That wasn’t his intention though; he was single-minded in his determined attempt to get free of me any way he could, but his outrageous level of intoxication had him just flailing around. I don’t think he even knew who I was until I dragged him up to the shore.

“Goddamnit! Tristan, relax!”

“Git offa me! Lemme f’ckin’ go, g’damnit! Need water t’drown!” He slurred in an incoherent fit of temper.

 
“
What the fuck?!
Are you
trying
to kill yourself?!” I asked and made a grab for his waist when he tried to crawl back towards the ocean.

My voice seemed to finally penetrate into his awareness and he stopped struggling. “Y—you’re m’ gay Pete!”

I couldn’t help it. I started cracking up.

“Aw shit, Tristan…I’m not gay and you know it, you drunk fucker,” I said and pulled him up further so that we could both sit but so I could keep my arms clamped around his waist at the same time. It was meant to be preemptive; I figured if he made another escape attempt it would be easier for me than having to tackle him, although after what I’d just said, I laughed at the visual the two of us made. If anyone happened to see us, his head on my chest and my arms wrapped around his waist while he lay sprawled out in front of me, it would look like two guys were enjoying a romantic moment, watching the sun set over the water.

“I know, but I still lo—hey! D’ya know how f’ckin’ hard ‘t is t’drown w’out water?”

“I imagine it’s pretty hard…Tristan,
why
in God’s name would you wanna kill yourself?”

He scoffed and then with typical arrogance he said, “Jus’ w’nted to see wha’ drown’ns like…water’s not g’na kill me, Camie’s g’na ‘cause I love her more.”

Then he did something that in the nine years or so that I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him do…

He threw up.

I didn’t even think he knew how…

Just call me Betty ~ Pete

“Anything?”

“Jillian?” I asked in surprise.

“Did you forget who you were calling?”

You’d think I’d be used to this stuff by now but, that was creepy. Even for Jillian. I’d barely hit send on my cell phone and it never even had the chance to ring before she was on the other end.

“Uh, no…that was just…never mind. It’s a miracle, but, I found him.”

“I knew you would. Where was he?”

“Uh…in Carlsbad.” That is, floating right into Davey Jones’s locker off the coast of Carlsbad…

“So you guys should be back home in a couple hours then, right?”

“Um, about that…”

“Oh for the love of God…okay, just tell me.”

“He needs to dry out, Jillian.” Puking got him started, but if I could wring his liver out, that would be immensely helpful.

“Ah. How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.” Under normal circumstances I’d give her specifics, but finding Tristan like that; in the process of quite literally drowning his sorrows, is far removed from anything like normal and I don’t think
anyone
needs to know exactly what a close call it was. Jillian would be furious and she’d never let all parties involved forget it. The guilt she’d rain down on everyone would be like showering in napalm and guilt is how he got here in the first place. “Look, it worked in October but I don’t think it’s a good idea to push him on this one so I called my mom already and told her I’m probably sleeping over at his house for the rest of the week, can I assume you’ll write me a note excusing me from school?”

“What, something like, to whom it may concern, please excuse my son for his absence this week, he was doing important field work for the Betty Ford clinic?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“So where exactly are you guys then, I hear traffic.”

“He’s back at the mobile clinic and I’m on the way to a grocery store for field supplies.”

“Is leaving him alone the best idea? What if he takes off again while you’re gone?”

“It’s all good, he’s not goin’ anywhere. Call me tomorrow and give me a status report?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Jillian?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to get some rest tonight.” She won’t admit it, but I can hear it in her voice…she’s wiped out.

“I will…it would be easier if there was something good on TV though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, I’m gonna miss watching TV tonight too.” It’s become kind of a habit to wind down at night and fall asleep with the TV on, so I’m preparing myself for a restless evening.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, g’night.”

I hung-up, tossed my phone down next to both sets of keys for the bus, and started chuckling about her concern over the possibility of Tristan making a run for it. I’d kind of like to see him try. Houdini would have a hard time escaping out of the handcuffs and bungee cords I tied Tristan up with, and if he was actually able to do it and then managed to hot-wire his bus after also reconnecting the coil wire, then he deserves his freedom.

Three

Wednesday, Week One

Unnerving normalcy ~ Jeff

“Hey, any of you guys see Pete?” This guy, Alan, from the baseball team asked Katy and me on Wednesday.

“I ran into him yesterday on the way to fourth and he was going home sick. Why?” Melissa asked, walking up with Jillian.

Jillian… I just don’t get how she can be so fuckin’ unemotional about how her sister was dumped. You’d think
she’d
be the first in line to want a piece of Tristan’s hide but it seems like she couldn’t care less. Yeah, Jillian’s pissing me off alright. I really don’t wanna go to war with that chick though, so I guess as long as she continues to keep her opinions to herself, we’ll be fine.

“I was gonna see if he’d let me borrow his
SNL
DVDs for my project in government,” He came to the right place then because Pete’s a
huge
Saturday Night Live
fan, but if Alan’s thinking of borrowing
all
of them, he’d better show up with a forklift. “But if he’s sick, I’m staying the hell away…”

Yeah, I don’t blame him. Two things; Pete’s gotta get better so he can hardcore train to be in peak condition because when the season starts, some pro ball scouts are slated to show up and the other thing, Pete turns into a cranky old man when he’s sick. I might be a whiny ass when I don’t feel good but at least I don’t get all snappish and jump down people’s throats.

Huh. I’d forgotten about Pete. I wonder where he stands on this whole thing. Shit, he’ll probably side with Tristan because he needs him to catch.

“Okay, you guys, this is getting a little unnerving, don’t you think?” Melissa asked as Alan wandered away and I knew exactly what she was talking about, but Tristan isn’t worthy of my concern so I pretended to not follow.

“What’s unnerving?”

“Uh, only that no one’s heard from Tristan since early Sunday afternoon, no one has any idea where he is, and no one seems to be concerned about whether he’s even okay…” she said, sounding a little uppity in my opinion.

“What’s to worry about? Besides, who gives a shit if he’s okay or not? He doesn’t give a shit about any of us so fuck him…I went to hunt him down last night so I could kick his cowardly ass, but I decided he isn’t worth my time. Oh and by the way, nice job supporting your friend. I’m sure Camie appreciates you taking that dick’s side over hers.” Maybe that’ll teach her to be an enemy sympathizer in my presence.

“You’re a
real
jerk, Jeff, you know that?! I’m not taking
anyone’s
side in this! I care about both of them and right now, Tristan is missing and that worries me! Camie, however,
seems
to be doing just fine on her own!” Melissa spit at me like an angry cat.

I really wanted to clobber Melissa, however, Katy’s quiet but insistent squeezing of my hand helped me keep my cool and I looked over at where Melissa had flung her hand out when she said Camie’s name. She does seem to be doing fine. She’s hanging out with sophomores at the moment but other than that, Camie seems A-OK. Maybe I should ask her how she did it.
 
You know, how she got over him so fast.

Nah. I think I’ll just seethe and stew for a little while longer and then I’ll mourn the death of what used to be a
beautiful friendship
. Yeah, I know…my dad and Valerie were watching
Casablanca
last night.

“Whatever…if you’re gonna try to be neutral here, that’s your thing, but he’s dead to me.”

“You know, you’ll feel like whale shit if something bad hap—” Melissa started to lecture when she was interrupted in a particularly timely manner if I do say so myself, seeing as how I was the one who interrupted her.

“Why the hell
is
Camie hanging out with a bunch of sophomores?”

“Jesus, Jeff, you’re a jerk
and
a snob…she happens to be a sophomore too, you know? Not only that, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that all you’ve been doing the last two days is going on and on about how happy you’ll be when you’ve got the head of the guy she loves mounted on your wall! Come on, Jill—” Melissa snapped and went to grab Jillian’s arm to stomp off. She grabbed air though. Jillian had pulled another disappearing rabbit trick. It didn’t even faze Melissa because she just whirled around in a huff anyway and left me to contemplate her accusation and observation.

I looked back over at where Camie was standing, laughing with a small, but cool looking group of underclassmen. Maybe Melissa’s right. Camie looks happy, but her smile isn’t reaching her eyes. Am
I
responsible for Camie’s decision to take a step down on the social ladder? And if that’s the case, does that mean Camie still loves him, even after what he did?

“Babe, are you okay?” Katy asked, breaking into my reverie about whether I should maybe tone it down a bit for Camie’s benefit when she’s around.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine…do you think what she sai—”

“You’re mad and hurt and so is Camie. I think she’s putting on an act of normalcy and trying to do what she said she wanted to do…move on, you know? All we can do is support her while she does it. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that we were doing the same thing, remember?”

I don’t have to remember…I’m still doing it.

At the mercy of a necromancer ~ Tristan

Christ, that must be one
hell
of a tempest raging out there…

I shifted in bed and the motion made me realize the violent pounding of what I thought was a hurricane going on outside was actually my head insistently and sarcastically saying, “Thanks for the abuse, asshole.” It was speaking for itself and the rest of my wretchedly sore body. I sincerely groaned my apologies to them both.

“Mornin’, sunshine, or rather, afternoon…how’s the head?” I heard him chuckle and cracked my eyes open to see Pete sitting in the passenger seat facing me and eating a Twinkie.