Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) (51 page)

Seeing her so despondent and knowing he was probably in even worse shape, well, it pissed me off so completely that I decided fuck the bitch—the queen of spades that is, not Camie—and damned the consequences. I’m gonna play trump and hope I don’t get slammed.

I got slammed alright, just not how I expected to be. In fact, I was in for a major surprise. I sent him a text asking where he was, which he responded to almost immediately, and learned he was at home. So, with the cats, I made the three-minute drive to his house, ready to play my card. But when I got there, it took me a minute to remember why I was there to begin with. I walked into his room, which I don’t think I’ve seen this clean since his mom stopped picking up after him when he was ten, I let the cats off their leashes and had to shout above the raging of Disturbed’s “Down With the Sickness” for him to even notice I was there. When he saw me just as the song started to get particularly nasty, he pointed the remote at his stereo and turning it down, he said, “That’s enough out of you, next!” With that, a song I didn’t know being performed by people I didn’t know replaced the ugly swearing out of someone’s mom in the last song…granted, the first part of “Down With the Sickness” is awesome, but, no one wants to hear someone scream that his mom is a bitch and a whore…

Watching Tristan struggle to remain still so the cats could greet him and listening to the guy and girl harmonizing while singing, “please read the letter that I wrote,” I asked,“Hey, who is this?” It sounded
way
old school, but, I
really
liked it.

“Awesome song, huh? Alison Krauss and Robert Plant…” he told me, sounding far more upbeat than I’d expected to find him. Actually, I’d say he was on the hyper side, which combined with his practically spotless room and his buzzing around, randomly picking stuff up, hanging or removing something from the wall, and
dusting
, well, it made me think he’d finally had a mental breakdown. Either that or he’s on crystal meth…

“Uh, yeah, it is…um…what’s goin’ on, Trist? You okay?” I asked and took a look at the surprisingly tidy bulletin board he’d stopped in front of.

“Yep! I’m good…just cleanin’ shit up and gettin’ rid of crap,” he answered and went to remove Camie’s bra from its place of high esteem.

“Aw dude…no. Not that… Jesus, just tell her the fuckin’ truth already and stop th—”

“Already there, man,” he said, looking at the bra in his hands before adding it to a plastic bag at his feet. I hadn’t noticed it before, or I did, but it just looked like one of the many bags of trash lying around his room. However, when he stuck Camie’s bra inside, I saw it contained everything Camie that’d been visible and invisible in his room…pictures, cards, drawings on napkins…all kinds of shit he’d collected that reminded him of her.

“
Y—you are
? When, er, how…I mean um…uh, what made you finally come to
that
decision?” Fuck. In my whole life, I can’t remember a time I was
that
tongue-tied.

“You sound surprised,” he said in self-deprecation and when I nodded with my hands in the air like, “Well, uh-huh yeah, duh!” he pointed the remote at the stereo again to turn the music off, picked up the one for his TV and said, “It gets better…watch this shit.”

Remember how I said I hadn’t been that tongue-tied in my life? I mean I
just
said it so really, it shouldn’t be hard. Well, this beat that hands down. And wouldn’t you just know it; he’d had the bitch all along, just like I knew he did. Only, he took the trick, not me…

“Jesus fucking Christ…what the fuck?”
I mumbled aloud. I think. Well, no, I must’ve because he explained what I was seeing.

That being him defiantly not allowing anyone to hold a teeny-tiny baby for more than maybe a minute at a time. He was holding her, loving on her and looking like he was in toddler heaven when someone would wanna see her or hold her and then he’d grudgingly give her up, fold his arms, glare at the person, and then tap his foot impatiently for them to give her back. And when they did, he was right as rain again. He didn’t even play for Christ’s sake and it was
his
fucking birthday party! He just held the baby or stayed glued to the side of anyone who had her. Then when his cousin, Paul, skipped up wanting to see what was so special and pushed Tristan in order to take cuts in the baby holding line, Trist shoved him to the ground and standing over Paul he yelled, “You don’t get to hold my baby! She’s my baby! I love her and I won’t let you hurt her!” Tristan’s dad was chuckling behind the camera, proud to see his son finally stand up to his cousin, whom I’d completely forgotten until now used to bully us when we were really little. The dick used to bite us and push us down
all
the fucking time, and then one day, Paul simply stopped bullying us. I’m kinda thinking it was this event I’m watching on video that made him stop…

When I asked Tristan about the bag after I’d processed as best I could, he told me about the talk he had with his mom last night and after watching this video a few thousand times since then, he’d had some epiphanies, come to some conclusions, and made some decisions. He said that he was dealing with his ghosts and demons, and was coming to terms with his past regrets…and that he was moving on.

I looked at him when he said all that and couldn’t help but ask, “Dude, did you really just partially quote a Rascal Flatts song as the reason for cleaning your room, wiping away all trace of a chick you still more than love, and finally deciding to tell her the truth?”

“Yeah, I did. Music’s some pretty powerful shit when you let yourself hear it…”

I was at a loss for words again, but watching him shake the contents of the bag down and then pick it up, I found my voice, “Then why get rid of any of that? It’s not over, Trist, you know that, right? I mean if you tell her the truth, it’s not over…”

Tristan sighed and sat at the foot of his bed with the bag still clutched in his hands. “No, I don’t know that for certain, Jeff, but, I can’t keep goin’ on like this and I can’t keep hurting her either. I hope she’ll forgive me, I really do, but I’m not doin’ it for her…I’m doin’ it for me. And yeah, I know there’s a small chance it’s not, but I’ve come to accept the more likely probability that it’s over between Camie and me and it’s gonna hurt like a mother fucker and probably for a
really
long-ass time. I mean I’m still gonna tell her everything, but, if after I do and she ends everything for good, I can’t come back to all this. It’d just be…fuck, it’d just be too much.”

“But, dude, what if she doesn’t end it, what if everything works out? You’re tossing all this stuff, all these memories and symbols out the window based on an uncertainty!”

“It’s just stuff…but, actually, I’m not. Tossin’ anything out the window that is. I’m not getting rid of any of it…I’m just making it easier on myself if my fairytale is over. I figure I’ll stick the bag in my closet and it’ll already be taken care of and easier if I do have to toss it, you know? I won’t have to relive all these things when I’m hurting as badly as I will be.”

“Wow, um…well, okay…I guess that makes sense. Um, when are you planning on talking to her though? I mean, I really hate to tell you this, Trist, but after last night, she’s afraid you’re gonna try to stop her from goin’ to the dance…like kidnap her or something.”

He sort of chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s something I’d totally do, but, I won’t. She really wants to go and while I’m really, seriously,
vehemently
opposed to her goin’ with fucking Evil, I—I gotta let her. She’s right…it’s not like he’s gonna be able to get away with much at a dance when they’re surrounded by my friends. Whom, I might add, I’m expecting to keep Camie in eyesight
every fucking second
of this stupid dance, you got it? I mean it, Jeff, you guys keep her in sight the entire time because I will honestly and truly murder that guy if he fucks with her in any way. And as far as when I’m planning to talk to her…well, that’s up to her. I want her to pick a time that works for her, you know? I don’t wanna be the reason she fails her driver’s test again or something. I’m thinking of writing her a letter just to let her know I’m ready to tell her everything so I might drop it by her house tomorrow or something…I dunno but, Jeff, promise me you won’t let her out of your sight tonight. I mean I get that you’re goin’ to a dance and Kate’s gonna wanna actually do that and all that shit, but, just promise me, okay?”

“You really don’t trust this fucker, do you?” I know his reasons…Camie told Katy and me the Samantha story and I remembered that night and how weird and pissy he was, and even though Camie made a very sensible argument that I actually sorta-kinda agree with—a little-ish, I can tell Trist still really doesn’t trust the guy.

“Uh-uh, I don’t. Not even a little…I can just feel it, there’s something off with him, but I have to show Camie I trust and respect her so that’s why I’m backing off tonight and why you guys can’t let me down.”

“You know, Brandon goes to school with him…and uh, that night we got in that fight, he said the guy was bad news…did you ever think about asking him if he’d heard anything the guy might’ve said about Camie?” I hated to admit that I’ve known Brandon’s opinion this whole time, but if it’ll help Trist get some perspective or get a little more information to go on, then he should have it.

“Yeah, actually, I did…I tried texting and calling, but Brandon’s keeping his phone off for his own reasons, so I went down to Valhalla earlier to catch him at school. He wasn’t there, but I ran into Samantha and her boyfriend… Get this, well first, you’re not gonna believe this shit, but Josh, her boyfriend, actually thanked me for fucking his girlfriend and giving her back to him,” he told me, shaking his head in a kind of bewildered disbelief that I found myself doing as well, because wow… I mean I can’t imagine what that was like for
either
of them, you know? Talk about awkward. “I know, but listen to this, you remember when we went bowling and that whole thing with the text and Kate burying my hooker?”

“Yeah,” I answered and started laughing a little. Oh God, that was priceless…

“Well, Samantha never sent that fucking text. She and Josh never even broke up, they’ve been together ever since I talked her into calling him.”

“What the fuck? Who sent it then?”

“Well, she’d left her phone on the counter so it would’ve been easy for anyone to pick it up and do, but we’re thinking it was Evil Scott. You know, I mean who else would’ve done something like that to her? Samantha told me that when she saw me at the bowling alley, she pointed me out to Sarah and they were talking about what I did and that whole night…she thinks Evil overheard her and to either be a dick or to play a sick joke, he sent it…you know, just to stir the pot and see what happened. But that was also the night he waited for Camie to come out of the bathroom and then purposely ran into her, so I think there’s more to it, but, even if there isn’t and the guy is just a sick fucker bent on making Samantha’s life hell, I don’t trust him as far as one of my cats can throw him.”

Yeah, I really don’t blame him. And knowing that, I have no problem making a promise to keep Camie in eyesight at all times tonight and because I can’t—well, I
can
, but that might not go over well—I even promised him that Katy would go with her to the bathroom.

I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to my best friend’s baby on
my
watch, especially while he’s gearing up to do battle with his ghosts and demons…

Formalities ~ Pete

I know the rules.

I must follow the rules. Follow the rules or pay the price.

I’m getting sick of the goddamned rules, but, I don’t wanna pay the price of breaking them. And, I’ll admit, following them is gonna be really damned difficult to do tonight. She looks incredible. Even though her hair isn’t spilling down her back the way I like it best, she’s still irresistible and my palms have been itching ever since I first set eyes on her tonight.

Not really paying attention to the random gabbing goin’ on next to me, I just stood there and watched her as she and Melissa checked into their hotel rooms and when they were finished, my eyes followed them, or rather,
her
into the ladies’ room. Over the din of voices belonging to my fellow classmates milling around the lobby, in the ballroom just a little ways down the hall from where we were standing, the dance DJ could just barely be heard. He made some kind of indistinguishable announcement that no one cared about, but then girls started towing their dates down the hall towards the ballroom when Kool & The Gang started chanting “Celebrate good times, come on!” I was still staring at the closed door of the ladies’ room when a loud, yet familiarly jovial voice snapped me out of my reverie.

“Dude!”
Jeff hollered, just arriving with Kate, Camie and the schmuck, and sounding happy as all get out, “What are you doin’ here?! You crashin?”

“Hell no! I’m here with Sexy...your quarterback is fuckin’
pissed
! It’s fuckin’ awesome!” Brandon enthused and bumped fists with Jeff in greeting.

“Sweet! You guys back together then?”

“Yep, sure are!”

“Right on, but hey, just so I’m on the same page, when’d that happen?”

“Yester—er, this morning?” Brandon asked in answer and looked at me.

“Yeah, anytime past midnight means it’s the nex—” I started to answer and chuckled when Brandon interrupted me. He’s kinda high tonight. From what I gather, he’s had about as much sleep as Tristan this last week except where Tristan gets short tempered, it appears Brandon gets hyper. And, a little chatty. It’s actually kinda funny. I’m also guessing the three five-hour energy drinks he downed in the limo have kicked in…

He’d interrupted me to tell Jeff how it happened and was in the middle of laughing and saying, “Yeah…check out my fuckin’ hands,” while turning his hands over and back so Jeff could see all the scrapes and scratches he’d received climbing a rose covered trellis on the side of Melissa’s house. Twice. “Yeah, and if you think that’s bad, you should see the ones on my arms…the goddamned things even tore my fuckin’ shirt! I was a bloody mess!”