Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) Read online

  I tried, but I think I pretty much fuckin’ failed to hide my glare of irritation. I gave Katy a look of my own that told her she better have had a fuckin’ really good reason to invite someone to dinner tonight without checking with me first. It’s not that I mind cooking for other people or even something other than what I’d planned on, but fuck! I mean who wouldn’t choose lobster and candlelight over hamburgers with the fuckin’ TV on? We even talked about it last night as a family and that’s why my dad and Valerie made their own dinner plans for tonight. It was like a gift or something. I can get over the food thing, but Katy and I have just had so much goin’ on the last few months and I miss spending time with just her!

  “Babe, I’m sorry…I just didn’t know what else to do!” Katy whispered to me as Camie walked over to where her stuff was and started packing up.

  “Why did you have to do anything?” I whispered back in annoyance. Yeah, I know, I’m starting to sound like a chick who’s on the rag. I think that conversation with Jillian got to me a little…

  “Because when Camie texted Tristan to tell him she was gonna be coming home, she almost started bawling because he sent her one back that said he was gonna be there for a couple more hours at least while he and her dad fix some leak on his car. She doesn’t wanna go home while he’s still there, you know? Melissa left early and I—well, I just feel so bad for her… Babe, she’s still so torn up about everything with him and her mom and having her come over for dinner was the only thing I could think of that might make her smile. And it was all me, I swear…she even protested because she doesn’t wanna intrude, but I told her she was being ridiculous. Was I wrong to tell her that?” Katy explained and with one look into her exquisite green eyes I was done.

  “No, you weren’t wrong…you’re being an amazing friend and showing the world why I’m the luckiest guy alive. Don’t let me forget to pick up some mushrooms and Swiss cheese for the burgers when we get the bacon, though, okay?”

  “You’re absolutely the best, you know that, right?”

  “It only counts if you know it.”

  Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ prince alright…

  Guys don’t stop for directions, but, maybe we should ~ Tristan

  Camie’s dad and I had just finished up replacing all the radiator clamps and hoses on my car and we were in the process of cleaning the mess we’d made in the garage when I recognized Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe” starting to play on the radio. As casually as I could, I walked over and turned the volume down. It was for both of our benefits. I’m hard pressed to not bawl like a fuckin’ baby as it is when I hear that song, which I interpret as being about a man who’s questioning the meaning of life while staring at death in regard to someone whom he loves beyond measure. There’s a haunting message of universal hope that we’ll see our loved ones again on the other side, and it communicates to me the idea that life should be lived to the fullest and makes a claim that even with all the pain that’s out there that our lives are better lived if they’re shared. But, standing here with a man who’s daughter I’ve hurt and love more than I can stand, a man who’s facing the very real possibility of forever losing his partner in life…his soul mate…his wife for Christ’s sake, well…you get my fucking point here I’m sure. I didn’t really wanna cap off a perfectly enjoyable evening where we’d successfully gotten most of our knuckles bloody and then washed the scrapes and tears in our skin with motor oil and antifreeze with the two of us having ourselves what I’m sure would be a very manly heart-to-heart crying session, you know what I mean?

  The thing is…I wasn’t casual enough.

  I turned around and just barely caught his small grin as he shifted his eyes from me to the rag and tool he had in his hands. Then as he cleaned the nutdriver, he cleared his throat and said, “Ya ever wonder why we do it? Put so much of our time and energy into our ride? The engine upkeep, the daily maintenance, waxin’ and puttin’ a nice set of wheels on…we get all cut up and go through hell in the process and what for? Is it just so we look good and can fly through the traffic without feelin’ all the bumps in the road?

  “Ya know, Boy, lately, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about it drivin’ to and from work everyday and it seems like no matter what we do, we just won’t ever have that perfect ride. Somethin’s always needin’ to be fixed, paint chips and peels with age, we get flats ‘cause the streets are filled with potholes and nails, not to mention that they’re littered with other people’s trash…but ya know somethin’, I don’t think any or all of that would ever convince me to give it up. There’s just nothin’ quite like cruisin’ along at sunset with the windows rolled down on a beautiful Sunday.

  “And I’ll tell ya somethin’ else, I’ve got a lotta miles under my belt and in my experience, the drive’s even better when you got a good girl sittin’ next to you. Now, I made my choice when I saw this pretty little gal on the side of the road one day when I was about your age, and I wouldn’t make a u-turn even knowin’ what’s around the bend. You just gotta decide for yourself if you’d rather go it alone for a while or if it’s worth it for you to pull over and ask if she’d like to go for a nice long ride.”

  “What if it’s not that easy? What if the brakes are faulty or she says she wants to walk?”

  “Well, there’s always that chance, and most girls need you to ask ‘em more than once, and I think you’ll find that a girl who climbs in easy like that is usually only interested in your car’s paint job or maybe just a joy ride from time to time. But, the girl who tries to say she’d rather walk all that way…well, that’s the kinda girl you might wanna consider makin’ the effort of pullin’ the emergency brake for and turnin’ the car off so you can get out and hold the door open for her, and if she’s already got some blisters on her feet, you also might wanna think about takin’ her hand and helpin’ her get in.

  “Now, she might get out again down the road a ways, which is okay too ‘cause not everyone is meant to take the same road trip, but when the right girl comes along, well, she’s the one you’ll find you can take turns drivin’ the whole way with.” I was simply nodding my understanding of what he was telling me, but I had to cover my mouth and cough in order to hide my laughter when Jillian came out with my girls and their suitcase and her dad quietly wrapped up the whole pep talk with, “And then there are the ones who feel like they just have to be behind the wheel all the time ‘cause they think they know where you’re goin’ better than you do.”

  I honestly don’t know where I’m going or if Camie and I should carpool, but I have to say it, in Jillian’s case; she probably does know better and has already plotted out a course on the roadmap.

  Stripping for the gilded warrior ~ Pete

  With Jillian, I’ve found it’s better to just meet what’s coming head-on rather than trying to take evasive action. She’s appreciative of someone who’ll just march right up to her on the battlefield instead of cowering behind the lines, and she admires those who have the guts to strip themselves naked of armor when they do it even more so. If you do that, if you lay yourself bare for her, there’s a pretty good chance she’ll behave like the noblest of warriors and grant you pardon. If she doesn’t, well, that’s when you pray that she’ll just put you out of your misery quickly and painlessly.

  I opened my eyes and turned my head slightly to look at the door when I heard it being unlocked. When she came in and saw me lying on her bed instead of my own, with my ankles crossed and my hands behind my head, patiently waiting to receive my punishment in person, I saw her lips quirk once quickly and knew I was in the clear.

  “So, now that that’s out of the way, I’m gonna let you in on a secret,” she said and locked up her room all tight again. “I made a verbal blunder when I was talking to Tristan today.”

  I made sure I kept any and all trace of self-righteous smugness from my expression and just removed one hand from behind my head so that I could extend my arm out in invitation for her to come be close to me.

  “Do y
ou want to know what I said?” She asked and sat on the edge of the bed, just out of reach.

  “Mm-hm,” I answered and then slowly breathed out the breath I was holding as she nestled herself back against me.

  “I said we’re tired. Not I’m. We’re,” she said in irritation with herself while inspecting and tracing the creases in the palm of my hand that she’d started playing with.

  “He won’t put it together…not from that,” I told her. But, eventually, he will.

  “I know, bu—”

  “Jillian, stop. There’re three other people who live in this house.”

  She didn’t rebuke me for interrupting her, which is sort of a pet peeve of hers, but instead, she handed me her phone as she blew out a breath that sounded just as worn out as she is and then she said, “I know you’re always here even when you’re not, but, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “An hour before sunrise?” I asked and opened up the alarm clock application on her phone.

  “Do yours too. Mine should still be set from the last time…just make sure it’s turned on and the volume’s turned all the way up,” she replied through a small yawn and pushed herself up in order to reach over me to the nightstand so she could turn the lights out with the remote, but at the same time she reached out; her hair fell around us like an opulent veil, shrouding me in the softest silk imaginable. I couldn’t help myself; I automatically ran the fingers of one hand through the entire length of the gilded strands while I used the other hand to chuck her phone at the light switch on the wall, hitting it so precisely that it plunged her room and us into complete and utter darkness.

  Yeah, I really like her hair…

  Breaking the news ~ Tristan

  “I know, I know…Daddy missed you too…” I told my girls when I got them home and they were molesting me for attention.

  They were both all over me, but Phineas kept frantically wrapping herself around my arms and shoving herself under my hands so that I couldn’t avoid petting her even if I would’ve wanted to. And Ferb? Well, she was being Ferb. She’s a hair and face sniffer. She was standing with her back legs on my chest with one of her front paws on my nose and the other over one of my eyebrows, which made it impossible to keep that eye open, and she had her nose glued to the side of my head. Her process was to sniff and then she’d pull back and give me a look like she could have been asking, “And where the fuck have you been, Dad?” Then she’d climb onto my shoulder, meow her sentiments of being neglected into my ear, and then she’d go back to inspecting me with her nose.

  I know it’s a little weird for a guy to be attached to animals like this but, I can’t help it. For whatever reason, I’ve always loved animals and these two…well, they’re not normal cats for one thing, I mean they their faithfulness reminds me more of how dogs are, but they’re unusually intuitive too. When Camie and I spent that week apart after we adopted them, I swear to God they knew something was up and they acted out because they missed her. Also, Ferb always seems to pick the best times to fuck with Jeff…I can’t even begin to say how much I love that. It’s kind of like she doesn’t like him, or anyone really, screwing with her family. She reminds me, sadly, of Jillian.

  But the main reason I love the little furballs as much as I do? Camie. Plain and simple. I love how she talks to them, plays with them, coddles them…everything. And, this is the big one, they’re ours. Not mine, not hers, but ours. And they know it too. Jillian wasn’t kidding about how they get when they’re off their schedule. They’re like kids; they’re comforted by routine and when something happens to jack that routine up, they let everyone know they don’t appreciate it. They’ve never howled before but they’ve done other stuff that’s just as annoying. Like biting Camie incessantly if they don’t get fed when they’re used to and literally sleeping on my head when I made the mistake of washing Camie’s shirt I put their bed in. They did that for two whole nights before I figured it out and begged her for another shirt, but when they refused that one, she had to sleep in the black one and then give it back…only then would they consent to getting the fuck off of my head at night.

  And if I’m honest, I really do think of them as my children. Even though I really, really do love kids, I won’t be having any and since these two are the closest I’ll get to being an actual parent of, I try to be a good dad.

  “I know, girls…I’m so sorry that I’ve been gone…did you think Daddy forgot about his girls? Aww, Daddy would never forget you two…” I told them as they both bumped their heads on my face and continued to paw at me.

  Now for the bad news…

  “Come here, girls,” I told them and got up off the floor to get some treats and the catnip. I’m hoping it’ll help me break it to them. You know, maybe they won’t be as upset if they have something to munch on and play with. “Now I know you two have probably figured out that Mommy and Daddy are having some problems with each other right now,” I said and gave them each two treats, “And Daddy doesn’t know how to fix those problems yet,” I paused and gave them more treats, “So you girls might have to learn to live with only seeing one of us at a time for a while,” More treats… “But I promise everything will be okay. Mommy and Daddy still love you and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, alright?” I asked and then figured what the fuck, let ‘em have the whole goddamned can of treats. They just found out their parents might be getting a divorce for the second time in their short furry lives, so really, they deserve a little excess.

  I dumped the can of treats on my bed and then I started to build them a new catnip sock while they gorged themselves on junk food as a means of coping with their domestic troubles. I just wish I felt that sure about everything turning out the way it’s supposed to. I’d hate to have just lied to my children, even if they are just cats.

  They finished scarfing down the entire can of treats in record time and then padded over to investigate what I was working on. “I know…Daddy’s making you a new one…I know it’s not the same but it’ll smell like the old one in no time, I promise…besides, you wouldn’t like the old one anymore anyway…remember what Mommy did to it? It was icky, huh? I know…you were concerned and just trying to be helpful, and I promise, Mommy didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…she was very sick that night…she was so sick, girls, she doesn’t even remember that Daddy was there taking care of her…she doesn’t remember me holding her hair for her, or rubbing her back, or keeping her cool with the wet washcloth, or even that I put clothes on her…she doesn’t even remember that Daddy carried her back to bed and stayed awake all night to make sure she was gonna be okay…so that also means she doesn’t remember that she threw up that yucky fur ball on your sock when you two sweethearts brought it to her, but you know what? I remember and I was very proud of you, and if Mommy knew what you did, I bet she’d give you French fries…”

  Huh.

  “Who wants McDonald’s?”

  10.

  Wednesday, Week Two

  Thought filtration; we all do it ~ Pete

  “Hey man, you seen Jillian today?” Tristan asked me through a yawn midway through the break Wednesday morning.

  “Uhh,” Oh shit. “Yeah, earlier,” Are you asking specifically? Because technically I was with her when yesterday became today but at the time, I probably looked like Linus as I was using her hair like a security blanket while we were asleep, and no, I wasn’t sucking my thumb…I stopped doing that when I was four. Okay, so I was five, but still. So it had to have been roughly 5:00 in the morning when I actually saw her today. “Why?”

  “I need to give her something for Camie,” he answered through another yawn.

  “Dude, you look like a zombie…and you, ah, have a couple crease marks on the side of your face…” Actually, he looks kind of wasted.

  “I crashed on the couch in Shop…I just woke up,” he explained and rubbed his eyes like he was trying to convince them of that.

  “Why?” I asked. If you saw it, you’d understand. That couch
is nasty. It’s practically disintegrating and I don’t think it was ever new, plus, it’s not even comfortable. Maybe it was in 1974, but the once orange plaid upholstery on it is that god-awful raised burlap stuff and the springs in it are poking through. Not to mention that it smells and I think a momma raccoon had her babies on it a couple years ago…

  “Why? Well, let’s see…oh yeah, I spent more than four hours with Camie’s dad yesterday, all the while trying to keep the biggest fuckin’ hard-on for his daughter I’ve ever had in my entire goddamned life at bay! Also, I’m not sure if it was done on fuckin’ purpose or not, but someone, and I’ll fuckin’ kill her if it was Camie because she fuckin’ knows, but someone fuckin’ washed the goddamned shirt the cats sleep on! And if that wasn’t fuckin’ enough, it’s always been goddamned near impossible for me to sleep without her as it is! So all that fuckin’ equals a really goddamned fuckin’ long night for me!” He stormed at me.

  “Jesus, sorry I asked…” And I really am. I mean I understand being short tempered when you’re tired, but after last night, I feel pretty good so it’s kind of hard for me to empathize right now. Besides, unless he’s been having himself some kind of all night sex marathon, because then he’s chipper as all get out, Tristan’s always been a cranky asshole when he doesn’t get enough sleep or if he gets woken up from a nap, but not to this extreme so I think I’d just be better off not getting in the way today.

  “Sorry, man, I’m just…fuck, don’t listen to me, my brain isn’t the nicest place to be lately and apparently my mouth isn’t filtering very well today. I’m just tired and the girls aren’t gonna let me sleep until they get their shirt back the way they want it so, here…give this to the first Ramsey girl you see and if it happens to be Camie, tell her I—”