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

  “You don—bullshit…you always have a plan!”

  “Well, I’ve come to realize that I’m kind of a shitty strategist when it comes to her so now I’m wingin’ it.” Jesus…you’d think that should be more than abundantly clear. I mean aside from my Lloyd Dobler strategy on Halloween, every time I’ve tried to make a plan and be in control where it involves Camie it’s fuckin’ blown up in my goddamned face, so now I’m thinking that maybe I should just give it up altogether.

  “Yeah, uh-huh…does wingin’ it involve working on your car with her dad, obsessively staring at her and trying to decipher how she feels about you? Oh, and that look you gave her the other day that was overtly erotic in nature had even me blushing…just so you know,” he told me and chuckled to himself when I shifted uncomfortably in my goddamned chair, making me consider throwing him through the fuckin’ window and then taking a cold shower. The fuckin’ prick. Good to know we’re back to normal, though.

  “Honestly, man, I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do about her or how the fuck to go about doin’ it…and seriously, you gotta watch it with the teasing for a while. I’m unstable.”

  “Yeah, I know…sorry. If I get too out of line, you’re more than welcome to use me as your personal punching bag, just do me a favor though and stay above the belt and below the neck…I want kids and Katy makes me wear bandages.”

  “Deal.” Of course I’d really rather not lose control at all…certainly not on him but definitely not anywhere near Camie.

  “Okay, so where’s your head at? You might not have an actual plan, but I know you well enough to know when you’re trying to make up your mind…” The little assmonkey…I knew he’d been watching me and trying to figure out what I was up to on his own.

  “Well, right now I’m just trying to decide what I want. Or, I guess not what I want really, but whether or not Camie and I should even be together.”

  “Dude. You love her. How can you even consider not being with her?”

  It’s a good question, one that makes me wonder if what I feel for her is actually love, and then there are her feelings about me to take into consideration too, not to mention all the shit we seem unable to keep from putting each other through. “I don’t know, man, we keep hurting each other and even if we do honestly love each other…well, that’s just not right, you know? I don’t wanna hurt her anymore, I want her to be happy.”

  “Okay, now I’m only gonna tell you this because I think you should know, and I know you’ve got a lot of fuckin’ nasty shit goin’ on in your head and you don’t need anything else to worry about when it comes to this whole thing, but, she’s really fucked up right now. I’m afraid that if you take your sweet time trying to make up your mind, your decision isn’t gonna mean shit because she’ll go be happy with someone else. Well, she won’t really be happy, but you know what I mean. You’ve basically left her up for grabs…she’s ripe for the pickin’ and the scavengers have already picked up the scent.”

  “You weren’t bein’ fucking serious when you told me she left that party with a guy, right?” Praying, praying…

  “Sorry, Trist, but yeah, I was,” he admitted quietly and waited for me to explode.

  And I almost did. I came very close to not only throwing Jeff out of the fucking window in a rage for letting it happen in the first place, but I also had to force myself from stealing his Jeep so I could hunt the mother fucking walking dead down and effectively bury him in the fucking ground permanently for putting his hands and God knows what else on MY fucking girlfriend! I was mentally laying it all out… I’d mount the dead guy to the hood of Jeff’s Jeep like a goddamned deer and drive over to Camie’s to show her exactly how well I took the news that she’d cheated on me. But then I shook myself and realized it wasn’t Jeff’s fault and she wouldn’t think of it as cheating because we’re supposedly broken up. The jury’s still out on the fuckin’ dead guy though, and I couldn’t quite manage to unclench my teeth or keep the fury out of my voice when I growled, “Tell me everything.”

  “It really wasn’t a big deal, dude, I swear, I made it sound a lot worse than it was. He was some guy she’d met at the bowling alley that night we all went before Thanksgiving…shit, she couldn’t even remember his name and told him so…anyway, he came up to her and Katy and me, I assessed him as a very minor possible threat, but a major douche bag, then she introduced us…the moron actually asked where you were, seriously, I couldn’t believe it…she didn’t even tell him you guys are broken up, she just said she didn’t know where you were and didn’t care, then she completely freaked the second you showed up and he drove her home. That’s it. Absolutely nothing happened.”

  Have you ever heard the expression better the devil you know than the devil you don’t? Well, it means that even if they’re not ideal, it’s often better to deal with someone or something you’re familiar with and know than to take a risk with an unknown person or thing and in my opinion, that’s entirely true. Only in this case, I already knew a little bit about the scavenger that Jeff aptly qualified as a major douche bag and so I breathed out a sigh of relief, not being aware that my intelligence was severely limited in regard to what kind of predator he really is. Had I known just a teensy, tiny bit more, I might’ve been able to see it coming and do something about it. But, I didn’t…

  Twelve.

  Friday, Week Two

  Without proof, a rumor is just that…a rumor. ~ Brandon

  “Hey Bran…are ya even gonna try to not look like an insane stalker today?”

  “Huh?” I asked Derek when his question infiltrated my preoccupation. I heard him but I didn’t hear him, you know what I mean?

  “Dude, you’ve been staring at that group for three days now…which chick is it?”

  “Oh fuck no! I’m not staring at a chick!” I said all defensively. Jesus, I guess I should be grateful that I don’t go to school with Melissa…she’d fucking go ballistic if it looked like I was staring at another chick for even a minute let alone three goddamned days.

  “Uh-huh…”

  He doesn’t believe me and I guess I can’t blame him; my track record with girls might not be quite as long as Tristan’s is, however we definitely ride in the same race. But whatever. I don’t need to defend myself to him or anyone else.

  “Hey, what did Skeevy Scott want the other day?” That’s what I’ve been obsessed with if you want the truth. I’ve been watching him ever since he talked to Derek on Wednesday. The dirtbag just happens to hang out in a group that contains some chicks. And okay, yeah, if it wasn’t for Melissa I’d probably have been doing the stalker staring at them, but I would’ve admitted it.

  “Oh, him? He had the fuckin’ audacity to ask me for Camie’s number.”

  Quite honestly, I’m pretty happy with Melissa. She’s a giant, insecure pain in my ass, but, she gets me. Besides, none of those girls can hold a candle to her and for the life of me, I have serious doubts that I’ll ever get stiff for any other chick again because I just don’t find any other chicks as attractive as her. Plus, there’s this thing she does with her—Wait, what the fuck did he just say?! I have got to learn how to pay attention to shit around me and not fantasize my spare time away… Sorry, Sexy, as much as I enjoy letting you give me a mental boner, I can’t think about you right now…

  “Uh, I seriously hope you didn’t fuckin’ give it to him…” But you know what this means, right? I guess it basically means I’m fuckin’ whipped. That’s just fuckin’ great…

  “Hell no! I wouldn’t even give you her number unless she told me it was okay.”

  “Did he say why he wanted it?” I know why he fuckin’ wants it…

  “Yeah, he said she lost a lip gloss or something like that in his car when he drove her home from that party and wanted to get it back to her…but big fuckin’ deal, right? I’m sure her world won’t crumble if she has to go out and buy some lip gloss…” Exactly, but I’ll bet you my best Taylor guitar there was no lost lip gloss…
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br />   “Yeah, right…chicks love shopping so I’m sure she’s thrilled. Hey, did you ever hear for sure if he was one of the guys involved in that thing last year?” I want proof…I can’t really say shit until I have proof…

  “No, I didn’t. He was good buddies with one of the guys who got arrested though, remember?”

  Yeah, I remember. It was all the entire fuckin’ school could talk about for two months. This poor girl, she was a freshman and I can’t remember her name, went to a party with her sister who was a senior and from what people were saying, she did a group of like six guys at one time. A few days later though, the cops showed up and arrested Scott’s buddy who was the girl’s sister’s abusive ex-boyfriend, along with one other guy that he hangs with for gang raping her. The band was playing that party and I didn’t hear anything that night, but Sarah, one of my ex-girlfriends, was at that party too and was with the girl’s sister when they found her abandoned on the bed of an empty bedroom in the fetal position and crying about how five guys held her down and took turns goin’ at her. Sarah told Samantha and she told Josh who told me and the rest of the guys in the band that the chick was anything but a willing participant, plus, she wasn’t the type if you know what I mean. The charges didn’t stick, though, because there was no DNA. Also, rumor had it that she’d been drugged so she wasn’t a “reliable witness” or even really able to identify anyone or give the cops any other details so the guys came back to school. They kept their mouths shut and weren’t assholes about it at all, but the girl’s family ended up having to move because of all the vicious rumors and shit. Scott was with his buddies that night too…I thought it then and I still think it. He was one of those five fucksticks. I know it.

  I just can’t fucking prove it…

  Paranoia ~ Pete

  “Hey Pete! Come here a sec!” MaryAnn hollered at me in the parking lot after school on Friday. She was standing next to her car with Jillian and Jillian’s expression did not bode well…

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to ignore the blonde hair being blown around me by the wind. It’s making my palms itch like mad.

  “We were just talking about you…” MaryAnn said in that way girls and parents have that makes it sound like they know what you’ve done and are trying to get you to out yourself even when you haven’t done anything to hide. Not that I fall into the nothing to hide category, but still. I didn’t bite. I just stood there and looked at her. “Can you do me an enormous favor?”

  Oh. Well, that’s not accusatory at all. I think I might be getting paranoid. “Sure, what do you need?”

  Jillian went to pull her hair back out of her face and I had to dig my hands into my pockets to keep from doing it for her. I really think I would’ve if I hadn’t caught her mildly sour expression.

  Shit, this isn’t good. I have to get away from here…

  “Can you run Jillian and all this stuff to her house and then pick her back up after tryouts for the party?”

  YES! I would absolutely love nothing more! Well, that’s not exactly true. Oh, ahem, I mean…if I have to.

  “Oh, well, I guess so.” I tried to make it sound like driving my girlfriend home from school and then to a party was a massively annoying inconvenience. I think I pulled it off pretty well, though, because I was then the recipient of a grateful smile and four boxes from MaryAnn, and an eye-roll that quite clearly and sarcastically said, “Subtle, honey,” from Jillian whose hair was swirling in the wind again.

  Of course I’m not quite out of the woods yet because what I really wanna do is dump the boxes on the asphalt, pull Jillian to me and kiss her in front of God, the captain of the Varsity Cheerleading Squad, and everyone else we’re hiding our relationship from, which is essentially the entire fucking world.

  Yeah, she’d eviscerate me no question. But I can’t help it! Stupid provocative wind…

  “What’s in the boxes?” I asked instead of committing secret relationship suicide. Stupid clandestine rules…

  “Camie’s uniforms, pom poms, and letterman’s jacket…they came in today. Jillian’s gonna wrap ‘em up and we’re gonna give them to her tonight at the party. Jillian, can you make sure it’s okay with your parents that she stays the night and pack her a bag? If you want, you can stay the night too,” MaryAnn said and I noticed that Jillian’s “look” was back.

  “You know there’s a chance she won’t make it, right? My sister has an unfortunate tendency to choke under pressure.” Ain’t that the truth…

  At least Tristan hasn’t done anything to freak her out today. Well, aside from being a little friendlier and not biting her head off. Actually, he’s been in a good mood today, which I think has a lot to do with the fact that he had a sleepover with Jeff and they seem to have patched things up rather nicely. I know it doesn’t have a thing to do with cheer tryouts, though. At lunch Jeff told him how good she is and that it’s his educated opinion that we’re just going through the motions with holding the auditions. Tristan wasn’t happy to hear that, nor was the orange that turned into pulp when upon hearing the news, Tristan launched it about seventy-five yards into the street from the front lawn of campus.

  “No possible way…she’s gonna make it with a slam dunk! She’s far and away the best so seriously, who’s gonna vote against her?” Jillian and I shared a quick look, but MaryAnn hurried on before either of us could answer. “Oh hey, I gotta catch up with Mrs. Kingston and make sure the ballots and everything are taken care of… Pete, I’ll see you in about an hour, Jillian, I’ll see you tonight, okay?” She asked and walked off, leaving me standing there with my girlfriend who didn’t look all that happy to be left standing there with her boyfriend.

  “I don’t like this,” Jillian told me as we walked to my truck and I put the boxes inside.

  I waited until the doors were shut, we were both buckled in our seats and the engine was running before I started defending myself. “What was I gonna say? Uh, no, I really shouldn’t drive Jillian home and pick her up for Camie’s surprise party because she’s my girlfriend only because I agreed to do things her furtive way and God forbid people actually see us together and get the right idea because if they do I’m totally fucked? Yeah, no, because I’m thinking that’d be a dead giveaway. If not, then she certainly would’ve known something’s goin’ on when I tossed Camie’s cheer skirt in the air with the rest of her shit so I could use both hands to grab you and kiss you, so you’re welcome.”

  Her eyes got as wide as saucers when she heard what I would’ve said and done had I not controlled my impulses and done some spur of the moment editing, and then with an amused expression she said, “Uh, that’s not what I meant, you goose, I was talking about this whole party for Camie, but thanks all the same.”

  Oh. Well, that has nothing to do with me. Jesus; I think I’ve moved right past becoming paranoid to being full-blown manic.

  If this is what Tristan deals with on a day-to-day basis then I think I owe him an apology. Or maybe a new surfboard. I dunno, he deserves something, though, because this sucks. “What don’t you like?”

  “What if she doesn’t make it, Pete? She’ll be completely mortified and then feel really awful that they already bought her uniform and everything. Plus the party… It just feels like she’s being set up.” Huh. Maybe I’m picking up the paranoia from her.

  “Jillian, she’s gonna have to seriously choke and nothing happened today to make her that nervous, besides, Kate and Melissa have kept her practically sequestered all day so she wouldn’t even hear about the party, so there’s no pressure there.”

  “What about Tristan? He’s been good today so far but he can still get to her, not to mention the other judges, and it’s no secret that he didn’t want her to cheer in the first place.” Then again, she does make a valid point.

  “Quit worrying, sabotage isn’t exactly his style.” Not that he hasn’t done it before or is above doing it again. I’m just saying, it’s not “exactly” his style.

  “Because you know wi
th one comment or look from him she’ll freeze, and he could very easily sway a few of the judges to vote against her and with his two, that could make it really close.”

  “He’ll play fair.” I hope.

  “Are you sure?”

  I pulled up to her house; I left the truck running so I could make a quick getaway, I took a shallow breath because a deep one would be indicative of preparation, then I looked my keenly perceptive and observant girlfriend in the eyes and lied through my teeth. “Absolutley.”

  By the time I got back onto campus, though, I was seriously contemplating rounding up the rest of the judges so I could bribe them myself. Then I saw Tristan and Jeff walking towards Camie and Kate and I swore. I also jogged over to join them just in case. Being that he and Jeff are back in the saddle, if Tristan is planning on saying something to intimidate Camie, no way in hell is Jeff gonna do anything except back him up. I don’t know what I was thinking I could’ve done though. Jump on Tristan’s back like a chimpanzee and throw my hand over his mouth while screaming for Camie to flee for the sake of her pom poms?

  I missed the pleasantries but caught up to them in time to hear Camie’s question that she hesitantly put forth to Tristan. “Do you get to vote now?”

  I pinned him with my eyes and mentally begged him to not say anything to upset her, because honestly, I don’t have a lot of faith in the chimp maneuver.

  “Mm-hm,” he answered her while looking at me with what I swear was a subversive glint in his eyes, and no I’m not being paranoid about this…it was there! Then his expression sobered, he looked at her, gave her a cocky grin and a wink and sincerely said, “You’ll do great.”

  I breathed out the breath I was holding while Camie beamed a great big smile at him and said thanks, then she walked away with Kate and before Jeff followed them, he turned and met Tristan’s eyes that were now what you might call shadowed, and then Jeff raised his eyebrows and resignedly said, “The high road it is then.”