The Other Fish in the Sea (Grab Your Pole, #2) Read online

  I stole the piece of yummy pizza on her plate that she was practically ignoring, took a bite and said through chewing, “Hey, come here, I wanna show you something.”

  I had to whisper because I’m sure Tristan would intervene if he knew what I was up to. The big control freak baby. Besides, the three pieces of pizza I had didn’t quite fill me up, thus the theft and talking with my mouth full, so the whispering kept me from spraying Camie with crust crumbs.

  “Kate, where are y—Oh! Jeez… I’ve never been in here before,” she said, sounding the same way I’m sure I probably sounded like the other night seeing her sister’s room for the first time.

  Camie and I are very similar in many ways, which is probably why we clicked the way we did and make such great friends. She loves books, and yes, the Daniels’ library is chockfull of ridiculously delicious tombs that I’m sure she’d love to get lost in, but they’re not why I dragged her away from her dinner and in here.

  “We probably don’t have very long, but here…this is what I wanted to show you.” I handed her the picture that I’d had to stand on tippy-toes and jump a little to pluck off a bookshelf far over my head.

  “Aw, is that you with Tristan and Jeff?”

  I had to smile at the way she’s tracing the four year old Tristan. I do the same thing with pictures of Jeff.

  “Yeah, but look at what he’s holding…”

  “Oh my God, is that the baby-doll?”

  “The one and only!” I really had forgotten all about his obsession with that doll. My brain hasn’t really been working the way it normally does…I can’t blame it though, it’s under a lot of stress and I get distracted or what I like to call being “shiny objected.”

  A perfect example of that is right now... I mean all I was doing was looking up so I could get some eyeliner gunk out of the corner of my eye and it was like, “Ooh! What’s that?!”

  Jeff would kill me if he saw me doing this, but I don’t care, I have got to pull that down here…

  “Kate! You’re gonna break your neck trying to balance on the top of the chair and th—what the heck are you tryi—NO WAY! Is that what I think it is?”

  “YES! How much do you love me?” I just totally struck gold for Camie…now Tristan’s gonna freaking kill me!

  She helped me down and we were just barely cracking the damned thing open when we were caught with our hands totally in the baby book cookie jar.

  “What are you guys do—Oh hell no!” Tristan hollered from the doorway while laughing at our guilty expressions and then with inhuman speed, making me think Jillian might’ve been onto something with the Superman thing, he snatched the book from our hands and held it way above his head.

  Foiled again. I don’t know how he does it, but I swear he’s either a step ahead or not very far behind me all the time. I wonder if he can sense dastardly plots against him. You know, like how Spiderman has his “Spidey Sense.”

  “Come on, Tristaaan…you got to see miiine!” Camie whined while I giggled.

  Poor Camie. I was trying to help her even the score but, he’s just too quick. And tall. She’s trying to jump to reach the book now, but he’s got his hand on the top of her head, not even letting her get a foot off the ground.

  “No way. My mom isn’t a scrap-booker like yours and she didn’t put cute little ducky or heart stickers over shit, so until you’re ready to see it in the flesh, you don’t get to see it on fuckin’ Kodak photo paper,” he told her still laughing.

  He has a point I guess. Even though Camie and I haven’t talked about it, I know she’s not. Yet. I wonder if he knows just how close she is to being ready, though. I doubt it. Sure, he’s immensely intelligent and lifeguards at the beach and rec. center and stuff, but when it comes to all things Camie, I think Tristan struggles to keep his head above water. He really is a control freak and usually has a game plan for just about everything, but he’s playing a game he has no experience with whatsoever and I think he’s been forced to write the playbook as he goes. He’s been showing exemplary patience which is sort of a surprise coming from him, but I’ve noticed little things here and there. Like the way he’ll look at her sometimes, like he wants to devour her completely, and in my humble opinion, he’s starting to foam at the mouth. Not that he’s gonna push her or give her an ultimatum or anything. That’s just not him and they have that contract thing of theirs, which I find hilarious that she got him to agree to in the first place, but even so, I still think she’s intimidated and I don’t think she knows how to talk to him about it.

  My point is I honestly think Camie will talk to me about sex before she talks to him, thereby keeping him in the dark about where she is in her readiness. I really hope she’s not holding out because she’s waiting for him to tell her he loves her, though. He does. And I think he knows he does, but words aren’t really Tristan’s forte so even if he keeps waiting and they stay together forever, she could possibly die a virgin never having heard him say it, which I think would be quite unfortunate for both of them. However, I totally get wanting to keep certain things private and it’s not my business. So, I’m staying out of it until my best friend brings me into it.

  “Fine, you big brat…at least I got to see this one,” she taunted him and waved the framed picture in front him like he was a bull and it was a red cape.

  “Kate, can you please just be satisfied with invading your mom’s privacy for one night! Out of here, both of you,” he demanded still laughing, and keeping his baby book high above his head, he ushered us out of the library and back into the family room with the rest of the gang. Then he looked at Pete and ordered, “Watch these two for a minute.”

  “Uh, okay…” Pete responded absentmindedly while talking to Brandon who must’ve just gotten here because he wasn’t when I found Camie a few minutes ago.

  “I mean it, man, don’t let ‘em out of your fuckin’ sight…they’re trouble together,” Tristan called over his shoulder as he turned around to go hide his childhood somewhere safe and probably high, like the attic. I’ll laugh my ass off if he comes back with insulation clinging to his hair.

  Control freak!

  “So are we still on for shopping Sunday?” Camie asked me as we both were looking in the direction Tristan had gone.

  The control freak is right, though. She and I would totally try to follow him if Pete wasn’t keeping us in sight.

  “Definitely. I need to finish up my Christmas shop—”

  “Can I go?” Jillian asked, causing me to jump a little.

  I didn’t even hear her come up and stand next to me. I’m so glad she’s on my side. Hmm. Maybe Camie and I should send her to pilfer Tristan’s photo album…oh, she asked me something though, what was i—oh yeah… “Of course! I’ll even buy you lunch and dinner!” Tristan did warn me there was a price, so if taking her shopping and paying for a couple of meals is what tonight will cost me, then I’m not gonna complain a bit. Actually, I think I’m getting off easy.

  It was just about eight o’clock and Tristan had barely reappeared without insulation anywhere on his person, when the beeping started and we all looked at Jillian expectantly.

  Not in a hurry, she casually lifted the GPS thing in her hand and looking at it she said, “Move ‘em on, head ‘em up…”

  I have no idea. I know that means my mom is on the move, but other than that, your guess is as good as mine.

  Camie continued with it though. “Head ‘em up, move ‘em out…”

  Ah, now I think I get it…

  Naturally, Tristan picked it up. “Move ‘em on, head ‘em out…”

  Yeah, I got it.

  “RAWHIDE!” Melissa, Pete, Brandon and I all shouted.

  Jillian got in first, claiming the shotgun seat which is totally her right. She’s the one who’ll be navigating so I climbed in Tristan’s bus and took my seat next to Camie in the back with Pete, of course, on the other side of me. Heaven forbid Camie sit next to a guy who isn’t Tristan. Again I say, control freak! But, I r
eally do love him dearly.

  “Hey Baby, check it out…you’re gonna love this,” Tristan said, handing Camie his iPod and clicking a playlist entitled “Friday Night Spy Night.”

  She and I both started laughing. I have to admit, he’s really damned funny sometimes…he made a playlist comprised solely of stalker songs for tonight. He started the bus and we headed out to the song “Private Eyes” by Hall and Oates. And no, you’re not alone; the only reason I know the title of the song or who sings it is because I saw the playlist. I’m not anywhere near to being in the same realm of intelligence as Camie and Tristan, Jillian and Pete too for that matter, when it comes to music. And apparently I even fall behind Brandon in that sphere because he totally knew who sang the song as soon as it started, but I guess I should’ve expected that. He is in a band after all and from what Melissa says, they’re really good. Oh yeah…he and Melissa are following us in her little two-seater, but Brandon brought really heavy-duty looking handheld CB radios for us so we can stay in touch on the road and he and Tristan happened to be testing them out when the song started.

  Anyhow, I think we were all expecting a longer drive than what we got. It was maybe six minutes before the beeping stopped and Jillian pointed across the bridge to The Charcoal House. It’s a restaurant right next to where we go to school. And it’s infamous for the bar being a known place for cougars to hunt.

  “Oh my God! My mom’s a fucking cougar!”

  Tristan was doing his best to not laugh his ass off at me or my mom or both of us, but his voice was cracking when he said, “Well, just hold on now…we don’t know for sure if she is or not. She might just be having a really poorly prepared meal and not actually singing karaoke in the Wrinkle Room…”

  The Wrinkle Room is the affectionate name for the damned bar attached to the restaurant that serves notoriously mediocre food. Tristan and I know all this because although he owns his own bar over by San Diego State, Jeff’s dad is good friends with the owner of this place and has told us all kinds of stories about when he comes here. He’s still really attractive for being in his early forties and looks like he’s in his late twenties—early thirties, maybe—and he’s constantly getting hit on by women who are his age or older who think he’s a decade or three younger than them. He thinks it’s hysterical, as does his son.

  “Do you think Grey might be here tonight?” I asked Tristan who now has tears streaming down his cheeks. I don’t see his car, but then again from where we’re parked, I can’t see the majority of the parking lot or my mom’s car either.

  “Mm, I doubt it…Friday is karaoke night and if what he’s said is true, it tends to be a college crowd. But call Jeff…he’d probably know.”

  Duh…

  Ring, ring, ring, ring…and voicemail. Figures.

  I left him a message and sent him a text, but when ten minutes went by and I didn’t get a response, I knew I wouldn’t get one. His phone is either dead, in his Jeep, in the kitchen or he’s asleep, which means he’s dead to the world.

  “Great. So now what do we do? I have to know what she’s doing in there…”

  “Why don’t you just go in and look around?” Camie asked me rationally.

  “I can’t! My mom will see me and if Grey is here, he’ll see me too!”

  “Yeah, they’ll recognize all of us,” Melissa agreed. She and Brandon joined us in the bus when we all parked and now the two of them are scrolling through Tristan’s playlist.

  “Jillian’s ether—well, she moves like a wraith, she could go.”

  Even with my messed up mental acuity, I swear Pete was about to say that Jillian is ethereal, which you could probably say she is, but still…it would’ve been a weird choice of words in my mind for him to use so maybe that’s why he went with wraith instead. I glanced at him and it sort of looked like he regretted what he’d essentially just blurted out as he was staring blankly at some point above his head and was minutely shaking his head back and forth. Then I transferred my attention to Jillian. For the barest flash of a moment, she didn’t look the least bit happy with him or his suggestion, but then her features transformed back into their usual state of boredom and she shrugged.

  “Sure. I’ll go, but I’m taking Brandon…no one will recognize him either and if we look like we’re on a date, it’ll be more convincing,” she said with a little smirk and what I honestly think was a sinister light in her eyes, neither of which did the rest of the gang catch as both were mostly hidden by her motion of taking her hair out of the high braided ponytail she was wearing before fluffing it up a little.

  Then she completely shocked us all when she put actual makeup on. Honestly, it wasn’t a lot, but after applying some colored lip gloss and being done with her mini makeover, she looked like a damned supermodel. That’s odd though…I’ve never seen her make an effort with how she looks before. I know for a fact she’s not interested in Brandon and vice versa…even though with the way they both look right now I could totally picture them together on the cover of some star tabloid. Huh. I really think she’s up to something, though. Ack… I don’t have time or the mental fortitude to ponder Camie’s sister’s balefulness tonight.

  “Okay, good! You two go and scout the place out…Brandon, here’s what my mom looks like,” I said, showing him my mom’s picture on my phone.

  I held my breath as I watched them go inside hand-in-hand, then I blew it out and waited. I don’t know how much time elapsed before they came back to the bus, but it was enough for me to chew most of my nails down to nothing and have Camie yank my hand away from my mouth at least four times.

  “Well?”

  “She’s in the bar, sitting alone but smiling,” Jillian informed me while taking her place in the passenger seat again, but instead of swiveling the seat to face us, she kept her back to us.

  “I still wanna know how you got into the fuckin’ bar! I mean you look way older and fuckin’ hot, but they check ID,” Brandon said, sounding completely stymied.

  “Trade secret,” Jillian’s voice floated back to us from the front of the bus.

  “Dude, I thought you were fuckin’ kidding about that wraith shit, but you totally weren’t! You guys, check this…we go in there holding hands, right? She tells me to ask for a table and the second our hands unclasp, she’s fuckin’ gone! I mean she completely fuckin’ vanished! So I get a table and then when I’m walkin’ through the restaurant kinda lookin’ around for her or Kate’s mom, she’s all of a sudden right behind me again tellin’ me we can go! She scared the shit outta me comin’ up behind me like that…”

  “Yeah, she can do that sometimes,” Camie said with a head nod of sympathetic understanding.

  “Well shit. Now we have to wait until she decides to leave…I gotta know if she’s shacking up with random men or random college guys or what. Hey Camie, you told your mom you and Jillian are staying at my house tonight, right? I don’t know how long she’ll be here, but this place doesn’t close until one-thirty and last Friday she didn’t get home until like four in the morning.”

  “Yeah, Melissa and I did the round robin, so we’re all good on the no curfew.”

  “AMEN!” Tristan shouted like he was in a Southern Baptist church service. Then while the rest of us snickered at his enthusiasm, he planted a big ol’ kiss on Camie who he has in his lap in the driver’s seat.

  “We should play a game or something while we wait! Any suggestions?” Melissa asked, bubbly as usual.

  I can see where Camie would be confused about the Melissa and Brandon thing. Melissa looks and usually behaves so strait-laced and Brandon is like the polar opposite, practically exuding danger. It’s weird. And it’s not just his physical appearance…there’s just something about his mannerisms that a smart person will read as a warning to not engage with him unless they’re absolutely sure of victory. Keith was right not to start something with him the other day. My intuition tells me that Keith would’ve had his ass handed to him even though he’s bigger than Brandon.

>   All of us aside from Camie and Pete, but only because he’s staring out the window, looked at Jillian in small surprise when she threw a deck of cards into Melissa’s lap.

  Jillian just looked at us and in her usual way she responded with, “What? This isn’t my first rodeo you know. I always come prepared. I carry a towel everywhere I go too.”

  “Nice! ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ reference…I like it,” Tristan said, nodding his approval. Then he looked at Camie and sort of waggled his eyebrows at her and said, “Hey Baby, still forty-two…”

  Camie giggled and rolled her eyes. I don’t think I even wanna know what he meant by that, though.

  Then Jillian pulled out an actual towel and recited what I’m pretty sure is an actual line from the book. “About the most massively useful thing you can have.”

  We chose Crazy Eights and by a non-verbal declaration, we all decided to gang up on Tristan. I don’t know why we did it but it was pretty funny. However, Tristan didn’t seem to agree and after a little while, he took his ball and went home.

  “Fuck this…I’m done playin’ your reindeer games.” Tossing his cards in the pile, Tristan took Camie’s from her hand and added them to his, got up, raised the overhead and then while gathering her as she giggled at him he said, “Come on, Vixen, up you go…”

  We continued with the game and we were all doing pretty well holding our tongues about what we all pretty much knew was going on above, but when Tristan’s shirt landed on my head, there was universal laughter and a few comments.

  “Tristan, your shirt I believe…please be wearing it!” I yelled and threw his damned shirt back up to their little love nest about the same time Brandon and Pete made their comments. It’s not that I begrudge them a little kissing time, but I miss Jeff. I wish he didn’t feel so strongly about getting me sick. I really doubt a twinge of a sore throat will cause an epidemic, you know?

  “Ugh, get a room!”

  “Dude! Are you trying to make me jealous? I mean for Christ’s sake, I’m sitting right here!”