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

  “Um, don’t you think that’s living dangerously?”

  “Camie, I like living on the edge. Besides, it should be good.”

  “They put oatmeal in it though,” I whispered. I was teasing them before but I’m still thinking pizza. I’m also hearing Aerosmith’s “Livin’ On the Edge” in my head now instead of Sister Sledge, which is kind of a relief.

  “O ye of little faith,” Jillian replied, once again displaying her confidence in eating what I’m considering to be a questionable culinary concoction waiting for us in the kitchen.

  Huh. If she’s willing to give it a go, then I guess I should too. I’m just not excited about the idea of what my stomach will do to me. Maybe I can get away with just a small piece if I fill my plate with vegetables. I should also make sure I have a couple napkins in case I can’t get any of it down. Of course I had to hide a little giggle as an episode of Seinfeld involving mutton, napkins and Elaine being molested by dogs popped into my head.

  O ye of little faith indeed.

  At one point during dinner, which surprisingly wasn’t bad—go figure, oatmeal in meatloaf—I was hard pressed to not climb on the table and do the Snoopy happy dance. I was, however, doing it in my head and quite vigorously at that.

  “So what does everyone have planned for their Thanksgiving break?” My mom asked the four teenagers at the table who aren’t related to her by blood.

  “Sadly, I’m going to New Jersey with my parents to see my dad’s family,” Kate answered, sounding utterly disgruntled.

  “Which means I’m stuck having dinner at my dad’s girlfriend’s parents’ house. Thanks, Katy.”

  Kate threw a roll at Jeff in her defense. He really hates being away from her for more than even a few hours. Not that she enjoys time away from him, but still; Jeff’s a pouter.

  “It’s not like I wanna go, you know. I’m gonna be miserable.”

  “My family is spending Thanksgiving in Palm Springs this year,” Pete said, ignoring the minor bickering going on between Jeff and Kate over their mandated holiday separation.

  “What about you, Boy?”

  This is when I started to get a little disgruntled myself and started to empathize with Jeff and Kate. Being what you might call desert-rats, almost my entire family goes to the desert every year for Thanksgiving. It’s a ton of fun. We all go in our motor homes and ride various pieces of desert vehicles like quads, dirt bikes, dune buggies, etc., but for some reason, I don’t think riding around the dunes with my cousins and Jillian is going to be as much fun as it usually is as I will be sans hot boyfriend.

  “I got nothin’. My parents were asked to take a flight to Tuscany so they’ll be gone most of the week,” Tristan replied, sounding irritated. He also kind of threw a piece of his roll onto his plate to emphasize that irritation.

  My mom frowned. “Can’t you go with them?”

  “Not this time. My passport expired last month and I sorta had other things on my mind so I forgot to get it renewed,” he explained without saying that the “other things” on his mind last month were me.

  Of course he made sure I knew what he was talking about by covertly pinching me under the table. It was totally unnecessary, like I didn’t already know. Hell, most of the people sitting at the table played some kind of role in how we got together, including my little sister. Well actually, especially my little sister, seeing as how she operated as a double agent. And even if they didn’t play a part, they all knew what Tristan was talking about but I didn’t see him pinch any of them. I think he’s just trying to get me to retaliate so he has an excuse to mess with me later on.

  I was considering what form my retaliation would take when my dad asked, “Well then, why don’t you just come to the desert with us?”

  I was stunned. I almost asked him to repeat himself because I thought there was no way my dad had just asked Tristan to spend four nights and four days with us in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself though.

  “Kevin, I think that is a simply marvelous idea. Really, Tristan, you shouldn’t spend Thanksgiving alone and we won’t take no for an answer.”

  I took one look at Tristan’s face and although the expression he was wearing was something like innocent surprise, I knew from the way his eyes were sparkling that he’d just played my parents.

  Then he pinched me again.

  So now you can understand why I’m trying really hard not to table dance, right?

  “Is there room on the trailer for my bike?” Huh. I didn’t know he has a dirt bike. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised…bikes do have wheels.

  “Aw, that sucks! This means I’m not gonna have my girlfriend or my best friend around for like five days! And Pete’s gonna be gone…I bet Mike’s goin’ out of town too,” Jeff muttered to himself while Tristan and my dad talked dirt toys.

  After dinner my parents retired to the family room to watch a movie that none of us was interested in seeing, so we all played a card game called Bullshit. The object of the game is to get rid of all your cards as they’re played in order from smallest to biggest. However, if you don’t have the right card on your turn then you have to pick up the pile, so what you’re supposed to do is bluff. So say you’re on threes and you don’t have one, you would choose a random card from your hand and say, “One three” and place it face down on the pile. Now, if someone calls you on it by saying, “Bullshit,” you have to pick up the pile. But let’s say you did actually play the right card and someone calls you on it incorrectly, well then they have to pick up the pile. There are all kinds of other ways to cheat, but you get the gist.

  Jillian, Kate, and Tristan rock at this game. Kate does because she’s gifted at being able to read people, and Tristan does because he’s exceedingly sharp and he can almost always school his facial expression to look however he wants it, which is typically along the lines of being cocky, arrogant, or smug—I know the three are sort of like synonyms for each other, but there is actually a difference between them, and he’s very well versed in demonstrating that fact. Now, he doesn’t know this, but I can usually pick up on his real mood by what his eyes are doing. Not always, but most of the time. And then there’s Jillian who generally appears to be bored all the time. Well, she’s good at it only because you can never trust her, so people tend to not call her on anything unless they have all four cards of the number she’s on in their own hand. Also, she has an odd strategy. She’ll play straight in the very beginning and then, whether she thinks someone’s bluffing or not, she’ll start calling everyone out so she ends up with a bunch of cards, which means there’s a good chance she’s never bluffing after that.

  Anyway, the six of us were sitting around the kitchen table playing a game that encourages lying and cheating when Jeff cocked his head to the side like he was listening intently.

  “Hey, what’s this song called?”

  “Lips of an Angel,” Tristan and I answered together. His eyes got just the slightest shade darker before he winked at me and went back to his cards. I got goose bumps and went back to mine.

  “It’s based on fact,” Jillian and Pete commented in unison.

  That had me looking up again.

  Jillian’s eyes slowly lifted from her cards to look at Pete (whose eyes never left his cards once) like she could’ve been mildly impressed—or mildly irritated. I’m not sure which but because he flew into her radar, if I were Pete, I’d think twice before doing a lot of bluffing tonight.

  “No shit it’s fact,” Jeff said with a humph. “My dad was singing it to someone the other night on the phone. You know, not literally, but he might as well have.”

  “What? To who?” Tristan asked, sounding pretty surprised.

  Like me, Tristan knows his music and that particular song is about what you might call a long lost love and the ramifications of when that person suddenly calls out of the blue and Tristan’s surprise, come to find out, is more than justified.

  “That’s just it, I have no i
dea. I was studyin’ for that chem test we had on Friday,” Yeah, I know. I have a hard time picturing Jeff studying too. “Denise was asleep in the living room when my dad’s cell rang and when he answered it, he asked ‘Honey’ why she was crying. No shit, he called whoever it was, Honey… Anyway, then he started to whisper about how it was really good to hear her voice but he had to be quiet because Denise was sleeping right there. It was bizarre so when he got up to go out back, I followed him into the kitchen so I could eavesdrop through the open wind—”

  “Atta boy.” I inwardly rolled my eyes at the pride in my sister’s tone.

  “What else did you hear?” Kate asked with a look of confusion on her face.

  You see, we’re all kind of surprised and/or confused by this because Jeff’s dad, Grey, has never been married. Not even to Jeff’s mom, whom I recently found out died shortly after Jeff was born. However, Grey has been with his girlfriend for something like two years and from what I’ve been told, he really seems happy with her. So happy in fact, Jeff was actually thinking his dad might marry her.

  “Well, that’s when it got even weirder. It was hard to follow because I could only hear his side of the call and he was still talking low, but when he stopped pacing in front of the window I heard this part really clearly, he said, ‘Well I didn’t move on, why do you think I never got married?’. Then he started pacing again but I think he told her that he didn’t want her talking to him to cause problems for her or something like that, but all of sudden he got kinda excited, or agitated I guess, and asked loud enough for me to hear him, ‘Wait, what are you telling me?’. So then after another minute, he said something about how he’d never stopped loving her and for her to call him when they could both talk freely.”

  “Holy shit, man, you’re right! He may as well have just played that song into the fuckin’ phone,” Tristan declared.

  “I know, right?” Jeff agreed and looked at the rest of us for confirmation.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

  “Honestly, Katy, I totally forgot about the whole thing until it came on the radio just now.”

  “I just can’t picture it…he actually said he loves her?” Kate asked, sounding not just confused anymore, but baffled.

  “Yeah. That he never stopped loving her.”

  “Wow. Do you think he’s cheating on Denise?” Pete asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. It sounded like he hadn’t talked to whoever she is in a while.”

  I’m thinking that if what Jeff said of that conversation is true, I’m inclined to agree with him. I don’t think his dad is cheating.

  Not yet anyway...

  2.

  How To Bury A Hooker

  So the Friday before Thanksgiving rolled around and I was getting giddy about what I’m going to think of as my semi-supervised slumber party with Tristan that begins in about five days. We have the whole week off; however my dad has to work so we won’t be leaving until Wednesday afternoon, but still. Spending four days and nights with my boyfriend without a curfew and practically no rules is essentially a gift from God, because even with all the adults in attendance, the desert is like teenager heaven. It’s not quite as if anything goes, but almost. Oh and it turns out, Tristan had been thinking of how he could weasel his way into going with us as soon as he heard that was what we always do. You really have to admire and appreciate those with foresight and the ability to plan in advance, you know?

  Anyway, Kate, my other good friend, Melissa, and I had been dismissed a few minutes early from our last class of the day which is dance, so we were engaged in a minor bet to pass the time whilst waiting for the boys to be released from PE. Their reaction to seeing our wager was pretty freaking funny…

  “Holy shit, dude! What are they doing to your girlfriend?” Jeff asked a very startled Tristan when they came up and saw Melissa holding one of my legs straight up in the air.

  Well, not straight up. I’m beyond flexible and right now my leg is straight, but it’s kind of behind my head so I’m essentially doing a standing split and then some.

  “We made a bet,” Kate answered simply.

  “What’s the bet? Whether or not Melissa can separate Camie’s leg from her body like a turkey wishbone?” Jeff asked incredulously.

  Kate rolled her eyes and I was mentally laughing because Tristan is still at a loss for words.

  “No, you idiot. Melissa got the last big cookie at lunch today and Camie wants it, so we bet her that she couldn’t hold this position for twenty minutes.”

  While wincing, Melissa’s boyfriend, Keith muttered, “Jesus, that hurts just looking at it.”

  “It doesn’t. As a matter of fact, I could stand like this for pretty much ever as long as someone holds me up…I’m telling you guys, I’m getting that cookie.”

  “How much time is left?” Melissa asked, shifting her weight again.

  “Dude, did you know she could do this?” Jeff asked a still somewhat dazed Tristan with a hint of envy in his tone.

  Tristan just barely shook his head “no” in answer, but his eyes started to shift color and knowing him, I’m sure he’s now considering the possibilities. None of which he’ll be able to explore.

  “Umm, she’s got about nine more minutes to go,” Kate replied after having checked the time.

  Melissa sighed. “Okay, well I need a break…holding her leg up here isn’t as easy as it looks. Kate, take over.”

  “Okay, but if her leg comes down at all in the transfer that means we have to start over…”

  “Damn it, that’s right. Hmm… Okay, so one of you guys come over here and take her calf and keep it there while I’m still holding on and Kate takes my place. I don’t wanna wait around for another twenty minutes.”

  Jeff and Keith looked at Tristan, both of them knowing how he feels about other guys touching me. It’s rather obvious he would prefer not touching me right now either, but if he doesn’t, one of them will have to.

  Jeff started laughing.

  Tristan sighed in defeat.

  “‘You’re killin’ me, Smalls’.” Quoting the movie The Sandlot under his breath and making me giggle, Tristan took hold of my leg above the ankle with one hand and pulled it a little further towards him so it wouldn’t drop when Melissa let go and Kate got in position.

  “Hi, it’s nice to see you too,” I replied with a hint of smugness.

  I can totally tell Tristan’s imagination is running rampant now. I find that pretty funny because, technically, our contract stipulates he can’t do much of anything with this newly discovered talent of mine without my express permission, which only gives me more power in our relationship. I have to be careful about how I use that power, though. Tristan can only handle so much teasing before he starts to fight back, and well…let’s just say he’s way more adept in this boxing ring than I am.

  “Okay, I got her. You can let go now,” Kate told Tristan who was sending me silent messages with blue eyes that have deepened in color considerably within the last few seconds.

  He hesitated and then before he let go, he caught a glimpse of my overly innocent expression and then narrowed his eyes at me. “I wouldn’t use this unless you’re prepared to enter into talks of renegotiation.”

  “Why, whatever do you mean?” I asked sweetly.

  “Fair warning, Camie,” he whispered. Then he turned to make his way to the boys’ locker room to change.

  “Trist, dude! Your girlfriend is like a human pretzel!” Jeff said in a way that sounded like he was congratulating Tristan as he caught up to him.

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing along with Jeff when I heard Tristan’s grumbled reply of “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  Once we were all dressed and Tristan was driving me home, he glanced at the cookie I was unwrapping and decreed, “I get half of that.”

  “Why do you get half?!” Yeah, I’m a little defensive of my food.

  “Well, I think I earned it, but even if you don
’t agree, I also think you could be considered in breach of the rules.”

  “Nu-uh!”

  “Ya-huh. Camie, that wasn’t playing fair and you know it.”

  “You don’t always play fair either you know.”

  I had to laugh when he pretended to be hurt by my accusation and said, “Who, me? I always play fair.”

  “Liar.” He loves finding ways around the rules we put in place to keep him from reaching a base I’m really not ready for him to tag. Like baseball, I think it’s like a game for him.

  “Okay, well maybe not always but at least I give you some kind of advanced notice…you blindsided me with that disturbing little display of yours.”

  “Fine, you big whiner. Take half.” I’m only giving in because he’s right. He does give me some kind of warning when he’s thinking of bending the rules. I just don’t always heed those warnings, which only tends to encourage him more and he definitely doesn’t need any encouragement.

  It came out of nowhere, but happy to have something pop into my head that would get us both off this topic I asked, “Oh hey, what are we gonna do with Phineas and Ferb while we’re gone? Do you think Jeff would be willing to take care of them?” I totally forgot about that. Tristan was going to have them before but now that he’s going, we need to find an itty-bitty kitty-sitter.

  “Yeah, he’d probably be willing but I don’t think they’d be too happy with that…especially Ferb...you know how she’s always screwin’ with him.”

  That’s true. From what I’ve seen and heard, the relationship between Jeff and Ferb is a love-hate thing, which is pretty damned funny. She’s even thrown up a fur-ball in one of his shoes before.

  “Actually, Camie, I was thinking we’d just bring ‘em with us.”

  “Really?” I’m kind of thinking kittens and a three-hour drive won’t mix all that well, but who knows, they might do fine. After all, they do seem to enjoy the car rides when we swap custody.