Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) Page 6
“It’s cool. Oh, not my name, obviously, but that you can’t remember,” Jesus, dude…what did you do, get your game from reading Come On Lines for Dummies? Add douche to my previous findings on this guy. “My name’s Sc—”
“Scott! Yeah, now I remember…sorry. Um, these are my friends, Kate and Jeff,” Camie said, introducing Katy and me and I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed in her. It wouldn’t have killed her to bow or curtsy just a little.
“Hey, yeah, I remember seeing you guys at the bowling alley a couple months ago. Good to meet you guys. So, where’s your boyfriend tonight?”
That was when I took a really good look at him.
The guy is either a moron or he’s got a death wish. Either way he’s psychotic because sane guys don’t hit on a girl who they know has a boyfriend like Tristan. Guys like him, my self included, make it absolutely clear that we wouldn’t have the slightest qualm about pulling a Hannibal Lector on anyone—meaning all potential predators, which means all guys—who even hint at wanting a piece of our girlfriends’ asses.
Camie shifted again and then her features took on a rebellious quality that I had to admire, although I did find it the slightest bit amusing that she didn’t come right out and say they aren’t together anymore. I’m guessing she’s not one hundred percent sure she likes this guy sniffing at her heels so she’s leaving herself the easy out. “At the moment, I don’t know, nor do I care.”
“Huh. I guess it sucks to be him then.”
Yep, he wants a piece. Tristan would string this pork-sword up by his scrot for all the world to see while he drank a bottle of Chianti and ate his heart in two seconds flat, and then he’d have his nads for dessert like after dinner mints.
I was about to intervene when I caught Katy grinning to herself while she watched them and it all of sudden occurred to me; I don’t give a fuck if Tristan’s ex is being flirted with, badly as it is. Camie seemed fine and I’ve seen the chick cut people into tiny pieces with her razor-like tongue so if she wants this guy to take a hike, she can tell him herself.
I didn’t expect her to take a hike with him though.
I don’t know how she knew the instant he showed up, but when Tristan walked in the front door following Mike and Justin, Camie’s head snapped around and when she saw him, she freaked.
“Oh shit! I gotta get outta here! Oh for the love of all that is holy, there has got to be an escape route out of here…” she yammered, wildly looking around for an exit.
“Come on…I got ya covered,” the dickcheese said, making Camie duck at the same time he threw his letterman’s jacket over her shoulders like camouflage, and then he hauled her off towards the backyard.
“Uh-oh…do you think we should go with them? I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to let her just go like that, I mean, we don’t know that guy from Adam…he could be a serial killer or something, you know?” Katy asked. And I heard her, I did, but right then I was too busy to care what happened to Camie. I was fully engrossed with telling my ex-best friend with my eyes that it was high time he and I had a little chat outside.
I couldn’t even think past my rage when his response to my challenge was raising his arms to his sides like he was saying, “I’m right here…come and get me, you fuck.”
Let’s get ready to RUUMMMMBLLLE! ~ Brandon
From my vantage point on the small platform stage we’d set up in the family room of Duncan’s house, I could see Camie. When that fuckhead, Scott, started to make a move on her I wanted to holler a warning into the fuckin’ microphone. With Jeff right there I settled for keeping tabs on the situation instead. At least I tried. I couldn’t ignore the increasingly irritated look on Melissa’s face though, or the reason for it. This hot little chick from school, I think her name’s Holly but I’m honestly not all that sure, has been fuckin’ with my head by sucking on a lollipop and giving me seductive looks all night. She totally wants to go and all I’d have to do is look at her in any encouraging way and it’s on. With her and Melissa.
The band’s good. We’re really good and we all think we have a real shot at making it big, and even though we haven’t made it yet, this shit happens all the time. Having chicks make outrageous advances towards us is just part of the gig. And I’m used to it but I’m not gonna fuckin’ lie, I like the attention. The problem with all that is Melissa. I really dig Melissa, she’s the whole package, but I don’t know how much jealousy bullshit I can take. I’m not gonna cheat on her, I have no reason to, but if she’s gonna be all insecure and shit then we’re gonna have a problem. Cheating isn’t my thing but neither is reassurance. I wanna be with a chick who has faith in me, in my dreams, and trusts me. From the looks of it, Melissa might have a problem with that last bit, but who knows, maybe she’ll just haul off and deck the lollipop chick and leave me out of it. That I could handle. Come on, I’m a dude…chick fights are hot.
So anyway, all that shit was goin’ on at the same time the fuckhead shit was goin’ on and when we finished playing the set, I looked over at where Camie had been and saw she was gone. So was Jeff. He was easy to locate though. All I had to do was follow the trail of smoke his anger was leaving behind. I looked ahead in the direction he was headed and all thoughts of watching a chick fight disappeared because this isn’t gonna be anything like a chick fight. This one is gonna be hardcore, and it’s gonna be bloody.
By the time I jumped off the stage and got to them, they were already outside. It was raining cats and dogs but somehow, I don’t think either of them gave a shit or even noticed. It was like fuckin’ High Noon with the way they were facin’ off towards each other, but the weirdest shit was that it looked like Jeff was the only one cocked and loaded, and Kate was shoving me out there like I was supposed to help Jeff or something. Fuck, I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, I love me a good fight and it’s been a while since I’ve been in one that really did anything for me. I was hoping that pinhead-ex of Melissa’s would start something that day I kidnapped her so I would have an excuse to whoop his quarterback ass, but he read me right and backed off. But on the other hand, I’m supposed to be Switzerland here. If I throw down in this I’m gonna be puttin’ the gun to my own head.
Jeff was giving Tristan a verbal lashing so stepping out onto the lawn; I took a minute to study and appraise the situation. With just one look, you know Tristan can fuck someone’s shit up in a real bad way and I for one wouldn’t court trouble with him for any reason because it’d be like taking on a fuckin armored tank, but looking at him tonight, you can see his heart isn’t in it. Three guys I didn’t know were kinda hanging back, but then with a closer look, I recognized one of them was that guy, Mike. I met him at Jillian’s birthday party and talked to him a little bit the next night at Camie’s. He’s a pretty cool dude; says exactly what’s on his mind and I can get behind that. Right now he’s just shaking his head back and forth in a wry way, like he knew this shit was bound to happen. Mike and the other guys were tensed up for when the action starts but I’m getting the feeling they’ll be trying to stop it.
Pete on the other hand…that guy’s a fuckin’ contradiction. Normally he’s easy to overlook but if you did, it would be a fuckin’ huge mistake. That time in the desert, the energy coming off him, warned me then that Pete’s a wild card and one thing I know, being one myself, is that it’s the definition of stupid to overlook a wild card. And right now, that same energy, that same dangerous intensity is rolling off him like a tangible thing. From what I’ve been told, he’s got some serious firepower in those guns of his, but I never really thought I’d get to see what he’s capable of off a pitcher’s mound. However, I might just get the chance tonight. He’s standing there sorta casually but I’m seeing something I think Jeff and the other guys are missing. He’s doing it discreetly, but, he’s most definitely loosening up his left shoulder. He won’t be stoppin’ shit. My bet is he’ll be the one finishing it. Yeah, out of all these guys, I’d put my money on him tonight.
And Jef
f? He fuckin’ wants to let loose. You can see it. He’s just waiting for the invitation and I’d rather have him on my side any day of the week and twice on Sunday, but not if that means having to go up against a flame thrower and a tank—even if the tank isn’t up for firing.
Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ love this shit. In fact, is that…? Could it be? Wood? Yep, sure as shit, I’ve got fight wood. But no…I’m stayin’ Swiss. So does that make it Swiss Wood? Oh fuck it, whatever.
I turned my attention away from my dick and back to the reason for my hard-on. Automatically, I sprang forward just as Jeff lunged at Tristan and with one of the guys I don’t know, we held him back. As he was straining against us I took a gander over my shoulder and saw that neither Tristan nor Pete had moved a fuckin’ muscle. Tristan was standing in the exact same spot he was in right before Jeff went for him, and Pete was standing barely behind Tristan and to the side, like any good second would. Mike and the other guy had come forward to hold Tristan back, but it must have occurred to them at the same time it occurred to me that Tristan wasn’t coming after Jeff because they each gave Tristan an odd look like they didn’t get it and then stepped away. I didn’t get it at first either but with a good look at Tristan and a split second later, I understood all too clearly. Tristan’s gonna let Jeff have at him. And then, sure as shit, he proved my theory to be right.
Tristan took a step forward, planted his feet and braced himself, and then with the confidence of a brick wall, he arrogantly beckoned to Jeff and said, “Come on, buddy, let’s see what you got.”
The guy and I let Jeff loose and I watched in amazement as Tristan took a quick left jab and then a particularly nasty right hook to the face. He took a smallish, not quite staggered step back, but he didn’t even come close to going down. I could see the fierce determination it was taking to not defend himself or bulldoze Jeff to the ground in Tristan’s eyes and in his body language though. He was practically quivering.
“What the fuck? You just gonna fuckin’ stand there like a fuckin’ bitch?” Jeff hollered in contempt. I don’t blame him. When your opponent doesn’t even make a move, it kinda takes the fun out of the fight. I dunno, there’s just something anti-climactic about beating the shit out of someone who won’t even defend themselves.
“Looks like it,” Tristan answered Jeff with the emotion of a dead man and like it was a minor annoyance or inconvenience, he ran his tongue over the cut that must have been on the inside of his mouth and spit out the blood that was gathering in his mouth. The dude can seriously take a punch. It was probably the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen live and the timing was completely fuckin’ wrong, but I really wanted to applaud the guy.
“You’re a fuckin’ waste of life, you worthless piece of shit,” Jeff said, shaking his head, the fight in him having been deflated quite a bit. Now he just looks disgusted.
“Agreed. But just so we’re clear, next time…I hit back,” Tristan warned, and with that self-assured dismissal of Jeff, he turned around and walked away with the two guys I didn’t know following him at a distance.
Mike turned around to leave too, but Pete was rooted to the spot, still coiled and ready. It took him a minute, but when Jeff saw Pete still standing there, he transferred his anger at Tristan onto Pete and went on the offensive again.
“And you, you fuckin’ lap dog…how can you even fuckin’ sleep at night?”
“I sleep like a baby, Jeff, how ‘bout you?” Pete said so quietly I had to inch up a little closer so I wouldn’t miss anything.
“How the fuck can you actually still be friends with that lowlife fuckwad?!” Jeff asked, getting fired up again and closing the gap between himself and Pete.
“What I can’t get past is how you can’t be,” Pete replied and I swear to God, it sounded like he pitied Jeff.
“Do you even know what he did?” Jeff yelled at Pete’s back as he turned to leave.
“Nope, I know what he didn’t do,” Pete answered over his shoulder, about to take a step away.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Shit, you sound like that cold bitch sister of Cam—”
He moved like a snake and before I could even move a muscle to stop him, Pete had wheeled around and with one, gnarly haymaker punch, he knocked Jeff flat on his ass. I grinned to myself. I fuckin’ knew Pete was gonna have the last word here.
Jeff wiped the blood from his nose and looked at it, stunned. Then, very calmly, but with obviously restrained rage, Pete said, “That was a wakeup call. It’s about fuckin’ time you open your goddamned eyes and realize shit isn’t always what it fuckin’ looks like,” he started to walk away again and then when Kate ran up crying and crouched down next to Jeff, and Melissa hurried over to me, Pete turned back and asked, “Where’s Camie?”
Shit. I completely fuckin’ forgot about her.
“Please tell me neither of you guys left her alone with that guy who was talking to her,” I said to Jeff and Kate.
“What guy?” Pete asked and that element of danger was suddenly back.
Rather than hemming and hawing, because I know better than to do that with a guy like him, I looked Pete straight in the eyes and just told him, “His name is Scott. I don’t have any hardcore proof, but my gut tells me he’s really bad news.”
Kate paled and then Jeff said, “She’d already met him before tonight and yeah, the guy’s a douche, but I didn’t get any psycho vibes from him…besides, we didn’t have a choice…when Tristan showed up, she fuckin’ freaked out and took off with him.”
I got the impression he was uncomfortable admitting that piece of information and I don’t blame him. Jeff dropped the ball and he knows it.
Pete stared at him, hard, like he was deciding whether he would go to Jeff’s funeral or not and then he said, “Because you’re eventually gonna wake up and it’s gonna be tough for him to trust you again as it is, I’m gonna do you this one favor…I’m not gonna tell Tristan you let his girlfriend go off with some guy none of you even know, but if I were you, I’d start praying right fucking now while you’re down there to every fucking God who’ll listen that nothing happens to her and that she makes it home tonight without a single hair out of place, because if something happens, you and I both know, no witness protection program, no amount of running or hiding will stop him or Jillian from hunting you down and when, not if, when they find you, nothing on this earth will keep you even remotely safe.”
With that threat still hanging in the air like a fucking scythe, Pete calmly turned and walked away. I gotta say it though. DAMN. That guy knows how to instill some pretty fuckin’ serious fear into the hearts of men. And I tell you what, if Hell had a ball team, I bet this guy would be Satan’s first round draft pick for a pitcher.
Seven
Sunday, Week Two
Why Indeed ~ Jeff
Sunday morning I was standing in our bathroom trying to decide if I wanted to look like a badass or a pussy. Katy wants me to put a butterfly bandage on the cut on my cheek. It’s not big and it didn’t bleed a lot, not like my nose, but the force of Pete’s knuckles hitting my face split the skin of my cheekbone wide open. It could’ve been worse though. I’m sure he would’ve busted my honker had he made full contact with it instead of just grazing it like he did. Then I’d have all the fuckin’ swelling and nasty black bruising to deal with and well, there’s nothing badass about walking around looking like you’re the victim of a hack plastic surgeon.
Fuck it. I’ll make Katy happy and wear the stupid Band-Aid at home, but it comes off when I go out in public.
“Babe, you’re screwing it up…the whole point of a butterfly is to pinch the skin together so it heals faster,” Katy said when she saw me just stick the thing to my face. Then she ripped it off, causing me to wince but really, I prefer to just get that kind of stuff over with fast and she knows it.
“You talk to Camie?” I asked her as she unwrapped a new bandage.
She called Camie last night while I was trying to get my nose to
stop bleeding, intending to ask her where she was and if she was okay. She got Camie’s voicemail and it really fuckin’ freaked us both out, but she left a message and about ten minutes later Camie sent a text that said she was home and she’d call tomorrow. Or I guess that would be today…whatever, I have a headache.
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with her…hold still,” Katy told me as she pulled the edges of my skin closed and fastened the bandage according to the “proper” method shown on the instructions in the first-aid kit.
“Well? What happened to her last night?” I need to hear the answer to this and ever since Brandon said the guy is bad news, I’ve been hardcore stressing. I’d have a lot of people to answer to for letting something happen to Camie and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself so either way it happens, I’m screwed if that guy messed with her.
“She’s fine. He took her home and that’s pretty much it,” Katy answered as she handed me the ibuprofen and started to clean up the mess I’d made in the bathroom.
“Pretty much it or it?” If ever there was a time for specifics, it’s now.
“Well, here’s the play-by-play she gave me…he got her out of the house, he drove her home and on the way, I guess she was doing that nervous blathering she does and he just listened. She apologized for being such a spaz and explained she just went through a really emotional breakup, she thanked him for the ride home and then he gave her his number in case she ever wants to talk about it with someone who isn’t so close to the situation. She said that he said he’s been through a couple of bad breakups before so he understands. I told her Brandon’s opinion of the guy and she said Brandon’s an idiot. She didn’t once feel like Scott was trying to hit on her or anything, she said he was nice and when he gave her his number, he didn’t even ask for hers in return. So, I guess we all overreacted for nothing,” Katy told me and headed out into our bedroom to make the bed.