Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) (8 page)

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.

Overreacted. Kind of an understatement if you ask me.

Regardless of what Camie said though, I know that guy was interested in her last night. He might’ve changed his tune when he witnessed what a train-wreck she is right now, but I’d be willing to bet if she hadn’t flipped out like that, he would’ve put more effort into it.

“
Humph.
Is she gonna call him?” I asked, thinking that maybe she should. If he was cool enough to just listen and offer unbiased support to a chick he doesn’t even know, then he can’t be all bad. I mean, his game
is
all bad, but it might be good for her to get some separation on all this shit. Hell, I’m even thinking of asking her for the guy’s number…

“Here, get the other side,” Katy directed as she pulled one side of the comforter up and started to tuck it under the pillows. “I don’t know, I didn’t get that far…she had to go. Her dad is taking her out for another pre-driver’s test testdrive.”

“Think she’ll pass this time?” Poor Camie. I know I like to make fun of her for stuff like this, because it really is pretty fuckin’ comical, but the chick’s been through the wringer this past week, you know? First her boyfriend—who’ll remain nameless for right now because if I think about him even a little bit, I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it again—dumps her on her birthday, then she finds out her mom’s cancer that they all thought was in remission actually isn’t and that it spread when she comes home all sick and shit after having a surgery that removed most of her colon, then she fails her driver’s test, and then there’s last night and all the rest of the shit with her now ex-boyfriend. It’s a wonder the girl can even spell her own name right now.

“I don’t know…” Katy answered and then sighed. Aw goddamnit; I know that sigh. She’s gonna start talking at me. “Jeff, I know you don’t wanna talk about last night, but I do…what did you say to Pete before he hit you? I mean, I couldn’t really hear from where I was, but I was watching and he was definitely leaving. Whatever you said really,
really
pissed him off.”

Yeah, no shit. Pete doesn’t get pissed like that. Not that I’ve ever seen…not off a baseball field anyway. There was one time a batter rushed the mound, which
completely
pisses him off, and Pete cleaned his clock but good; I honestly expected to see little cartoon birdies flying around the guy’s head. Anyway, I’ll be one hundred percent honest here; it shocked the shit out of me when he actually punched me. He didn’t even hesitate a millisecond and before I even knew he’d hit me, I was on my ass. It was like getting struck by lightning…it was
that
fast. It was also that
hard
…my ears only stopped ringing a couple hours ago. The thing is, I don’t
know
what I said that made him do it.

“Katy, I’ve been over that like a zillion times starting when my ass cheeks hit the grass, and I still have no idea what I said that pissed him off so much. Honestly, when I asked him if he knew what fuckface had done, he said something like ‘I know what he didn’t do,’ which makes no fucking sense whatsoever. So I called him on that and compared him to Jillian, except I think I called her a bitch or something, I’m not sure though because that was when he hit me. The only thing I can think is that…fuck, I don’t know
what
to think. Maybe he just got fed up with me running my mouth.” That’s a very real possibility…Pete’s not a fan of people talking shit. He doesn’t even especially like it when his catcher does it to a batter and that’s part of what a good catcher will do. You know, get inside a batter’s head and fuck with them so they don’t hit well. “He said it was a wakeup call and that I needed to realize shit isn’t what it looks like.”

“He called Camie Tristan’s girlfriend…” Katy said quietly.

“Out of habit. He misspoke, Katy.”

“Yeah, you’re right…but um, everything else he said…you know, about you eventually waking up, Tristan trusting you again…things not being what they appear to be…I just…it makes me wonder if there’s something we don’t know. I mean, don’t you think we should be asking ourselves the big question why?
Why
didn’t he tell you what happened,
why
did he disappear,
why
didn’t he fight back last night, and
why
are Pete
and
Jillian on his side?”

“All good questions, Katy, so when you figure out the answer to any of ‘em, lemme know.”

Why indeed. The one that’s really been getting to me is why Jillian isn’t backing her own sister…

8.

Monday, Week Two

One person’s trash is another’s treasure ~ Pete

What fresh hell is this?

That was what I was thinking when I heard the door open and looked up to see Camie slam it and then start to tear into Jillian. Jillian turned the table on her sister relatively quickly, but it took me a minute to even figure out what they were arguing about. I’d missed something important in between the time they left school together when their dad picked them up so he could take Camie for another shot at her license and now, but Jillian’s a smart cookie. Knowing I was gonna be lost, she phrased her argument in a way that would catch me up pretty well.

Here’s how it started; Jillian opened her bedroom door and looked pretty much like she always does, but Camie was hot on her tail and she looked irate. Then she slammed the door and I saw Jillian stiffen.