Shark Bite

by K L Montgomery

I don’t even take a shower before heading over to Megan’s. I’m starting to wonder if my phone’s broken because it’s not like my girl to miss an opportunity to communicate. She’s all about communication.

  I realize I used “my girl” in my head, and that stupid thought brings a smile to my face. Yes, I’m stressed about my conversation with Walt and what might be going on with Beach Buddies, but Megan is a shining light. Last night was a low point, but I’m going to let her know how I feel tonight, and somehow we’re going to get on track. We need to be united, that’s what she said last night. And that’s exactly how we’re going to overcome this temporary setback.

  Her Beetle is parked in the driveway, so I know she’s here. I really wish she would have answered my text, but maybe she wants her apology in person. It’s fine. I’m willing to give it.

  I knock on her door and wait. I wish I could say I’m calm, but my heart is bugging out, throbbing in my chest. There’s no answer, so I knock again. And wait. She’s got to be here, right?

  I try to peek through her living room window like a creeper, but I can’t see anything through the thick curtains. I run around to the back where she has a small patio with a glass door. The house looks quiet and dark from what I can see. My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I whip it out like I’m drawing a gun in a duel, hoping it’s her.

  I slump down onto the lounge chair on her patio when I see it’s a text from my brother.

  Declan: Too bad you’re a screw-up, Shark, or this coulda been yours. Dad and I are headed to Oklahoma, like he’s always wanted to do. If you want to say goodbye, you better do it before Saturday. That’s when we roll out.

  Below his text is a photo of the for sale sign in front of my dad’s property.

  I can’t believe they’re actually going. And so soon. And are basically leaving it up to me whether or not I want to say goodbye. They don’t give a crap about me, just like they didn’t all those years ago when I was eight. My dad is still blaming me for the divorce and for my mom meeting Gary, who was literally scum of the earth. If he wants to blame anyone, it should be Gary because he’s the man who ruined his life. Who almost ruined my life. Gary and his son.

  I look back down at my phone, which I’ve tossed onto the patio table, willing Megan to text or call. I sit there long enough that the sun begins to creep toward the treetops behind her fence, making them glow in its deepening amber light. It’s getting late, and Megan isn’t home, but her car is here.

  I scroll to find Meric in my contacts and push the green call button. If Megan is with Lindy, this will tell me. I hope to god she’s not with Walt. She wouldn’t be with Walt, right?

  My mind is playing tricks on me. Having been rejected by so many people in my life, it’s hard to imagine why anyone would accept me. Choose me. Like I thought Megan did.

  But maybe I was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Hey,” Meric answers, his voice low, his tone unreadable in the one-syllable greeting.

  “Is Lindy with Megan? Her car is at her house, but she’s not here.”

  Meric huffs out a breath loud enough for me to hear. “She came to get her about an hour ago.”

  “Why?” I run my fingers through my hair, which is badly in need of a trim. I’ve been too busy with work and rugby to take care of it. “Doesn’t Lindy have to teach tomorrow? And Megan has work.”

  “Yeah…” Another heavy sigh spills out of Meric’s lips.

  “What’s going on?” I demand to know. I’m sick of people dicking me around. Just tell me the truth for once.

  “Detective Bledsoe from the state police called Matt at Beach Buddies today. He hasn’t called you?”

  Now my heart is really thundering. “No, not yet…” I put Meric on speaker and scroll through my recent calls. Shit. There are voicemails and three missed calls from Matt. “Wait, he did call. I was at practice.”

  “You better call him back,” is all Meric says. “I’m sorry, Shark.”

  “Thanks, bro…” It’s hard for me to know if my words are sincere or sarcastic as I hang up and walk back to my truck. Not only is my heart racing, but it feels like someone is bludgeoning my temples with a sledgehammer. I’m dehydrated from practice, haven’t eaten, and now I have this to face.

  Just when I thought things were looking up…

  I dial Matt’s number as I sit in my truck. Maybe Lindy will bring Megan home while I’m sitting here. It rings and goes to voicemail. I guess he’s stopped taking business calls for the night. Don’t blame him.

  The days are growing shorter. The sky is no longer amber, but indigo clouds are floating over the trees with a crimson gash in the middle of them. It looks like they’re bleeding.

  “Hey, Matt, it’s Shark Kelly, returning your call…”

  After I hang up, I drive out to my dad’s place.

  The blood in my veins starts to heat up when I turn down the gravel driveway and see the for sale sign my brother texted me. A dust cloud forms behind my truck as I barrel down the drive, and part of me wishes it would swallow me whole. My dad’s brand-new truck is parked between the house and the barn with a huge trailer attached to it. I can only assume it’s filled with all his belongings for his move.

  Why am I here? Why would I even say goodbye? He didn’t say goodbye to me all those years ago.

  I don’t even knock; I simply push open the screen door and step inside, letting it slam behind me with a crisp smack against its frame. The house smells like dinner, and I ignore my rumbling stomach. I know Kathy will offer me some, but I won’t be here long enough to eat it.

  “Oh, look what the cat dragged in,” my father’s gravelly voice rumbles from the living room. “Still playing that pansy-ass sport, I see.” His gaze sweeps from my bare legs up to my grass-stained shirt from practice.

  “Still an asshole, I see.” My fists clench at my side. “Really, Dad? You weren’t even going to tell me goodbye?” I walk around to face him, and Kathy comes out of the kitchen, rubbing wet hands on her jeans. Why is she still feeding this asshole when he’s leaving her?

  He stands up to face me, and that’s when my blood starts to boil. I suck in a breath, filling my lungs with air and my head with all the de-escalation tactics my therapist has taught me in the past two years. Take a deep breath… (Check). Don’t be defensive. (God, I’m trying.) Respect personal space. (I’m guessing punching him in the face wouldn’t be in line with that little nugget of wisdom?)

  “Honestly, Son, I didn’t know how to tell you.” He puts his hands in his pocket and squares his jaw. Kathy backs up. She looked like she was going to try to get between us if we came to blows. God bless her, he never deserved a woman like her.

  “I love Kathy like a mom, but having her tell me was so cowardly, old man.” My own jaw clenches, but when my gaze flits over to my stepmom, she’s got a little smirk of vindication playing on her lips. “If you look up coward in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of you. You didn’t tell me you were cheating me out of my family heritage, what ought to be coming to me if Declan doesn’t want it. What’s been in our family for generations. But why am I surprised?”

  He stands still except for the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest as he takes in shallow breaths. He looks so old. I hadn’t really studied him in so many years. He’s an old man now; what little hair he has left is white. His face is haggard and crisscrossed with wrinkles and sun spots. His hands are veiny and weathered. He’s only sixty-four, but he looks every bit of eighty.

  “I’m not surprised,” I continue, keeping my voice calm and even. My therapist’s words are still echoing in my head, guiding me as I reflect on all that’s happened between myself and this man who raised me, then abandoned me, then held me at arm’s length only to forsake me yet again. “I’m not surprised this is how you’ve chosen to handle the situation when you didn’t even say goodbye to your son all those years ago. You sent me packing with Mom, and I was lucky to get a phone call or a birthday card from you for years.”r />
  There’s a tiny break in his countenance. His mouth opens in a small O shape, then closes again as he clears his throat. Kathy steps beside me, not touching me, but letting me know she’s on my side with her presence.

  “Did you know my stepdad abused me? Nope, you probably didn’t because a) I never told you, and b) you weren’t around to see for yourself. And his son, my stepbrother, bullied me as well,” I drop a truth bomb on him.

  “Well, I do know that asshole was a bad influence on you and that you bullied your stepbrother right back,” he retorts. “You never did one thing to make me proud, Kid. Unlike your brother. Declan was a football star. He went to college on a scholarship, and he got right to work helping me with the family business when he was fourteen years old. What did you do, Kid? You dropped out of college the first time. You didn’t even have a real job until you were twenty-five. Then you assed up and lost your own business. That’s what I know, Shannon,” he over-enunciates my given name. “Why would I want you to run my business? WHY?”

  His thundering voice only intensifies the rage that’s shooting up my spine, but I swallow it down, maintaining my calm. My therapist would be so proud of me right now. She’d give me a big hug and say, “I knew you could do it, Shannon!”

  And do you know what else she’d say?

  She’d tell me he’s not worth it. He’s not worth explaining what really happened in Pennsylvania when I was growing up. He’s not even worth the spit that might fly out of my mouth while I explained why I had to sell my business.

  He’s. Not. Worth. It.

  “Goodbye, Dad,” is all I say. Then I pivot on my heel and make my way toward the door. Kathy follows me; though I don’t turn back, I hear her footsteps behind me, and they’re soft, so I know they’re not my dad’s heavy, lumbering boots. He’s not man enough to see me out. To give me a proper goodbye.

  I make it onto the porch before my lungs feel like they’re about to explode. I don’t say anything, but when I turn to face Kathy, who’s standing there in the doorframe, I see tears streaking down her face.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this between you two,” she sobs. Then she takes a step toward me and buries her face in my sweaty, grass-stained chest.

  I pull her back by the shoulders and look at her, her face all scrunched up and red. “It’s not your job to fix us.”

  “Have you given any more thought to the farm and carriage company, Shay?” She wipes a stray tear from her eye.

  “I got the loan application filled out, but—”

  “But what?” Her eyebrows lift in a hopeful arch.

  “Some stuff is about to go down with my rugby team, and I don’t think it’s a good time for me to take over the business. If things calm down by winter, and no one has bought the place…I might try then.”

  She huffs out a disappointed breath but nods. “Okay. The sign went up today, and I’m hoping now that it’s fall, no one will come look at it till spring. We need to get through the winter. Can you come and help from time to time? My kids are going to, of course. We don’t want to lose the company, Shay. But we really want you to be part of it.”

  “I know,” I assure her. “I hope I can be, someday. And of course I’ll help out when I can. We have the carnival coming up soon. I’ll be here to help you load everything up.”

  She nods and hands me a Tupperware container she must have had hidden behind her back. It’s still warm from dinner. I give her a grateful smile, then lean down so she can kiss my cheek.

  With that, I turn and walk back to my truck. The sun is completely gone now, and a chill has settled over the fields surrounding the property. My heart feels just as cold. I wish I could sink into the warmth of my girl, but it’s late. Too late. Too late at night, and maybe too late for us.

  20

  “Hold up, Megan, I can’t even understand you!” my best friend’s voice comes down the line.

  I’m holding the phone to my face, but it’s so slick with tears, it keeps sliding off. I just got off the phone with Matt, and he’s considering pulling his sponsorship of the rugby team and ending our partnership with the carnival based on what he learned about Shark from the detective.

  “I just…I don’t know, Megan, I worked so hard…and it’s probably for nothing, and I—”

  “I can still barely make out what you’re saying. Do you want me to come over there?”

  I sob loudly and suck in a ragged breath that makes a squeaking sound as the air fills my lungs. I sound like an asthmatic mouse. “You have work in the morning, and you’re pregnant!” I bawl into the phone.

  “I know, but it’s not that late yet, and I can stay out for a couple of hours. I’m well into my second trimester, and now that I’ve gotten into a routine, I have a little more energy…”

  I blubber something else; I, myself, don’t even know what I’m saying at this point, but my best friend assures me she’ll be right here.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulls into my driveway. “Hop in. We’re getting ice cream.”

  Have I mentioned lately how much I love this woman? She’s like my guardian angel, I swear. My tears have dried, but as soon as she says ice cream, I start sobbing again, my shoulders heaving as I try to fasten my seatbelt.

  She doesn’t try to make me talk until we’re seated on a bench on the boardwalk with cones from Kohr’s in our hands. Okay, so it’s frozen custard, not ice cream. But that only makes it better.

  By now the tears have dried a second time, and my sniffles are finally starting to clear. I’m sure my eyes are all puffy, and my nose is red, but I’m pretending the throngs of people enjoying Rehoboth Beach on this lovely fall evening can’t see me. I bring Lindy up to speed on what happened on Monday and today. She already knew about my Saturday night romp and sleepover with Shark from our dinner together on Sunday.

  My best friend, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, looks like she could throat punch the guy when I tell her what he said to me on Monday after Matt called with Ollie’s wild accusations about what he saw and heard at the game. Finally, I relay what Matt told me when he called a couple of hours ago: Shark has a questionable past.

  “So what did he do that was so bad?” Lindy leans in to ask like it’s the next episode of Unsolved Mysteries.

  “So a couple of things,” I relay what I learned from Matt, “back when he was in high school, he assaulted his stepbrother, and actually did some time for misdemeanor assault. Then…I guess I found out why he lost his business…”

  “What do you mean?” She’s hanging on the edge of her seat, or as much as a pregnant lady can, anyway.

  “Someone vandalized his store, and apparently he beat the living crap out of the person,” I reveal. “I don’t know all the details…but…it’s weird, right?”

  “What?” My best friend’s eyes are as huge as the moon that’s starting to rise over the ocean fifty yards away from us.

  “I don’t know how I didn’t hear about this.” I shake my head. “I mean, this happened two summers ago...”

  “Wait a minute…” Lindy shakes her head like a memory popped up. “I did hear about that. It happened right around the time of Yo Ho Rehoboth, I think. I didn’t know Meric very well then.”

  “I just…” I look off to the water, where dusk is settling on top of the waves and the white crests are almost glowing as they crash upon the sand. “I don’t know what to do. I’m guessing this is when his team’s PR woes started, and he didn’t even tell me.”

  “So you feel like he lied to you?”

  “I knew there was something in his past he wasn’t sharing. He told me about his mom running off with his martial arts instructor. So I guess he and his stepbrother didn’t get along…and from what Matt said, he had to undergo court-mandated anger management therapy after the incident two years ago. Obviously, he shouldn’t have been around the Beach Buddies kids—”

  “But you said he was so good with them,” Lindy interjects.

  “He was…” I bury my face in my palms
, filling my lungs with a cleansing breath. “I don’t know what to do. I worked so hard on this carnival, and it was supposed to be my springboard to a promotion at work, and I thought I’d finally gotten somewhere with Shark after all this time…”

  “Do you mean you have feelings for him?” Lindy reaches out and takes my hand into hers, squeezing it in support.

  I start to blubber all over again as her question stabs another hole in my heart. “I think I do, but now… What if he’s not the man I think he is?”

  “You need to go talk to him,” she tells me. “I know he threw you out the other night…”

  “He was so angry, and now that I know this about him, I’m…”

  “Scared?”

  I huff out a long, disappointed breath. “I don’t know if scared is the right word. I know he’d never try to hurt me. I don’t know what to tell Matt, and I don’t know what to tell Walt—or Shark—”

  “Oh, right, Walt…you were going out with him… I was so excited about you and Shark, I almost forgot.” My friend laughs at her preggo-brain as she pats my hand again.

  “He realized I had feelings for Shark before I did, I think.” That little epiphany has a smile cracking my lips.

  “No one’s perfect, Megan. And though it sounds like Shark has made some mistakes in the past, you don’t know the whole story. What might have provoked him to beat up either of those guys. And Matt said he went to anger management…so maybe he’s a different person now. But you’re not going to know any of these answers if you don’t talk to him.”

  “I know…”

  “Has he tried to contact you?”

  I nod, looking down at my phone, where the text he sent me this morning is still sitting there unanswered. I was going to answer him after work, after I’d had some time to be dramatic—I know, hard to believe coming from me *sarcasm* --but then Matt called, and I’ve been crying ever since. “He apologized for how he treated me the other night when he asked me to leave. I haven’t answered him yet.”