Shark Bite

by K L Montgomery

“Well, don’t you think you should do that?” Her face brightens as her eyes bounce between mine. “It sounds like a good place to start…”

  “You make everything sound so simple, don’t you?” I chuckle when a defensive expression furrows her brows.

  “Look, I can tell you this much: Meric and I would never have gotten together if we weren’t honest about our feelings and put ourselves out there, risked getting our hearts trampled. You can’t have love without some sort of risk, Megan. I mean, he’s Shark…you knew there was a chance you’d get bitten…”

  “Very funny.” I roll my eyes at her. “In some ways, he’s still Shay-Shay to me. Part of my issue may be that I can’t imagine this wiry little kid I grew up with beating anyone to a pulp…”

  “I’ve seen his biceps,” Lindy retorts, laughing. “Trust me, I can imagine it.”.

  I can’t help but join in. His biceps are definitely one of his most distinguishing features. “It’s hard to reconcile that little kid I knew with this tatted-up, muscle-bound man I know now.”

  “I’m sure you’ve changed just as much as he has…” Her voice trails off, lost on the breeze.

  “Nah, I’m still the drama queen I was at eight!” My smile fades when I realize that what happened to him after he left Delaware is what changed him. And those changes were probably beyond his control. “You’re right, though…I need to get to the bottom of all this. I’m going to call him when I get home.”

  “Good girl,” my best friend says, patting my knee. Then she stands up and stretches. “If I don’t find a bathroom in the next two minutes, my bladder is going to explode all over this bench.”

  “Oh, geez, girl! Let’s go!” We take off toward the restrooms near the bandstand before making the trek back to her car.

  I’m sitting in the stillness of my house that evening after Lindy dropped me off. I’ve had my phone in my hand for some time, staring at Shark’s contact picture. I found a photo of him and Meric taken at Meric’s birthday party in the summer—the fateful night Shark asked me to help him with his team—and cropped it so only Shark’s face shows in the circle.

  I wish Shark would have come clean about his past, told me what he’d done. I know people can change. And I have no doubt things were rough after he left Delaware…but why couldn’t he just tell me about it instead of shutting down?

  I pick up the phone to call him when my phone rings with Walt’s face on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hey there…” comes his deep, silky voice, caressing my ears. I didn’t expect to hear from him after I broke off whatever it was we had.

  “What’s up?” I want to get down to business so I can call Shark. Like Lindy said, I owe him a chance to explain himself.

  “I talked to Shark at practice,” he says, “and I need to tell you what I told him. I feel bloody awful about the whole thing—and I know Matt and the kids’ parents are really upset about what happened. But I remembered a couple of things the kids overheard that might have caused Ollie to talk to his mum.”

  Walt proceeds to tell me about a conversation he had with another teammate where expletives and slurs were thrown around like beach balls. I’m so over all of this. You’d think a group of adults could handle being in charge of three children for several hours, but apparently not.

  “I’m going to go talk to Matt tomorrow,” I tell Walt when he’s done groveling for my forgiveness. “I’m hoping I can salvage the carnival. We have our final meeting tomorrow night, you know.”

  “I know. Megan, I’m so sorry, once again. If there’s anything I can do to help… I hope the parents know that none of it was done intentionally. Rugby is a great sport, but there are definitely some adult aspects of it.”

  “It’s fine, Walt. We’ll figure it out. Thanks for calling.”

  I hang up and stare at Shark’s contact information in my phone. I want to call him, but I’m exhausted. And my head hurts from eating my frozen custard too fast. Executive decision: I’m going to go to bed. I’ll tackle this in the morning.

  21

  I have time before work to stop by Beach Buddies and talk to Matt about the situation. After telling my dad how I really felt last night, and then never hearing back from Megan, at this point, I have nothing to lose. I may be a loser, like my dad believes, and I may not deserve the family business, but at least I kept my cool last night and walked away before I did anything stupid. My therapist would be proud of me for that. And I’m proud of me too.

  It’s so early that the Beach Buddies director is, at that exact moment, getting out of his car in the parking lot. I roll down my window as I pull up next to his small burgundy SUV that has two car seats in the back. “Hey, Matt.”

  “Morning,” he tells me, and the lack of the perfunctory “good” in front of it tells me he’s not in a good mood. Well, that makes two of us.

  I squint when the morning sun hits my eyes. “I left you a voicemail last night, but I figured it was easier to stop by.”

  He nods and gestures for me to follow him to the door, which he unlocks and holds open to let me inside. The building is stuffy, and he ignores me for a moment while he walks over to adjust the thermostat, cranking it all the way to the left to make it colder. We’re having an unseasonably warm fall here on Delmarva, which is definitely not out of the ordinary.

  After that I follow him back to his office, and once I settle down in one of the seats by his desk, I hear the front doors open again and his perky assistant’s voice echoes down the hallway to ask if he wants coffee.

  “Sure,” he yells back before arranging himself at his desk and logging into his computer. Then he signals he’s ready to talk by folding his hands and resting them on the desk, inches away from his keyboard.

  “I need to know what I can do to salvage your partnership with our team,” I tell him point-blank. Megan didn’t do all this work for nothing, and I’m not going to let her take the fall for anything that happened at the game or social. She did nothing wrong.

  He grimaces as his eyes rake across my face. “Man, I don’t know what to tell you. Detective Bledsoe—that’s Ollie’s mom—interviewed all the kids yesterday, and some disturbing details came out.” He withdraws some papers from a manila file folder, shuffles them, and hands the one on top to me.

  It looks like an email he’s printed out with a list of accusations the kids made. It doesn’t say which kid said what, nor whom they claimed was responsible for each accusation. The slurs and expletives Walt told me about on the field last night are well-represented on the list.

  “Ollie got in trouble for repeating some of those words at home,” Matt tells me, “and one at school, which got him sent to the principal’s office. That’s how all this started, I think.”

  “Great.” I huff out a short, exasperated breath and rake my fingers through my hair. “What can I do to fix it?”

  “It’s not just the accusations, Shark.” His face is resolute as he gathers the papers back up and adds the one I just looked at back to the stack. “Detective Bledsoe also did some digging into you, Megan and Walt. She couldn’t find much on Walt since he’s from the U.K.”

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t imagine she’d find anything on him even if he were born and bred in the U.S.”

  “This is partially my fault,” Matt concedes. “I always do background checks on my volunteers. But I know Walt is a respected veterinarian, and Megan’s family owns the pharmacy, and I know her parents pretty well. And I really thought you, as an EMT, had a clean background as well.”

  “I had some issues when I was a juvenile,” I admit. “But nothing to keep me from getting a job.”

  “You did time, Shark,” he reminds me.

  As if I don’t already know, but I don’t bother to argue with him—it was a juvenile facility, and my records were sealed. However, during my other brush with the law a couple years ago, the records were unsealed. I’m not going to get defensive because the important thing here is taking the heat off the rest of the team. I need to
be the bad guy here? Fine.

  “Megan and Walt are not responsible for anything that happened at the game or the social.” My jaw sets so firmly it’s like stone. “It’s all me. I take full responsibility for everything that happened.”

  “The language? The kid getting groped?”

  “He was not groped,” okay, that point I will argue. “He simply ran into the guy who’d done the zulu, but he was clothed. He literally bumped into him in the bathroom. It was innocent. NOT groping. Ollie has a flair for the dramatic; that’s all there is to it. Nothing more happened. But it is my fault the zulu happened. I should have spoken to the other team’s captain and asked them to tone it down for the kids’ sakes. And the bad language. Also my fault.”

  “You’re sure you want to take responsibility for all this?” He pins his gaze on me, challenging me to renege.

  I nod and back it up with a single word. “Yes.”

  “I really should pull our sponsorship. I don’t want word to get around that we associate with criminals, Shark.”

  I am not a criminal, dammit. But now is not the time to be defensive. I don’t want anything to hurt Megan. And I don’t want Walt’s job and standing in the community to be impacted by this. I already have a rap sheet, so it’s much better for me to shoulder the responsibility. It won’t be the first time. It probably won’t be the last.

  “If I leave the team, end my volunteer work with Beach Buddies, and pull out of the carnival,” I offer, “will you keep the partnership intact and exonerate Megan and Walt? Put any and all blame on me.”

  “That’s really what you want?”

  “I already said yes.” I don’t mean for it to come out snarky, but it does anyway. “Yes, sir.” I straighten my spine and lift my chin, signaling it’s my final answer.

  “Okay, Shark. I’m sorry it didn’t work out like we hoped.”

  “Me too.” I start to rise from the chair when Matt’s voice pulls me back.

  “Max is gonna miss you,” he tells me. “He idolized you. He even told Detective Bledsoe you were his hero.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good thing.” I stand to my full height, my hands clenching into fists at my side as I think about what I just agreed to. “I shouldn’t be anyone’s hero.”

  Me: Hey. I meant to call you last night, but I ended up talking to Matt, then Lindy, then Walt, and by the time I was done, I was beat. I’ll see you tonight at the planning meeting, right? We can talk about everything.

  After hitting send, I gather up my purse and head over to Andrea’s office. “I have to run a couple errands for one of the account reps,” I tell her. Not a lie, but I also have some other stops to make when I’m out.

  Andrea barely looks up from her computer to acknowledge me. “Sure. Will you pick up lunch while you’re gone? I can have Tori email you an order in a few.”

  “Yep, no problem.” That will buy me even more time.

  I speed across town, thankful traffic is finally starting to go back to normal on Route 1 now that fall is finally here. The sun is beating down on the black-topped driveway of Beach Buddies when I pull in, and when I step out, I swear my sandals almost stick to it. “Why does it still have to be so freaking hot? It’s October, hello!” I complain to the weather gods.

  I smile at the receptionist as I enter, hoping she remembers me. “Hey, there, Megan Adams. I don’t have an appointment, but I really need to speak to Mr. Cameron for a few minutes. Is he here?”

  “Oh, sure,” she says. “Wow, you rugby people have all been in here today.” She laughs as she picks up her phone, presumably to let Matt know I’m here.

  Not sure what she means by her last statement, I wait for her to give me the go ahead. When I open his office door, he lifts his eyes to me and smiles.

  “Hi, Megan.” Matt gestures for me to take one of the chairs. I wonder immediately what other butts have sat in them today. “You just missed Walt. And before that, Shark.”

  “Well, we really don’t want to lose the partnership or have to cancel the carnival over what happened on Saturday. It was all an accident, and we feel terrible the kids were exposed to some bad language and that naked guy.” I try to suppress a chuckle at that point, because it’s kind of funny when you think about it. A little bit funny. Okay, maybe not. “As for Shark…I don’t know the whole story, but I’m sure if you just allow him to explain… I know most of what happened was when he was a kid—”

  “He’s already quit the team and pulled out of his volunteer work with my organization,” Matt reveals.

  “What?” My heart plummets into my stomach as my eyes search Matt’s for answers. “What do you mean?”

  Matt interlaces his fingers and steadies his gaze on me. “He was in first thing this morning and said he would take all the blame. He wants you and Walt to be exonerated and said you shouldn’t be held responsible for anything that happened on Saturday. He doesn’t want any of it to impact your work, or Walt’s work. And he wants the carnival to go on as planned. He’s simply backing out. Falling on his sword, I guess…”

  “But—” I shake my head. “That’s not fair to him. Walt and I are equally responsible, and—”

  “Walt said the same thing when he was in here.” Matt shrugs and opens up a manila file folder. “Detective Bledsoe has sent me the kids’ statements. She still wants to interview you guys, but I think if I tell her Shark has quit the team and severed his relationship with Beach Buddies, she’ll accept it, and hopefully we can all move on.”

  “So we’re supposed to just…let him take the blame?” The idea of it makes my stomach swirl.

  “It’s not ideal, but if you want to clear everything up before the carnival, which is next weekend, I think it’s for the best.”

  “I see.” I stand up on shaky legs, my head spinning with contradictory thoughts and broken phrases that I want to express but can’t seem to spit out. “Then I guess I’ll see you at the final meeting tonight?”

  “Yep, I’ll be there.” Matt rises as well, extending his hand to shake mine. “I’m sorry it worked out this way, Megan. But at least we can salvage the carnival. I know how much work you’ve put into it.”

  “Me too,” is all I can manage before my eyes well up with tears.

  I have to talk to Shark. As soon as I get back to my car, I look down at my phone, but there’s nothing from him, no reply to my text. Only the email from Andrea with the lunch order she promised to send.

  Shark

  Keeping my mind on work this afternoon has been a nearly impossible task. It’s not good for an EMT to be distracted. Distraction leads to mistakes. I try centering myself, meditative breathing—all tricks my therapist taught me over the past couple of years, but nothing seems to be working. Thankfully we haven’t been too busy, and my crew has been hanging out, shooting the shit.

  I need to contact Megan before the meeting tonight to let her know I won’t be there. But I’m going to make myself wait till after my shift. I feel restless and amped up, and after talking to her, I might feel worse, and I don’t want it to affect my work. So I’m definitely not prepared for the text that flashes on my phone.

  Unknown number: Shark? Shark is that you? It’s me, Max.

  My heart takes off at a fast clip when my vision fills with an image of the kid I’ve been mentoring for the past couple of months. I can’t believe I’m not going to see him again. He was really growing on me, that kid.

  I know I probably shouldn’t respond, so I try to ignore it. Matt would be angry if I answered. Max should be at school, though. What if something’s wrong? I really hope he’s not hurt. I’m hemming and hawing about what to do when I receive another text:

  Unknown number: Shark, I’m in trouble. Please answer me. Don’t call though cause it’ll get me in trouble.

  Naturally that sends my heart rate soaring. I have no choice now. I really hope the kid isn’t dicking me around, but that doesn’t seem like something Max would do.

  Me: Hey, what’s wrong? How�
�d you get my number?

  Max: I got it from Mom’s phone.

  Me: Whose phone are you using now? Aren’t you in school? What’s going on?

  Max: Borrowed a friend’s. Yes in school. Alex says he’s gonna beat me up at recess.

  Me: Where are you right now?

  Max: Hiding in the library. It’s lunchtime. Recess is after math.

  Me: What time?

  Max: IDK. Later. An hour?

  Me: What do you want me to do?

  Max: IDK. Help me?

  “What’s going on, Kelly?” my coworker Nate asks as he looks over my shoulder. “Texting with your girlfriend?”

  I shoot him a glare and try to hide my screen.

  “You don’t have a kid, right?” Nate confirms as he walks over to refill his coffee.

  “It’s my Beach Buddy,” I tell him. “He’s being bullied at school.”

  Nate sets down the coffee mug. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  I crack my knuckles and stare down at the phone, waiting to see if Max texts again. Having been bullied myself, I know what it feels like. And I’ll always come to the aid of someone who is being targeted by a bully, just like I did all those years ago—almost twenty now. It doesn’t matter that Max’s mother may get upset. That Matt might be enraged, and that Detective Bledsoe’s head might explode. Max needs me. And I’m not going to let my buddy down.

  “I’m gonna go help him,” I resolve, standing up. I send Max a three-word text: On my way.

  Nate throws me the keys to the rig. “I’m coming too.”

  We roll up to the elementary school a little ways south of the Rehoboth boardwalk. No lights or sirens, just an ambulance slowly making its way down the lane to where the school sits right off Route 1. I pull around to the side where the playground is, and it’s empty. He’s not here yet. After my last text, he said he had to go to math class, so I’m assuming when it’s over, they’ll come out.

  And I’ll be ready.