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

by Jenn Cooksey

  We talked for a little bit about that and the weirdness of not just living under the same roof as her boyfriend, but sharing a bedroom too, all with parental consent, and then Melissa brought up the fashion show we’d all signed up to model in. The ASB puts one on every year to raise funds for something or another. I swear, it seems like they’re always doing that.

  “So the fashion show is scheduled for February third, but we’re all supposed to be fitted and stuff no later than the fifteenth, which is a holiday this year and Camie’s birthday, her party is the day before that, Jillian’s is the day before that, so that leaves this week, this weekend, which is New Year’s so that’s out too, which means we’re left with the following week after school or that weekend... Since when did our weekends get booked so far in advance?”

  “Hell if I know, but I’m not doin’ shit for school while I’m still on vacation so I guess I’ll do it the week we get back or that weekend,” Tristan informed us solidly while rubbing my shoulders and neck for me without having been asked to. He knows I’m still a wee bit sore in spots so this was his excuse for touching me at the moment. It seems like he’s having a hard time not touching me or making sure we maintain some kind of skin-to-skin contact today...it’s sort of funny.

  “Dude, I’ll go when you go,” Jeff put in.

  He’s been very uncharacteristically morose today, which I can’t blame him for. It is hard to look at him, though. Kate’s doing a pretty good job of pulling off her happy charade, but Jeff looks haunted and it breaks my heart.

  “Tristan, are you ever gonna grace us with the sight of you in formalwear?” Melissa asked, looking at the clothing category list.

  “Fuck NO,” he answered, emphatically resolute.

  “Um, what do you mean?” I asked, not understanding. Honestly, just the idea alone of him in formalwear makes my salivary glands go berserk.

  “Well, Camie, your boyfriend here doesn’t dress up. EVER. Not even a little. He’s a giant pain in the ass about it too…every year they ask him to do formalwear and he flat out refuses. Did I hear you threatened to boycott the whole thing if they don’t stop bugging you about it?” Melissa explained, which reigned in my drooling considerably and let me know that I probably have a mighty battle coming up.

  “Yep, you heard correctly. I’ll do it too.”

  “But, Tristan, what about the dance?” I asked him, thinking, seriously, I love him and everything, but he can’t wear jeans, a t-shirt and Ugg boots to the winter formal which is being held the weekend before Valentine’s Day this year.

  Jeff started genuinely laughing (which I was really glad to hear, but still…) at Tristan’s scandalized and sort of sheepish expression. “My friend, it looks to me like you’ve been remiss in not letting your girlfriend in on one of your big pet peeves, which should provide us all with some rather unwholesome entertainment. You know, since she’s never been to a dance before and probably really wants to go. Anyone wanna place a bet on how long it takes for them to start fighting about this and who’s gonna win?”

  Beautiful.

  So yeah, if I wanna go to the dance, which I really, really do, I’m gonna have to wage war against my more than stubborn boyfriend who, previously unbeknownst to me, has a major aversion to getting dressed up. I’m pretty sure I was glowering when all of a sudden, my mental image of Derek in a tux at my wedding morphed into him wearing a poncho and a sombrero.

  18.

  His Wait Is Finally At An End

  The following day I was doing the Snoopy happy dance with honest to goodness clean hair. Truthfully, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve come to appreciate running water and how I will probably never take being able to shower for granted again. My chin still has a bandage on it, but it’s healing pretty well and I’ve downgraded from a butterfly bandage to more of a regular band-aid type dressing, which is fine by me. It still itches a little, but I don’t have to keep it one hundred percent dry like I did with the stitches, so, woohoo!

  The only rain cloud in my life at the moment is that my dad doesn’t want to let Jillian and me go to Pete’s New Year’s Eve party. I guess Mike normally throws this event, but he’s in freaking Switzerland with his parents. My dad is still being pretty restrictive of my activities too, which sucks more than a hungry newborn vampire. It wasn’t until Friday evening as Tristan and I were trying to figure out how we could stay home and still call it date night and after spending another whole freaking week—the last week of my vacation mind you—cooped up in the house, that I was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  When my dad came home from work bearing Chinese food, he sat Jillian, Tristan and me down for a “little talk.” I was wholly unprepared for what he was about to lay on us, so I’m pretty sure I spent most of dinner with my mouth ajar.

  “Girls, I want to discuss your birthdays with you…I know you’ve already made plans and in the past we’ve always let you two go all-out celebrating them…” That’s essentially because we’re both born so close to Christmas and, even more so, to each other. “But this year we may have to do things a little differently,” he paused while he took a bite of orange chicken and I was about to protest, but something about the expression on my sister’s face had me holding my tongue. “I’m going to be taking your mother up to L.A. to have a procedure that her doctors feel might benefit her and we’ll be gone from the eighth to the fifteenth or sixteenth, which means we won’t be here your birthday weekend.”

  When my dad paused this time, he regarded Jillian and me with an expression of apology while we both kept quiet waiting for him to continue with this disturbing revelation. Honestly, I don’t know what to be more upset about…my parents missing my sixteenth birthday or being unaware of my mom being in a state where she could benefit from having a “procedure.” Before my dad went on however, he shifted his focus to a quietly observant Tristan who was sitting across from me at the table, looking like he was trying to figure out why he’d been called in for this particular meeting.

  “Now being that you’ll both be back in school by then, it would be a lot to ask for you two to stay with your Aunt Karen and Uncle Brett (Remember, they’re Derek’s parents.) and have them get you to and from school every day, so your mother and I have talked about it and I spoke with Stan about it this afternoon…he and Trinity agreed that if The Boy is game, he’ll stay here with you two while we’re gone.”

  Yeah, this is where my mouth fell open and my bandaged jaw went ker-splat on the kitchen table. I stole a quick look at Tristan and saw my shock mirrored in his eyes, but he didn’t move a muscle or make a peep.

  “We were originally thinking the two of you would stay at his house with his parents being home that week, but then those two home invasions around the corner happened while both the families were out of town for Christmas, and we’d rather not take the risk of leaving the house unoccupied for that long. We’d ask Kate or Melissa and even though both you girls can handle a firearm, I honestly just feel better having a strong male presence being seen coming and going every day. I’d actually feel even better if Jeff or Pete were staying here too, so if they want to and their parents are okay with it, they’re welcome to crash on the sofa. So, Boy, wanna take a day or two to think it over or should I just go ahead and start making the den livable?”

  Uhhh… Anyone got a choice expletive for me here? No, really. I need one, but my brain just hemorrhaged and I can’t think anymore. So much for my dad not wanting me to over exert myself…

  By the way, “the den” is actually the downstairs bedroom and what the females of the house refer to as the homeschool room. It’s where we keep all our books, curriculum, past projects, etc… We do have another pullout couch in there, but as of right now, it’s not really the best place for someone to spend a week, although with a little tidying up and moving junk around, it’ll work nicely. Not that I expect The Boy—I mean Tristan (Jeez, thanks Dad) will actually be spending his sleeping hours in there.

  T
ristan gave his, not reluctant really, but certainly not eager, consent to play the title role of Charles In Charge while my parents are gone. It’s an old TV sitcom starring Scott Baio who played Cha-chi on Happy Days…anyway; he’s like a male nanny in the sitcom. I wasn’t perturbed in the least about Tristan’s less than enthusiastic acceptance, though, because I was watching his eyes when he responded. He was purposefully trying to not sound or look like a fox who’d just been invited to live in the henhouse by the farmer himself while said farmer and the Missus wouldn’t be there to shoot him if he decided to pluck the feathers out of one of the farmer’s teenage hens.

  I should also probably take a quick minute to mention that this request of my boyfriend was not made without my parents having met his. Not only did Tristan and I learn that my mom was a freshman and my dad was a sophomore at Grossmont when his mom and dad were seniors there, but back when he and I first got together, the six of us (Jillian was, thankfully, elsewhere for that event) spent an afternoon and evening out at Tristan’s parents’ “property.” You remember, the one where we were gonna go fishing in the dark for our first date? Yeah, here’s the thing though, it’s not really just a little fishing hole on a patch of grass or even on an acre. It’s a freaking lake. It has a freaking waterfall too, although it’s not natural. The lake is separated by boulders so that one side is stocked for fishing and the other, the side with the natural hot springs, is for swimming. There’s a freaking floating dock for diving or sun bathing. Oh, and yeah, there’s a freaking fifty-five hundred square foot “cabin” on site, the site being about sixty-some-odd acres. This is also where they stable their horses. So add to that time of getting to know the freaking loaded future in-laws quality time (which it was, our parents get along freaking amazingly well) and fishing, my dad and Tristan’s have gone to a couple of Chargers football games together and our moms have been to lunch and a movie or two since then as well.

  Anyway, I just thought you should know it’s not like my parents are inviting a teenager belonging to complete strangers to live at their house for a bit. And yeah, I know there’s a mighty lack of descriptive creativity here with my choice of freaking as an adjective and/or adverb, but really, you gotta cut me some slack…my father just asked my boyfriend to take his place as ruler of the roost for a week, so please, freaking’s all I got right now.

  We discussed how things were gonna work and my dad assured me they’d be home no later than Monday so he could take me to the DMV for my driver’s test on Tuesday, which I was already prepared for anyway with my birthday falling on a holiday this year in the first place. Also, I got the very distinct impression that this procedure of my mom’s is a bigger deal than what he’s letting on, but rather than push for details, I didn’t question it. Jillian didn’t either. Sometimes I believe my parents keep things from my sister and me if they feel it will cause us undue worry and stress, and so I try to live in ignorant bliss because I also believe that my parents have my best interests at heart. It doesn’t always work but I do try. I really hope unenlightened bliss will be easily attainable in this situation, though, because I don’t want to be a stressed out basket-case the whole week before my milestone sixteenth birthday and truthfully, I really just want my mom to be okay.

  “Wow, okay, so now my calendar for the next three weekends is completely packed…” Tristan commented to no one in particular while we were finishing our food.

  “What do you mean?” I asked with a small frown. It’s not that he sounded putout or anything, but I’d kind of like to know what he’s got going on for the next three weeks, aside from babysitting me that is.

  “Oh, just that I’m staying at Pete’s tomorrow nig—”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me… Daddy, please, please, please will you let Jilly and me go to Pete’s tomorrow night? Because really, I’ve spent all of my two week vacation locked up and I have a massive case of cabin fever. We’ll be safe, I promise…please, please, pleeease?” I pleaded, whined, cajoled and any other synonymous verbs I could think of for begging.

  Not only do I want the hell out of the house, but do you really think I’m thrilled with the idea of my McHottie boyfriend at a New Year’s Eve party—where it is traditional to kiss at the stroke of midnight mind you—without me? Hell, hell no! Plus, Pete had asked Brandon if his band would play and I really wanna hear them. From what Melissa’s said from watching them practice, they’re really flippin’ good.

  “Sweetie, I don’t want you girls in a car tomorrow night with all the drinkin’ that’ll be goin’ on. I trust The Boy, but I’m not putting your lives in jeopardy just because you have cabin fever,” my dad answered with understanding firmness.

  Then Jillian stepped in and I’m totally considering worshipping her as a deity because of this. “What if we stay the night like The Boy is? We could go over there early and beat the drunks on the road, then just crash at Pete’s like the rest of the Scoobies…” Ha! That’s what the group of friends in Buffy was called. I’ll have to remember to give her props for that one. “With us out of the house, you and Mom can have a nice quiet evening…alone.”

  Bravo, Jillian! I’d give her a standing ovation but my dad might question that. Yes, that’s right…my wickedly ingenious sister totally played the we’ll-leave-you-alone-with-Mom-for-an-entire-night-so-you-can-ring-in-the-New-Year-however-you-want-to card. And it totally worked. My dad’s eyes lit up at the thought of having a romantic evening with my mom and not having to worry that his daughters were going to make it home by curfew or in a body bag.

  “Boy, you said you’re staying the whole night?” My dad asked for the sake of being specific.

  “Mm-hm,” Tristan replied with a “Yes sir, yes I am” nod.

  “And Kate, Melissa, Jeff…they’re all gonna be sleepin’ over too?” He’s now dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s.

  “Yep. We don’t especially like driving on New Year’s either, so we usually try to just stay wherever we’re celebrating,” Tristan informed my dad. Yeah, they don’t like driving because they probably can’t even stand up straight after “celebrating” for most of the night.

  “Alright, you girls can go but, once you’re there you do not get in any vehicle for any reason and I’m holding The Boy responsible if anything happens,” my dad said, standing up from the table and clapping Tristan on the shoulder before he went to take care of his dishes.

  I jumped up and gave him a big hug and made all the appropriate sounds of genuine gratitude.

  *****

  We were safely delivered to Pete’s a little ahead of the rest of the revelers, which will actually not be comprised of a goodly number of people. I’m guessing there’ll be maybe fifty people or so because a lot of other parties are going on, people are still on vacation, and well…Pete didn’t broadcast the opportunity en masse. Since it would be a bit before people started showing up, I took the time to get settled and kind of explore my hotel. I’ve been here once before, but I spent most of my time in the kitchen and the backyard, so, I’m kind of curious. Pete’s house isn’t completely massive like Mike’s, but it’s not small by any means either. I’d just deposited my overnight stuff in a guest room with Jillian’s when Tristan found me and gave me a “What the hell are you thinking?” look. Then he collected my things and took me by the hand, towing me through the house. It was a little reminiscent of when he abducted me at Mike’s except he wasn’t pissed and I wasn’t hanging over his shoulder.

  Come to find out, Tristan (therefore I will be too) always sleeps in the guest house when he stays at Pete’s. I also discovered that’s why his phone wasn’t destroyed when we fell in the pool that one night. Both he and Jeff had emptied their pockets previously in the deluxe, two bedroom guest house and had locked it up for the night. I think I mentioned at one point that Pete’s family is god-awful wealthy and that they don’t put on airs about it, but that’s not to say they don’t have nice things and enjoy their good fortune. Honestly, I think I remember hearing something during t
hat party about his family having more money than Mike’s and Tristan’s combined, and let me be clear, that’s a whole f-ing lot of money.

  Anyway, my living quarters for the next eighteen-ish hours are more than accommodating. Like I said, there are two bedrooms, one at each end of the house and each has its own bathroom, but there’s a third bathroom adjacent to the living room, which is set up with sofas or chairs to be like two distinct spaces, and it’s accessible though the kitchen. It’s a full kitchen, too, not a mini fridge, a sink and a microwave. There’s a fully stocked wet bar in one corner of the “entertaining” living room space which also features a plasma TV screen hanging on the wall. A largish fireplace is in the center of the wall of the “cozy” living room space which is also flocked with books. That’s the side I discovered we’re on. Jeff and Kate have the room on the opposite side. What’s especially cool about the room I get to stay in with Tristan is that it has a fireplace too. It’s directly opposite the one in the main room, but it’s independent of that one. The wall the front door of the house is on, which opens up onto the backyard, is entirely glass but it has walnut colored plantation shutters which when closed, keeps peeping toms from being able to see inside. All in all, the luxuriously appointed guest house isn’t really big, but because of its layout and open design, it appears rather spacious.

  The party got under way and I heard for myself that Melissa wasn’t kidding about Brandon’s band. They did mostly covers and took requests, but they did do a couple of their own things too and they’re actually really freaking amazing. I mean I wouldn’t be surprised to hear them on the radio in the next couple of years…they’re that good. But by the time Brandon and the rest of the guys were into their third set, everyone aside from me was pretty toasted. I’m steering clear of drinking tonight because of the whole concussion thing. I just don’t wanna take any chances and really, I’ve only been completely headache free for about five days so I’d kinda like to keep it that way. I will, however, have a glass of champagne at midnight just because. That’s kind of tradition you know. Kate and Jeff on the other hand, got ripped. It was actually the first time I’ve seen either of them truly wasted and it was sorta funny but not, if you know what I mean. I think Tristan and I are the only ones who know why they both went over the top. Jillian might know (she knows everything), but if she does, she’s keeping silent which is typical. She’s probably the best secret keeper I will ever know.