by Jenn Cooksey
“No way, which one?”
“The one sitting next to the blonde.”
“Well, that helps, they’re both sitting next to a blonde, so point to the married one.”
As the one girl said that, Jeff raised his hand high in the air, pointing to himself, and still facing the stage he said, “That would be me,” at the very same time everyone around him including myself pointed at him and said, “Him.”
The girls were pretty much mortified at having been overheard so putting his arm around Kate, Jeff kissed her on the cheek and then turned around to give the girls a big, flirtatious smile and a wink and said, “‘Til death do us part, but contrary to the latest rumor you’ve heard, the captain of Varsity Baseball and the co-captain of Varsity Cheer are actually just friends, so if you can handle dating in the shadow of a highly gifted, quiet, yet vainglorious kinda guy and you don’t mind a really short-lived, one-sided relationship, I can offer you the best pitcher this school’s ever seen for the next…how long before the ball season starts, Captain?”
“Roughly four weeks,” I answered automatically and tried to not wince when I just barely caught Jillian raise her eyebrows in question before Jeff continued his comedic effort in pimping me out and making the gigglers giggle again.
“Right. Four weeks. So if you’re interested, you better get a move on because in roughly four weeks, you could show up naked and pole dance in his face, but if you’re not facing him in the batter’s box, he honestly won’t know you exist. However, if you have a deep and abiding love for baseball, you’ll appreciate being given the cold shoulder when he leads us in being undefeated for the third year in a row! Give it up, buddy!”
I rolled my eyes at him but nodded my resigned agreement and gave him a high-five, although it might be wise for me to start seriously considering the possible answers to my previous question number B because, sadly, he’s right. About pretty much all of it. Except with that goddamned surgery, I don’t know about the undefeated thing for sure yet, so with that and one or two other things goin’ on, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion this ball season isn’t gonna be anything like past ones. But still, being just as quiet yet vainglorious as Jeff said, I turned to face my girlfriend who was studying me with interest and gave her a quick wink.
And really, she can rest assured that if she shows up anywhere in my vicinity naked and/or pole dances, I’m gonna fuckin’ notice. Hell, I’d even notice if she had a hole in her sock or got a chip in her damned nail polish…
“Hey, psst, Pete! Do you and Melissa wanna ride in the limo with Mike and me and Justin and Erica to the dance?” Kristen asked from across Alicia and Wayne who were both involved in keeping Joey occupied and quiet by playing peek-a-boo with him.
NO. NO. NO. I don’t want to ride in the limo with them! I don’t want to ride in the limo I’m actually gonna be riding in with MaryAnn and Derek either! I don’t want to go the dance with Melissa, Sam I am! But before I could make my feelings about this damned dance thing known to more than just Jillian, the music changed, alerting us that it was time for the swimwear portion of the show, so everyone who knew there was some sort of something going on got quiet and turned around to pay attention.
It started like all the other segments and was going fine, and even though the dress rehearsal had gone up in smoke, everyone pretty much knew what they were doing. It’s not like it’s all that hard to walk around a stage and turn a few times... So this is how it went down: Mike announced the recently broken up Landon and Courtney who were the first on stage and as they were going through the motions of flirting and playing with a beach ball, he described what they’re wearing. It was interesting to watch how they were interacting with each other though, because they’d been doing a lot of profane name calling over the last two days, but right now they look like they’re having a really good time and don’t hate each other as they’ve appeared to since Wednesday’s heated breakup.
“Hey, did they get bac—” I started to whisper to the group at large.
“No…that’s Logan,” Tanya informed me and then pointed to an aisle behind us where Landon had just knocked his chair over as he left, looking none too happy about the “acting” taking place on stage.
Okay, so blood isn’t always thicker than water, but, moving on…
Then Camie came out when she was announced and joined in the beach ball frivolity while Mike described her Superman suit complete with a red, terrycloth cape. I know, right? Fail. Everything was going just how it was supposed to though, but when Mike announced Tristan, the music went from “California Girls” to the—
“Boody ‘n Bees!” Joey shouted and clapped.
“What the hell?” Wayne asked.
“No, he’s right…it’s the theme song to Beauty and the Beast,” Jeff said while Kate, Alicia, and Rebecca nodded in confused agreement.
I wasn’t prepared for that either…that had to be an afterthought on Tristan’s part inspired by our earlier conversation. I gotta hand it to him though; he sure isn’t pulling any punches.
Courtney, Land—I mean Logan, and Camie kinda forgot about the beach ball and looking just as confused as everyone else, aside from Jamie in the front row who was looking at the sound booth like she wanted to launch a nuclear missile into it, they turned around in bewilderment to see Tristan walk out, resplendent and fully dressed in a tailor-made tuxedo and also carrying a rose, which he presented to one entirely stunned stupid Camie before he twirled her around the stage a couple times. I couldn’t hear him, but reading his lips, I wanna say he said something about Hell and maybe a uniform right before she glared at him and they came to a stop. But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot…
Like he hadn’t noticed what was going on, Mike had been describing the swimsuit Tristan was supposed to be wearing, but just as the music came to a stop, it was Mike’s turn to play his part. “Oh, wait, do I um…do I have my cards out of order? Nope, they’re right…hey, uh, Tristan bud, I think you’re a little overdressed…”
Tristan looked innocently in question at him and the audience, and then he held up one finger and nodded like he was saying, “Oh, I get it,” then he kicked his shoes off, revealing he wasn’t wearing socks, as if that was what Mike was referring to.
“Well, yeah, that’s a start…” Mike said and at that time, I took another peek at Jamie who was hunched over and had her head in her hands.
Tristan looked at Mike and the audience again like he was utterly baffled, then when Tom Jones’ “You Can Leave Your Hat On” started, Tristan pretended to have a lightbulb moment and sorta slowly, he proceeded to take his jacket and bow tie off, which he put on Camie who was still just standing there staring at him with her mouth hanging open.
“Better, but I think we wanna see a little more…” Mike said.
Tristan kind of held his hands up like he was asking, “What can you possibly mean?” and by this time, the audience was showing they were into it by whooping and hollering with whistles and cat calls interspersed, so rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air like he was saying, “Alright, fine,” the music morphed again into “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate. Then taking the tux, which was really a rip-away work of art, in both his hands as the lyrics “I believe in miracles” was sung, Tristan tore it off in one fell movement, let it drop to the stage, and then only wearing that ridiculous Batman Speedo, he stood there with his arms stretched out to his sides and turned a slow, full circle so everyone could see both the huge Batman emblem tattooed on his chest and the one on his back that was a side-by-side picture of Batman as Bruce Wayne in a tuxedo holding a glass of champagne and then Batman in his Batsuit plucking the feathers out of a chicken that he was throttling by the neck with a caption over all of it that read: “Playboy by Day, Masked Avenger by Night.”
The audience lost it.
Camie was cracking up.
Jamie was on her feet, clapping and whistling.
The gigglers were both bidding on who wanted to play with t
he puppy more.
How can I kill thee, let me count the ways ~ Tristan
After digging down deep into my narcissism, that I hadn’t really realized was there until Pete pointed it out earlier in the day, but which ultimately allowed me to put on that horrific display of egotism at its best, I threw my jeans on and hightailed it out to the audience to find Jillian so I could review my performance before seeing Camie. On my way I passed Zack and Sasha who were closely followed by Pete, all of who were ending the show with the actual formalwear portion.
“My Lord Vader,” Sasha, in a floor-length evening gown, greeted me through a giggle as she passed me on her way towards the entrance to the stage. I’m not sure what the Lord Vader thing was about, but I’m just gonna take it as a compliment because as she towed him along, Zack in his formal evening wear enthusiastically said over his shoulder, “Oh my God, dude…really, that was awesome!”
“Be proud…it came off without a hitch,” Pete, also wearing a tux very similar to the one I couldn’t wait to tear off, without the Velcro and snaps of course, told me as he jogged up the stairs in his hurry to get in position.
Okay, so three accolades in a row…not bad. Of course, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone’s reaction was aside from Camie’s. Which when I found her sister and got outside to watch the video by myself, I discovered was pretty much exactly what I’d been going for. There was bewilderment, shock, plenty of gaping, a little stumbling from the “dancer,” one small glare when I told her Hell hadn’t quite frozen over but I’d brought her new uniform anyway, some more gaping, a satisfying little shiver when I put my jacket on her, and then some very gratifying laughing of her ass off.
By the time I got back inside though, the show was over and the house lights were on so to find my baby, I’m gonna have to prowl through the throngs of people who are wandering around and chatting with each other and the models, and those who are just trying to get to the reception tables that are piled with food before the good snacks are gone. I wasn’t looking forward to being stopped every five steps by people who want to ask what that whole thing was about or worse, vapid girls who, to borrow an analogy from Camie’s dad, only care about my car’s paint job, but Camie made it easy for me. As I circumvented the crowd by walking along the outer wall and watched her sitting on the edge of the stage with her feet dangling over the side, she saw me and rolling her eyes, she started laughing. I can’t tell you how beautiful this girl is when she’s laughing. Really, I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than my baby, but when she laughs, it’s like everything that’s wrong with the world is suddenly put to rights and she glows brighter than the myriad stars on a moonless sky made of black satin.
By the way, how’s that for a simile? And no, I didn’t plagiarize it, that was all me.
“You really love yourself, don’t you?” She asked and I shut my mouth on the words, “Nope, I love you,” and just gave her a grin. When I stuck my hands in my pockets to combat them from reaching out to touch her like they want to, she said, “Come here and turn around, I wanna see your back.” I complied by moving directly in front of her so that her legs were on either side of me and turning so she could inspect the cartoon art on my back. As she looked it over she asked, “Man, did you just really wanna win or what? It’s pretty freaking cool though, I really like it. Gary?”
Yes, I agree, good, and yes. “Yeah, Gary…I agree, he did an awesome job and it’s totally cool, but, it’s not something I’d make permanent, know what I mean?” I let that hang there for a second and with my eyes closed against the world around us, I gave in and all too briefly luxuriated in a much missed sensation as I felt her barely trace the real one with her finger. Then, taking a breath, which I honestly found difficult to do, I opened my eyes again and said, “And I told you, Camie, you asked for it,” as I pulled out her new uniform from the pocket of my jeans and dangled it behind my head. She started to laugh, wrapping her hands around my neck to playfully throttle me, and I couldn’t help but say, “You can steal my breath away all you want, but a deal’s a deal…I expect you to suit up tomorrow afternoon. Unless, of course, you’re chicken.”
“Oh, you’re not seriously daring me, are you?!”
I started to quietly cluck like a chicken until she grabbed the suit from my hands, hit me in the head with it, and then shoved me away from her as she hopped down from the stage. Then she twisted and turned the damned thing in front of her, trying to figure out how it’s supposed to go, at which point I started laughing.
“I mean, I don’t think I could wear this even if I wanted to, Tristan…it’s like a…a…well I don’t know what it’s like, but Geometry is less complicated than this thing.”
I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure it out as well. I took one corner and tilted it, turned another piece over, and just kept messing with it until I got it right. “Like that…that’s how it’s supposed to go.”
She held it up against herself and looking down at it she said, “Huh. That’s actually not bad. Actually, it’s sorta cu—”
“Is that supposed to be a bathing suit?”
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!
MOTHER FUCKER!!
It took me a second to place him and what that goddamned son of a bitch, fucking walking dead, cock sucking predator from the bowling alley and those two parties thinks he’s doing here, I have no fucking clue, but I’ll be fucking goddamned if I’m gonna let him gawk at Camie in that suit! And no! I don’t give a fucking shit that she’s fully dressed and not actually wearing the goddamned thing! It’s held up against her body and that’s fucking close enough, goddamnit!
“No, it’s my new unif—Hey! That’s mine, give it back!” Camie laughed and shouted at me when I snatched the suit from her hands.
“Like hell I will,” I ground out and folded my arms across my chest with the suit clenched in one fucking livid fist that was prepping itself to be used in a homicide.
“Hey, that show you put on was hilarious…and the tattoos…totally sweet! Are they real?”
“Just the important one,” I growled at him and clenched my teeth together.
He looked at Camie who was back to looking shocked stupid, then he looked at me and decided since she’d apparently forgotten her manners, he went to introduce himself, “So uh, I take it you’re Tristan…I’m—”
“I know who you are,” I cut him off, practically shaking with the desire to tear this fuckwad to pieces for having the blatant insolence to show up here and then actually speak to me like I have any interest in who he is or what he has to say other than the sound of his final breath. Then I raised a brow at Camie and inclined my head just barely as if to say, “You better fucking make him go away, Camie, or I will and believe me when I say that “away” will take on a whole new fucking meaning if I do it.” Strangulation, that’s one way…
Finally finding her voice, she asked, “Wh—what are you doing here?”
“Oh, well, it sounded like fun so I thought I’d come watch and support you. Oh, here, I thought you might be hungry so I made you a plate. There wasn’t a lot left so hopefully you like fruit salad and carrots...”
Shotgun-number 2, baseball bat-3, dull rusty knife-4, hanging-5, bonfire-6, boot heel to the head-7, draw and quarter-8, disembowelment-9, gored with the Unicorn’s horn-10…
“Um, yeah, actually I’m starving, so um, thanks,” she said, being clearly undecided on whether to take the plate the guy I’m gonna murder in about eleven different ways was holding out for her, but when she did and her faced paled as she looked at it and her hand started to shake, I temporarily forgot about probably seven of the ways I’m gonna kill him while I was trying to focus my attention on her.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I heard myself say it, but it didn’t really click until later
when I reviewed the evening and was gloating in the privacy of my own home, and it didn’t matter that I’d slipped up because she was too freaked to have it register at all.
“Uhh…th—this’ll kill me so um, take it…take it far away, please,” Camie answered with a shaky breath and went to hand it back to the fuck who’d given it to her in the first place.
Reflexively, my hand was reaching for the plate the second Camie said it would kill her, and as I took the plate and looked at it, I immediately understood.
“Oh fuck!” I gasped and literally threw the plate like a Frisbee to get it as far away from her as possible.
“Why—kill you? It’s just carrots and fruit!”
Without sparing a thought about where or on who the plate had landed or the fuckwagon who almost took my baby from me, that is aside from noticing he hadn’t made a single move to do as she’d asked, I looked back at Camie. “Honest to God, Camie, you’re allergic to bananas?!”
Jesus, I did not see that one comin’. I knew she didn’t like ‘em, or, actually utterly detests them with a fiery hate would be more appropriate here, but I honestly expected her allergy tests to come back positive for the wasp if anything at all. I mean that really wouldn’t have been all that unusual. People have allergic reactions all the time and never find out what they’re from. Not necessarily massive anaphylactic reactions like she had, but still, it happens more than you’d think.
“Um, yeah, I—I’m—bananas, yeah, I am,” she admitted a little uncomfortably or maybe still a little freaked out, but whatever the case, she was blushing when she looked at me and answered, which unfortunately made me begin to get a little uncomfortable as well.
Jesus, what a fuckin’ understatement…“a little uncomfortable”…basically I’m doomed to endure the rest of the evening with a semi that’ll turn into a full-on rager if I’m not extremely careful.
“Oh hey, Camie, I’m really sorry…I had no idea. Wow. So, you’d like…literally die if you ate a banana?”