by Jenn Cooksey
Oh! Poison-11. Although that’s not nearly as hands on as I would like…
“Yep. I came pretty close the last time I did,” she said. Then turning her gorgeous crystalline eyes back up to mine and holding me prisoner with those limpid pools of possibilities, she continued, “In fact, I shouldn’t even touch them, so, thank you…again.”
“Anytime,” I replied and gave her a wink when all I really wanted to do was bustle her off to some place safe and banana free. Like my room! I can honestly say there is no fruit of any kind in my room…I think she’d be perfectly safe there. I’d even let her have my pillow!
I think she abruptly changed the subject because she was still distressed and I was fine with that but, I really didn’t care for discussing our lives in front of this douche bag and him asking questions like he’s entitled to answers even though the subject matter should’ve given him a clue that he really doesn’t stand a chance here…
“Oh hey, I was thinking of bringing the girls to the meet tomorrow, how do you think they’d do?”
“They’d probably be fine, but the weather could shift and turn cold again so just make sure you bring something to keep ‘em warm in if it does.”
“Well of course. I was thinking it’d be like a field trip…you know, get ‘em out of the house and stuff, besides, I’m sure they’d like to see what their dad does and then you can just take them home with you afterwards.”
“Yeah, that’ll work. Do me a favor though and pack something for them to eat for dinner if the meet runs late…you know how they get and I don’t wanna listen to it on the way home.”
“Um, who exactly are the girls?”
“Oh, they’re our cats.”
“Oh. God, you freaked me out…it sounded like you were talking about your kids or something.”
“We are,” I said through clenched teeth and looked at him, suddenly remembering a few more ways to end a person’s life.
“Well, yeah, he’s right, sort of…I mean, they were too itty-bitty to remember their mom, she got hit by stupid a car…anyway, we adopted them together so we’re like all they’ve ever known in the way of parents, plus we have a shared custody agreement.”
“Shared custody of cats?”
“I know, it’s not normal, but they really aren’t normal either. Besides, it works for us and it makes them happy. Also, they’re just like kids and throw all kinds of kitty tantrums when they’re unhap—” Camie patiently explained to her “friend” when she was interrupted by two of mine. One of whom could even teach the cats a little something about throwing tantrums and was wearing a diaper and a t-shirt that read, “Mommy and Daddy love me so much they wanted me to attend their wedding.”
“Twisan!” Joey, whose face and hands looked like someone had replaced the soap he’d last washed them in with chocolate, bounced and cheered from Mia’s arms when she walked up to us.
Now, under pretty much any other circumstance I would’ve been less than thrilled to have Mia waltz up to me when I was with Camie, and initially, I wasn’t at all pleased with her for doing just that, but in the end, it worked to my advantage so I kinda owe her. Or maybe I owe her enormous lack of maternal instincts, empathy and inability to find anything about kids to be redeeming. Plus, she was in a real bitchy mood so that was like a bonus.
“Ugh, would you please just take this…” Mia said, completely disgusted with her chocolate-coated nephew and possibly even pissed off that the one-year-old hasn’t yet figured out how to eat without getting anything on him. Then she quite literally thrust Joey into my arms. She made a rare, unattractive face and then collected herself enough to look her seductive best again, minus the intent to do so. “I will never understand the attraction to having one of those.”
So that’s another reason why Mia and I would never work; she detests kids. Pretty much everything about them too. And yes, I understand this is another idiosyncrasy of mine, seeing that I most definitely don’t want to father any children, but it’s not because I don’t really like them. It’s sorta because I really do. But learning the not liking anything about children part of her also taught me that Mia doesn’t know how to play and I discovered how huge that is for me. She’s got a decent sense of humor and can laugh, but I honestly doubt she could ever play and be goofy, or more specifically, laugh at herself. It’s like she takes everything seriously and doesn’t recognize the ridiculous things in life as some of the best opportunities to let your stress out by laughing at it.
A prime example; Mia would’ve probably dropped him on his diapered ass without a second thought if Joey tried to do to her what he was about to do to me…
“Mia, they’re called c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n and this one has the ability to hear you,” I quietly admonished her and caught Camie giggling at me and Joey who’d put one of his messy hands on my cheek, the other one, the one with the mushed up remnants of a frosted brownie, kind of in my hair and then tilted my head so he could give me a big, chocolately, toddler kiss on the cheek. I didn’t mind in the slightest and found it just as comical as Camie did. It’s not like I’m not washable, you know?
“Excellent, you’ve just proven you can spell as well as strip, you sanctimonious p-e-n-i-s. And for that, well done, oh and Camie, you handled his treachery with the utmost class and looked amazing doing it,” Mia said in genuine compliment to Camie and then turned her attention to the asspirate with the intention of greeting him or giving him a compliment of some kind as well, and that’s when her ability to be a remarkably virulent bitch of the highest order began to be appreciated. By me at least. “And y—…wait, who are you?” He opened his mouth to speak but with derision dripping from every word, she shut him up and slammed him down. “Don’t answer that, Junior, it was rhetorical, I couldn’t care less…but something you should know about me before you look at my tits again like a hungry infant, this kitty doesn’t find drooling children attractive and even if I did, I don’t play in the pee-wee league, so you might want to consider adjusting your game to something you have a remote shot at winning and so you know, that’s not happening either,” she said, referring to Camie who missed Mia’s pointed comment, and then ignoring him like a fart or a soiled diaper, Mia turned to me with a raised brow as Joey requested an airplane ride and whispered under her breath, “He needs to meet with an unfortunate accident.”
“Way ahead of you,” I mumbled in reply and then spun Joey around by one of his arms and legs.
As I was spinning him, Mia, still irritable, made a slight attempt to improve her evening by asking, “Hey pilot, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how I might get in touch with a certain impotent individual with the most amazing gray eyes I’ve ever seen and a propensity for poking holes in his body, will you?”
“Still too soon…” Yeah, Brandon’s out for the count for a good long while if I’m any decent judge.
“Oh fine,” she sighed, “But I have better things to do than hang around here, so congratulations, you get the child. Gary’s around here somewhere but if I were you, I wouldn’t give the kid anymore to eat…he practically scarfed down everything on those tables. I swear he’s going to grow up and be a porker if he’s not taught healthy eating habits soon…I’m not kidding either, it made me want to purge simply watching him eat all that… Oh, here’s his sippy cup of milk,” Mia said, handing the cup to Camie and then she turned to leave, calling over her shoulder as she did, “Enjoy getting sticky, Batman, and nice seeing you again, Camie…oh and by the way, Camie, I’m a free agent so if you decide to play Cat Woman at some point and want some help, let me know.”
“Oh, ah…okay, thanks! Nice seeing you too…have a good night!” Camie called enthusiastically as I glared at the traitorous “Alfred’s” back. Man, she’s in a pissy mood tonight…actually offering to help my girlfriend get back at me like that…I mean really, that’s not cool.
As I swung Joey to a stop, he surprised me by reaching out to Camie, wanting her to hold him. He tolerates his two aunts and grandmother, but he
doesn’t particularly like women aside from his mom, Gina the Skank, and he almost always throws a screaming fit when people he doesn’t know and trust go to hold him, so I hesitated in handing him over. “Are you sure, buddy?”
Nodding his little head he answered, “Twisan dance wif Belle, my wan dance wif Belle too.” Ah, so that’s it. He thinks he knows her from the movie and he trusts her because he trusts me.
Camie was smiling at him and held her arms out to receive him, but I was still a little leery. Honestly, you’ve never heard screaming like what this kid is capable of. But then again, he’ll probably throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get what he wants.
I looked at Joey and his messy face and then at Camie and asked, “Are you sure, Belle? He’s pretty sticky.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that,” she replied and then handing Joey his sippy cup, which he probably chugged down at least half of the second he got his chubby fingers on it, she basically took him from me, “Besides, who doesn’t like chocolate, right, Joey?”
So I watched and chuckled as Camie “danced” with Joey by vigorously swaying him from side to side and “dipping” him up and down, thinking to myself that if she’s not my Great White Buffalo, then maybe it doesn’t exist, but when pee-wee cleared his throat, which was an obvious yet lame attempt to reclaim her attention, I left my reflective musings on how perfect Camie is as she slowed the dance down and said, “Oh, sorry…I uh, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Rude? She’s worried about being rude? How can you be rude to someone who showed up at your school, uninvited, and purposefully interrupted you while you were taking advantage of the first real opportunity to show the guy who loves you more than his own life, the guy who put his personal and physical comfort aside and degraded himself to create said opportunity for you, that you want him just as much as he wants you? I know, right? You can’t. But, I love her for it. That’s just who she is and her compassionate heart makes her even more precious to me.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her as she sorta tossed a giggling Joey back to me so that she can hopefully help this fucktard recognize the precarious situation his life is in as I complied with Joey’s wish to be tossed in the air some more, “Oh wait, that came out wrong.”
Pausing before she licked her sticky finger, Camie asked, “What did?”
“Oh, well…I didn’t mean to agree with you. You weren’t being rude, just a little distracted,” he said and if I hadn’t just swung Joey up to sit on my shoulders, I might’ve missed it when the guy’s eyes subversively flicked to me.
That’s fucking it! I’m going with death by metallic blue and gold bikini coupled with homicide option number six and I’m gonna do it right here regardless of California’s death penalty and an auditorium full of witnesses! But first I should get Joey safely off of me which might be tricky because I think he’s starting to crash from his sugar high and using my head as a pillow for his own and has his hands locked around my chin, and then I have to find Jillian ‘cause I’m sure she’s got a book of matches or a lighter on her…
“So anyway, I was thinking I should probably make up for almost killing you with fruit,” he said and started to laugh at his stab at making light of something neither Camie nor I find any humor in whatsoever, and causing her eyes to flash to mine when I audibly began to growl and just about gnashed and snapped my teeth at him for even insinuating that her ever dying at the hand of bananas, or anything else for that matter, was even remotely funny. “So how about me and you go get some din—”
God totally loves me. I mean I couldn’t have planned something so perfect or as beautifully fitting as what happened when Wayne walked up to collect his nephew. As the assclown started asking my girlfriend out, I’d just begun the multi-step process of getting the Master Fit Thrower willingly off my shoulders, so I could of course have better upper-body maneuverability in which I would initially need to lasso the insurgent with Camie’s new uniform, when Wayne said, “Time to go, little dude,” and reached up for Joey who wasn’t kosher with that and displayed that fact by starting to screech, squirm and hit at Wayne. Wayne however, being used to his nephew’s freakouts, ignored the hitting and squirming and managed to get a firm enough grip under Joey’s arms and together we started to lift him off my shoulders, but as I bent my head and leaned forward a little, Wayne muttered, “Uh-oh,” and let go of Joey just in time to miss being the target of the kid’s projectile vomit. The puke found a better mark though and probably saved the snake’s life…
“Oh, little dude, what did you do?! That’s nasty!” Wayne said and then started laughing. “Oh my God, look at it, it’s not even digested!”
Joey, who’d finally managed to not get food on him for once, seeing as how what he’d eaten had left his body with enough force to ensure that he and I both stayed dry, which I sincerely appreciated…I don’t mind getting messy and I’m washable and all that, but being doused in puke? Well, that’s just…well, it’s just icky. Anyway, he’d started crying as soon as his food was done exiting his mouth so I was holding him to me, rubbing his back and whispering to him that he was okay while looking at his grotesque work of undigested art. And it was art. It was also exactly what I needed to make this guy go away without risking a life sentence, and Camie who was doing a poor job of covering her shock and her laughter by covering her mouth, couldn’t say a word about my firm dismissal either.
“You need to leave. Right now,” I told him and when he glared at me like he was considering arguing the point, and Camie went to put her hand on his arm like she was attempting to not be “rude” by trying to console him or getting him to laugh about the whole thing with her and Wayne, I quickly shut them both down, “Don’t touch him, Camie, he’s dripping in undigested fruit salad…seriously, man, she’s deathly allergic…you really need to leave.”
With the help of Camie’s expression and her involuntary step back, he got the message loud and clear and even looked almost apologetic, but I’m still not sure if he understood just how close he came to being hogtied with a swimsuit and set on fire.
“Oh shit, I am,” he said and started to kind of laugh at himself. “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you another time, okay Camie?”
“Oh, sure…uh, thanks for coming,” she said and then gestured to, I think, a piece of cookie that was clinging to a milked portion of his hair. “And um, sorry about all this, but I really don’t feel like getting a needle jabbed in my thigh and spending eight or more hours in the emergency room which is the alternative to death so, um, thanks for understanding too.”
“No worries, it happens…I’ll talk to you later.”
I watched him retreat all the way to the doors and when they closed behind him, I let myself relax again. Well, up until I looked back at my baby and saw the glare she was aiming at me.
“You could’ve done that without sounding like a holier-than-thou a-s-s-h-o-l-e you know…”
Honestly, I don’t think so. I’m also thinking it’s a really good thing that Camie can’t read my mind, because if she thinks that was bad? Well, I’m just sayin’, I doubt she’d be all that happy with me and the plans I had for her new uniform…
Practice what you preach ~ Jeff
“So, what are you guys doin’ over here?” Gary asked us.
The “Us” being myself, Katy, Zack and Sasha. There was another significantly larger group of “Us” on the other side of the gym though. That ensemble consisted of Pete, Melissa, Jillian, Mike, Kristen, Jamie, Courtney, Logan or Landon, but if I had to guess, I’d say Logan because he’s standing sorta close to Courtney and she’s not spitting hatred at him, Conner, Brenna, Justin, Wayne, Alicia and, interestingly, Keith. Not to mention if you looked around and counted heads, the rest of the swim team could be seen watching from various positions as well.
“At the moment, we’re just observing,” Katy answered and pointed over to Tristan, Camie, and the douche bag from that lame Valhalla party where I got my ass handed to me at by Pete f
or not sticking with my best friend when I should’ve.
When the douche showed up unexpectedly and I saw the flash of recognition that was closely followed by violently murderous intent on Tristan’s face, my first instinct was to grab my coach’s whistle and get over to the ring, but, Katy stopped me.
“Babe, you said it yourself. He wants to do this alone. And besides, that guy is harmless, but even if he wasn’t, Tristan can totally take care of him on his own too. Let’s just see what happens and if it looks like things are about to take a turn, then you can go over there. But for right now, let’s just give our friends some time to feel each other out.” It sucked. She even used my own words and logic on me. But she was right about Tristan being able to handle the guy and giving them time was the whole point of everyone hanging back, so, I stayed put.
This time is critical. And all the key players recognize that. We’re all standing back so our friends can have some time to genuinely be themselves with each other, which they haven’t had in weeks. Sure, they’ve been around each other and there was that little episode last weekend with the cake, but while that was a start to Tristan and Camie being themselves again, it wasn’t nearly enough. The rest of the little time they’ve had has been charged with hurt, tension, and…questions. Questions of how they feel about each other and what the other one wants.
Without question, though, he loves her. But, he’s finally decided he wants her back too. I know he does. And now so does Katy and probably most anyone whose been paying close attention to them tonight. Watching his reaction to Camie touching his back made that more than clear to the people who witnessed him close his eyes and have what looked to be just this side of an outer-body experience, but what I don’t know is how he thinks he’s gonna swing it without telling her the truth.
Like Katy said the other day, Camie’s not stupid. At some point she’s gonna figure out he’s keeping something from her if she hasn’t already and when he refuses to tell her what it is, that’ll be it. I mean, I guess I could be wrong about that, but, no one likes to be deceived or lied to, least of all a girl who’s tattooed a promise of no poisonous secrets on her body.