The Other Fish in the Sea (27 page)

“Oh my God, I love you, you’re
such
a life saver!” I said, grabbing Tristan by his free hand and dragging him back out the front door.

He chuckled at me and allowed me to tow him along but asked, “Baby, where are you dragging me?”

“To your bus.”

“For why?”

“So no one will see me take my clothes off of course.”

“
Mmm
, can I
help
you take your clothes off?” His suggestive tone of voice caught my attention and it was then that I realized how what I’d said had to sound.

“Sure, but don’t get your hopes (or anything else) up too high…I’ve had like three beers and I’m feeling ‘em.” He wasn’t gone all that long, but I allowed myself to get bullied into using a beer-bong for the first time while he was.
 

If you’re unfamiliar with what that is, I’ll try to be brief in explaining; a beer-bong is essentially a funnel attached to a tube which forces the fluid poured into the funnel to speed rapidly through the tube and into a person’s mouth. They’re typically used during a race, which was the case tonight, to consume a moderate to large amount of liquid quickly and since I basically downed two beers in a matter of like two minutes, they went right to my head,
much
faster than if I’d just sipped on them throughout the evening like I normally would.

I giggled a little at him when he swore at my fair warning, but he perked up straight away when I told him he could be in charge of slathering my itchy trunk and limbs with the lotion.

We weren’t seen or heard from again that night.

Yeah, the smell of colloidal oatmeal is now a huge turn-on for both of us.

I know, I know. We have issues. The good news is, I found out that Tristan and I both give one hell of a massage and neither of us have dry skin anymore. I mean that has to count for something, right?

Umm, by the way…did I tell him I loved him?

I think I did…

*****

On Wednesday evening a week into my new drugs, Tristan was just getting ready to leave my house after dinner and we were swinging on the porch swing together, getting some last minute snuggling and star gazing in, when Kate pulled up.

“Hey Kate, you missed dinner.”

“Yeah, I know, Jeff cooked for me.” Lucky girl. Really, he’s a
great
cook. “Where’s your sister?”

“Well, the last time I said she was in her room, she freaked me out by appearing out of the blue from the kitchen, so I kind of don’t wanna assume I know where she is ever again. Why?” I answered, chuckling.

“Because I want to ask her for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Tristan asked with apprehension.

“The kind she lives for.”

“Kate, you really should be careful about getting in bed with Jillian. There’s always a price,” he told her, speaking from experience.

“I don’t care. There’s something going on with my mom. Ever since my dad left she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen her and not that it’s a bad thing, but she’s been going
out
every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night and I wanna know where she’s going and what the hell is going on!” Oooh…this doesn’t sound like it’s gonna be legal. Jilly probably won’t even charge Kate. “I mean, is she trolling the streets of La Mesa or what?! She just left the house all gussied up and said she’s just going to dinner but, I
know
she’s hiding something from me.”

Tristan and I followed a determined Kate into the house and upstairs to my sister’s bedroom door. It’s kind of funny; Kate paused, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, held it, then almost hesitantly, like she could have been having second thoughts, she raised her hand to the door and decidedly knocked.

After about a minute or so Kate released her breath in a
whoosh
(I think she might have been turning blue) when we heard the unmistakable sound of locks (yes, plural) being unlatched. Jill opened her door marginally, but enough for us to see she was wearing black satin pajamas, bunny slippers, and her wireless headphones around her neck. When she saw the three of us standing there and Kate’s anxious expression, she cocked one of her eyebrows, pulled the door open further and regally stepped back, allowing us to gain entrance into her dark fiefdom. I call it that because she rules over her room like a feudalist lord.

Also, her room isn’t exactly dark as in no light, it’s gothic. But not in the campy gargoyle and cobweb way. It’s classic and sort of feminine, and in a way, it’s quite romantic. Additionally, it’s immaculate. I’ve
got
to describe it to you because it’s really something…I’m kind of envious of it at times.

The ceiling is painted gunmetal gray with a small amount of metallic flake mixed in so in certain light it looks almost like a night sky. The walls are covered in flocked wallpaper with an overlaid floor-to-ceiling tree design in varying shades of gray with the trees being bare and having no leaves whatsoever, making it look like you’re in some kind of enchanted winter forest. The three small, vertical windows are hung with heavy velvet drapes in hunter green that are pulled back with thick, knitted black lace revealing two stained glass wooded meadow scenes, each with a unicorn either drinking from a brook or lying in a grove. The middle window is bare aside from the drapes. Over all of them on the top is a scallop-shaped, damask patterned valance in the same colors as the wallpaper which is kept in place by sculpted, dark metal, flower finials.

There’s an authentic sixteenth century five-piece settee angled along the wall near her bed; a love seat, two chairs, and a low table completes the set. It’s an heirloom she got from our great-grandmother before she died, the velvet cushions of which are the same shade as the drapes, which also matches the paint color of her closet door. The headboard of her bed is antique wrought iron and looks like it could’ve been part of a cemetery gate at one time, which it probably was. She found it in a yard sale and used a welding iron to help our dad rig it to fit her bed frame. The bed’s linen is also damask but a different print from the valance; it’s black on pewter in color with a slight sheen to it and the dust ruffle is more of the thick black knitted lace. Even her “media center” is a genuine antique. She keeps her TV, stereo and computer along with all their accoutrements in an ornately carved armoire that matches the settee grouping. Again, from our great-grandmother. I got jewelry, Jill got furniture.
 

Tonight a warm glow was coming from the lit candles in the two large wrought iron, cage-like, spiked wall sconces evenly spaced above her bed…they remind me of something that would be hanging in a renaissance castle or dungeon maybe. In addition to the sconces, the many candlesticks of varying height and design which are placed here and there around her room are burning candles as well and they’re all giving off a light woodsy fragrance. In the center of the room hanging from the ceiling is a petite chandelier that’s hard-wired to a dimmer switch on the wall by the door, which right now, is set about halfway between the middle and off, so it’s really not dark in her room per se, but it’s very uh…hmm. Let’s call it mystically exclusive, but in a cozy way. That’s the only way I can think to describe the current ambience.
 

Her bedroom really
is
something to behold so Tristan’s and Kate’s wide-eyed, bewitched expressions on seeing it for the first time as they almost reluctantly crossed the threshold was quite understandable.
 

“
Wow.
” That was all Kate could manage as we stepped in and Jillian closed and bolted the door again, sealing us inside her medieval time capsule of a boudoir.

Tristan was simply quiet as he took it all in then he looked at me and raised one of his eyebrows like he was silently echoing Kate’s awed sentiment. I nodded, the motion meant to say, “I know, pretty freaking cool, huh?”

“Well, what do you guys want?” Jillian asked as she casually stretched out on her bed, replacing one of the head phones over her ear and then picking up the notebook lying next to her.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.

“Homework.”
 

Oh that’s crap. She doesn’t have homework, which is exactly what I said. “You don’t ever have homework!”

She kind of rolled her eyes and then muttered, “I didn’t say it was mine.”
 

“You’re doing someone
else’s
homework?”
 

“Actually, I’m writing someone else’s
report
…I have to make a living, don’t I?” She retorted and then demonstrated her impatience by simultaneously shoving her pencil in the notebook, slamming it closed and glancing at the ceiling before looking at me.

Oh for the love of all that’s holy…she’s being
paid
by fellow students.

“I bet you’re gonna have a lot more business when you start high school in January,” I said, trying to cheer her up a little. If she wanted to, I bet she’d get rich off the lazy kids at my school and the idea of making money should put a smile on her face.

It didn’t. At all.

I thought she would’ve laughed or chuckled or at least something like that, but she flat out
glared
at me when I mentioned her going into high school.

“Hey, you’re jumping up?” Tristan asked in a kind of surprised but congratulatory tone. I’d forgotten to tell anyone about that, what with having the sex talk with my mom right after I got the news.

She ignored his question and repeated hers, this time though, her voice held steel. “Again I ask, what do you want?”

“Oh, umm, I wanted to ask you a favor—is this just for decoration or is it okay to sit on?”
 
Kate asked referring to the settee, having recognized its obvious authenticity.

Jillian spread her hand in a lazy “be my guest” gesture, so we all took seats and then Kate hurried on when she saw the irritable look on my sister’s face.

“Jillian, I’d like to ask you to help me spy on my mom. Tonight. Now.”
What?
I didn’t know she was talking about doing this tonight!

Jillian cocked her brow again in obvious intrigue and then patiently sat through Kate’s reason for asking. When she was finished, Jill was shaking her head back and forth. “You have no idea where she is right now so following her tonight is out. I’m not saying I won’t do it, because honestly, I relish this opportunity to really test my new toys (I knew it.), but what you’re asking for takes a little bit of advanced preparation.”

“How
much
advanced preparation?”

“Just enough time for you to attach my new GPS tracker to your mom’s car,” Jill answered and winked at Tristan.

“Hey, where’d you get this?” I asked, reaching onto her nightstand and picking up a vintage iron cowbell with the Grim Reaper of Death holding his scythe painted in black on it.
 

I’ve never seen it before and Jilly’s not really a knick-knack kind of girl. Aside from a very good replica of an Arthurian era broadsword (It’s a freaking
real
sword, but not actually ancient.) that she got from something called the SCA Estrella War that we used to go to every year in Arizona, an embroidered coat of arms banner she ordered from a heraldry place with our family’s last name on it which also features a unicorn and a large black bird that I think is supposed to be an eagle but looks more like a raven, and a few photos in antique looking frames, there really aren’t many “decorations” in her room. So, although it
does
coordinate with her room’s color scheme, a cowbell seems a
tad bit
out of place.

“A friend gave it to me,” she answered coolly while looking at Tristan whose eyes had locked onto the cowbell.

“So, if I can get the tracker thing on her car tonight or tomorrow, we’ll be able to follow her Friday, right?” Kate asked, not caring about my sister’s décor in the slightest anymore.

“Right. Provided we take Melissa and Tristan consents to drive us in his bus.”

“What? Why?” He asked her in mild irritation.

“I require some creature comforts for a reconnaissance mission of this nature. Your bus is equipped for a lengthy stakeout and if my guess is correct, this one will take some time.”

“Do it another night…Friday is date night.”

“I don’t wanna wait for another night! I mean what if this is my last chance?
Pleeease,
Tristan?” Kate cajoled with big misty green eyes and her bottom lip jutted out.

“You wanna take mine and Camie’s fuckin’
sacred
Friday Night Date Night and turn it into Friday Night
Spy
Night?” He asked, clearly offended.

I had to force myself not to show my amusement at his verbiage and I noticed Jill was doing the same.
 

“Tristan, it’s fine. It’ll still be date night if we do it together, right? Besides, I bet it’ll be fun!” I really do think it will be fun, plus, Kate looks to be on the verge of tears now that he sounds about ready to tell them both to f-off.

He looked at me then Kate, and then he sighed and rolled his eyes in resignation. “Fine.”

“Oh! Thank you, thank you!” Kate squealed, giving him a quick hug.

“Whatever,” he said and then he let out a small
“humph”
when I kissed him on the cheek.
 

Kate started typing a text to Melissa and then Tristan surprised me by pulling his phone out too.

“What are you doing?”
 

“Inviting Pete. We may as well see if
everyone
wants to get in on this…” he answered with a little sarcastic resentment while
dialing
.

“You’re
calling
him?” I asked in surprise again. He very rarely actually calls anyone.

“Yeah, I wanna hear the mellifluously dulcet sound of his voice,” he replied with a chuckle and a wink. “Gay Pete” joke translation: Pete’s voice is flowing with honeyed sweetness and is pleasant to the ear.

I looked at Jillian in confusion when she muttered something about a pop quiz and then I followed her eyes to her TV when she jerked her chin indicating it. Ah, I see. I hadn’t noticed previously, but she’s been watching the movie
Speed
on NetFlix and using her head phones to listen to it. Her laptop is hooked to her TV so she can use it like a computer monitor when she wants. Anyhow, the upcoming scene is the one in the elevator shaft where Jeff Daniels asks Keanu Reeves a question by calling it a pop quiz. When Jill quoted Keanu Reeves’ answer of “shoot the hostage” before he said it, I giggled. I can’t actually hear any of it, but I know the movie just as well as she does and that’s one of those scenes you just can’t help quoting.