The Other Fish in the Sea (54 page)

Here’s how it went down; Mike asked me what time it was and, logically, I looked at my Swatch watch. Yep, found this little piece of ‘80s gold on eBay. Anyhow, Mike immediately thrust a shot at me and pronounced that I had to drink for not responding with the correct phrase of “It’s Hammer time.” Mike then scooted off to find his next victim, holding the bottle in one hand and the shot glass in the other, and doing his little MC Hammer shuffle dance as he did.
 

That was also why when the party started to wind down, I got involved in the TV drinking game that Jeff had started with the help of my sister and Buffy. At Jeff’s request, Jill turned
Real Genius
off and put Buffy on, and he along with Melissa, Tristan, Kristen, Derek and some assorted other guests were doing shots of something I was told was called a WooWoo. I have no idea what’s in them and know only that they’re pretty good and later found out, pretty potent as well. The game was fun though; anytime Buffy killed a vampire, you take a drink, every time someone else who wasn’t Buffy killed a vampire, you take two drinks. I didn’t mean to, but I got obliterated and unbeknownst to me, so did Tristan. I
did
find that out later and in absolutely
no
way was it a good revelation.
 

Again, that hindsight thing is more than fucking applicable here because if I’d known being as blitzed as I was would be the catalyst for what was coming, I would’ve chosen to denounce that first shot of Mike’s and worn the title Party Pooper proudly. I also would’ve told Tristan in advance what my discarded plan for tonight was so that he could’ve done the same…

I have no clue what time it was, how many people were left at my house, if any of them had sober rides home, or, how Tristan and I got to my room, nor did I care, but by the time we stumbled through my bedroom door, it was on. We were like animals in our savagery to get each other’s clothes off and I don’t remember a whole lot of details, but I do recall us standing there after I’d kicked the door closed and him saying something about how much he wanted me and me hiccuping with the feeling that I might puke. I held up one finger and wobbling a little on my feet with my head lowered a bit, I said, “Gimme a sec…” The feeling passed and then I gave him the green light to go on.
 

It wasn’t until we were both completely naked and I was on my back in bed that the room started to
seriously
spin. With Tristan on top of me completely oblivious to my rapidly increasing nausea, I felt like I was on one of those carnival rides like The Zipper, and I couldn’t get the thoughts of “Oh God, please don’t let me puke on him when we have sex for the first time” and “This isn’t how I want my first time to be” out of my head. I just couldn’t manage that many spoken words. And really, even if I had been able to, they would’ve been incoherent. I think I managed to slur an inadequate substitution of that last thought being, “I’m not ready,” only to have Tristan retort a little crudely
,
“Could’ve fooled me,” after removing his hand from in between my thighs and then using it and his teeth to tear open a condom. I was becoming panicked about throwing up on him and I know I said something in the way of wait or stop, but, he didn’t hear me. You have to understand something here; I was so intoxicated
,
I
literally
couldn’t see straight. I made a feeble attempt to get his attention again with words, however when that didn’t work, I pulled his hair. I think he took it as me wanting him to kiss me
,
though
,
because that was when he raised his head and right before he lowered his lips to mine, I met his extraordinarily dark eyes and breathed out, “Please stop.” He did and he did so in time, but, it wasn’t pretty.

He
completely
and
totally
lost it.

He was off of me and swearing up a blue streak in blinding speed. I’m not even really sure what exactly he said because the room was doing an excellent imitation of being a tilt-a-whirl
,
and I simply could
not
focus on anything except trying to not projectile vomit, but I caught utterly disgusted snippets like: “You can’t fucking do this,” “Cannot fucking believe you,” and “Get the fuck outta here.” That last part I remember only because that was when he furiously and hastily pulled on his jeans and in the strictest sense of the phrase, Tristan stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him so hard it caused my windows to rattle and a picture that was hanging on the wall to fall to the floor.

Sobbing and swallowing the sudden excessive saliva my mouth was producing, I rolled off my bed, crawled into my bathroom and then I proceeded to hurl violently.

I don’t remember anything past that.

*****

In my dreams I had flashbacks of when Tristan would cuddle me, carry me, kiss me on the forehead or give me back rubs and when I woke up, my heart broke with the undeniable realization that he wouldn’t be doing those things anymore. If you’d have been here, you’d understand when I say that last night I witnessed through bleary eyes the result of Tristan reaching the end of his rope. It was about noon and I came to a fuzzy awareness that at some point during my drunken puke-o-rama
,
I’d managed to climb back in bed and somehow thought to put some panties and a nightshirt on. And shocking as this is, I didn’t physically feel that bad. Yes
,
I was hung-over but, happily, which was the
only
thing I had to be happy about, I didn’t have a piercing headache.
 

I went downstairs and found everything had essentially already been cleaned up, and Tristan, along with all trace of him was absent, causing my stomach to lurch horribly.

“Hey Jill? Have you seen Tristan?” I asked her, coming back into the kitchen after having looked into his room and finding that all his stuff was gone.
 

My sister looked at me with what I took to be pity and said, “He left a few hours ago and took all his stuff aside from your children home.”
 

I got the impression she was leaving something out and she looked somewhat uncomfortable, all of which just gave me an even more queasy feeling so I didn’t question her further. Instead I went out to the backyard to contemplate what happened last night and sitting on the little park bench by the honeysuckle vines, I let the strong, yet sweet fragrance brought out by the moisture in the air calm and comfort me. All the details were still uber-blurry but after about fifteen minutes or so of reflection, I was beginning to think that maybe things weren’t as bad as I’d woken to believe they might be.
 

Then the sky let out a rumble worthy of Thor the god of thunder at the same time Tristan emerged from the house
,
and with his expression, my heart plummeted and shattered. And with his words, this time, it stayed there, laying in the pit of my stomach in tiny pieces.

“We need to talk…”
 

Epilogue

~Jillian~

“Hi there.” His warm voice broke into my awareness just as he always does and I heard his keys hit the table in the background.
 

“Uh-huh,” I replied. Not my best articulation, I know, but I’m trying to follow a conversation from two stories up and without the benefit of decent sound.

“Was that supposed to be a greeting?”

“Oh cheese and rice…
NO!
She didn’t just—”

“Hey, is that yell—”
 

“Shhh!”

“Jillian, what the hell is going on?”

“Um, I’m not…hang on, I’ll be back.”

“What did you just
do
?!” I couldn’t believe my eyes during the live performance and I haven’t had the chance to look at the video I took, so I
had
to ask when she came back in and practically ran me over on the stairs.
 

“What did
I
do?! Well, let me tell you
,
Jillian…I just had my heart ripped to shreds, the pieces thrown on the ground and then they were
trampled into the fucking grass
!” She belligerently hollered at me while dripping wet from being outside in the rain
.
Then she stormed down the hall and into her room, slamming the door and locking it afterwards.

Oh my God, my sister is
so
stupid!

I threw my door open and walking back into my still empty bedroom I demanded, “You have to come back here to confirm what I already know.”

“I just got home!”

“I
know
,
but you have to come back and see the proof of my sister’s monumental stupidity with your own eyes.”

“Jillian…come on, just tell—”

 
I looked into his eyes and said, “Unless I am making an egregious error here, she just slapped my babysitter without proper provocation.”

“I’m on my way.”

*****

“So? It looks like they’re about to have a fight…I don’t get it, why did I have to rush over h—”

“Waaait fooor iiit…”
I said as I watched the video for the ninth time, preparing him for witnessing the precise moment in which my sister achieved the point of no return in her outrageously ludicrous grasp of reality.

“Nononononono!
OH SHIT!
” He’s now just as thoroughly agitated as I am.

“You see? He wasn’t, was he?”

He just shook his head in shock.
 

“In your expert opinion, what do you think was going through his mind right before she hit him?”

He stared at the screen and sighed…

“Repentance.”

Epilogue, Take Two

~Jeff~

“Babe, wait…she doesn’t look happy…” I heard Katy say right before I opened my mouth to speak.
 

Her words didn’t register right away and I didn’t see Camie’s expression in time. “Welcome to world of the licensed! How’s it feel?”

“Have you guys talked to Tristan?” Camie asked without looking at us, shifting on her feet uncomfortably when she said my best friend’s name.
 

“Uh, not since Saturday night…he hasn’t been at school so far today. Actually, we thought he’d gone with you and your dad to get your license… What’s going on, you look like you’re really mad,” Katy said, taking in all of Camie’s body language and even though I don’t have the particular intuitive gift my girl does, I couldn’t miss the terrible hurt written on Camie’s face.

Something
really
fuckin’ major happened.

“Well, I failed my driver’s test…” Camie answered and chewed the inside of her lip.

Katy went to hug her and I wanted to whisper
,
“Katy
,
babe…there’s more” but I didn’t have to.

“Aw Camie, I’m so sorry, but you can always retes—” Katy started to say in reassurance when Camie cut her off and dropped the big one.

I wanted to deny my ears, but…I couldn’t. All of a sudden, I was Hiroshima and Camie’s revelation was the Atom bomb.

“Oh, and Tristan broke-up with me on my birthday because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”
 

BOOM!!!
 

It was like something exploded inside me and my organs were burning and melting away with a fiery hate. I never thought he could be capable of something so callous, but after everything he said on Thursday, I knew he was.

First, I’m gonna have to find the fucking cowardly waste of life and when I do, I’m gonna fucking
kill
the despicable guy I used to think of as a brother…

COMING SOON

Shark Out of Water

Book 3 in the Grab Your Pole Series

There is no sneak peek.

You just got two epilogues so you’ll have to be happy with that.
 

Yeah, I really just ended this book on probably one of the worst cliffhangers of all time, leaving you staring at your e-reader and exclaiming, “What the fuck?!” And now, I’m gonna make you wait an as of yet undetermined amount of time to find out what the fuck happens.

I love you too. :-*

About the Author

Jenn Cooksey is a Southern California girl born and bred, and proudly boasts being a member of Grossmont High School’s alumni. She currently resides in the 7th Ring of Hell (aka; Arizona) with her husband, their three daughters, and more pets than she has the patience to count. Aside from her husband and one cat, everyone living under the Cooksey’s roof is female. She’s sure her husband will be not only be awarded sainthood when he kicks the bucket, but that Jesus will welcome him into heaven with a beer and a congratulatory high-five. She also believes that Bacon should be capitalized. Always.

You can learn more about Jenn and her books at:

www.jenncooksey.blogspot.com

Or at
Goodreads
.com

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: @Jenn_Cooksey

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Also by Jenn Cooksey

Shark Bait (Grab Your Pole, #1)