The Other Fish in the Sea (6 page)

Oh, and see? I told you, Kate’s that kind of friend.

I was able to get over my irritation completely a couple minutes later when Kate’s eyes zeroed in on something behind me and she said, “Look at that, she has her tail between her legs… Yeah, you better leave, you bitch.”

 
“‘That’ll do, Pig, that’ll do’.” I started cracking up at Jeff’s response to Kate’s aggression on my behalf, being that it was a quote from the movie
Babe
. For a guy his age and being someone who’s a
little
on the chauvinistic side, Jeff has a relatively surprising fondness for little kid movies and the like, so when he contradicts his stereotypical “big, strong guy” persona by saying things like that, I find it hard to not at least giggle.
 

I automatically turned to try to watch Samantha leave but Tristan clapped his hand over my eyes and folded me in on myself, preventing me from even getting a glimpse—for which I
am
actually grateful to him—while he laughed at me and said, “Oh no you don’t…it’ll just piss you off and while
I
think you’re kinda fun when you’re mad, Kate really isn’t so, do Jeff a favor and let it go. We can argue about it later.”
 

“I’m not gonna argue with you about this, so get over it.” I’m thinking he’d really like to pick a mild fight with me right now and I’m just not gonna let him.

He chuckled at me, gave me a delightfully appropriate kiss for being in the midst of about three-dozen kids and then mumbled against my lips, “We’ll see.”

And there’s my advanced notice, which unsurprisingly, I chose to ignore later that night.

3.

Sister Sledge Goes To The Desert

The next few days couldn’t have dragged on any slower. No one was having any parties that weekend, Tristan hadn’t been around much because he was doing some maintenance on his dirt bike in preparation for the desert, and I would’ve hung out at his place and watched, but then he wouldn’t have gotten anything done. Kate was packing and getting ready for her trip to New Jersey, Jeff was, of course, moping with her, and Melissa was getting ready for her family’s ski trip to Vail.

Pete showed up and watched some bad daytime TV with Jillian and me on Monday and my mom had been cooking various parts of Thanksgiving dinner that could be made ahead of time, the smell of which made us all perpetually hungry, but our house still seemed oddly depressed. Therefore, I was thrilled when the gang gathered together once more on Tuesday afternoon.

Tristan, Jeff, Pete, and Jillian were playing the board game Rummikub on the coffee table while my mom and I were watching Buffy on DVD, thus giving Tristan, Jillian, and me the much amusing opportunity to bug the crap out of Jeff by quoting all the lines before the characters said them, when as per usual, Kate came in without having knocked, plopped down on Jeff’s lap and then dropped her news on us.

“Well, if it’s okay, I’m going to the desert with you guys…my mom got pissed at my dad and not only cancelled our trip, but decided not to celebrate Thanksgiving at all.”

 
“Oh honey, I’m sorry to hear that, but of course you’re more than welcome to join us,” my mom said sympathetically.

“Sweet! I’m comin’ too then,” Jeff stated as a matter of fact.

“What about dinner with your father?” My mom asked.

“Screw that! If he has a problem with it, then too bad…I’m comin’.” My mom hid a grin at Jeff’s insistence that included giving Kate a defiant kiss on the cheek that could have said, “Just try to stop me.”

Over the last week or so, Jillian had been complaining that she didn’t have a friend coming and that I did (friend, boyfriend…whatever) and I could tell by the look on her face that she was about to pour forth another lengthy complaint about her sucky friends not being able to go, but she clamped her mouth shut in irritation and threw Pete something like a scandalized look when he spoke up before her.
 

“Well if everyone else is goin’, I wanna go too! Mrs. R, if my mom says it’s okay, can I come?”
 

“It’s fine with me, but your mother needs to give her permission.”

 
Pete was already dialing his phone when he said, “No problem. My parents just became grandparents and they won’t care if I’m there or not. Right now they’re only interested in spoiling my sister’s new baby.”

By the way and not that it really matters, but Pete is the youngest of three children and he actually only turned sixteen in September. He’s a junior because with his September birthday, he was able to start school when he was four instead of five. He also comes from a
very
wealthy family, but you would never know because he and his family don’t flaunt it even a little bit.

“Well, girls, one of you should probably call Melissa and extend an invitation…she’ll be upset if you leave her out,” my mom said and grinned at Pete when he gave her the thumbs up saying he could go.

“She’s going skiing,” I told my mom.

Pete started shaking his head “no” and then hung up with his mom. “No, she isn’t. Didn’t you guys hear? Her little brother just got chicken pox so they had to cancel.” I giggled at Jeff when he shuddered at the mention of chicken pox.

So I called Melissa. Sure enough, Pete’s intelligence was correct and while Melissa’s parents were very “disappointed” in their son for “spoiling” their trip, they were willing to let their daughter out of the sick house for the remainder of our break. With that settled so easily, Melissa packed up her stuff in a jiffy and was at my house within the hour.

Yeah, you can probably tell I’m not terribly fond of Melissa’s parents… Over the last couple months, I’ve come to discover that Melissa’s mom and dad are what you might call socialites, which sounds way cool until you actually get to know them and realize that in their case, socialites is actually just another word for elitist snobs. They’re very big on maintaining a certain kind of image that they expect their children to project as well and without question. They nit-pick everything Melissa wears, says and even what she freaking eats. Plus, she’s always having to attend formal dinner parties and fancy-schmancy social events with them at the country club they belong to. She doesn’t ever complain, but I tend to think Melissa’s parents treat her and her brother like freaking show ponies, which just makes me more grateful that my parents couldn't care less if I opt for the baked potato with bacon on it over the couscous when we eat out. Not that we even go to restaurants with couscous on the menu very often in the first place, but you get my point.

“Okay man, if you’re goin’ we should get out to the lake, grab your bike, swap the tires for paddles, and then get the oil changed and stuff…hey Kate, want us to bring my mom’s quad for you?” Tristan asked, yawning a little and getting up off the floor where he’d been sitting in front of me while I’d been absentmindedly playing with his hair.

Tristan’s got
great
hair. This is also one of the only safe forms of physical touch for us. I say safe because me playing with his hair doesn’t really turn either of us on. It’s more of a soothing thing for both of us…I wouldn’t doubt that if he could, he’d purr like a big cat.

“Sure,” Kate replied with a shrug.

“Wait. Our trailer is totally packed, isn’t it?” I asked, thinking there’s no way another bike
and
quad will fit on my family’s trailer.
 

“Yeah, but my parents have one at the lake we can use,” Tristan answered and then frowned as he thought of something else. “Uhh, oh, wait…is your tow hitch still broken?”
 

“Aw damn it, yeah it is…I forgot about that. What about your dad’s Land Rover?” Jeff replied with a little bit of irritation, but not much. He’s really just pleased as punch with being able to share Kate’s plans so even if he can’t ride a whole lot out in the desert, I have a feeling he’ll still be a happy camper.

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll have to take that…I just hate sleeping in tents and I’m
not
sleeping in the damned Rover.”

“Well, I can drive the bus and then the problem’s solved…”

“That’ll work…oh wait, no it won’t. My dad garaged the Rover at the airport today when they left and I don’t have the keys…”

“My truck has a hitch,” Pete reminded both Jeff and Tristan who’d become oblivious to everyone while discussing tow hitches and sleeping arrangements.

“Oh yeah! Perfect…okay you guys, let’s get goin’ before it gets dark,” Tristan said before getting up to leave and giving me a kiss that he kept pretty G-rated for my mom’s benefit. Not that she doesn’t know better, but we try to keep up appearances.

Kate left soon after the guys to get herself packed and when my dad got home, my mom told him about the last minute addition of two boys and two girls. She then had him make sure our old, three-room, family sized tent we upgraded from a few years ago and all the spikes and stuff for it were packed in the motor home while she sent Melissa and me to the store for additional food and drinks.
 

We left early Wednesday afternoon the second my dad got home and changed his clothes
,
and about an hour and a half before dark, we arrived in the middle of nowhere that didn’t look like the middle of nowhere anymore after all my aunts and uncles along with their kids had descended on it. Not to mention the many hundreds of other dirt dwellers who frequent Glamis and the surrounding area in the fall, making Thanksgiving weekend one of
the
most crowded weekends in the calendar to go to the desert on. Luckily, we always camp on the very outskirts of the over-populated dunes and Derek’s family had been there since Sunday, ensuring our camp circle was large enough to accommodate everyone’s RVs, tents, and vehicles.
 

The guys immediately went to work on getting both the sleeping tent and the “facilities tent” set up before it got dark. In his infinite wisdom, my dad made sure to grab the tee-pee like tent, the porta-potty, and the camp shower
,
too. I told you, we do this every year and we didn’t always have a motorhome… While the boys were doing all the manual labor, we females took care of the domestic stuff like making sure our hair was pulled back so it didn’t get tangled in the currently absent wind and watching the guys argue about what tent pole goes where. We socialized with some of the other females as well. Like my cousin Julia and her friend Bridget. Julia’s family arrived about a half-hour after we did, but here’s the conversation that took place before any co-ed introductions were made. How it began is also the sole reason for why I have the song “Ave Maria” stuck in my head. Not the “Ave Maria” that Beyonce did…no,
I
have the actual Latin prayer set to classical music goin’ on in my wacky brain.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Julia exclaimed with awe in her tone and wide, staring eyes. The guys, including Derek and Brandon, are still setting things up and looking particularly mouthwatering doing it too…seeing as how it’s still pretty warm and they’ve all stripped their shirts off.
 

MaryAnn, Kate, Melissa, and I started laughing and then MaryAnn said, “I know, right?”

“Oh my God! Who do I thank for bringing dessert?” This query came from Bridget, who looked like she might’ve been wishing for whip cream. “
Damn!
I thought your cousin was only bringing
one
friend…”
 

Ah. Julia and Bridget believe the bona fide hot guy schmorgesborg on display to be entirely Derek’s doing. However, before any one of us could correct them of their faux pas, they both called out “Dibs!” and began debating which one of them had first choice over which guy they planned on going after. At the very same time though, Tristan looked over at us and gave me a cocky grin along with a wink—which my cousin automatically assumed was meant for her.

“Oh my God, I think I’m in lust… Sorry you guys, you can split the rest of ‘em up however you want, but that one’s
mine, all mine!
”

I’m thinking (okay, screaming),
what the hell, Julia?
He’s
MINE!
I didn’t utter a single word of protest
,
though
,
because I was essentially stunned silent. I hadn’t once considered for even a moment that I would have to worry about Tristan being hit on by a member of
my own freaking family!
Needless to say, I was inordinately grateful to my stealthy little sister, who’d been standing there quietly without having been previously noticed by
any
of us, for pointing out to both of them the error of their ways. And in no uncertain terms either but, as it would turn out, with a humorous euphemism.

“Whoa, Nellie, hold your horses. First of all,
that
one is way, way out of all y’all’s pasture…he might look like he’d be fun to break
,
but even
if
you could lasso him, which you totally can’t, you’d never in a million years be able to handle the reins.”

I happen to agree with all that by the way. The only reason I can hold my own with Tristan is because he lets me. Oh, and it was at this point that Julia opened her mouth to argue that she was perfectly capable of handling
my
horse when Jillian held up her hand as if to say, “Stop,” and continued like she hadn’t been interrupted.

“Besides, Camie’s his sweetheart and the only one he cowboys-up with.” Now Leann Rimes yodeling “I Want To Be A Cowboy’s Sweetheart” has replaced the Latin liturgy in my head. Thank you
,
Jillian! “And don’t even think about the pretty pony standing next to him either…he was saddled by Kate when they were in second or third grade.”

“Technically it was third, but that’s only because he was being an ass for a year and a half before that,” Kate said and then laughed at her own unintended play on words of calling Jeff an ass when the guys had been referred to as horses.

“Oh shit, Camie, I’m so sorry…I had no idea. But damn, girl, can you blame me?” Julia apologized sincerely, having just recognized my mutinous expression.
 

And of course, she wasn’t the only one who noticed my displeasure…