Page 5 of Dire Straights

He chuckled. A really grating, irritating chuckle that would have been right at home on a golf course or a country club.

“Don’t you worry about that, little fishy,” he said. His voice was slurred. “I plan on…” He twirled the bottle around in the air as he spoke. “Disposingof the evidence post haste. There won’t be a drop for anyone to find and yourpreciouscareer will be oh so very safe.”

“If you think I have some kind of honor code about not kicking someone’s ass just because they’re drunk, think again,” I warned him. But I didn’t really expect a big reaction. I kind of wanted one, since Caelyx Vane had maybe the most punchable face I’d ever encountered in my life. Blonde pretty-boy, snot-nosed rich asshole.

He pretended to shiver, mocking me and my threat, before waving me off dismissively toward the front door.

“Better hurry up or the other fishies will be able to do more laps around the bowl than you. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Whatever. And take a shower, you reek,” I told him as I left. So I wasn’t the best or most creative when it came to insults. The worst part was I knew I’d think of something better later when I was in the shower and it was too late.

As I walked off toward the school, I passed the two cars in our driveway. Our other housemate, Cyprian, had a pretty decent Jeep. But Caelyx had a gleaming red Porsche convertible that was probably worth more than my life. It was definitely worth more thanhislife. Like him, it was obnoxious and obviously cost a lot of money. For a guy who came from a well off family, he sure hadn’t developed any manners or air of dignity.

Maybe signing a lease with two other guys I didn’t know hadn’t been the best idea, but then again Cyprian seemed fine. And we hadn’t run into any real issues or problems yet, so I wasn’t about to worry over nothing.

Practice was the same as always. I liked swimming okay, because I could turn my brain off while I was in the water. Once we’d all done our laps and had our time called, we headed into the locker room. A lot of the guys on the team, particularly the three brain-dead amigos, loved screwing around in there. They were always popping each other in the ass with twisted up towels and snapping each other’s speedos. For a bunch of guys who’d probably lose their shit if anyone actually thought they were gay, they loved to act like complete morons behind closed doors.

Once I was done putting my stuff back into my locker, I noticed a text from my dad. It started withHey Champ, a nickname I’d always hated. He informed me that something had come up and that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to my first swim meet of the year, which was in less than two weeks. My parents had already agreed they’d switch off for who would show up for me. He was supposed to come to the mid-September one and my mom would come to the one in January after winter break. But obviously something had ended up being more important. I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone in my pocket before heading to my first class of the day.

A weird tension hung around me like a fog, pricking and prodding at me so I couldn’t relax. I snapped at a guy inmy biology class for stepping too close and nearly scuffing my Adidas, and almost made a girl cry for spilling water across a table I was sitting at. I’d felt off since the day before, but I couldn’t really decipher it. I wasn’t exactly anin touch with my feelingstype of guy.

On my way home from my last class, my phone vibrated in my pocket to let me know I had an incoming call. Annoyed, I pulled it out. The only people who actually made calls anymore were old people and scammers.

“Hey, Champ.”

“Hey, Dad.” Fuck my life, why was he calling me now?

“You didn’t answer my text! Wanted to make sure you got it.” Oh, right. I hadn’t.

“I got it.”

“Well, I’m sorry about not being able to make it out for you. It’s just a bad weekend for me. Between the projects I’m on at work, and Missy’s having a surgery that week, it’s just not a good time for me to travel out.”

“Missy?” I repeated. Had he gotten a new dog or something?

“Oh. Haven’t I mentioned Missy to you?”

“No?”

“Ah, well…” He hesitated a bit, sounding awkward. “Missy is the woman I’ve been seeing. You’ll have to meet her, she’s really a great girl. And I’ve told her so much about you and the twins!” The twins were my younger brother and sister. They were 14, just starting high school.

“Alright, fine. Maybe this summer.”

“Well, it’ll have to be a hell of a lot sooner than that!” My dad said, laughing. “She’s excited about it, you know!”

“Okay.” Was that all he’d called to say? Could I go now? Balancing the phone on my shoulder, I unlocked the front door and headed to my bedroom while he kept yapping about Missy. His assertions that she was a lovely and professional womandidn’t change my opinion that the name was more suited for a French bulldog.

“And I told her about how you’re basically a fish in the water! We’ll definitely make it to your next one, Champ. How many other schools are going to be participating? Do you know?”

“I don’t know, not that many, probably. It’s just a swimming club. We’re only a D3 school.”

“But you could get scouted by a coach from a D1 or D2 school, right? You can always transfer your credits.” The extreme betrayal he’d felt when I’d chosen a school where the main focus wasn’t athletics would never fade.

“I don’t want to transfer, Dad. I like BBU. I like my classes.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel by the end of the year. You’re going to miss out on all that competitive spirit! You know, I could have gone pro if I hadn’t blown my knee out in senior year.”

“I know, Dad.” He’d been a football player, already being fought over by big colleges in his senior year. I’d heard this story a billion times. He’d been telling it to me since I’d only even vaguely understood what professional sports were.

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