Addicted (The Addicted Series, #1)(93)

"Old beef that he didn't want to let go," I said simply. "He wanted to start something, and I didn't want to do that any longer, so I took off running for here. He was a bit faster, took me down."

The fight had caused a small crowd to gather, and there were a few people who backed up my story. The lifeguard looked around, while Pete was let go as long as he stayed on the other side of the lifeguard. "Looks like I should radio for the police," he said, "you got a clear assault case."

I shook my head. "No need, man. I don't want to press charges."

"Yo man, what about my cooler?" the beachgoer asked, pointing to his now crushed device. It looked like it had been a good cooler too, but it now sported a dent that was about three inches deep in one side. I reached into my side pocket, where my wallet still sat comfortably, and took it out.

"Tell you what, it was my fault for running so close to your spot, I'll pay you for it. What do you say, eighty bucks to cover it?" The cooler had been good, but not that good. Still, I was being generous for a reason, I didn't want the police getting involved.

Thankfully, the beachgoer thought my idea was a good one. "Alright man, I can do that," he answered as I handed him the four twenties. "Next time have him land on my car, I could use a new one of those too."

A few of the onlookers laughed, and the lifeguard looked from me to Pete again. "Okay. Tell you what. You, skinny guy, take off. I see you near my tower, I'll call the cops. You, Richie Rich, come with me, hang out at the tower for a while, give your friend here time to get out of the area and cool off."

"I'm cool with that," I said, watching Pete carefully as he nodded and walked off without another word. The lifeguard stood next to me for a bit, then nodded towards his tower. I followed him, and climbed the ramp to the top, where he offered me a seat. "Thanks. And thanks for not getting the cops involved on something so petty."

"Hey, it's your life Castelbon," he replied, surprising me. The lifeguard smirked and nodded. "My little sister happens to like the society pages, and happens also to have a crush on a certain Southern California bad boy. She's going to freak out when she finds out I actually met you."

I laughed and watched the waves with him for a bit. "Well, in either case thanks. So, not trying to perv or anything, but how old is your sister?"

"Seventeen. I'm the oldest of four, she's the youngest," the lifeguard said. "She's not your type, by the way. I love Chicha, but she's not the type like you normally have been seen with."

I chuckled ruefully, thinking back to the * I was. "Can I see?"

The lifeguard gave me a careful look, then nodded, pulling his cell phone out. He flipped through his pictures for a few seconds, then held it out to me. The girl I saw wasn't ugly, but he was right, I'd never have given her a second glance before. She was the kind of sort-of-pretty girl that most likely made the best girlfriends or wives, because she was most likely sweet, smart, and probably could make a guy laugh. The lucky guy who ended up with Chicha would count his blessings, I bet. "She looks like a good kid," I said, handing him the phone back. Suddenly, a thought struck me. "Hey, that thing has a camera, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you send your sister photos with it?"

The lifeguard nodded, a smile coming to his face. "Yeah, I can. You really willing to do it?"

"For the guy who kept me from having to deal with the cops? Hell yeah. Here, let's do it selfie style," I said, getting close and throwing my arm around his shoulder. With my arm stretched as far as it could, we could both just get in the shot. "Okay, one like this, and then maybe another normal one, just me or something. Ready?"

We took the photos, and the lifeguard, who I found out was named Curt, sent them off. We got a reply in about two minutes, his phone ringing. "It's my sister."

"Here, hand me the phone," I said, holding my hand out. I hit the call button and held it to my ear. "Hello, this is Julian Castelbon speaking, how may I help you?"

"No . . . way!" a teenage girl yelled in my ear. "Curt, I swear to Christ that if this is you playing a trick on me . . ."

"No trick, Chicha," I said with a laugh, "I'm really Julian Castelbon. Your brother just saved me some trouble on the beach, and when he said you would appreciate a picture, well, I had to send it off."

The poor girl was in near hysterics, and I could barely understand what she was saying. In between repeated "no ways" and "oh my gods," she finally got a sentence out. "Yeah, yeah! God, it's really you!"

"It's me," I agreed. "Listen, Chicha, I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay!" the girl replied, still nearly unintelligible in her excitement. "You can ask me anything."

I nodded, and looked over at her brother. "Your brother said you kind of are digging on me. Now, save your wrath for him later, but I have to ask . . . why?"

"You're just so awesome, and cute, and sexy and strong, and ohmygod ohmygod," she said, embarrassment fighting with excitement.

I nodded to myself and let her calm down before I continued. "Chicha, are you calmed down now?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Chicha, I saw your picture. You're young, you're kind of cute yourself, and from the way you dress and stuff I assume you're smart. You're too good for a guy like me. I've been a world class f*ckup most of my life, and am just now getting myself straightened out. So please, do me a favor, and promise me. Promise me that around your high school, you stay away from the guys like me. Find yourself a nerdy guy, some guy who's going to treat you like the princess, and not like a piece of trash like I've done too often. Find that guy, maybe get him on some weights or something to fill him out, and watch as he goes from nerd to rich guy who's driving a Benz while the punk asses like I was just keep getting into trouble in five years. You'll be a lot happier in life."