Sleeping with the Fishes (7 page)

Now he was tagging along, as he so often did, partly because he smelled excitement, and partly because he was hoping to get another glimpse of the delectable Dr. Barb. He'd been wondering for years what her hair would feel like in his hands, if it ever was out of that silly braid, if her eyes narrowed or widened or closed completely during orgasm. It was a full-on crush, the one secret he kept from Fred. Just the thought of her scorn (or indifference) made him cringe.

"It's pretty late," Fred said over her shoulder, leading them to a darkened employee entrance. "I doubt anybody's around.
Which is good.
Technically neither of you should be here."

"Technically, you're a frigid bitch," he reminded her.

"Shut up."

"
You
shut up."

Fred sighed. "Are you ever going to leave the second grade?"

"Are you ever going to do anything about those split ends?"

She ignored him, the way she ignored the stare
Artur
gave her. That was also
business
as usual. He'd long given up trying to point out the guys (and occasional gal) checking her out pretty much daily.

Fred wasn't gorgeous, but she had—something.
The hair, of course.
The long legs and waist.
Skinny, so she could wear anything and look good.
And the height.
He had barely an inch on her. Altogether, she was a striking, if startling, woman.

And the smile.
Fred had a perfectly beautiful smile, he happened to know from seeing it three, maybe four times in twenty years.

And a wonderful sense of humor.
The trouble was…

He thought about it. The trouble was
,
she was also the loneliest person he knew. And it wasn't hard to figure why. She worked so hard shoving people
away,
nobody had a chance to dump her first. Psych 101, plain and simple.

"Yeah," he replied, "but Dr. Barb doesn't have a life any more than you do."

"Says the moron tagging along at ten thirty at night on a Friday."
She turned, walked backward for a second, and narrowed her sea green eyes. "What do you care if Dr. Barb is here?"

"I'm just warning you," he covered.

"
Muh
," she replied, turning back around.

And lo and behold, the gods of frustrated sexual yearnings smiled on him as the employee door slammed open and out darted Dr. Barb! Who, he happened to know, trotted everywhere, like a little kid. She nearly slammed into Fred, checked herself, skidded to a halt, straightened, blew her bangs out of her eyes, and said, "Dr.
Bimm
! You're back. Everything all right at home, I trust?"

Instantly, Jonas seized
Artur
and dragged him away so Dr. Barb wouldn't realize Fred had been about to sneak two unauthorized persons into the NEA in the middle of the night. There was a convenient corner near the outdoor seal tank and he hissed, "Put your arms around me."

"Pardon?"

"Like we're boyfriends."

"No."

"Look," he snapped, "I don't like it any more than you do, but
d'you
want
Fred to get into trouble?"

Stiffly, like a recently animated marble statue,
Artur
placed his arms around Jonas's waist.

"Not like
that
,
You
look like someone's sticking a gun in your ear."

"Someone will most likely have to very soon."

"Put some feeling in it," he commanded. "Love me tender!"

"No."

"Look, I'd much rather be snuggling with
her
," He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "But we can't get caught, okay? And we can't get Fred into trouble. So snuggle.
Now."

Instead of snuggling,
Artur
grabbed him by the shirt front and hoisted him to eye level. This was the most alarming thing to happen since he tried to invent chocolate shampoo and blew up Lab Six.

"You do not touch her,"
Artur
was telling him, while Jonas struggled and kicked, his feet a good foot off the ground.
"Ever.
Do you
understand,
biped?"

"Not—one of—your subjects," he coughed.

"Then I will simply have to beat you until you comply."

"This shirt—cost—one-fifty—at Macy's—" he gurgled.

Artur
set him down (reluctantly, it seemed to Jonas).

"Good thing you did that," he said, straightening his clothing and blowing his hair out of his eyes, "because I was about to kick your fishy ass into the seal tank."

Artur
laughed politely.

"
Crushin
' on Fred, eh?" It had to be Fred. It sure as shit better not be Dr. Barb or there'd be a beat-down, all right, and Mr.
Hotshit
Prince might get a surprise.

"I do not know what that—"

"Yes you do. Get in line, pal. But don't worry about me, Fred and I
are
nothing more than friends. Just realize there are other men out there. Even if…"

"Even if…?"

"She's oblivious."

Artur
nodded, stroking his too-cool red beard. Not too long, not absurdly short—like the little bear in Goldilocks, it was just right. "That is well," he said at last.

"Oh, right, real well. Listen—"

"Morons!"
Fred's grating voice cut through their private chat. "Are you coming, or not?"

"Where's Dr. Barb?" he asked, peeking around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

"She's
outta
here.
Didn't even notice you."
"Oh," Jonas said. He faked enthusiasm. "That's good, then."

Fred gave him an odd look, and let them into the darkened halls of the NEA.

"It should be here somewhere."

"What exactly are we looking for, Nancy Drew?"

Fred gave Jonas a look. They'd both gone through an insane Drew phase in the fourth grade, read the entire Nancy Drew series, talked about her and her friends and her borderline-absentee dad, and at the end had both decided it was a miracle Ms. Drew lived through any of her wacky adventures.

"What.
Are.
We.
Looking.
For?"

"I heard you the first time, moron. Anything Dr. Pearson might have left. He's got to have notes, charts—something."

"I dislike this skulking about," the prince said, looking around the small, cluttered lab with distaste. "It ill becomes royalty. I prefer action."

"Indulge the commoners, will
ya
?"

"Yeah, do that." Fred picked up a clipboard and instantly became absorbed. Much more interesting than listening to the men in her life
bitch
and moan. How did wives and moms stand it?

"I don't know why I'm here," Jonas was saying, looking absently around the lab. "It's not really my field. Now, if you want to talk about a hand cream that doubles as perfume…"

"I don't know why you're here either." Jonas, she had decided three years ago, had an odd affectation for the NEA. He'd been in it about a thousand times, and was always chatting up her boss and colleagues… even the volunteers who worked the gift shop. She happened to know he didn't give a tin shit about oceans, sea life, stuffed seals, or penguins, so it was a bit of a mystery. "So go."

"Yeah, maybe I will." In another of his odd mood swings, Jonas had gone from keen interest to yawning boredom in less than thirty.

"Then be off," the prince commanded, sitting on a lab stool and nearly toppling off when he realized the chair didn't have a back.

Fred swallowed a laugh and kept her gaze glued to the clipboard. Pearson had the handwriting of a serial killer, and she was having a tough time deciphering if this was a toxin sheet or his grocery list.

"You're pretty strong," she heard Jonas say to
Artur
, obviously ignoring the prince's command to 'be off.' "Fred is, too. I once saw her pick up her mom's fridge to get one of my Hot Wheels."

"That is interesting about Fred. It: is also an accurate observation."

"I'm guessing it's the whole
mer
-angle, right? I mean, you can't swim around on the bottom of the ocean day and night—all that pressure—and not build some upper body strength. I mean, you guys are under
literal
pressure, not: the usual 'the H.R. rep hates me, I can't stand office politics' pressure."

"Do not feel shame. An air breather is by nature much weaker."

"Uh—okay, yeah, I'm not really a shame-
feelin
'
kinda
guy, but thanks anyway. I'm betting you can see in the dark like a cat, too, huh?"

"What is a cat?"

"Because I bet it gets pretty dark down there, too, right?"

"It is dark in many places," the prince said, sounding slightly confused. She couldn't blame him. Jonas had all the tact of a pit bull once his mind starting chewing on a problem.

"So all
mer
-people—"

"Undersea Folk," the prince corrected.

Fred resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Well, he could have picked a worse one, like Ben-
Varry
or
Caesg
or
Meerfrau
. Seemed like all of her research on
merfolk
came up with stuff that was ninety percent outright
wrong,
and silly-sounding names.

"Right, right, that's what I meant. All Undersea Folk are super strong, and can see in the dark, and can breathe air and water—how
do
you breathe air and water?"

"We just—do."
Artur
looked from Fred to Jonas, puzzled. "Are you not comrades? How do you not know these things about a friend?"

"Because
Fred
doesn't know a lot of these things.
She was raised by humans. Heck, I didn't even know she was a fellow mammal at first, because she's so clammy all the time. You think her mom ever let her near a doctor?"

"I'm never sick," Fred said absently.

"Anyway, back to what we were talking about. Fred doesn't have gills. Not even when she has a tail."

"Never mind her tail," the prince ordered. "And why would she? She is not part fish. She is one of the Undersea Folk. She is one of
my
people."

"Oh, take a pill, handsome. I'm just making observations, here, and you're getting all touchy." He added, oddly, "Resist the urge to pick me up and shake me like a juice box."

Artur
sighed, the quiet groan of a man picking up a heavy, chattering burden. "We pull air into our bodies when we are on land, and when we are under water we pull air from the water."

"Okay, that was super helpful.
Lemme
just grab some clarification, '
kay
? So—like, you get oxygen from the water, how? The cells of your body somehow open up and grab the oxygen and bring it into your system? You're, what, like starfish?"

Close, Fred thought. It really was difficult to explain. As people didn't think about breathing, she didn't think about water-breathing.

No, she didn't have gills, and she wasn't half girl, half fish, but a mammal that simply resembled such a creature.
A large, hostile mammal whose baseline temp was eighty-eight degrees and whose resting heart rate was thirty.

She just—just never needed to come up for air when she was swimming. Interesting that even though she had a doctorate in marine biology she never gave much thought to her
own
biology. (Though it had been amusing, picturing her professors' reactions if she had shown off her tail during a wet lab.) Very likely the pores in her skin were able to extract oxygen from the—

"This is useless," she said, bored with the 'how do you not drown' talk, and annoyed with Pearson's notes.
"A bad idea.
We should have come during business hours."

"Oh, sure," Jonas said
snarkily
. "
That
would have been easy to explain
. '
Hi, Dr. Barb, this is the Prince of the—"

Fred gave him a look. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Sobbingly, no."

"Well, let's think about this. I'd like to try feeding the fish again, anyway, so I might as well do it while we're here. You—what's your plan?"

"For what?"
Artur
replied, looking startled when she pointed at him.

"For—you know.
Waiting until tomorrow to meet the
other
guy who's bugging me about your little problem."

"I will return with you to your dwelling, of course."

"What?" she cried. "I don't have the room or the temperament for a royal roommate. And don't wait for an invitation or anything."