4. A Moistness of Mermaids

CHAPTER FOUR

A MOISTNESS OF MERMAIDS

The Present: Sato somewhere in San Francisco Bay

“It’s not a good idea.” It was all Sato had to say. So it was all he said. Of course it was not enough for Cascade. Nothing ever seemed to be enough for the ineffable Cascade.

“Why not!” She fluttered her fins upward, offended by what she took to be his challenge to her mermaid acumen. Or something.

Sato ignored her and focused on his sister. “Send me if you must.” Then he could do some hunting.

“Oh really! Why you?” Cascade pressed.

“Surface reconnaissance should be conducted by a merman,” he explained, thinking this should be obvious.

“Why should it?” Cascade hated being contradicted by anyone, let alone a lowly male.

“Because I’m a merman . I’ve lived among humans for years.”

“So?”

“I know what to look for. I know their manners and behaviors. I know how to interact without calling attention to myself. I’m familiar with human society and social morays.”

Meymey’s tone was soft, placating. “This is not the same part of the world as your youth, brother.”

That was true. “It is still the same language and the same continent. Some exposure and dry dirt training is better than none.”

“I’m part of the merfolk diplomatic core. I’ve had human etiquette and culture lessons!” Cascade took her duties very seriously. Or at least pretended to.

But you’ve never walked among them for anything more than a one-night stand, Sato wanted to say, but he knew it would do him no good.

“I thought we were trying for a low profile,” he said instead, aware that he was implying she lacked all capacity for secrecy. But that was because she’d be recognized instantly for what she was the moment she went into the public. This was the Bay Area, not some tiny coastal village.

Cascade rose up out of the water, fins fluttering furiously in annoyance. “I can keep a low profile!”

But in Sato’s experience, no mermaid could. Still, he stayed silent and turned to his sister, waiting for her decision, unsurprised when it came down against him.

“Let her go, brother.”

He inclined his head. “As you wish.”

She added, presumably so his feelings wouldn’t be hurt, silly child, “I would rather you stay by my side. These are unfamiliar waters full of all manner of shifters. I’d feel safer if you remained close.”

Sato dipped his head in tacit agreement. It was her decision he did not need to be coddled. It was the wrong decision, but she needed to make her own mistakes. They all did. As vangill he would now simply prepare for the inevitable fallout.

Cascade looked smug but also nervous. “Do you think I will be in grave danger if I go into one of their cities?”

Sato wasn’t going to hold anything back. “Of course, especially the dock area.”

“But I have a business suit to wear!”

“You’re still a mermaid.”

“It’s a very nice suit. One of my selkie friends has it reserved at a boutique for me.”

Sato arched a brow in amusement. Selkie had notoriously expensive but very bad taste in suits.

“And is this boutique also located in San Francisco?” Sato asked, just so he knew which part of land he’d most likely have to rescue her from.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s from a different population center on the edge of a different part of the Bay.”

“Which one?”

“Ooh, good question. I suppose I should know that information if I am to go find the suit.”

“Yes, you should. I suspect it would be ill advised for a mermaid to go wandering around any local human population wearing a robe looking for a place that sells suits.”

“Is that because there are a lot of them?”

“Yes. Remarkably enough, humans have a large number of clothing shops.” Sato was being sarcastic, of course, but it rolled right over Cascade.

Meymey gave him a narrow-eyed look.

Sato kept his face deadpan. “The San Francisco Bay Area has a population of over seven million.”

Cascade’s mouth opened in shock. Then closed again. “That’s a lot of people to put clothes on.”

“Exactly. So, the name of the town your selkie friend said the store was located?”

Cascade stared off at the watery horizon for a while. Clearly her brain was working overtime. “Something to do with sauce?” she said, finally.

Sato had gone on land and gotten them a burner smart phone the moment they arrived. He’d searched Patrick’s name, and for dratsie, in the local area. Not that he expected to find anything online. But he had to start somewhere. Nothing, of course. Then he’d used it to look up a map of the local area to get familiar. The mermaids would need the information, and he needed to strategize a plan of attack. He left it in a locker at a changing hut the rest of the time.

Mermaids, especially well-connected pods like his mother’s, always held things like family credit cards, bank accounts, and other means to access funds on land. The pods were generally quite wealthy by human standards, like the selkie that merfolk dealt with in offshore accounts, but they tended to keep theirs legal. It meant large human corporations wishing to profit from sea people relations above docks, as it were, dealt with the pods.

All of which is to say, Sato was familiar with the town in question. “You mean Sausalito?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes. I can guide you there.” Privately, Sato was thinking it wasn’t a bad spot for Cascade to test her legs. And for him to start hunting.

It was a smaller tourist town, full of low crime rates and yoga pants. Probably a good place for her to pick up a sire, if she wanted to test out the effectiveness of her vaunted suit.

So Sato, and the rest of the diplomatic pod, accompanied Cascade that morning. They watched her swim to shore and dive inside the local dressing hut via the privacy tube. Sato itched to follow her. The town looked promising in a Patrick kind of way. The coastal ones always did.

Only the most progressive beach towns had huts for water shifters returning to land. These provided changing rooms, with showers, towels, plus robes and foot coverings for rent. Sato thought it was a very human thing, to charge for the privilege of forcing other species to obey their own modesty codes, but he had made use of such facilities on more than one occasion himself. Sato, after all, intentionally visited larger human densities more than any other merman. He never stopped looking.

Sato watched until he saw Cascade emerge from the hut wearing a fluffy white robe and pink slippers with ears that looked like a fuzzy prey mammal.

“What an extremely peculiar thing,” said Meymey, sounding rather prissy.

“The hut or the tube or those slippers?” wondered Sato.

“All of it. Why?”

“Can’t have naked selkie, dratsie, merfolk, and so forth just wandering around a town like this. It would scare off all the tourists.”

Meymey said, “Surely not. One would think the opportunity to see the occasional naked mermaid would only attract tourists.”

“Fair point. Unfortunately, there are all sorts of laws around body autonomy and display in human cities.”

“They can hardly apply to shifters,” said one of the youngest members of the pod, Hali. She was even younger than Meymey. Sato wondered who’d been bribed to get her in. It probably had to do with aligning with his mother’s pod. Sato grappled with his patience. Or lack thereof.

“Oh, but they do. If we choose to walk amongst humans, the humans are going to have things to say about what we wear when we do so.”

“That might be one of the strangest human quirks,” said one of the others, Tarni, big eyes on Sato’s face.

“It gets weirder,” said Sato. “They have restrictions around the kind of clothing that the different genders can wear. It encompasses fabrics and in some places, color.”

“Humans are bonkers,” said Hali, whose tail was an unusual yellow color that mermaids regarded as rather ugly for no good reason. Sato refrained from reminding her of that equally illogical stance.

Sato had gotten accustomed to clothing, living amongst humans, but he’d never really understood what could be worn by whom. Especially as Patrick, his guide in that world, liked to push boundaries. During his flop on Sato’s futon, upset that shifters can’t get piercings phase, Trick had extolled the virtues of kilts. These were, so far as Sato could tell, exactly the same as the pleated skirts worn by girls (and only girls) at Saint Brendan’s three towns over. Sato had simply opted for baggy and black, much to Patrick's disgust.

“You should be grateful I bother to wear anything at all,” Sato had said at the time.

“There are so many things wrong with that statement,” Patrick had replied, giggling.

Sato fluttered his fins to return himself to the present. “Fortunately for us water shifters, pretty much every human culture has figured out some form of a robe. Unfortunately, in most places, we’re also not supposed to wear a bathrobe in public.”

“How can they expect us to keep up with what’s acceptable in any given place or time?” One of the other members of the pod sounded justifiably annoyed.

Sato was losing patience. “Hence the huts. Usually there is a clerk who explains the local population’s idiosyncrasies with regard to attire. Cascade was smart to use her local selkie contacts to get something lined up.”

“Daidai, did you just compliment Cascade?”

Sato had surprised himself. “Better tell the Klepsydra to log it into the oral history of our species. It’ll never happen again.”

Meymey fluttered her hands in approval of his wit, then said, “The rest of us are also going to need clothing. Should we follow Cascade into this place called Sausalito and buy our own suits?”

Sato shook his head. “I’m pretty certain a town of that size could not withstand the onslaught of an entire pod of mermaids. Certainly not this early in the morning. Let the poor things cope with Cascade first. We’ll observe from a safe distance.”

“On the other hand, I’d be happy to take you all shopping,” said a smoothly mild voice from just behind them. “Haight Street would love you.”

Sato and the rest of the diplomatic pod, which numbered twelve total, rather comically swiveled in unison to face the stranger.

A merman bobbed facing them.

Sato got the horrible feeling that this stranger had been observing them for a while. He’d likely overheard their entire conversation. Fortunately, it had all been about Cascade and human clothing taboos. No Soteria secrets had been divulged.

Nevertheless, Sato was angry at himself. He’d forgotten how overpopulated the waters were in places like the San Francisco Bay.

Not that he thought one dinky merman was a real challenge to him. This was clearly no vangill.

Still, Sato moved to the front of the pod, vangill position, so that he swam defensively between the mermaids and the intruder.

The specimen facing him was of the undersized northern waters varietal. His were the merfolk with iridescent skin, patina, rather than scale patterns like Sato, luster. To have only patina was thought quite plain by merfolk standards. But this merman was extremely handsome by Sato’s personal preferences. A dip beneath the waves proved the stranger had an impressive turquoise tail. He was (for lack of a better word) pretty . Sato had a terrible weakness for pretty men. Well, one pretty man. Still he appreciated the aesthetic.

Sadly, this one was looking at them with nothing but hostility and suspicion on that pretty face. He was obviously one of those mermen who had no affection for his own people. Or perhaps it was simply that he had no affection for a strange pod in his waters.

Which attitude he proved with his next statement. “I do love shopping. You’ll find human clothing can actually be quite fun. But first, I must insist that you explain who exactly you are, and what exactly you’re doing in my territory.”

Meymey bristled. “Mermen do not have territory. And there is currently no mermaid pod that claims the San Francisco Bay. We checked.”

Aqua, the diplomatic pods’ interpreter, was actively upset by the merman’s behavior. “Who are you to demand any kind of explanation from us? Your role is to give us information and otherwise stay out of our business.”

“Oh dear, did you think I had allegiances? I assure you, there is indeed territory in play, but it has nothing to do with the people of the sea.”

“We know what the humans like to think, but they have no true authority in these waters. Or in any waters for that matter.”

“I do not speak for the humans either, although I number the local Coast Guard among my allies. And they are empowered to act on my call if needed. I promise you I am neither weak nor isolated like most mermen. But the humans are not the claimants to these waters. You are close to the Sausalito shoreline here, and these shallows are under rightful protection by local shifters.”

Sato felt suddenly nervous. “Who exactly?”

“The San Andreas pack.”

“Werewolves?”

“Predominantly.”

Sato considered. He didn’t know much about werewolves but he’d thought they tended to stick to their own kind and land, not the sea. This was weird.

The mermaids all scoffed.

Meymey swam to bob next to Sato. “Four legs cannot claim the right of one tail.”

Sato wished she wouldn’t go so close to the stranger. He raised his forearms.

The pretty merman smiled, hostile, showing all his pretty pointed teeth. “This particular pack numbers water folk allegiances and members .”

“Which water folk? Tail or web?” Sato thought he was managing to successfully hide his interest with authority.

“Both. And enough to make it very difficult for even you, vangill.”

“Selkie allegiance?” speculated Sato. A large enough number of selkie, especially trained fighters, could indeed make it hard on him. But not many other water species could take down a vangill. Dratsie numbered no fighters at all among their ranks, for example.

The merman smiled. “Not the selkie. Merfolk always forget there are unsalted waters.”

Sato’s mind raced. Tails, river-based, powerful enough to beat a vangill.

“Kelpie?” he hazarded, surprised.

The merman inclined his head. “She is not of the pack but we socialize regularly.”

“We? You consider yourself one of a pack of wolves?” Meymey was truly shocked.

Sato was surprised too, but he hid it better.

The merman did not answer that.

Meymey went fishing for the power dynamic, “So you are the sea singer for this pack and its allied parties in matters of diplomacy?”

The pretty man raised his pretty eyes to the heavens in the manner of the exasperated land-bound. He had clearly spent all his adult life among humans. Sato didn’t know whether he envied him that or pitied him. He wondered what he knew of the local dratsie population. Was there a local dratsie population?

“You’re a diplomatic pod?” The merman had figured it out.

Meymey smiled this time, showing all her teeth.

He looked hard at Sato. “And you’re not just a vangill, you’re one of the Vangill of the Deep.”

Sato didn’t need to smile. It was fun to watch him squirm.

But their new acquaintance seemed more resigned than upset. The presence of a Soteria resulted in neither shame nor proper respect; instead he opened that pretty mouth of his and swore a blue streak. Patrick would have been impressed with such mastery of the English language. “What in Seven Seas did the Bay Area do to warrant a visit from the Paralia of All Seas?” At least this merman still knew the Deep well enough to know which Soteria they would send to shore.

“I assure you, I had no idea you existed at all,” said Meymey.

“No need to put me in my place, I assure you, Paralia.” The merman’s stunning changeable blue-green eyes focused hard on Meymey, correctly categorizing her as the one in charge. “I know the rank I swim under all too well. But whether you like it or not, you are in our waters now. I am not their custodian. Nor is the kelpie.”

“Then who claims to sing for these waters?” Meymey knew her rights. She must speak to the local voice of authority in the area. Whether she acknowledged them or not. Whether they had legitimate claim or not. The politics must be played when a pod strayed into the human world. Knowing she had gone blindly into someone else’s territory, legitimate by merfolk standards or not, she must establish her authority and dominance. Which meant Sato’s spurs might well be called upon.

“This shoreline belongs to the local werewolf Alpha.”

The mermaids, shocked, all just looked at each other for a long moment. Then they all started laughing. Their siren voices were stunning and lyrical, bouncing over the waves. Sato wondered if any humans could hear them, and if, entranced, they were already walking into the ocean.

“Werewolf alpha ? You can hardly expect me to speak sensibly to a creature that doggie paddles !” Meymey was still laughing.

The merman looked like he had expected this reaction. He looked away from them in annoyance. He was facing the shore and his attention became distracted by something there. Something the humans were doing.

Sato would normally never have allowed himself to get distracted by such a thing. He would never have taken his eyes off a strange vangill. But this was an ordinary merman. Any threat was not to their safety but in who he represented. This strange alpha with his pack of misfit allegiances. And that was Meymey’s problem, not Sato’s. So he turned to see what had caught the merman’s eye.

There was a commotion coming from the waterside town, loud enough and excited enough to carry over the waves. A shrieking of distress. The high-pitched whine of human terror.

Sato knew that sound well. Humans were always loud and annoying but they were even louder and more annoying in crisis.

The strange merman, no longer caring about them, dove past the pod with a splash of his powerful turquoise tail and took off toward the shallows in an impressive burst of speed.

The humans were a boiling mess at the end of one of their piers. A few plopped gracelessly off the edge and into the bay. Sato had observed this kind of behavior before. No doubt one of their number, probably an infant, had fallen into the water and could not swim.

Sato glanced back at the pod.

They were still chuckling.

“I will meet you at our designated spot,” he said to his sister.

“It is their problem,” she replied, not acknowledging that he would dare to instruct her.

“Favors owed,” was all Sato replied. He was already swimming backwards. He twisted up and out, using his tail’s full strength to jet himself first through air and then through water.

Their strange new acquaintance was fast, but Sato was much faster. He caught up to him and sped past him easily.

The waters of the San Francisco Bay were not pretty. They were mucked-up and dirty, busy with ships, filled with human refuse and buoyant fluids that humans love, like oil. The bay was cloudy with runoff from shore, replete with all the residue that humans leave wherever they go, filthy creatures. Merfolk had, in general, better eyesight than humans, and indeed, better eyesight than most land shifters in their four-legged form. But waters full of sediment and refuse were a thing even good eyesight could not rectify.

So Sato broke the surface occasionally to make sure he was headed in the correct direction, and once he was there, among them, he ignored the human swimmers and looked for something being ripped along by the undertow.

Looked as best he could. Angry at them for dirtying the water and then dropping and losing something important in it.

But Sato had been trained the hard way for search and rescue. He spotted the small figure easily. A human child, fortunately wearing bright colors, caught in some insignificant current, spinning and sinking.

Sato got to him easily, grabbed him up in both arms. Knowing speed was the most important thing with those who could not breathe underwater, he simply propelled himself up out of the water at the edge of the pier.

He cleared the railing of that pier, which had not stopped the child from falling in, so was obviously useless. He beached himself, child still in his grasp, onto the wooden decking, scattering humans out of his way. His tail so long the fin draped over the edge.

He probably bumped more than a few humans. He certainly knocked one over, but no more fell in.

He tipped the child onto its back and looked hopefully around.

They were all just staring at him, dumbfounded.

Stupid humans.

“Do none of you know CPR?” he asked.

Nothing but stunned silence, staring at him, mouths opened. Most of them had likely never seen a merman in fin and flesh before.

Sato sighed. “I will have to break your nudity taboos. I cannot administer it in this form. I have gills.”

They all just continued to stare. Some had their mouths open like guppies. So helpful.

One of the women from the crowd rushed to the child. She was shrieking and sobbing over him and plucking at his wet clothes in an utterly ineffectual manner.

Sato shifted forms.

He took to his knees, leaned over the kid, sealed his mouth over and administered five breaths. Then he put one hand to the thin chest and began compressions. Fifteen and then two breaths. It had been so long since he’d done it, he’d forgotten the rules. He remembered how very little force he had to use and to tilt the chin back. He remembered to keep his own breath slow and gentle, watching the corresponding rise in the kid’s chest. Frankly, he thought he did pretty good, for a merman.

Soon enough, the child coughed and spit up seawater all over Sato’s face.

Sato rolled the kid to one side to drain the rest.

The woman had stopped shrieking and was now half sobbing, half panting in relief, as if she had been the one to swallow seawater.

“Hey, human,” Sato explained dispassionately. “Perhaps you should know CPR before you bring your spawn near the ocean.”

“But how interesting that you do know it, merman.” The stranger merman had, at some point, beached himself next to them. He was still in tail, presumably to protect the delicate human eyes from his manly bits.

Sato felt no such respect for their sensibilities.

He stood, utterly nude, and looked down on the woman and her now wide-eyed coughing child. Then he tilted his head and regarded the useless crowd, judging them wanting.

“No medals,” he said. And then for good measure, “Or speeches. I hate speeches.”

He heard sirens. Cops were coming. Sato didn’t feel like dealing with them. It had already been enough excitement for one morning.

He decided, of all people, the strange merman seemed to hold the most social power in this situation. So he looked down at him.

The merman was grinning up, eye level with Sato’s procreative organs. “I knew you would turn out to be the most interesting one.”

Sato pointed down at him with two webbed fingers. “This is your problem now. I will come with the Paralia to discuss terms in an hour.”

“Terms?”

“This child is alive. I hold a favor owed, merman. You claimed this territory, which means these people are your responsibility. Bring your singer.”

“Not possible.”

“Your cops will take longer than an hour?” Human authority figures often moved very slowly.

“Probably, but that’s not the delay. My Alpha will not be back from the lab until this evening.”

“Lab?” Sato heard the heavy beat of large boots coming down the wooden deck. “Wait. No. I do not care. Where and when?”

“The shock-rock near the changing hut.” The merman pointed at the shore at a section where there was no beach and no pier, only inhospitable human-made rock, edging a human-made road. “I will bring my Alpha to you, two hours after sunset.”

“Done.” My Alpha, was he? From a merman? Sato turned to leave. But they were surrounded by humans, still staring. Several of the younger ones were taking videos with their dumb phones.

Sato glared at those between him and the edge of the pier. “Move.”

Nothing.

“That which I intentionally push into the water does not get rescued.” It was an appealing idea.

Still nothing.

He raised his voice. “Move or I will make you.”

They made a pathway for him and his two legs to walk through.

Sato took three big strides, climbed to the top of the railing, and dove back into the sea.

He flicked his tail at them as he swam away, hard enough to splash any who might have rushed to the railing with their phones to film him leaving. He hoped some of them dropped those phones into the sea.

He’d forgotten how annoying humans were to deal with.

The Present: Trick inside Bean There, Froth That, Sausalito

Sometimes it sucked to run a shifter-friendly cafe in a seaside town.

Case in point, the (probably human) tourist standing in front of him looking very confused and the (definitely mermaid) sitting in one corner watching the (now even more likely human) man try to navigate Trick and his cafe.

The man was wearing a red baseball cap and white socks. He was also wearing other appalling things in between – although how funny would it have been if he were not? Regardless, those were the two items Trick noticed. The mermaid was probably not upset by the socks – aside from Marvin, very few sea folk held opinions on footwear. For obvious reasons.

“What’s your specialty drink today?” the tourist asked, no greeting and no smile.

“Which side of the menu you hail from?” Trick responded politely, because he assumed human from the socks, but didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. After all, he didn’t have the best sense of smell and sometimes fashion lied. Orange basketball shorts and a white ribbed tank meant this man was living some kind of stereotype, Trick just wasn’t sure what or why.

The presumed-human went from confused to annoyed.

Trick gave an expansive and very twirly sort of gesture to the left side of the specials board. “Sweet and smooth,” then to the right, “or silken and savory?”

“Savory… drinks?”

Trick wondered if the dude could read or just didn’t like to. The script on his board was very neat. Trick had excellent handwriting, if he did say so himself.

Trick turned defensively bratty – it was his natural state, after all. “The bone broth cappuccino with dashi depth charge and furikake sprinkles is currently our most popular drink. It’s deeeeeelishious!” He smiled brightly.

The man looked disgusted. His face possessed a certain something that made Trick fantasize about bitch-slapping him with a dirty dish towel. And there was only a counter between them and the dish towel was right there .

Trick decided to try to get this over with quickly. “Okay, pumpkin-buns, how about trying the Slippery Paris Brest?” He was very proud of that drink. He’d invented and named it himself.

“The what?!”

“It’s like a hazelnut cortado but made with condensed milk.” It was currently Max’s favorite on their menu. Trick made the magistar order it by name every time because the town’s premier hottie got adorably red and embarrassed. Trick didn’t want to admit that was why he’d named it the Slippery Paris Brest, but it certainly was an added bonus to regularly fluster the most powerful mage ever to wear spandex of a morning.

Baseball cap’s witty rejoinder was, “I’m still stuck on the bone broth. It’s popular, you say. Why? How? With who?”

“Did you not see the stickers in our window?” Trick’s tone was becoming sharp. He didn’t mind a bit of flirtatious chit chat but he struggled to reconcile himself with indecision when drinks were on the line. Beverages were important and should be taken seriously.

The customer turned to look back at the door. Three large decals decorated the window next to it: a rainbow, a paw print, and a semicolon.

“You welcome fags, pets, and nut jobs?” suggested the dude, turning back to Trick.

Trick sighed. “Sure do, but not shitbags. Get out, please.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re not from around here are you? Shoo, fly.”

“Excuse me?” Unfortunately, baseball cap was not leaving.

“There is no excuse. Go away and grow a sense of compassion better than your fashion acumen. Until then, you aren’t welcome in this establishment. There’s a Sunboodle around town somewhere. Go drink there.”

The man began to sputter.

“Now now, little barista, why you being so mean to such a handsome man,” said the mermaid in a rippling voice, seductive.

Trick had wondered how long it would take her to interfere. The man was red hot mermaid bait – well, orange hot. Snack-colored human. His dick was probably covered with that powdered fluorescent cheese stuff.

To be fair, she actually hadn’t been a problem until that moment. She’d been sitting quietly, alone, sipping an Abalone Palmer and looking out at the ocean.

Trick had counted himself lucky that initially she’d seemed to be in a passive mood. Despite Marvin’s overwrought reaction. Or perhaps because of it.

But now Trick realized that her calmness was probably because of the lack of human males in his cafe. Aside from Floyd, of course. But Floyd was past breeding age and any mermaid would know the signs of non-viability in human males.

She stood, not bothering to tug down the hem of her skirt, and oiled her way back into line behind the baseball cap. She was acting sexy enough for Trick to realize how sexy she was. And that was pretty darn sexy, since he was gayer than a plucked duck in a party frock. The orange shorts didn’t stand a chance.

“I think I’ll have another drink myself,” she said, not looking at Trick.

“Very well, beautiful, what can I get you?” Trick took her as an excuse to ignore Mr White Socks Species Supremacist. Mermaids expected flattery and attention. Trick gave her both. Despite his snarky banter with the regulars, Trick was actually good at customer service.

Baseball cap took full notice of what was now standing behind him and lost some of his outrage to pure unadulterated lust. He let out an apparently involuntary whistle.

The mermaid preened but pretended to focus on Trick. “I feel like something a little more extravagant this time. What’s best?”

Oh dear, here we go again. Straight people are so exhausting. “Well, personally, I love the fish sauce latte with the prawn paste froth.” Trick knew his shifter clientele well; that was absolutely the drink sea people would enjoy the most. It was one of Marvin’s regular orders.

“The seaweed matcha looks kind of special too.”

“That’s actually one of my personal favorites. Good choice.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it. Besides, if that’s your favorite, why did you recommend the shrimp thing?”

“I love them all equally. I can’t have one drink thinking it’s better than the others. It’ll get ideas above its station.”

The mermaid looked at him like he was insane.

Trick had momentarily forgotten that merfolk, on the main, entirely lacked any sense of humor.

The mermaid swiveled and batted her lashes at the dude. “What would you pick for me, handsome?”

The man’s tongue practically lolled out like a cartoon character’s.

Trick was amused, but he’d underestimated the man’s ego, because dude-bro had a pretty quick response.

“How about the slippery breast?”

The mermaid looked a little shocked.

Trick sputtered out a laugh which he turned into a cough.

Floyd snorted.

“While apt in certain aspects, that’s not really my side of the menu, darling,” replied the mermaid, stroking the man’s arm. Clearly she had donned legs and come into a human town for one reason and one reason only. Skirt-suit notwithstanding.

The man looked very turned on and faintly confused.

Impasse.

Trick was losing patience with both of them. “Well, if I can’t make either of you a drink, I’m gonna dole out some unasked-for advice.”

“What?” said the mermaid, looking through her lashes coquettishly at the red baseball cap’s red face. Trick wondered how obstructed her vision was under such circumstances.

“I can’t tell for certain but I suspect bigotry is an inherited genetic disorder. I wouldn’t think this one is very good breeding stock, sweetie.”

The mermaid glared at him. “You revealing my endgame?”

“You think he’s smart enough to play? Don’t you want brains in your daughter?”

“Like I don’t have enough brains myself, plus the more dominant genetics.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s 50/50 no matter how you fuck,” shot back Trick.

“Excuse me. What is this place?” Red cap shook himself, trying to battle the mermaid’s thrall. It was cute that he tried, but she was still petting his arm and the crotch of those ugly orange shorts wasn’t hiding his interest.

Floyd played his role perfectly at that point. “Is anyone getting a drink? Some of us have knitting to do.”

Sometimes Trick really loved Floyd.

The mermaid pretended a little stumble. “I’m not very steady on these legs, you know?”

The human immediately placed one big hand at the small of her back, his fingers straying down to the top of her pert ass. Trick had no doubt she was wearing nothing at all under her little suit; most shifters went commando. It made life easier. A mermaid on the prowl, doubly so.

“I’ll be your third leg, honey,” he responded, leering.

Apparently, one’s anti-shifter moral code went out the window when mermaids were flirting.

Trick hoped she bred a female child. That man would be a thousand times worse to his merman son than Mr Sato’s consummate disinterest ever had been to Sato.

“Are you certain?” Trick questioned the mermaid’s judgment.

She ignored him, leaning into the man and looking up at him adoringly with big eyes, the kind humans drown in.

The man made a growling noise, which really did not work out of a human mouth, and then bent to press a sloppy kiss to the mermaid’s neck. Near where her gills would be, were she in her true form.

“This is a cafe, not a club. You can’t make out here!” Trick tried to get ahead of the inevitable.

The mermaid smirked at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Do I look like I care for your agenda?”

“So you’re not gonna make me a drink anymore?” She was good.

Trick was better. “Is the Slippery Brest in consideration? Or are you gonna actually order something true to your nature? I’d recommend a beverage with soy milk for protein and salmon oil for energy, but then you’ll be kissing him with fish-mouth. That’s clearly not his thing.”

The mermaid looked affronted. “Gross. I don’t mouth kiss like a two-legged baboon. Speaking of which, what are you, little barbed-tongue beastie?” She couldn’t figure it out because merfolk had an even worse sense of smell than dratsie. Plus Trick worked in a seaside cafe for good reason. All that coffee brewing and salt air masked his otter musk. Only shifters with the very best noses who knew dratsie and that they existed at all stood half a chance of identifying him. Which was why the only one to ever deduce what he was unprompted was Judd. And that was because Judd was overly smart for a werewolf enforcer and old enough to have met dratsie before.

Of course, it was now pretty common knowledge amongst the local shifter community that Sausalito housed a dratsie barista. Packs were notorious gossips and could never keep secrets – what one wolf knew, all wolves knew. And the San Andreas pack numbered a Magistar, a drag queen, and one fabulous merman amongst their numbers. Trick was just one more stray they’d picked up among many. He’d been outed to more than one local shifter community as a result. It made him nervous but he was learning to live with it.

The man pivoted to press his now blatant and raging erection to the mermaid’s ass. She swayed a bit to encourage it but was otherwise more interested in trading barbs with Trick.

She had netted her prey. The human was caught. He could wait a bit while she satisfied her curiosity. Although if his sweaty face and glazed look were anything to go by, he wasn’t gonna wait very long.

It wasn’t even nine yet! Trick wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but this level of heterosexual activity was a bit much for one gay boy to have seared into his eyeballs before breakfast.

“No dice, sweetheart. I’m immune to your charms,” Trick said.

“Land shifters are so boring,” she replied.

“That’s not why I’m immune, water-baby.”

She pouted and would have kept asking, but she had underestimated her prey’s impatience.

“Let’s get out of this shit-hole and go somewhere a little more private, darling,” baseball cap said. “I’m staying at this BnB just down the block.”

“So you’re not in town for very long?”

“Just for a conference.” He started dragging her toward the door.

“What a coincidence! Me too.”

Trick frowned. He looked at Floyd. “Since when did Sausalito host conferences? Since when did mermaids go to conferences, for that matter? Not to mention men in polyester sportswear and tube socks.”

Floyd waggled bushy gray brows at him. “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if it turns out they’re going to the same conference ?”

“The mind boggles,” replied Trick, still confused.

“Are you presenting?” the mermaid asked the man as he politely held the door for her to go through, ogling her backside as he did so.

“No, I’m a reporter for the Patriot’s Monthly Overview .”

“Of course he is,” said Trick. The door closed behind the pair.

“What? I missed that bit.” Floyd’s ears were nowhere near as good as Trick’s, for both species and age reasons.

“He’s a reporter for some rag or another. Something political is going on.” Trick legitimately wondered if both oddballs were in town for the same thing. There were some issues that concerned both shifters and conservatives. Environmental legislation, for example. Was it something like that? In Sausalito?

Trick wondered if he should tell the pack. Merfolk so rarely involved themselves in land-bound business. But if it was something concerning ocean pollution, they might. Should he tell Alec that they had a mermaid in town? Should he give Marvin the chance to do it first? But Marvin had run away. He didn’t have as much information as Trick. Pack politics were such a pickle.

Trick sighed. “Floyd, you’ve lived here for a while. Sausalito doesn’t have a convention center, does it?”

“Oh yeah, certainly, right behind the Center for the Arts.”

Trick wrinkled his nose. “There’s nothing but water behind the… oh, I see, make a joke at the new guy’s expense?” Trick had lived in Sausalito for several years, but he was well aware how small towns worked. He would be the new kid for decades. Floyd had lived in the same house downtown for over sixty years but he was still that Ohio guy . In small towns, locals were born, not transplanted. One couldn’t be made local; one could only, eventually, if very lucky, become reluctantly tolerated.

Floyd put down his knitting needles. “Trick, kid, I worry about your social life. Shouldn’t you be going into the city regularly?”

Trick frowned. He might look like a party boy but he’d never been much for clubs. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You forget we have a ferry?”

Trick had forgotten. He tended to travel through the bay, not on top of it. He considered this information. There were plenty of convention centers and event spaces along the waterfront in San Francisco. Someone who knew the area, or liked the water, might choose to ferry in, rather than stay in the city. Still seemed an odd choice for tube socks or a mermaid.

Messy. This was all very messy.

Floyd was smarter than he looked, so Trick decided just to ask him for advice. “Should I tell Alec about the mermaid or see if Marvin does it first?”

“You sure that was a mermaid?”

Perhaps not quite so smart. Trick rolled his eyes. “Floyd, really? How old are you?”

“Old enough to know better than to get involved with merfolk.” Which was a very smart thing to say.

Trick considered. Marvin probably thought the mermaid was in the Bay Area to breed, but if she really had come for some convention, that meant a whole pod was likely in the Bay at the moment. A whole pod of mermaids would cause quite a stir in any community, not just the dick-first human male contingent. Although they would definitely be the hardest hit.

Hardest . Trick chuckled to himself.

Trick wasn’t opposed to the occasional dick-first human male himself. He, like the mermaids, felt they had their uses. Plus, given how vastly humans outnumbered shifters, Trick was just loyal enough to non-humans to believe that mermaids should be allowed their fun when procreation was on the line – even if the heterosexual specifics disgusted him. But if the mermaid was in town for more than just netting a baby, perhaps the werewolf pack should have a presence at this conference? After all, the San Andreas shifters included two water folk among their number, not to mention an Alpha with advanced degrees in marine biology.

“I guess I must tell Alec,” admitted Trick.

“He probably already knows,” said Floyd, being all wise again. Because Floyd may not know a mermaid when one walked into a cafe, but he knew the local pack Alpha pretty well by now.