03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales (12 page)

“Congresswoman Watson,” I said under my
breath, marching over to talk to her.

I found out that Bradley’s aunt was a
dedicated ecologist, devoted to all kinds of environmental causes.
She told me her latest project had been fund-raising for a marine
biology research center. She was interested in studying the
migratory patterns of the many different whale species that passed
through the Monterey bay regularly. I smiled, thinking that my
mermaid friends could tell her all she wanted to know about that
topic.

She explained that she was passionate about
protecting the ocean and promoting sustainable fisheries. She
wanted to attract more environmentally friendly local business, and
was working to stop exactly the sort of development that we were
fighting.

“We need to hold onto our local character,”
she said earnestly, “And that means supporting our local
farmers.”

She couldn’t have been more perfect.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked her,
“Because I know where you can reach a whole lot of concerned
citizens.”

By the time we left, I had arranged for her
to come and speak at the rally. I drove home happily, following
behind Shayla and Cruz in the Ferrari. He sped off, quickly leaving
me in the dust, and I said a little prayer that they’d get home
safely. He dropped Shayla off and beat me back to the house, where
I found him waiting on the couch when I walked in.

“That was an awesome bit of luck, huh?” he
enthused.

“Do you mean meeting Bradley, or his aunt?” I
asked. I was shocked to see Cruz actually blush before he regained
his composure.

“He goes by Brad, and we have a lot in
common,” he explained, “He went to design school too, and he’s
offered to show me around the campus. We’re like… kindred
spirits.”

“I see,” I said.

Then he smiled, unable to contain his
enthusiasm, “I can tell he comes from money,” he added, “His
parents are divorced, and he grew up spending his summers around
here. Apparently his dad has a huge beach house… and a private
beach! He learned to surf with the waves all to himself, and he
said we should visit sometime. How about
that
, little miss
surfer girl!”

“You sound like Evie,” I chuckled. I’d never
seen Cruz so bubbly. He actually reminded me of Abby for a
minute.

There was a soft knock on the door and Cruz
sprang up to get it. “Hey Ethan,” he said, letting him in.

“Hey,” he nodded, looking at me, “How did it
go tonight?”

Cruz launched into a long winded description
of the night’s fortuitous events while Ethan settled down on the
couch next to me. His hands were cold, like he’d been outside for a
long time, and I took them in mine and rubbed them to warm him up.
He sighed and slumped back on the couch.

“How’s that for a coincidence?” Cruz said,
“And I’ll turn eighteen just before the special election! She
totally has my vote!”

“That’s great,” Ethan said, leaning on
me.

“Yeah,” Cruz looked lost in thought, “I
should go see what Madame Fatima has to say about this…”

Ethan’s head dropped down onto my shoulder,
“Ugh,” he said, closing his eyes. The Madame gave both of us the
creeps.

“You look tired,” Cruz said sympathetically,
“I’ll leave you two alone.” He got up and headed down the hall to
his old room.

“What’s got into him?” asked Ethan.

“I think it’s love,” I said.

“Then we have something in common,” he
replied, reaching over to brush the hair from my face. We kissed,
and he laid his head back down.

“Is Abby asleep?” he asked.

“Yes… Do you want to stay over tonight?”

“Yes,” he sounded relieved.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I went to go get
changed into sweats and wash up.

I came back and took his hands to pull him
up. We crept quietly down the hall and snuggled together under my
big white comforter. I didn’t need to worry about things getting
out of hand tonight. We had an understanding, and were re-growing
the trust between us. Neither one of us wanted our first time to be
sneaking around.

I thought about the events of the evening;
the evidence kept piling up that my muse ability was real, and
powerful. There was no use denying anything to myself anymore.
Lying peacefully in Ethan’s arms, I prayed that everything would go
smoothly in Paris. I had to lie convincingly to a group of
suspicious muses; women that were far more experienced at it than
me. Just thinking about it brought tears to my eyes.

Ethan shifted onto his side, throwing his leg
over mine. Within a few minutes his regular breathing told me he
was fast asleep.

“Ethan, I’m scared,” I whispered, right
before drifting off myself.

The bright light streaming in the room woke
me up, and I sat up to find him gone. There was a note by my
bedside that said he had to get some landscaping work done before
he could get to the rally, and that he’d see me there. I frowned,
hating the way he was driving himself so hard. I wondered if he was
burying himself in work the same way I escaped into my surfing
habit. I didn’t think we really needed the money all that badly.
Could it be
me
he was trying to run away from?

I decided to spend the morning getting my
studio fully outfitted, driving out to the art store and loading up
on huge canvases and paint. I hauled everything up the stairs,
arranging blank canvases on my easels and laying out paints and
brushes, setting up for the future as kind of a talisman against
harm.

I hummed to myself as I arranged some flowers
in a vase, wondering what Ethan would think about the place. I
stuck some candles into pretty holders and stood back to inspect my
studio with a critical eye. It looked nice.

I left behind an overnight bag, just in case,
I said to myself.

I took one last look around before I locked
up, sighing in frustration. I didn’t want to leave for Paris; more
than anything, I wished I could stay here and get started painting.
I bit my lip, for this was no time to wallow in self-pity; tonight
would be a combination studio-warming and bon voyage. Besides, Evie
always said that your sympathy was wasted when you gave it to
yourself. There was a job to do, and I wanted to see the rally be a
success more than anything else.

I squared my shoulders and headed for the
Rover. Something inside of me triggered a clear memory of the past.
I was about seven years old, and Evie had taken me to see a polo
match. I flashed upon a clear image of Evie, fussing over me as she
cleaned and dressed my badly skinned knee. I’d tried to ride a pony
in between matches, and had taken a hard spill, adamantly refusing
to get back on. The words she’d spoken that day rang in my
mind.

“You know, sweetheart,” she’d said, bending
to kiss the bandage, “There is much less danger in the things we
fear… than there is in the things we desire.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

RALLY

Abby and I pulled up to the beautiful seaside
fields on a perfect sunny afternoon. A dirt parking area had been
outlined with chalk like a crime scene, and was already hosting
dozens of cars and trucks, including Ethan’s. We got out and were
surprised at how much the guys had accomplished already.

There was a stage set up, and some musician
types were doing a sound check, moving equipment around on stage
and hooking up speakers. There was electricity in the air; you
could feel the crackling excitement of anticipation. I spotted some
unruly red curls bursting out of the back of a baseball cap and
smiled.

“I’m going to go say Hi to Megan,” I told
Abby.

She looked radiantly happy, “Okey dokey! I’m
gonna go get started on the auction stuff… This place looks
fantastic!”

I walked around behind the stage and stumbled
across Megan, locked in a passionate embrace with a tall dark
stranger. They both looked up as I pivoted away, embarrassed.

“Marina!” Megan called after me, “Come and
meet my friend Jamal.”

I smiled sheepishly and stepped forward to
shake hands, “Nice to meet you.”

“Jamal got us this great sound system for the
day,” she said proudly.

I smiled broadly, looking back and forth
between the two of them, “That’s great! Thank you so much! This
really means a lot to us.”

“Anything for a friend of Megan’s,” he said
with a smoky voice, excusing himself and climbing up onto the
stage.

Megan wiggled her eyebrows at me with an
impish grin, “He’s cute, huh?”

“Sheesh Megan,” I said with a smirk, “What
happened to the piano player?”

“Oh him? That just didn’t work out. He was
way too clingy… Jamal is a studio musician… He played bass on my
first recording! He’s
really
good.”

I had to laugh at her, and she joined in.
Megan was morphing into a real heartbreaker, confidant and sassy. I
was starting to wonder if I might have created a monster.

“So, when do I get to hear it?” I asked.

“It’s in post-production now, and should be
ready tomorrow… But I’m afraid you’re gonna miss the launch
party.”

I grimaced in frustration, more annoyed than
ever about having to go to Paris.

“So…” Megan grew serious, “Are you going to
tell me what happened to you the other night?”

“Oh… yeah…” I’d been so busy with the studio
I’d completely forgotten about passing out at the coffeeshop. “It
was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Megan said
skeptically.

“Really,” I smiled, “It was just like… weird
sounds– no images.”

“Listen Bucko, you should take this stuff
seriously. So far, you’ve been dead-on about everything else…
right?”

“I guess so.”

She pursed her lips, “Still no Grammy for me,
huh?”

I smiled and shrugged, “I’ll have to work on
that.”

Megan gave me a quick hug and excused herself
to get back to her musician friends while I went to go look for
Ethan. A black masked pug dog came running up to me, barking
excitedly.

It looked friendly, so I knelt down to pet
it, “Where did you come from little fella?” I asked, laughing at
its cute little squashed up face.

“Thank goodness! There he is–” I looked up to
see an elderly man hurrying over with a leash in his hand.

Our eyes met, and both pairs flew open in
surprise. It was the same man I’d come across after my first
transformation, fresh from an undersea mermaid council. The last
time he’d seen me I had just staggered naked out of the sea. My
face flushed hot when I realized he recognized me.

He cleared his throat, clipping the leash on
the little dog’s collar as he regained his composure, “I’m glad to
see that you’re…ah…well…”

“Uhm, yes. Much better, thanks.” I scrambled
to my feet, “I owe you a sweater.”

He looked as embarrassed as he did the day
our paths first crossed, “No!” he said, “I mean… it was my
pleasure… Er, I mean, it was nothing…” His face reddened as he
stumbled over his words.

“Thanks again,” I said, turning to flee the
scene.

“Stay warm,” he called after me.

Remembering that day pointed out to me how
much I needed Ethan, and I scanned the small clusters of people for
his blonde head anxiously. By the time I spotted Cruz and Dutch I
was able to laugh about the awkward encounter. I trotted over to
find them busily setting up a giant grill for the salmon feed, and
as I drew near Ethan rounded the corner with two huge bags of ice
slung over his shoulders.

His face broke out into my favorite smile
when he saw me, and I felt a sweet wave of relief wash over me. He
dumped his load into some waiting coolers and rushed over to sweep
me up in an enthusiastic embrace, lifting my feet from the ground
and twirling me around.

“Looks like everything is coming together,” I
said when he set me back down.

He chuckled, looking around, “You think?” he
said teasingly, planting a kiss on my lips. He left to get the rest
of the ice while I greeted Dutch and Cruz.

“Help me keep an eye out for Brad and his
aunt, okay?” Cruz said nervously, “I expect them in about two
hours, and she’s scheduled to speak right when they get here.”

“Sure,” I agreed, “I’m going to go see what
Abby needs me to do.”

I found Abby in the shade tent, setting out
forms for bidding next to each item she’d gathered for the silent
auction. She led me to a table laid out with voter registration
forms and slick, shiny brochures. There were professional looking
posters and banners printed with slogans about supporting local
agriculture hanging everywhere. Multiple images of Barbara’s
smiling face stared up at me from the table, making me recoil in
surprise.

Abby gestured all around, “The campaign sent
over all this stuff, and donated a ton of gift certificates and
some really cute gardening things for the auction too… Isn’t that
nice?”

I had to agree, they had really gone all
out.

“Do you think you could man the information
table? You know, register people to vote and hand out flyers about
our candidate? After all, you can explain to people what’s at stake
better than anyone else!”

“Sure,” I said, watching as she hurried off.
I picked up the campaign literature and leafed through it. It was
perfect, saying exactly the right things about promoting
development that preserved farmland and encouraged green business.
It was a little disconcerting how easily all the pieces were
snapping into place. I straightened up the table and looked across
the field to see Lue setting up a propane heater under a giant vat
of his delicious fish soup. I walked over to greet him before it
got too busy.

“Water girl!” he smiled wide when he saw me.
He looked excited and happy, a far cry from the defeated man I’d
seen at the market two weeks ago. He introduced me to the farmers
whose land bordered his, and they thanked me profusely for helping
them in their fight against the developers.