The Turning Tides (Marina's Tales) (28 page)

Megan and I exchanged a look and started snickering.

“Mock me all you want, but I happen to know for a fact that Streisand gets rose petals strewn in her toilet.”

Now we were really laughing, and even Brad joined in.

Megan feigned horror, “What? Did you check the bathroom? They forgot my flowers?” She put her wrist to her forehead dramatically, “How can I live without peeing on petals?”

“Very funny,” Cruz said dryly, “But I’ve heard that’s how power is measured in this industry.”

“I think power is probably
measured in downloads,” Brad said quietly.

I started digging through Megan’s makeup kit,
“So true, Evie always says that money talks.”

“My mother says that it screams,” Brad added.

We all laughed at his joke, and he smiled, loosening up a little.

Cruz pulled three lovely dresses out of his garment bag, getting our undivided attention. Megan oohed and aahed over them, and Cruz’s blossoming talent was
evident
once agai
n.
He described how he envisioned each look, and we all agreed that
Megan
should wear the white dress first, followed by the red, topping it all off with the grand finale long sequined gown.

“The black is
the
real showstopper,” Cruz announced, and we all agreed. “And,” he added as he flourished a tortuous looking boned corset with aplomb, “I even brought a foundation garment.”

“Looks painful,” Megan grimaced.

“Sweetheart,” Cruz said knowingly
,
“We must suffer for fashion.”

Megan rolled her eyes at me, but I
just
shrugged with resignation, “He sounds more and more like Evie every day.”

I mixed some makeup on the back of my hand and brushed a stray curl from Megan’s face. “Look up,” I told her, starting my application.
Soon her pretty face was transformed into a sultry one, and
I’d made Megan look like the diva she had truly become.
Cruz got to work steaming the wrinkles out of the white dress, while I
tried to tame Megan’s extravagant curls.

A half an hour later Cruz went to show Brad to our box seats while I laced Megan in tightly, “Tell me if you can’t breathe!”

“So where’s Ethan?” she asked me
.
“How are things going with the mom?”

“Would you believe me if I told you they’d taken a turn for the worse?” I tried to sound flippant, but my voice betrayed me. She turned to look me in the eye.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” I said quietly, confessing, “Not at all.”

Megan took my hands, and sat down facing me, “Tell me.”

Struggling
not to go into too much detail, I told her that Ethan thought there was something going on between me and Evie’s new bodyguard. I told her how his mother was making him crazy, filling his head full of suspicion. I poured out all my anger and frustration, still holding back the
entire
truth
.

S
ecret after festering secret stopped me from telling her everything.

Megan
studied me
frankly, “Do you love him?”

I caught my breath,
because
as usual, her
candor
had cut through all of the superfluous details.

“Yes.”

“So get over it.”

“But he doesn’t trust me!
He’s so overprotective–”

She looked at me like I was horribly naive, “Marina, none of us is perfect. You knew he had problems with trust when you first got together.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bank on them getting worse.” I tried to sound sarcastic, masking all
my
hurt
and confusion, “Maybe I’d be better off dating lots of people like you do.”

Megan didn’t smile, “Don’t you think I’d settle down if I found the right one?”

I shrugged, “You don’t seem to be in any hurry.”

She looked exasperated, “Marina, some of us have to kiss a lot of frogs before we find our prince… You should think twice before you throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

I frowned, “I thought that once we were married it would get better.”

She scoffed, “What’s that supposed to change?”

“Maybe he’ll feel more, I don’t know… secure.”

“Secure?!
All you
do
is hold stuff back and keep secrets! No wonder he’s paranoid!”

I knew she was right, but hearing it put so
bluntly
was a shock. My face must have fallen because her voice softened.

“Don’t get upset… It’s only that you’re kind of a self-contained unit, if you know what I mean. Getting information out of you can be like pulling teeth– I’m sure that someone with Ethan’s issues might find it a little bit aggravating.”

“I suppose.”

She patted my knee, sitting back in her chair, “You can’t fix him. You can only change yourself–
A
nd
the way you deal with him.”

I nodded numbly, not surprised that she was right as usual.

“Marina… It all boils down to, are you better off with him, or without him?”

I looked down. The answer to that was pretty clear.

She continued, “What do you want from life? Is he holding you back from doing anything you want to do?”

I shook my head, “No, he just worries too much.”

“Why… That bastard!”

Her mocking forced me to crack a smile. I looked up, “You’re right.”

She looked skyward with mock humility, “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

“Alright Sigmund. Let’s finish
getting you dressed
.”

As soon as I got her zipped into her first dress, Cruz came back in and started fussing with the hem, seeing flaws that no one else did. Megan’s manager popped his head in the door and announced that she was needed on stage for a lighting check, so I excused myself to go and take my seat.

Brad and I waited alone in a balcony box, looking down at the empty theater and watching the stagehands scurrying around and making last minute adjustments to the sound system. I wished I was sitting with Ethan, holding his hand and feeling his strong arm around me. I sighed.

“You look sad,” Brad observed.

I forced a smile, “I’m fine.”

We watched the crowd file in and take their seats. I could sense that Brad was tense, and he kept looking over at me like he wanted to say something. I turned to look him in the eye.

He
studied my face, “Something’s been driving me crazy… And I have to ask. I can’t understand– I don’t get– Why my father did what he did. It doesn’t make sense.
He could always buy anything he wanted.”

I looked over at him, and bit my lip. I had kept the whole quest for immortality business to myself, not wanting anyone to know the truth about me and my sisters. As far as Cruz and Megan knew, Edwards kidnapped me because I was a half mermaid hybrid. They trusted my story and never questioned it, but Brad knew his father, and realized it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I tried to think of a plausible explanation, but I had told so many tall tales and half-truths I could barely keep the story straight myself.

“He couldn’t buy me,” I
improvised
, “And he
i
s
a collector. Maybe he was planning to start some kind of– I don’t know… zoo, or something.”

Brad looked down, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

I put my hand on his, “It’s not your fault,” I told him, finally believing in his innocence.

I wondered what Brad would think if he knew he had a baby sister who was a mermaid. I’d decided against telling him about her
, and it felt a little like I was playing God. T
here was no possible way for them to have any kind of relationship, so I figured that was one more thing about his father that he really didn’t need to know.

I hated doing it, but I had to lie to everyone; there was simply no other way. I couldn’t bear the thought of Cruz and Megan knowing about my muse powers, and then doubting in their own talents. Besides, I told myself, the less
they
knew, the safer it would be for everybody.

I thought about all the lies I’d told, and the secrets I’d kept. Abby and Dutch thought that Edwards was only after me because of my mother. My father didn’t even know about the kidnappings, believing that all the drama had ended when I was taken out of Greece. Evie knew the most, save for the fact that I was now sworn to protect my mermaid sisters at any cost. Nobody but Paul knew that someone was watching me again.

The only soul on earth that truly knew the real me– that is, everything important there was to know about me– was Ethan. How ironic that we were being torn apart by our very natures. I thought of his clear blue eyes, and the look on his face when he kissed me. My stomach lurched with longing; I was so lonely for him that
my heart literally ached in my chest.

The lights in the hall dimmed, and Megan took the stage and began to sing. Her beautiful red hair was backlit, and
glowed like a fiery halo. She
grasped
the mike with authority and sang her heart out, her voice rising through the hall like a siren’s song, almost unbearably sweet. I gripped the rail of the balcony, closed my eyes, and let the soothing sound flow through me.

The crowd went wild, filling the house with thunderous applause between every
number
. People sang along with her popular songs, a low rumble that resonated through the hall.
I watched through tears as Megan delivered a mesmerizing performance of great beauty. The ethereal
voice pouring out of her voluptuous body made for an incongruous sight;
it was impossible to
look away.

She finished her second encore, dedicating songs to both me and Cruz. She thanked him for designing her gowns, and I could see his shaggy head peeking around the corner as he waited in the wings. Seeing their success made me feel better, but it also made me ponder what part I’d played in all of this. I looked down on my two friends from my perch above them, feeling proud and happy and guilty all at once.

Brad and I waited in the balcony for the crowd to file out, eventually picking our way down the stairs and making it backstage.

“Marina!” A big blonde blur came flying at me, and I was nearly tackled by an enthusiastic embrace.

“Shayla?” I laughed, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on my way to Hawaii,” she grinned, “And I had a three hour layover so I thought I’d
try
to catch Megan’s show. I got here just in time for the encores!”

The last time I saw Shayla we had parted company after our fateful big wave surfing session, and just hearing the word
Hawaii
brought back an old familiar sensation. Visions of turquoise waves started dancing through my mind.

“Are you going there to surf?” I asked, licking my lips involuntarily.

She grinned at me, “Maybe.”

“Do you have a job there?”

She smiled coyly, “No.”

She looked past me to Megan, who was flirting with yet another tall, dark, and handsome stranger, “Hey dude! Wicked awesome show!”

Megan raced over,
beaming,
“Shayla!” They embraced and Shayla started in on teasing Megan about her reputation as a man-eater.

“You hussy, you!” she laughed, and they dissolved into giggles, giddy with the realization that this conversation would have been unthinkable just a few short months ago.

Cruz burst out of Megan’s dressing room, eyes locking on mine, “Did you see how amazing the red was with her hair?”

He saw Shayla and shrieked, “Oh my God! The gang’s all here!”

He threw his arms open, rushing over to sweep us all into an embrace, prompting Megan to observe, “Marina always brings out the group hugs in us.”

We went to a backstage lounge, where food and drink had been spread out in an appetizing looking display. Band members, roadies and groupies were all talking and laughing
, basking
in the rarefied atmosphere of exclusivity. Some of the men eyed me and Shayla like we were items on the buffet; she ignored them, rolling her eyes at me with amused contempt.

Brad and Cruz went to get something to eat, and Megan’s manager kept taking her away to introduce her to various industry people until she finally pulled us aside to a quiet corner.

“Guess what you guys–” her eyes were alive. “I’ve been nominated for a GRAMMY
for best new artist
!”

Shayla squealed and we all hugged again
. I felt a surge of satisfaction like I’d just taken a massive wave. Megan deserved all the success in the world, I thought, and if I helped it happen, so be it.