It doesn’t take long for the backlash to begin. I’m drowning my anger in beer and checking the Save Erie page when I see the comment: “Fish Fucker!” It actually makes me snort. I don’t know how the Mer mate, so how would I know how to fuck one?
Still, I’ll have to keep my eye on the page, so no more vulgar messages appear. I’m deleting it when my phone rings. Jen. I take another long drink of beer as I hit “ignore.” I really don’t want to hear her bullshit excuses for lying to me. She went out of her way to deceive me and get me on her side, against Oceanica. What did she hope to accomplish?
You know what? I don’t care. Jen’s gone, and I need to focus on Erie. I also need something stronger than beer to make it through the rest of the day. I need to see Erie.
There’s one public place on the island that you can see the shows from: Fort Zachary Taylor. If you climb to the top of the fort, you can see the highest jumps, even if the rest of the show is hidden.
On the bike ride over, my phone buzzes with texts. “Please, Finn, let me ex—” Delete. “We still need to work toge—” Delete. “I have a plan to save E—” Delete.
The show starts as I chain my bike to the rack next to a large “BEACH CLOSED” sign and walk up the path to the fort. Sergio’s voice booms across this part of the island as he introduces Iodine and Cadmium. The crowd cheers, but it doesn’t sound as loud as it used to. I climb the steps, gaze at the giant blue wall separating me from Erie, and wait for a flash of her hair.
I wish I could squeeze her hand and tell her how many people are in love with her. After Jen’s betrayal, I’d be happy with Erie’s cold fish lips forever. Let’s be honest: if she became a human, like in the stories, I’d be all hers. Finn the fish fucker. That’s me.
The music starts, and in my mind, I can see her routine. I crane my neck and strain my eyes, but I can’t see her. No green scales. No magenta fins. The crowd still cheers when they’re supposed to, but it sounds subdued. Whatever’s happening in there, I can tell it’s a bad show. Erie can jump so high, she should easily clear that wall. Something’s wrong.
“You won’t see her.” My sister’s voice travels across the fort to me, and I turn to find her at the top of the stairs. Her face is pink with sun, and her flip-flops slap against the stone as she joins me on the opposite end.
“I thought the beach was closed?”
“Just the water. You can still sunbathe. It’s not like the Mer are coming onshore.” Heather frowns at Oceanica. “There’s a rumor Delmara will switch her to three o’clock.”
My heart sinks. The three o’clock show is death to a Mer. Somehow, they know it’s the least popular show—that they’re no longer the favorites. Some of them snap and attack, but most of them stop eating, and you find them belly-up one morning, foam destroying their gills. No act has survived more than six months at three o’clock.
The music ends, and the crowd barely cheers. No one will rush the gift shop for stuffed Iodines. No one will excitedly tell their friends they “just have to see the show.” Oceanica’s no longer making a profit on her, which means Erie isn’t worth keeping alive. They won’t foam her—they aren’t allowed to unless she attacks—but they’ll neglect her until she gets herself killed, and they can go hunting for a new star performer.
“Finn?” Heather squeezes my shoulder. She knows as well as I what the three o’clock show means.
Before I can say anything, my phone rings. I’m so sick of it, I turn away from Heather and answer. “Stop fucking calling me.”
“I have a plan,” Jen says.
“I don’t care.”
“Would you listen to me for one minute? I know you’re pissed, but I’m trying to save Erie. I talked to my lawyer, and we’re creating the Save Erie Foundation. We need you on board, or no one will take us seriously.”
I’m silent for a minute as I take that in. I don’t want anything to do with Jen, but it’s clear from the reaction post-interview that she’s the media darling in this whole mess, not me. She’s the one avenging her sister’s death by taking down the giant corporation from the inside, while I’m the one who kisses fish.
“Finn?” she says when I don’t reply.
Anger builds in my veins, and I use it to sharpen my words. “You know what, Jen? Because of your lies, my friends think I’ve betrayed them. I’m in the middle of a media war with a woman I considered my aunt two weeks ago. I’ve given up my entire career, and I might lose Erie, too. Your lies made all of this about your past and your sister, instead of Erie’s future, so don’t try to tell me you’re helping.”
I hang up on her and run my hand through my hair, pacing a circle on the top of the fort. I don’t have time to deal with Jen’s bullshit right now. I have a mermaid to save.
“Did I miss something?” Heather raises her eyebrows.
“The Today Show interview, apparently.” I stop pacing and face her. “Jen is Hannah’s sister. She’s been lying to me all summer, and I found out on live television.”
A small laugh escapes her. “So, you won’t accept her help to save Erie?”
“Of course not—she doesn’t care about saving Erie. She’s been scheming against Oceanica all summer.”
“And what, exactly, do you think you’re currently doing?”
I scowl at her, then at Oceanica. “I’m not trying to bring down the whole business. I just want to get Erie out.”
Heather picks at her nails. “Bullshit. You know humanizing one of them is going to kill the business model. And let’s be honest, you’re doing a shitty job of it so far. If I were you, I’d accept all the help I could get.”
“Thanks, sis. You know, instead of selling Erie t-shirts, you could do something to help.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?” She digs in her beach bag, then pulls out an Oceanica business card and flips it over before handing it to me. On the back is the Save Erie Facebook address in her small handwriting. “Sam and I have been putting them in every bag we sell.”
I glance at her, feeling like the world’s biggest dick. “Thank you, Munchkin.”
She squeezes my arm. “Don’t mention it. You’re my brother—if you care that much about saving a fish, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Serge comes home just after eight. “Stop what you’re doing, we’re going out,” he announces.
As much as I appreciate that, I’m not in the mood. “I’m good, man. Have fun.”
“The fact that you refused tells me you’re not good at all. We’re going out.”
“Seriously, Serge, I don’t feel like it.”
“I don’t care.” He grabs the laptop and shuts it, then drops it on the coffee table with a thud. “We’re going out, getting drunk, and finding you a mermaid groupie. We’ll forget about Jen and Erie and be happy for a few minutes. So get up—and put a new shirt on, because no one’s going to blow you in that ratty thing.”
A blowjob won’t make me forget about Jen and Erie, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind being drunk. Or eating something. “Fine.” I stand. “But I’m not going down Duval.”
“Schooner Wharf?”
“Deal.”
Schooner Wharf is right on the harbor—a dive bar with good food, decent music, and plenty of drunk tourists. It’s also not completely overrun with douchebags like Duval is. I’d probably get in a fight if we went down Duval tonight.
The upper deck is full, so we head straight to the bar instead. I’m two shots in when I notice Maddy and Nat sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room. Bingo. I don’t need Jen’s help to save Erie—I need the person who works with Erie to help save her. If I can get Maddy back on my side, I’ll at least know Erie’s safe while I come up with a plan.
I grab a beer from the bartender and make my way to their table. “Sick of the Porch already? Or are you stalking me?” I grin as I take the chair next to Maddy.
“Hello, traitor,” she says, stone-faced.
“Come on, Mads, don’t be like that. Jen used me.”
“Doesn’t feel so great to be used by someone, does it?” Maddy turns her back on me. Natalie shakes her head and does the same.
“Seriously? I’m trying to apologize here.” I put my hands up in surrender. “None of this is my fault. Delmara should’ve done a background check before she hired Jen.”
Maddy turns around and glares at me. “Nobody cares about Jen, you dick. Mer are attacking people, and we could all lose our jobs because you jumped in the tank.”
“Whoa. Erie’s not going to attack anyone once she’s free. You can keep the rest of them. I just want to do right by Erie.” And maybe Clair and Huron, but I won’t tell them that.
“You’re an idiot. You know what’ll happen if APHIS and OSHA audit us because of what you did. Oceanica will be shut down, and it’ll be your fault.”
They turn their backs on me again. I put my arm around Maddy’s shoulders and squeeze, even as she hunches them against my touch. “How ’bout this: I buy a round of drinks, we have a nice conversation, and when you go into work tomorrow, you let Erie talk to her dolphin without shocking her, okay? Can we agree on that?”
Maddy shoves my arm off her. “Actually, we can’t. I’m not breaking the rules for your little fish girlfriend. I’m finally a trainer—no thanks to you—and I’m not sacrificing that just because you want to fuck a fish.”
“Listen to yourself.” I lean back in the chair and take a drink. “I don’t want to fuck Erie, and it’s not my fault that Jen lied about having experience with dolphins. That’s the only reason I chose her as my assistant instead of you, you know that.”
Maddy’s chair squeals as she pushes it back and stands. “I’m done with you. If your fish girlfriend makes one fucking sound tomorrow, I’m shocking her until she foams.” With that, she leaves. Natalie follows behind while giving me the finger.
The shots and beer threaten to come back up as I watch them walk away. I think I just fucked things up for Erie even worse.