My phone rings, but it’s not Jen this time. It’s Sergio. That’s not good—he wouldn’t call me while he’s at work unless something’s wrong. “Hey.”
“They’re selling Erie.”
It’s like a punch to the gut, and I almost drop the phone. When I can breathe again, I say, “What? To who?”
“Whoever will buy her. They’re looking in Asia.”
Oh god, if they send Erie across the world, I’ll never be able to free her. “How much?”
“Two-point-five million.”
“Two-point-five?”
“The point-five is for Niku.”
At least they won’t separate them, but damn, I thought I’d have more time to come up with a plan. “I . . . what . . . why?”
“She ripped her tail during the show and stopped swimming. When Maddy threatened to shock her, she freaked out and started screaming at the audience, telling them how Maddy treats her. Then she refused to perform. She won’t leave the arena now, and Aunt D is sick of dealing with her.”
I knew it was only a matter of time before Erie snapped. I kinda wish I’d been there to see it. “Two-point-five, huh? I can do that.”
“She won’t sell Erie to you, man.”
“I’ll figure something out. I gotta go.” I hang up before Serge can reply and search YouTube for today’s show.
When I see the footage, I nearly throw my laptop across the room. Trying to get Maddy on my side backfired—epically so. I have to do something, now, or Erie will die in that place, and it’ll be my fault.
I peer at my phone for a long moment, trying to talk myself into making the call. I could come up with my own plan, but I’ve run out of time. Heather’s right, I need as much help as I can get. I don’t have to like Jen; I just have to work with her. I don’t know if I can trust her, though. What other secrets might she be hiding?
It doesn’t matter. All that matters now is buying Erie before a park in Asia can. I hit “Call,” and almost hang up when I hear her voice on the other end of the line. “Finn?”
“They’re selling Erie.”
She gasps. “To who?”
“To us, if we’re quick. Tell me about the foundation—have you already set it up?”
“I was waiting on you. I have all the paperwork, but it can take a while for the tax exempt status to go through.”
“But we can raise money before then?”
“We can certainly try. The only problem will be the bill, if we can’t secure the 501(c)(3).”
How does she know all this? How long has she been planning it? I pace the room, feeling like an idiot because all I’ve done is set up a stupid Facebook page. “Oceanica won’t sell Erie to us. We need to fake who’s buying her.”
Jen’s silent for a moment. “There are a couple of ways to get around that.”
“Are they legal?”
“Some of them. Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll bring you the paperwork and call my lawyer to start figuring out the rest.” She hangs up before I can say anything more, and I stare at my phone, wondering if I’ve done the right thing, or if I’ve played into her game again.
Jen knocks on my front door, a giant stack of paperwork in her arms. Dark circles ring her eyes, like she’s spent more time crying than sleeping, and despite the fact that I should be unendingly thankful for her quick work on the foundation, I can’t help but think that this is some sort of trap.
When I finish signing, I toss the paperwork on the table. “Thanks for doing this. See you at the next Save Erie rally, or interview, or whatever.” I brush past her to my laptop to update the page with the news that Erie’s for sale, and we’ll have a donation site up soon.
“Finn, we can’t work together if you’re like this.”
“I don’t plan to work with you unless we’re in public or someone’s got a camera.”
Behind me, Jen sighs. “Listen, it’s not what you think. I wasn’t trying to take down Oceanica. I just had to know . . .”
“Know what?” I snap.
She swallows so hard I can hear it, and when she speaks, her voice is soft and thick with tears. “If it was Hannah’s fault. If there was anything she could have done to keep it from happening. Maybe if she’d treated him better—”
My hands hover over the keyboard for a moment, remembering Hannah. Her smile, so like Jen’s. Her gentle ribbing. Her knowledge . . .
The blood in the water.
I shudder and clamp my hands into fists.
Carbon’s red-tipped claws when he finally released her.
With my back to Jen, I manage to say, “A sample size of one doesn’t prove anything. Trust me, Carbon would’ve ripped Hannah’s face off no matter what.”
“Stop saying that!”
I finally face Jen, and just as I’d suspected, there are tears rolling down her cheeks. “Stop saying what? The truth? I know you have a problem with it.”
“Stop saying he ripped her face off.” Jen wipes her eyes and sniffs. “She drowned.”
“People don’t bleed that much when they drown.”
Jen smacks me across the face with her tear-wet hand. I won’t say I didn’t deserve it, but I’m also not sorry for what I said. Her hands fold into fists, and she shoves them down at her sides. “I saw the video—”
“And I was there.” I turn my back again and hear the unmistakable hitch of breath that means she’s crying. I wish she’d leave—why’s she crying in my living room? It’s a few moments before she speaks, her voice soft but angry.
“I thought working with Erie had changed you, but you’re exactly what Maddy said.”
Now she’s bringing Maddy into it? I stand so fast, Jen takes a step back. “You’re right—I used you for sex, but you used me for so much worse. I fucking cared about you, Jen. I wanted to be your boyfriend. And then I find out on live fucking television that everything about you was a lie? That . . .” I swallow the rest, because I can’t admit how much she hurt me. “Get out of my house. I have more important shit to do than listen to your lies.”
“I’m not lying this time.”
“That’s the thing about lying to people, Jen. They stop trusting you.”
I point to the door. She blinks rapidly and swallows hard before she leaves. I fold my hands into fists to stop their shaking.
I want to believe that this whole thing was some ill-conceived plan to prove that being nice to the Mer works, but it’s honestly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.