And so she couldn’t.

She was a mermaid, employed as a marine biologist, who couldn’t swim.

She was also a gainfully employed member of the New England Aquarium, charged with the care and feeding of Main One inhabitants, who had forgotten the dead smelt.

Goddammit!

Well, the hell with it. She’d wait until everyone had gone home and then get the smelt. Nobody in the tank would starve to death if they had to wait another two or three hours. Instead she eyed the occupants of Main One and judged their health and overall appearance.

Everybody looked good. Unlike animals in zoos, fish tended to thrive in controlled environments. It was as though fish did well if they weren’t constantly worrying about being chomped, and if the freedom of the ocean sea was what they gave up, it was a small price to pay.

Fred could relate.

A nurse shark swam lazily past her and she touched it with her mind. It wasn’t any more difficult than adding double digit numbers in her head.

You okay?

Hungry. Fish girl bring fish.

Yeah, well, so what else was new? Fish girl bring fish. Why not make it her new title, for the love of—

Something made her glance up and she looked through the windows of the tank, and saw Thomas peering in at her, waving frantically.

Bemused, she waved a gloved hand back.

Chapter Six

“I know what you’re thinking,” Fred’s best friend, Jonas Carrey, declared, sitting down opposite her. They were at their favorite window-side table at the Legal Sea Foods restaurant across from the NEA.

“I doubt that very much,” she replied gloomily, stirring her strawberry margarita.

“You’re thinking you’re a freak, nobody understands you, you’re a lone wolf in a pack of nutjobs, blah-blah.” The waitress materialized and Jonas said, “An appletini, please.”

“Oh, Jonas!” Fred practically yelled. “Those are so over.”

“Hey. I’m secure enough in my sexuality to order any girlie drink in the world. Now tell me I’m right. Tell me I knew what you were thinking.”

“I walked in on my folks doing it doggy style less than four hours ago.”

“Waitress!” Jonas screamed, clicking his fingers madly. “Bring two!” Then, more quietly, “You want a neck massage? A bedtime story? A bullet in the ear?”

“The latter,” she sighed. “And on top of everything else, Mom would be super-pissed that I was seeing you and not trying to leap into your pants.”

They both shuddered in unison. They had been friends since the second grade. To Fred, Screwing Jonas would have been like screwing a brother. And Jonas liked blonde humans, not blue-haired mermaids.

“And I thought I had a bad day.”

“You probably did.” Jonas was a chemical engineer for the Aveda corporation. He was constantly struggling to invent a shampoo that didn’t damage hair. Which was problematic, as by definition, all shampoos did.

“Speaking of work…” He set an Aveda bag positively bulging with, she knew, hair care products, on the table. “Honey, those split ends. I love you, but I can hardly bear to look at you. Seriously. Tend to them. Now.”