Siren's Song

by Kaye Draper

  Grey glanced toward the harbor, briefly visible as he passed an alley between two buildings. It was no wonder that most islanders wouldn’t leave, even if they could. Why risk it? At least here, the morphs were relatively safe. There would always be the assholes, but most people on the island accepted morphs, or at least made an effort to act like they did. After all, everyone had friends, lovers, or family members who were morphs.

  The citizens who chose to leave the island despite the ban did so in a more final way. There were lots of reports of suicide. Usually the morph just walked away from it all—straight into the ocean. The bodies never turned up, something to do with the strong tides and ocean currents off the coast.

  Grey wondered how many of his old friends and family had chosen that route. After The Change, there had been a flurried shifting. People moved, changed names, and disappeared, protected by a hastily instituted privacy law that levied a hefty punishment against anyone who pried into a person's gender history. Morphs tended to fall into one of two categories, those ridiculously brave few who refused to accept what had happened and continued to dress and act like women, and those who tried to hide what they were and blend in with the rest of their male society at any cost.

  There was also a very small portion of people who had been trans male before The Change and were mostly happy about their new bodies. They were more able to take things in stride and embrace their new life as a man. But they were few and far between, and while a lot of the media and non-islanders tended to group morphs into the same category as trans people, it was different—yes, there was a lot of similarity in some ways. But treating the two things as identical led to a lot of issues. And most of those issues were created by the morph and trans communities themselves. Morphs weren’t considered “real” trans by a lot of people in the community, and some morphs thought they had more reason to be upset about their unwanted bodies than trans people, since they weren’t “born that way,” making it supposedly more “unnatural.” It was all stupid.

  As usual, put a group of people together, and they only saw the differences, when what they should be seeing was how none of them were happy and all of them knew how it felt to be trapped in a lie. It made Grey exhausted just thinking about all the arguments on both sides. Which was why he lived the way he chose to live.

  Grey fell firmly into the “blend in” category, as did most other morphs he knew. It helped to blend in if you cut ties to your old life. He had no idea what had happened to the majority of his acquaintances from his previous life. It was better that way. No one could out you if they didn’t know you as a girl. He didn’t tell anyone about his past identity. If felt safer that way.

  It was easy to blend in, at least physically. Morphs weren’t just male versions of themselves. Some morph males were completely different than their previous female counterparts. The scientists and doctors speculated that morphs were actually a genetic expression of what would have been if they had been born a male instead of female. Not only was gender different, but also physical traits like height, build, and coloring. Not all morphs turned out as girly as Grey. He avoided looking in the shop window as he passed.

  As a woman, Grey had been boringly average. Now the visiting women seemed to think him “pretty,” and fussed over his chestnut brown curls, heart shaped face, and lean body.

  A small group of “tourists” were headed his way along the sidewalk, and Grey just couldn’t stand their admiring looks today. He ducked into the coffee shop on the corner of Seaway and Fifth, randomly looking for a place to kill time.

  As he moved toward the counter, his mind was still on other things, but a deep, smooth voice called him back to the present. “Good morning. What can I get for you today?”

  Grey gaped at Luca. The guitarist stood behind the counter in a crisp white button-down shirt and black barista's apron. His dark hair was slicked back into a tidy knot at the nape of his neck, and most of his piercings were gone. Grey hardly recognized him out of costume. His expression seemed entirely different somehow, but at the same time he looked very familiar.

  Luca's blue eyes twinkled a bit as he waited patiently for Grey’s order. He had to know how startling the transformation was. But there was more to it than that. Under all the flashy costuming there was, apparently, a man who was every bit as gorgeous as his golden-haired brother. In fact…Grey’s slow brain finally put it all together. They didn't just look similar, they were twins.

  Cameron and Luca were different enough in coloring and body type that it wasn’t immediately apparent. But when Grey really looked, he could see the similarities. It was unsettling, as if all his lustful dreams of the golden boy had been traced over in black ink, given hints of darkness and mystery. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Identical twins would be, you know, identical. Not just really freaking close.

  Grey panicked. He wanted to rattle off his order and pretend that he wasn’t flustered, but all the yuppy drink names had him stumped. Why couldn’t he just order a damned coffee? He suddenly felt like a hundred-year-old man trying to decipher some new technology. So not cool.

  “Um…what do you recommend?” he finally managed. Good lord what was wrong with him? True, he never spent his money on fancy lattes, but this was ridiculous.

  Luca compressed his wide mouth for a moment, then started tapping things in on the computer screen. “I’ll make something up for you.” He winked as he waved away Grey’s money and ushered him down the counter.

  Luca met him on the other side of the massive espresso machines a few minutes later, two steaming cups in hand as a bubbly copper-haired guy took his place behind the register. “It was time for my break,” he said, leading the way to a table in the back.

  They sat looking out onto a side street while Grey sampled Luca’s creation. Grey wasn’t much of a fancy coffee drinker, mostly because he was too cheap for it. He worked at the used bookstore across town most of the day and took classes a few afternoons a week at the college. This cup of coffee would cost him nearly an hour’s wage. He cautiously sipped at his drink, nearly scalding himself in the process. His eyes widened and he met Luca's grin.

  “You like it?” Luca seemed genuinely happy, the sort of person who loved to create joy for others. Again, Grey thought it was at odds with his rock star image. There was more to Luca than met they eye.

  Grey nodded affirmative to Luca’s question. The coffee was amazing—creamy and sweet with only a hint of espresso flavor. “Is this…raspberry?”

  “And marshmallow.” Luca laughed. “It reminded me of you.”

  Grey snorted. “Ha, ha.” Fluffy drink for the fruitcake.

  Luca just raised a dark eyebrow at Grey and turned his attention to the street, sipping his own drink. From the looks of it, it was just plain old black coffee. Though, for all Grey knew, it was made from some super special bean that was only grown in one place in all the world and was harvested by Oompa Loompas riding unicorns. Imported in the cleavage of “tourist” runners. Probably cost fifteen dollars a cup.

  “I’m coming to see the band tomorrow night,” Grey said, still smiling over the mental image of little orange men picking coffee beans. “Are you expecting a good turnout?”

  Luca pulled his attention away from the street and a faint line appeared between his dark brows. “I’m not sure. I think we’ve got a pretty good crowd coming in. But I don’t know how things will go down. We might end up having to cancel.”

  “What? Why?” Lucifer was crazy loyal to their fans. That kind of thing was really important when you didn’t have a huge fan base to begin with.

  Luca sighed. “It’s Steff. He’s been getting harder and harder to deal with—acting like a diva, driving the rest of us crazy with his stupid demands.” He shrugged. “He’s threatened to leave—not just the band, but the whole island.”

  Grey had never met the lead singer in person. But surely, he couldn’t be that crazy. He shook his head. “He can’t do that.”

  Grey wasn’t just
being patronizing. Steffen couldn’t leave the island. No one made it off the island. Coast Guard patrol boats made sure that it was nearly impossible, and the island took care of the rest. For whatever reason, whenever someone tried to leave, they only made it about a quarter mile out before they became violently ill and mentally unstable and had to be returned to the island for their own safety—and flying wasn’t any better. Grey had heard that a boatload of men who tried to make it past the coast guard had ended up throwing themselves overboard once they got past the half-mile radius. Nearly in reach of mainland, they had inexplicably turned and tried to swim back to the island, drawn there by God-knows-what. The fools had almost drowned. One had been bitten by a shark. No one tried it after that. Some rich guy had tired a helicopter to take him to the mainland. He had gone bonkers on the ride over, tried to kill the crew with him, then tried to swim back to the island from the mainland. He drowned. They never found the body.

  Luca studied the cup in his hands, the line between his brows deepening. “Oh, I know he can’t do it. But that’s not the point. The thing is, we’re all getting sick of him acting this way—threatening us if he doesn’t get his way, drinking like a fish and missing rehearsals, chasing after ‘tourists’ when he should be practicing…he acts as if the band would be nothing without his stunning vocal talent.” He rolled his eyes.

  Grey laughed. Steffen had a good voice. Solid, but not stellar. Everyone who liked Lucifer liked them for their instrumentals or their amazing lyrics. If anything, Luca was the one who could make or break the band. His guitar skill was amazing, and Grey had a sneaking suspicion that the deep, heart wrenching lyrics were his too.

  Luca gave a wry, lop-sided smile. “Wouldn’t happen to know a good vocalist, would you? We’ve been stuck together on this little burg for too long. I think we’re all ready to just call his bluff this time.”

  Grey stared at him, surprised. “You guys are going to kick him out?”

  He frowned. “Don’t say it that way. He’s the one pitching a fit.” He rolled his shoulders, easing the visible tension there. “Anyway, forget it.” His expression brightened. “I get off work at three. Do you wanna go stalk my brother?”

  Grey choked on his coffee and his face flamed. Tears streamed from his eyes from inhaling the hot liquid.

  Luca laughed and pounded him helpfully on the back. Grey tried to school his face into seriousness, but it was probably obvious he was suppressing a smile. Luca winked. “Do you wanna come hang out downtown with us? We're going to hit up the shops and start looking for a Christmas gift for our Dad. He’s old as the hills and he has everything. He’s freaking impossible to buy for.”

  It was only September, way too early for Grey to even think about Christmas shopping. He usually did his meager shopping the week before the holiday. But if it meant spending time with Cameron and his weird brother, he just might change his ways.

  Grey averted his eyes and took another sip of his amazing coffee. “Sure,” he mumbled into the froth.

  Later that afternoon, he met the brothers at the coffee shop, and they walked the streets, chatting idly about how cold it would probably get by Christmas if this weather kept up, Cameron's latest athletic feats, and Lucifer's new amp, recently purchased by Matheus to "drown out Ethan's godawful racket," per Luca's re-telling. Grey watched the byplay between the brothers with a renewed sense of awe at their opposing personalities—though neither of the guys were quite what Grey had expected.

  Inside a clothing shop, Grey stroked his hand over one of the scarves, surreptitiously reveling in how soft it was. He snuck a covert glance toward the other side of the table, at a pretty lavender one, wishing for the millionth time that he didn’t have to constantly worry what people thought.

  Luca snaked out a graceful hand and snatched up the scarf almost immediately. “You like this one?”

  Cameron turned to give the two of them a questioning look, a navy-blue skullcap in his hand. Winter wear was a big hit in all the shops. By all rights, the Island should get a few more sultry summer days before the month was out. But it was unseasonably cold. The last few winters had been more harsh than usual, and the summers far too short. He hoped it wasn’t a new trend.

  Grey laughed at Luca’s question. “Yeah right,” he said, ignoring the outstretched scarf. “What kind of guy wears purple?” Though really, it was lavender. Almost pink. Even worse.

  Luca frowned. “It is in the men’s section of the store,” he said in a dry tone.

  Grey shrugged and grabbed the black scarf in front of him. “I like this one.”

  Cameron drifted over to the opposite side of the store to look at some graphic tees, and Grey followed along behind him. The jock snorted with laughter over a shirt that said, “How many women does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” He handed it to Grey, who flipped it over to read the punch line. “None.”

  Ha-ha. Island humor. Grey tossed it back on the shelf and went to pay for his boring black scarf. He and Cameron waited outside the store while Luca took his dear, sweet time. Grey felt like a teenager at prom, all jittery and breathless, rather than the grown-assed man he was. The afternoon sun glinted on Cam’s golden hair and Grey tried not to stare. He wished the weak sun would do something to warm the icy spot of fear and nerves in his heart. Sure, Cam was okay to look at. But what the hell was he supposed to say?

  Awkward silence stretched between them as they leaned against a cold stone bench. The caged trees along the quaint sidewalk were losing a few of their leaves, and a crisp breeze carried them skittering along the gutter.

  “So, um…did you watch the game last night?” Grey held his breath, hoping there had been a game.

  Cameron snorted. “I don’t know what’s up with the Ravens this year. They need some serious work.”

  Grey let out a slow breath and nodded agreement. That was the Maryland team, right? He suddenly wished Luca would hurry his ass up.

  When Luca finally came out of the shop, Grey stopped trying to make small talk and stared. The punk rock rebel was wearing a pale pink scarf wrapped around his neck.

  “Don’t wear that on stage,” Cameron said, heading down the sidewalk. “It’ll completely ruin your image. You’ll have a bunch of dudes lined up wanting you to autograph their left butt cheek or something.”

  Grey glanced at Luca out of the corner of his eye as they walked. Oddly enough, the stupid scarf looked good on him. It contrasted with his dark hair and brought out warm undertones in his clear, white skin. Grey shook his head. Leave it to Luca to have absolutely no shame in proving a point. For a moment, Grey was almost jealous of him for being a real male. Luca didn’t have to second guess everything he did. He didn’t have to pretend he was something he wasn’t. If Luca wanted to wear a damned pink scarf, he would.

  Grey gestured at the bag Luca was holding. “What else did you get?”

  He shrugged. “A pair of gloves and a couple gifts for some friends.”

  Cameron walked slightly ahead of them, his broad shoulders swaying. He even walks like a jock, Grey thought to himself. Like all those muscles got in the way of normal ambulation. He grinned at the thought.

  “Stop drooling,” Luca whispered into Grey’s ear, making Goosebumps spring up along his arm.

  Grey glared at him. One dark eyebrow arched, and Grey slugged him in the arm. “Shut. Up!”

  The weird part was, he hadn’t been drooling. He’d just been noticing the thing—noting a fact. Luca lengthened his stride to catch up to his brother, and they both chuckled over some crude joke. Grey couldn’t help but compare them. It was hard to believe they were twins. They were both tall and broad, but while Cameron was thick and moved like a linebacker, Luca was lean. He had this almost cat-like stride. Every one of his movements was poised and graceful.

  Grey ripped his eyes away from Luca. What was he doing? Here he was out with Cameron, and he was wasting time thinking about how it would feel to have Luca’s lean body pressed up against him instead. Brilliant, Grey. Just
brilliant. Go ahead and get caught being a creep. Lose the one friend you’ve managed to make since this whole fucking mess started. He jogged to catch up to their long-legged stride.

  As he caught up, a store snagged his attention—a knick-knack shop with a beautiful painting of the ocean hanging in the window. Cameron headed into another shop, which was plastered with sports posters and jerseys, but Grey hesitated on the sidewalk.

  Grey glanced between the shop with the art and the sports shop. He knew he should follow Cameron into the guy store, but he just couldn’t do it. Luca paused at his side and looked into the window display. Grey could feel those deep blue eyes on him.

  The guitarist put his hand on the shop door. “I need to check out something in here. I think they have some fishing lures the old man uses.”

  Grey narrowed his eyes at Luca’s back as he pushed the door open and held it. He had the feeling Luca was just making excuses for him to go inside. Why do you have to be so damned nice all the time?

  They were greeted by a friendly old lady who was more than happy to talk to Luca about handmade fishing lures. Grey’s attention wandered almost immediately, and he left them talking about how she had wheedled a special pass, valuable as gold, to visit her grandson. His ears perked when the old woman mentioned Luca’s father, hinting that he had somehow helped her get the pass. But then they started in on what feathers worked best for lures, and Grey was lost again.