Siren's Song

by Kaye Draper

  He wandered around the store. Everything here was nautical-themed. It was probably a holdover from when the island had been allowed tourists who weren’t strictly government approved women-for-hire. Maybe the shop still did some online business to keep them afloat. Some mainlanders had been really cool about buying island-made stuff to help support the men trapped here.

  Grey trailed his hand over a row of books about sea travel, pausing when he came to a shelf of figurines. He picked up a mermaid and studied her bright green tail. As usual, she had gigantic boobs. Did mermaids use those things for flotation devices? Nursing? Would they be considered mammals?

  Grey’s eyes were drawn to a series of paintings done by a local artist. They took up half of the wall, between a piece of anchor wall decor and a resin seagull perched on a weathered piece of wood. He smirked at the seagull. Seagulls for islanders were like pelicans and flamingos in the tourist shops of the south—great money makers for the tourists, but pretty much like rats to the locals.

  The paintings he’d noticed depicted three beautiful women in various poses amid the sand, rocks, and water. Grey studied the picture directly in front of him. It was of a woman in a long, flowing dress perched on a rock at the seaside. Her hair had blown in front of her face, but the dress clung to voluptuous curves. Her long, graceful arm was outstretched, as if she were reaching, beckoning to someone further out at sea.

  “Sirens.” Luca’s deep voice startled Grey out of his musings. The panther-like guitarist had come to stand right behind Grey without his even noticing, silent as always.

  Grey tilted his head, still studying the picture. “Kind of…haunting, aren’t they?” The paintings lacked the whimsy of the bust figurines or the silly seagulls.

  Luca smiled, as if he were laughing at some private joke. “Yeah. I don’t think the artist thought of them as harmless eye candy.” He nodded toward the mermaids on a nearby shelf. He was right. The women in the paintings seemed wicked, almost evil.

  Of course, duh, sirens. Weren’t they supposed to, like…lure sailors to their deaths or something equally dramatic and melancholy?

  Grey squinted at the signature in the corner of the painting, but he couldn’t read it. Why artists signed their work but made it illegible was a mystery. You’d think they would want people to recognize their name.

  Luca touched the signature with a long finger. “Dan Smith,” he said confidently. Grey glanced at him. The way he said it made it sound like he was sure.

  “My dad,” Luca supplied with a grin.

  Grey tried to picture Luca and Cameron’s father. Apparently, he was more the artsy type, like Luca. Where in the world did Cameron get his stalwart, manly-man vibes?

  Luca shrugged. “I know, it’s weird.” He studied Grey’s face a little too intently for the situation. “He does mostly mythology and seascapes.”

  Grey stared back into those deep blue eyes, wondering what Luca was waiting for. Maybe he thought Grey would laugh himself silly over the revelation. “That’s…really kinda cool.”

  The bells over the door rang and Grey was distracted from the conversation. Cameron waved them over. “Hey. What are you guys doing in here? Come on, let’s get hot dogs.”

  Luca arched an eyebrow at his brother’s lack of appreciation for art, but Grey heard his stomach growl. “Sounds good, let’s go.” He grabbed Luca’s hand and dragged him out of the store.

  When they reached the street, Grey hastily released Luca’s hand, his face flaming. A guy wouldn’t normally have grabbed his hand like that. Maybe his arm? Damn it, he was so sick of always having to second-guess himself this way. Grey stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop the tingling in his fingertips and hurried to catch up with Cameron.

  They found a hotdog vendor the next block over. The middle-aged man grinned at the young men from behind his red and gold striped stand as they ordered foot-long dogs piled high with every topping imaginable. Grey raised his eyebrows at Luca when he ordered a vegan dog. He was just full of surprises.

  They wandered down the street toward home and some of Grey’s tension relaxed. With Luca there as a buffer, he felt more comfortable than if he had been alone with Cameron. He took in the quiet bustle of their town as he tried to shake off the weird feeling from the shop. One thing he had always loved about Etna Island was its sense of self-sufficiency. It boasted a lot of the same things you’d find in some of the big New England cities—like the street vendor, and the unique shops. But at the same time, there was that sense of calm, of laid-back acceptance, that you only got in a small town…or on an island.

  They took a side street and walked along Seaway Drive. Grey wrangled his hotdog into his mouth, concentrating on not making a complete mess. Cameron and Luca had finished theirs half a block ago. Cameron waxed poetic about a wrestling match he’d watched at the college last week. Grey’s eyes met Luca’s and they shared a silent laugh at the jock's expense.

  Grey soaked in the fresh sea air, letting Cameron’s voice fade to a background lull. He was comfortable and content. Until he found himself thinking of how Luca’s eyes were the exact same color as the rolling sea out beyond the marina. Those stormy eyes met his, and Grey realized that he had unconsciously started humming. He stopped the sound immediately and cast his gaze out over the ocean once more, ignoring the feeling of Luca's sharp, questioning gaze.

  Chapter 6

  Luca paced along the shore, breathing in the sea air, his bare feet in the damp sand, grounding him. The warmer weather near his father’s home was a blessing, since it let him stay in touch with his element even in the unseasonably cold weather. He willed himself to focus, to complete the energy training his father had taught him, drawing power from the waves and the misty sea spray. The blue light buzzed and flickered in his hands, then went out like a doused flame. He opened and closed his fingers, hating the way they felt…cramped.

  He couldn’t calm his mind and center himself. He was too aware of his body. He knew most women he met seemed to find him attractive enough. But it wasn’t a woman who had him prowling the shoreline like a stranded animal. No, a woman he could have handled, could have figured out. Women were easy. He was used to feeling all tangled up over a girl. But this…ugh!

  Everything about Grey pulled Luca in, from the hidden strength in his slight frame, to those sparkling green eyes and lush lips that would look perfect wrapped around his cock…fuck, why?

  He took a calming breath and finally just admitted it to himself—he was attracted to a man. It wasn’t that the thought was repulsive or anything asinine like that. But…in all his life, it had never even been a possibility. Luca knew who he was. He had always been possessed of a strong sense of self—probably inherited from his father. Dating men wasn’t a part of that identity. If something like that could change, then what else was changing inside himself? He felt scattered. People had always praised him for being calm under pressure. Usually, it wasn’t hard to take a step back and keep his head when others freaked about things no one would even care about in a few years. Now he was all aflutter over some guy. He had to wonder if he even knew who he was anymore.

  And Grey? How would he feel about Luca’s thoughts? Grey was gay, so he wouldn’t be too shocked about that. But he had that childish crush on Cam. What if he knew he had attracted the wrong brother?

  Luca pushed a hand through his hair. Gods, what a mess. He plopped down on a driftwood log and gazed out at the water, letting it soothe him. Maybe it was only Grey’s natural pull that made him so attractive. If so, Grey couldn’t be blamed. Luca was pretty sure Grey didn’t even know what he was, let alone the effect he had on people. Knowing Grey, he’d be horrified if he found out.

  Luca had spoken briefly to his father about his new friend, but the old man's advice had been worthless. “Stay away,” he had warned. And, knowing his son's tendency to completely ignore the old man's advice, “And for the Gods’ sake don’t let him sing to you!”

  Luca gave a wry laugh as he remembered the p
ull he’d felt, hearing Grey hum just a half-formed phrase of a song. It had been a fleeting thing, there one moment, gone the next. It was faint enough that Luca could convince himself he might have imagined it. Maybe he was just wishing Grey was special because he wanted someone to share his secrets with.

  “Yeah, right,” he said to the rolling sea. As if Grey could ever be normal.

  Chapter 7

  When Grey woke up the day of The Change, many of his physical traits were familiar, even though he looked completely different overall. His hair was still curly, if a few shades darker and blander. He was still shorter than most guys. His eyes were still green. And he still had a sense of femininity that he tried his best to disguise from the male world around him.

  His best friend Abbie hadn’t been so lucky.

  Once a petite, stylish thing, Abbie had awakened the day of The Change to find herself in the body of a hulking brute of a man. Her long, beakish nose and square features could never be described as pretty or feminine.

  That didn’t stop her from wearing peachy-pink lipstick and blush or sporting the season’s newest eyeshadow colors.

  Grey watched his best friend make her way across the room. “Her,” because he could never think of Abbie as male, even now. Most of the restaurant customers averted their eyes, but some didn’t bother to disguise the fact that they were staring with a kind of fascinated disgust. Today she was sporting a gray sweater dress, purple leggings, and red suede boots. A pair of dangly earrings and a purple silk flower pinned in her long hair finished out the ensemble.

  Grey caught her eye and smiled. One day, Abbie was bound to show up in a boa and fishnets. He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. She hoisted her gigantic gold bag up higher on her shoulder and sauntered over to Grey, ignoring the stares. Pulling out her chair, she took in his faded t-shirt and well-worn jeans. “Sweetheart,” she said dramatically, pitching her deep voice higher with a practiced air, “what are you wearing?”

  Grey shook his head. Someone nearby mumbled “freak,” and he tried to keep his smile in place. Grey supposed he wouldn’t get to eat his food if he cold-cocked the bastard.

  “Clothes,” he said in response to Abbie's question.

  Abbie shook her head, setting her long earrings dancing along the sides of her rugged jaw. “Is that what you call it?”

  Grey sighed. A guy with a buzz cut and camo pants walked by the table and managed to bump into Abbie’s chair, hard. Abbie gave a huff and the guy snarled “queer!” under his breath.

  Abbie didn’t miss a beat. “Neanderthal,” she said without heat, not even looking at the guy. She’d fought this battle so many times it seemed like it was boring to her.

  Grey knew better. Abbie wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be. Grey narrowed his eyes at the redneck as the guy made his way back to a table full of his ilk. It would be easy to teach him a lesson. Grey mentally catalogued all of his weak points. One good pressure point hit, and he’d go down. His type was all hot air.

  “Abbie, how can you put up with this crap? Just start acting like a guy already.” He cracked his knuckles restlessly. “Just go over there and beat his ass. I mean look at you.” She was easily twice the other guy’s size. And the redneck wasn’t small to begin with.

  She shook her head and passed Grey the dessert menu. “Oh, they have double chocolate death.” She tapped the menu with one square, polished nail. “I’m getting this. But it’s so many calories...wanna split it?”

  Grey smiled back at her. He was still pissed off on her behalf, but he had to admit that part of it was anger at himself. Abbie was the strongest person he knew. It took guts to stand out, to be who you were despite anything else, and Abbie had stayed true to exactly who she was. Grey was taking the easy way out by dressing like a guy and trying to fit in. He stared down at his chicken strips. They were golden brown and deep-fried to perfection. But his appetite had deserted him.

  Abbie took a sip of her Coke, leaving a bright lipstick ring on the straw. “Why the long face, Hon?” She winked at Grey. “Blondie a bad kisser?”

  Grey snorted. “Like I would know.” He stirred his ice restlessly with his straw, wishing he’d never told Abbie about running into Luca and his scheme to get closer to Cam.

  She heaved a sigh. “Well, I keep telling you, it’s pointless to pine after that jock. You need to find yourself a gay guy, or better yet another morph.”

  He looked up at her, exasperated. “No.”

  She laughed. “Look, at least with another morph you’d both be into guys. And you’re cute. I bet you’d get laid in a flash, either way!”

  “Abbie!” He felt himself flush. “That’s just…. Look, I’m not trying to get laid. I just....” He wanted to be loved and accepted, just the way he was. Girly emotions. He choked them down and took a deep breath. “I don’t want anyone else.”

  In fact, he was rapidly realizing that he didn't want Cameron, but no way was he telling Abbie that. She had enough ammo as it was.

  She shook her head. “You’re really into the whole masochist thing, aren’t you?”

  Grey swatted at her and tore into his chicken with renewed vigor. “Shut up.”

  There was laughter from the hick table and a guy with a beard shouted from across the way. “Hey, tranny! How do you get the tape off without waxing your junk?”

  Abbie leaned back in her chair and grinned, turning to cross her long, muscular legs so she could regard the guy with a sultry grin. “I like a nice, smooth pair of balls.”

  The guy in question turned about five shades of red, spluttered, and went back to his beer.

  “Abbie!” Grey hissed.

  She turned back to him with an innocent expression, laughter fizzing behind the façade. “What? He asked.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that!” No one in the restaurant had missed the interaction. Grey met the eyes of a guy in a business suit and designer glasses a couple tables over. The guy averted his eyes, pounded the last of his drink, and flagged down the waiter for his bill. Grey narrowed his eyes as the man scurried away. Probably a morph wanting to get out of the line of fire. Smart move. But it made Grey feel as cowardly as the businessman.

  Abbie reached over and snatched one of Grey's fries, bringing it to her pink stained lips to delicately nibble at it. “Oh, I don’t really tape it up. I don’t have to. A nice, tight pair of panties does it. I’m hung like a mosquito, you know.”

  Grey choked and soda nearly shot out his nose. “Abbie! Shut. Up.”

  She pouted. “Big, hulking lumberjack body like this, and I have a thing the size of a baby finger.” She waggled a pinkie at him in illustration.

  Grey put his head on his arms and wished he could crawl under the table and hide. His best friend had never been blessed with a verbal filter. But as the years went by, it was getting worse and worse. “Abbie….”

  She was on a roll now, reveling in his discomfort. “Oh, I’m sure you know what I mean.” Of course, she assumed he suffered from the same problem. Everyone did. Little guy must be little everywhere.

  When Grey didn’t answer, she nudged his arm. “Hellooo…anyone in there?”

  Grey raised his head, refusing to meet her eyes, and tried to choke down the rest of his fries before she ate them all. He had never told her about The Cosmic Joke—instinct said it would be a bad idea. But she read his silence easily enough.

  “No way…really?” Grey glanced up to find her watching him with wide-eyed fascination. “I mean, how big are we talking here? Kielbasa? Summer sausage? Can I see it sometime?”

  He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “No!”

  She pouted. “C’mon…we’re best friends.”

  Grey scowled. “Guys don’t go around showing each other their junk. I am not talking about this.”

  The waiter drifted by at just that moment. “Can I get you…uh…gentlemen anything else?”

  Grey stabbed a finger at the menu. “Bring her two of those Chocolate Death things. M
aybe that will shut her up.”

  The waiter hid a smile and hurried off to do his bidding. Grey looked up to see Abbie laughing into her drink.

  Once Abbie had her chocolate, she was less inclined to care about Grey’s nether regions. When they finished lunch, Grey said goodbye, snatched the bill, and gave the waiter his debit card before Abbie could do more than offer a feeble protest.

  “You work too hard,” she said chidingly. “You should let someone like me who has no future goals get the bill.” Abbie had shunned college and worked at a local clothing store. She really was amazing with men’s clothing. She could behave and put together reasonable outfits when she put her mind to it—they weren’t all glitter and rainbow colors.

  Grey shrugged and signed the receipt. He stood, tucking his action hero wallet into his back pocket, and Abbie shook her head at him in mock horror. “You need to come by the shop sometime and let me show you how to dress that pretty-boy body of yours.”

  Grey smirked. No way was he letting Abbie get her hands on him. He’d end up looking like the front man for some cheesy boy band. Or worse yet, he’d end up in a dress. “I’ve gotta go,” he said with just a hint of relief. “I have an appointment at the clinic.”

  Abbie sighed. “You’re still doing that? Doesn’t it bother you to be poked and prodded like some sort of freak show?”

  Grey shrugged. He had been going to the clinic every month for almost four years now. It had become part of his routine. “I like to think maybe it will help people like us. And…it feels good to do something for the greater good.” He glanced at Abbie and grinned. “Or maybe I just like to flirt with the hot nurses.”

  Grey didn’t have a clue how the research studies were progressing. The truth was, he really had made a friend in one of the physician’s assistants from the mainland. Joy was a pretty young woman with all the normal worries and idiosyncrasies of someone who hadn’t suddenly sprouted a penis. Being around her was refreshing.