03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales

by Derrolyn Anderson

  “I know,” he groaned, “I wish this whole rally thing was over already. It’s taking up too much time. I never have enough time…”

  “I want to take you somewhere afterwards, okay?”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Just say yes.”

  “Yes it is.”

  We parted reluctantly and I watched him drive away. When I walked into the house Cruz was waiting by the door with the same sympathetic look as Abby on his face. It didn’t suit him.

  “I’m sorry for flipping you crap out there… I didn’t know about the crazy cat lady.”

  I shook my head at his choice of words, stepping up to give him a hug. He could be caustic and snarky sometimes, but I loved him for who he was, and I could never imagine him being any other way.

  “Cruz– you’re such a pain. Don’t ever change.” I drew back, “Hey! Do you want to go to a gallery opening tonight?”

  Shayla arrived within the hour, walking in to announce, “A Ferrari! Oh my God! Can someone take me for a drive?”

  I ushered her to my room and we had fun getting ready, joking and laughing, playing around with our hair and makeup. She put on a dress Cruz had made for her and I slipped into an edgy looking black shift with an asymmetrical neckline. I adjusted the aquamarine around my neck and smoothed back my hair.

  “Do I look like an artist?” I asked.

  We emerged from my room, fully fluffed and primped. Cruz was waiting on the couch with his mom.

  “You two girls look like you just stepped out of a magazine,” gushed Abby.

  Cruz jumped up to adjust the draped neckline on Shayla’s dress, standing back to inspect it critically, “Lose the belt,” he said.

  “Cruz!” Abby scolded.

  “It’s alright,” Shayla told her seriously, “He’s always right when it comes to fashion.”

  Abby and I exchanged a look and I shrugged. Cruz could be obnoxious sometimes– but he was right. It did look a lot better without the belt.

  Shayla folded her long legs into the Ferrari and I followed them in my car. We agreed to meet up at the gallery, and the three of us walked in together, joining a sophisticated looking group of art aficionados. There was a table set up in the back with fruit and cheese, where Susan stood pouring a glass of wine for a businesswoman type in a navy blazer. Her light brown hair was pinned up in a no-nonsense bun, and she was accompanied by a good looking young man dressed in casual clothes.

  “Marina,” Susan smiled when she looked up to see me. “Come and meet some of your admirers.” They looked up in anticipation, and I imagined I saw a flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes.

  I was a little taken aback, but stepped forward to shake hands with a friendly smile.

  “This is Barbara Watson and her nephew Bradley,” said Susan. “Bradley works at a design firm in the city and just bought three of your pieces for a house he’s doing in Sausalito.”

  “Uhm, thank you,” I said nervously, “Which ones?” He gestured to the wall, pointing out the pictures with little red dots placed on the title cards.

  “My clients are absolutely going to luuve them,” Bradley said enthusiastically, running his fingers through his bleached blond hair, “They’re really into the whole ocean-beachy thing.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “They’re just lovely, dear,” his aunt chimed in, touching my arm. She seemed a little overly friendly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  I took a step back and introduced Cruz and Shayla to them. Cruz asked Bradley about his work and they drifted off together, engrossed in an animated conversation about art, design, and the best places to go for dim sum in San Francisco.

  Shayla and I wandered around the gallery, taking our time to go through the eclectic variety again. I was impressed by her astute observations about both the art and the people discussing it; she made me laugh out loud more than once. What Shayla lacked in education, she made up for in intuition, and she had moxie to spare. I realized she’d probably do very well in Paris, and it made me smile.

  “It looks like Cruz found a friend,” she said knowingly, nodding towards him. “Maybe he’ll lighten up a little now.”

  Cruz and Bradley stood side by side, dark and light heads contrasting as they discussed the art, gesturing expansively. They seemed oblivious to everyone else in the room.

  “Marina!” Cruz finally rushed up excitedly, his eyes brighter than usual. “You’re not gonna believe this!” He went on to tell me that Bradley’s aunt was running in the special election for Congressman Hill’s vacated seat.

  “And check this out– She’s a total greenie! She works with some kinda marine biology research center, she’s completely opposed to the land development, and here’s the best part– if she gets elected… she can make it all go away!”

  “Really?” I said, looking across the room to meet her eyes. Bradley was talking to her, and he looked up and smiled at Cruz.

  Wow, I thought, how’s that for serendipity? Once again I was forced to admit that my muse powers had to be in play here. That must have been what I’d felt when I met her. Good! I’d do anything to save that land for Lue and Ethan. I smiled and nodded to Barbara Watson.

  “Congresswoman Watson,” I said under my breath, marching over to talk to her.

  I found out that Bradley’s aunt was a dedicated ecologist, devoted to all kinds of environmental causes. She told me her latest project had been fund-raising for a marine biology research center. She was interested in studying the migratory patterns of the many different whale species that passed through the Monterey bay regularly. I smiled, thinking that my mermaid friends could tell her all she wanted to know about that topic.

  She explained that she was passionate about protecting the ocean and promoting sustainable fisheries. She wanted to attract more environmentally friendly local business, and was working to stop exactly the sort of development that we were fighting.

  “We need to hold onto our local character,” she said earnestly, “And that means supporting our local farmers.”

  She couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked her, “Because I know where you can reach a whole lot of concerned citizens.”

  By the time we left, I had arranged for her to come and speak at the rally. I drove home happily, following behind Shayla and Cruz in the Ferrari. He sped off, quickly leaving me in the dust, and I said a little prayer that they’d get home safely. He dropped Shayla off and beat me back to the house, where I found him waiting on the couch when I walked in.

  “That was an awesome bit of luck, huh?” he enthused.

  “Do you mean meeting Bradley, or his aunt?” I asked. I was shocked to see Cruz actually blush before he regained his composure.

  “He goes by Brad, and we have a lot in common,” he explained, “He went to design school too, and he’s offered to show me around the campus. We’re like… kindred spirits.”

  “I see,” I said.

  Then he smiled, unable to contain his enthusiasm, “I can tell he comes from money,” he added, “His parents are divorced, and he grew up spending his summers around here. Apparently his dad has a huge beach house… and a private beach! He learned to surf with the waves all to himself, and he said we should visit sometime. How about that, little miss surfer girl!”

  “You sound like Evie,” I chuckled. I’d never seen Cruz so bubbly. He actually reminded me of Abby for a minute.

  There was a soft knock on the door and Cruz sprang up to get it. “Hey Ethan,” he said, letting him in.

  “Hey,” he nodded, looking at me, “How did it go tonight?”

  Cruz launched into a long winded description of the night’s fortuitous events while Ethan settled down on the couch next to me. His hands were cold, like he’d been outside for a long time, and I took them in mine and rubbed them to warm him up. He sighed and slumped back on the couch.

  “How’s that for a coincidence?” Cruz said, “
And I’ll turn eighteen just before the special election! She totally has my vote!”

  “That’s great,” Ethan said, leaning on me.

  “Yeah,” Cruz looked lost in thought, “I should go see what Madame Fatima has to say about this…”

  Ethan’s head dropped down onto my shoulder, “Ugh,” he said, closing his eyes. The Madame gave both of us the creeps.

  “You look tired,” Cruz said sympathetically, “I’ll leave you two alone.” He got up and headed down the hall to his old room.

  “What’s got into him?” asked Ethan.

  “I think it’s love,” I said.

  “Then we have something in common,” he replied, reaching over to brush the hair from my face. We kissed, and he laid his head back down.

  “Is Abby asleep?” he asked.

  “Yes… Do you want to stay over tonight?”

  “Yes,” he sounded relieved.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I went to go get changed into sweats and wash up.

  I came back and took his hands to pull him up. We crept quietly down the hall and snuggled together under my big white comforter. I didn’t need to worry about things getting out of hand tonight. We had an understanding, and were re-growing the trust between us. Neither one of us wanted our first time to be sneaking around.

  I thought about the events of the evening; the evidence kept piling up that my muse ability was real, and powerful. There was no use denying anything to myself anymore. Lying peacefully in Ethan’s arms, I prayed that everything would go smoothly in Paris. I had to lie convincingly to a group of suspicious muses; women that were far more experienced at it than me. Just thinking about it brought tears to my eyes.

  Ethan shifted onto his side, throwing his leg over mine. Within a few minutes his regular breathing told me he was fast asleep.

  “Ethan, I’m scared,” I whispered, right before drifting off myself.

  The bright light streaming in the room woke me up, and I sat up to find him gone. There was a note by my bedside that said he had to get some landscaping work done before he could get to the rally, and that he’d see me there. I frowned, hating the way he was driving himself so hard. I wondered if he was burying himself in work the same way I escaped into my surfing habit. I didn’t think we really needed the money all that badly. Could it be me he was trying to run away from?

  I decided to spend the morning getting my studio fully outfitted, driving out to the art store and loading up on huge canvases and paint. I hauled everything up the stairs, arranging blank canvases on my easels and laying out paints and brushes, setting up for the future as kind of a talisman against harm.

  I hummed to myself as I arranged some flowers in a vase, wondering what Ethan would think about the place. I stuck some candles into pretty holders and stood back to inspect my studio with a critical eye. It looked nice.

  I left behind an overnight bag, just in case, I said to myself.

  I took one last look around before I locked up, sighing in frustration. I didn’t want to leave for Paris; more than anything, I wished I could stay here and get started painting. I bit my lip, for this was no time to wallow in self-pity; tonight would be a combination studio-warming and bon voyage. Besides, Evie always said that your sympathy was wasted when you gave it to yourself. There was a job to do, and I wanted to see the rally be a success more than anything else.

  I squared my shoulders and headed for the Rover. Something inside of me triggered a clear memory of the past. I was about seven years old, and Evie had taken me to see a polo match. I flashed upon a clear image of Evie, fussing over me as she cleaned and dressed my badly skinned knee. I’d tried to ride a pony in between matches, and had taken a hard spill, adamantly refusing to get back on. The words she’d spoken that day rang in my mind.

  “You know, sweetheart,” she’d said, bending to kiss the bandage, “There is much less danger in the things we fear… than there is in the things we desire.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RALLY

  Abby and I pulled up to the beautiful seaside fields on a perfect sunny afternoon. A dirt parking area had been outlined with chalk like a crime scene, and was already hosting dozens of cars and trucks, including Ethan’s. We got out and were surprised at how much the guys had accomplished already.

  There was a stage set up, and some musician types were doing a sound check, moving equipment around on stage and hooking up speakers. There was electricity in the air; you could feel the crackling excitement of anticipation. I spotted some unruly red curls bursting out of the back of a baseball cap and smiled.

  “I’m going to go say Hi to Megan,” I told Abby.

  She looked radiantly happy, “Okey dokey! I’m gonna go get started on the auction stuff… This place looks fantastic!”

  I walked around behind the stage and stumbled across Megan, locked in a passionate embrace with a tall dark stranger. They both looked up as I pivoted away, embarrassed.

  “Marina!” Megan called after me, “Come and meet my friend Jamal.”

  I smiled sheepishly and stepped forward to shake hands, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Jamal got us this great sound system for the day,” she said proudly.

  I smiled broadly, looking back and forth between the two of them, “That’s great! Thank you so much! This really means a lot to us.”

  “Anything for a friend of Megan’s,” he said with a smoky voice, excusing himself and climbing up onto the stage.

  Megan wiggled her eyebrows at me with an impish grin, “He’s cute, huh?”

  “Sheesh Megan,” I said with a smirk, “What happened to the piano player?”

  “Oh him? That just didn’t work out. He was way too clingy… Jamal is a studio musician… He played bass on my first recording! He’s really good.”

  I had to laugh at her, and she joined in. Megan was morphing into a real heartbreaker, confidant and sassy. I was starting to wonder if I might have created a monster.

  “So, when do I get to hear it?” I asked.

  “It’s in post-production now, and should be ready tomorrow… But I’m afraid you’re gonna miss the launch party.”

  I grimaced in frustration, more annoyed than ever about having to go to Paris.

  “So…” Megan grew serious, “Are you going to tell me what happened to you the other night?”

  “Oh… yeah…” I’d been so busy with the studio I’d completely forgotten about passing out at the coffeeshop. “It was nothing.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing,” Megan said skeptically.

  “Really,” I smiled, “It was just like… weird sounds– no images.”

  “Listen Bucko, you should take this stuff seriously. So far, you’ve been dead-on about everything else… right?”

  “I guess so.”

  She pursed her lips, “Still no Grammy for me, huh?”

  I smiled and shrugged, “I’ll have to work on that.”

  Megan gave me a quick hug and excused herself to get back to her musician friends while I went to go look for Ethan. A black masked pug dog came running up to me, barking excitedly.

  It looked friendly, so I knelt down to pet it, “Where did you come from little fella?” I asked, laughing at its cute little squashed up face.

  “Thank goodness! There he is–” I looked up to see an elderly man hurrying over with a leash in his hand.

  Our eyes met, and both pairs flew open in surprise. It was the same man I’d come across after my first transformation, fresh from an undersea mermaid council. The last time he’d seen me I had just staggered naked out of the sea. My face flushed hot when I realized he recognized me.

  He cleared his throat, clipping the leash on the little dog’s collar as he regained his composure, “I’m glad to see that you’re…ah…well…”

  “Uhm, yes. Much better, thanks.” I scrambled to my feet, “I owe you a sweater.”

  He looked as embarrassed as he did the day our paths first crossed, “No!” he said, “I mean… it was my
pleasure… Er, I mean, it was nothing…” His face reddened as he stumbled over his words.

  “Thanks again,” I said, turning to flee the scene.

  “Stay warm,” he called after me.

  Remembering that day pointed out to me how much I needed Ethan, and I scanned the small clusters of people for his blonde head anxiously. By the time I spotted Cruz and Dutch I was able to laugh about the awkward encounter. I trotted over to find them busily setting up a giant grill for the salmon feed, and as I drew near Ethan rounded the corner with two huge bags of ice slung over his shoulders.

  His face broke out into my favorite smile when he saw me, and I felt a sweet wave of relief wash over me. He dumped his load into some waiting coolers and rushed over to sweep me up in an enthusiastic embrace, lifting my feet from the ground and twirling me around.

  “Looks like everything is coming together,” I said when he set me back down.

  He chuckled, looking around, “You think?” he said teasingly, planting a kiss on my lips. He left to get the rest of the ice while I greeted Dutch and Cruz.

  “Help me keep an eye out for Brad and his aunt, okay?” Cruz said nervously, “I expect them in about two hours, and she’s scheduled to speak right when they get here.”

  “Sure,” I agreed, “I’m going to go see what Abby needs me to do.”

  I found Abby in the shade tent, setting out forms for bidding next to each item she’d gathered for the silent auction. She led me to a table laid out with voter registration forms and slick, shiny brochures. There were professional looking posters and banners printed with slogans about supporting local agriculture hanging everywhere. Multiple images of Barbara’s smiling face stared up at me from the table, making me recoil in surprise.

  Abby gestured all around, “The campaign sent over all this stuff, and donated a ton of gift certificates and some really cute gardening things for the auction too… Isn’t that nice?”

  I had to agree, they had really gone all out.

  “Do you think you could man the information table? You know, register people to vote and hand out flyers about our candidate? After all, you can explain to people what’s at stake better than anyone else!”