Chapter 39
Companies with business meetings who hire me are some of my easiest jobs, but they can also be the most awkward.
I dress in my blue tail, and Arthur pulls me to the ballroom on a flatbed cart.
I hug my tail to my chest to keep it from dragging on the ground.
When we arrive at the event, Arthur helps set me up on a table decorated with sea shells and starfish.
I have a matching crown on my head, and I wave to every guest, welcoming them and handing them a fancy gold gift bag.
Arthur wanders off to sneak some appetizers while he waits to move me to the next area.
Later, as a man in a navy-blue tux stands in front of the room talking about numbers and stats in a mic, Arthur wheels me to another table. I lie on my stomach with my tail flipped up into the air. I greet and briefly chat with anyone who comes to the dessert table.
People find me charming, asking me about my tail, and some joke, asking how the ocean is these days. I play along, and they laugh as they grab their treats. Arthur stands a few feet away with business cards if anyone asks about my services for their next gathering.
When closing remarks are made, I’m back on the cart, waving at anyone who notices me on the move.
I change inside an empty business meeting room with a large circular table surrounded by chairs. My calf cramps from the angle it’s been held in for such a long time. I bite my hand and flex my foot, slowly easing the pain.
Arthur knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there?”
I rub the muscle in spasm, trying not to cry in pain. “Yeah,” I say, voice breaking.
My phone buzzes. I grab it and read the message.
Can u meet me 2day? I’ll send a car. It’s important.
His brief words smack into me and throw me off. I fall out of my chair.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing my tailbone.
“Is someone beating you in there?” Arthur’s voice is low and deep, like a cop about to knock someone out.
I picture Arthur grabbing Sully and punching him in a dark room before kicking him to the curb.
“No. Just slipped,” I reply, standing and pulling my jeans on. My leg still aches, but putting weight on it helps. I chew on my inner cheek and type my reply.
Give me a good reason.
He replies within a few heartbeats.
I’m sorry…let me make it up 2 u.
My gut tells me I’ll regret it, but my heart controls my thumbs.
I’m finishing a gig. I’ll be home soon. Send the car there.
C u soon. xx
The two kisses in his text are odd and he never uses shorthand. He’s never done that before. Maybe I’m looking for red flags when there aren’t any.
I open the door, and Arthur smiles, taking my bag. “You ready?”
“Yup. Let’s go.”
We walk to the car, and I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s like watching the water pull back from the beach, and you can’t see the giant tidal wave coming to crush you and everything in its path until it’s too late.