6. Grae
Grae
She agreed. I didn’t notice my hands were shaking until I put the key in the slot to get the elevator to my room.
Stop it. I conquered this years ago though therapy, meds, love, acceptance and a hefty dose of desperate need to be a new person.
Stupid dipshit Davin used to shake and whimper and puke. I’m not that guy anymore.
But she’s standing three feet away. I could reach out and touch her with no effort. It’s only in the reflection of the elevator door, I can see her whole dress, a tight corset top and a long black skirt with a high slit at the side. Clean, classic and stunning.
I can spend the evening with Alana and keep my impulses at bay. Grae isn’t the little bitch Davin was. By the time I step off the elevator, I’ve talked myself down from whatever cliff my psyche was about to jump off.
The hotel room is fine. Not the nicest I’ve ever been in but large enough that we’ll both have plenty of room.
The suite has an office space slash living area with a sofa and a leather armchair.
There’s a coffee table nestled in the middle of the space and a flat-screen TV mounted on the far wall.
Space and comfort, it’s as perfect as I can make it.
“I can order room service if you want anything more than that tiny shot glass of soup.”
I give her the menu but keep my body as far away as possible. She flips through it and says, “I could go for a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“A lady with sophisticated taste.” I place the order and turn on the TV. While we wait for the preshow to start, she nestles into the couch. She kicks off her heels and tucks her legs under herself, trying to get comfortable in the long black evening gown.
“I’ve got track pants if you want to change,” I offer while loosening my tie and popping the top button of my shirt. But I stop from getting too comfortable. She’s here to watch the show and eat grilled cheese. Nothing’s going to happen.
“If they aren’t fuzzy pajamas, I’m not interested.” She smirks and plays on her phone while we wait.
The music starts, and she hums along. I smile.
I’m not staring, but I’m aware of every move she makes, the way her foot swings, the sound of the satin against the couch as she sits back.
There’s a stiffness in the way her body reacts.
Is she uncomfortable, or has she been hurt somehow?
Then it hits me. I don’t know anything about her now.
“So,” I drag out the word to break any tensions. “What have you been up to in the last twelve years?”
She’s quiet before saying, “I own and operate a few companies.”
“Of course.” My Kinsley always had a mind for business, so Alana would naturally be an entrepreneur. “Have I ever heard of any of them?”
She focuses on the TV screen. “Yep.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Nope.” She picks up her phone again, types something and tosses it to the side. Got it, work is a no go with the convo.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Probably a question you should have asked before inviting me to your hotel room,” she says, and gives me a side glare. But then shrugs. “I wouldn’t have come here if I was. My last guy was an athlete. Apparently, he was pretty good because he won a travel mug.”
What? Oh wait, now I remember. She used to say shit like this all the time, and I could never tell if she was kidding or not. Now I have to translate it from Kinsley/Alana speech into normal human language. Hmm sports, mugs, cups. Oh Jesus Christ.
“He won the Stanley Cup?”
“Yeah, he was excited too. I didn’t get it. I could have bought him one at Target.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I can’t imagine why it didn’t work out.”
I pick up my phone and place a quick bid for the script. It’s already at $5,000, and the auction just started. Hmm. Don’t like that. I place a few bids of other things from The Knights of the Night items and flip my phone over on my leg.
“I wasn’t really into him for his job. Or conversation… or emotions.” No translation needed for that one. Again, I can’t imagine why it didn’t work out.
The preshow continues with highlights of the best episodes.
She changes her voice and recites the key line: “Take my father and my land, but I will slay you and thousands like you if anyone touches my goat.” I don’t know if it’s me, the fandom, or that it’s her saying it, but that stupid goat has never meant as much to me as it does at this moment.
There’s a knock at the door and room service comes in with our food. Alana lights up as she grabs the sandwich off her plate. Her shoulders shimmy when she takes a bite, and pangs of nostalgia hit me in the gut. I knew I missed her, but it’s the small forgotten things that make me realize how much.
I check the auction again, and the script is at $12,000. I put my bid in for $15,000. But my dinner company picks up her phone and sighs. Then her eyes narrow, and I feel daggers slit my throat.
“Grae, what are you bidding on?”
A sinking dread hits me. “A couple of things, why?”
She shifts her weight. There’s an intensity in her eyes, a whisper of danger and the knowledge that she knows exactly how to get rid of a body. “I need that script and I’m playing with Olympian money.”
Oh shit. Admit defeat and deflect. “That’s ok. There’s other stuff I can bid on.”
“Good boy.” The words make me shiver. Hmm, I didn’t think a woman’s voice could do that to me. Well, that’s new, and very interesting. But that’s not why she’s here.
During the behind-the-scenes interviews with the cast and crew we’re still on our phones, but I abandoned the script once it hit $30,000 and I knew who I was competing with. But I’m still actively bidding on a few other pieces.
The countdown on the screen fades to black with two seconds left and the scene shifts into a watery grotto.
Pirates from various seasons sit on wooden chairs around an open, rippling pool.
The dark room is lit only by torches and a swirly emerald light glowing from the water.
They’re screaming over each other about the impending war between the rebels and royalty.
Half the group thinks they should continue to attack the King and his army, the other half think this isn’t their battle and they should stick to the sea.
They never belonged in this fight to begin with.
From the shadows, the silhouette of the Pirate King leans into the light, and the motion stills the group. He commands in a low tone, “We will return to the ocean." The other pirates exchange confused or disappointed glances.
Years ago, the Pirate King was cursed and in a bout of madness, the Pirate King killed the love of his life.
The pirates had waged war on the Royal family ever since.
In the show, the Pirate King is not one entity but three: the human, the demon and the dragon.
The demon and the dragon have been relentless in their punishments to his human soul for Elnona’s death. She was their mate as well as his.
“We have suffered enough losses, and this is not our battle.” The Pirate King leans forward, and the camera reveals his unshaven face, blood shot eyes and scruffy hair. A far cry from the elegant and suave man from the other seasons.
“Woof, he looks rough,” Alana says, and I totally agree. But that’s character development for you.
Some pirates agree while others turn away, but none of the humans smile like they’ve won.
The pool bubbles and splashes into a churning whirlpool as three shirtless mermen emerge from the water.
The guards have green and blue scales across their face with short, black head fins.
The golden-finned Mer King appears adorned in shells and jewels from the sea, his facial features more human than fish.
The pirates watch him with interest, but his arrival is not a surprise. When he speaks, the room stills.
“The Water Folk will be attending the final battle.” This causes the rest of the men to turn and talk. Shit! The Water Folk have stayed neutral in all human affairs. That’s a huge plot reveal in the first three minutes.
“You live in the saltwater, a land battle will kill you,” the Pirate King states in a low, gravelly voice.
The Mer King answers, in a slow and clear tone, “My daughter was captured by the fisherman and sold to the Royal alliance.” That scene was absolutely heartbreaking.
I cried for two weeks every time I thought about it.
The Mer King continues, “Three months ago she was rescued by a woman from the rebels.” The Mer King’s golden fins ripple, catching the light in the room and appearing more radiant as he rises higher out of the water, and the camera zooms in.
“The woman sang the song of my daughter’s birth. ”
“That’s not possible,” the Pirate King says. “The only woman who witnessed your daughter’s birthsong is dead.”
Then the camera shifts to show the dark cavern deep inside the Pirate King’s mind.
The Demon lays on his back staring at the ceiling unfazed by this new information, and the Dragon lifts up his head from his sleep.
The Dragon stretches his neck, each scale cracking as he moves.
The camera shifts, and we can see the monsters’ view of the human’s world, and the mermen in the pool bob up and down.
The Dragon’s eyes turn black, and the Demon finally sits up.
Behind the Mer King float his two guards.
The camera flips between the younger guard and the Dragon.
The Dragon gains control of the Pirate King’s hand and body.
His long talons and scaling skin slide across the human’s hands.
The Pirate King’s face turns more reptile, his eyes morph into a yellow hue with black slits.
He stands, wobbles uneasily on two legs, and trudges towards the pool.
He reaches past the king, who yells in protest but the clawed hand grabs one of the guards by the armor pulling out a necklace with a blue scale.
“Where did you get this?” he hisses.
Alana leans forward, and I pull my knees to my chest.