Chapter 2
Ari
“Check. Check. Check!” I sing then scream into the mic.
We’re running through a sound check at the fourth stop on our newest United States tour.
For this stop, we’ve landed in a cliffside amphitheater along the California coast. The view is stunning, and the salt water on the breeze crawls over my skin, calling to my fins.
I can tell that the rest of the guys are also itching to throw themselves off one of the cliffs after we wrap up for the night.
Our band—Atlantica—has been a global phenomenon since we ditched our lives in the sea for legs on land.
When merpeople come of age at fifteen years old, they are allowed to live a year onshore amongst humans to decide if they want to make a life for themselves in the human world, or return to the bottom of the ocean to take their place among the merpeople who chose to remain in the ocean.
In our exploration of life on land, we found music.
Don’t get me wrong, the depths of the open ocean are beautiful in an otherworldly way, but the number of things you can see above sea level still finds ways to surprise me all these years later.
The seas themselves play their own magical symphony, but it just can’t compare to guitars, drums, violins, keys, and vocals coming together, carrying on the breeze and resonating with people around the planet.
Naturally, since merpeople are a species of siren, my voice carries a certain level of luring ability, but it doesn’t impact everyone the same way.
One extreme response is people become completely entranced.
Their eyes glaze over, and they just kind of check out while I sing.
The other extreme response is that to some people my voice has absolutely no effect over them.
They enjoy the music, but you can still see the spark of life in their eyes as they hang on my every word.
Right in the middle, you have people somewhere between totally glazed and no effect.
There’s a bit of sheen to their eyes, but they still seem aware of themselves. It’s hard to explain.
“Sounds good, guys!”
With the sound check complete, we head backstage. They’ll be opening the gates soon, and people will be crowding in to fill every seat of tonight’s sold-out show.
Once we get backstage, my best friend and guitar player, Fish, drapes himself over my shoulder. “Ready for another epic night? Think we’ll get some good honeys come through the VIP experience tonight?”
I sigh and shake my head. Fish’s name is actually Fortissimo, which would be funny since we’re musicians if he didn’t hate it so much.
Not only since joining the human world, but under the sea too.
He’s always hated it, so to piss off his parents he’s always told everyone to call him Fish, and it stuck.
Lucky for us, it also irritates our uptight, hard-ass drummer, Bach. He’s all “image this” and “responsibility that.” Dude’s lucky we love him because he’s a real hard guy to live with on tour.
Then there’s Scooter. When we fell for music, he thought singing was his calling.
Unfortunately, we had to tell him he sounded more like a dying seagull, so he sticks to screaming and playing the bass.
He’s easy to get along with, doesn’t cause any bullshit, and takes my side in band arguments or votes.
“Cliff jumping for an after party anyone?” I offer to the guys as we convene backstage, basking in the quiet before the storm.
Variations of “yes” are their responses, and now I can’t wait for this show to come and go.
We got yanked out of our tour rotation long enough to finish up some stuff in the studio, so we haven’t been this close to the water in weeks.
It’s why we demanded an ocean-side tour after being practically locked in a studio for eons.
But, we just got here early this morning, so there hasn’t been time for us to take a dip, either.
As much as I miss the ocean when we’re away, I live for the music.
The vibrations of the bass and drums rattling my bones.
The way the guitar melodies course through my blood.
The screaming fans and the way they hang on my every word.
Even the people that aren’t impacted by my voice connect with me through the words I sing, the music that our band plays.
Sometimes I wonder if there’s some kind of energy sucking demon in my lineage because there have been times that I swear I could survive off the energy from the shows alone.
Mostly, I’d say our lives are pretty perfect, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like something was missing.
For years, sleeping around and having women hanging all over us was fun, exhilarating even.
It’s not anymore. To me, at least. Fish still loves having random women hanging off each arm, but I don’t know how much of it is honest. Fish and the guys don’t really like to talk about their feelings.
Maybe I just like to talk too much, because I always try.
“Do any of you ever think about looking for our mates?” I drop the question in front of me like a live explosive.
Scooter spits whatever he was trying to drink all over the side of Bach’s face, who then sends me a seething glare. I shrug.
“It’s an honest question. We’ve been on land for a while now, and we haven’t even tried to settle down.” I try to play if off as nonchalantly as possible, but I’m failing epically.
The truth is, it’s been nagging at me. Like an incessant humming right beside my ear. Similar to those blood-sucking flying insects down south. You try to swat it away, but you can’t find it until it’s biting you and leaving welts to remind you of its visit.
Fish recovers first. “We really talking about this right now?” He asks with a sigh, rubbing his forehead as he plops himself into the hard plastic chair next to mine.
I lean my elbows on my thighs. “We have time,” I offer suggestively. “It’s been eating at me a little over the last couple of years.” My voice trails off slightly, and I rub my hand up the back of my biceps.
Scooter drags Bach to the chairs and pulls him into one before saying, “If it’s important to you, we’ll make time for it when we can. We kind of just started this new tour, so it might be a little difficult.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Sorry I brought it up.” I try to backtrack, but you can’t put the shit back in the cow’s ass, or whatever the human saying is.
Bach steels himself and I expect my request to be outright rejected. “We’re not saying that. In fact, I’m inclined to agree. Though our lifespans are long, it would be nice to have a life partner.”
He says it so eloquently that it stops us all in our tracks. The thought that Bach agrees speaks volumes.
I’m not the only one feeling the need to have someone.