7. Bree
Iwas always most at peace in the ocean. The waves enveloped me in a way only a lover could. Within those dark depths, I was weightless, breathless, yet full of life. The currents tugging me closer, willing me to let go. To abandon my control.
I longed to listen to the ocean’s song, longed to add my voice to its choir again.
The call of the sea was almost too much to bear some days. And as the years dragged on, I wondered how much of it I had imagined. The ocean didn’t really sing…
…did it?
A loud bang startled me from my reverie.
I blinked, and the bathroom stall swam back into focus. Handwritten notes and phone numbers marked the metal dividers separating the two stalls, and the once white tile floor had long since turned a gross shade of tan and dark brown. The grout needed a scrub?—
Wait, no. Scratch that.
The entire bathroom needed demolition.
From my vantage point kneeling in front of the toilet, holding a tattered sponge in one gloved hand and a label-less cleaning spray in the other, I had an up-close and personal view of the porcelain throne. Thankfully, the copious amount of bleach kept the worst smells from knocking me flat on my back.
None of the toilets in here had been replaced since at least the ‘80s. Maybe longer. Much like a tree stump, I imagined the rings in the bowls revealed the porcelain’s age.
Oh, the stories this bowl could tell.
“Bree! Stop daydreamin’ and get scrubbin’.” Frankie’s sharp tone cut through my thoughts before the bathroom door swung shut again—the source of the bang.
I swear, scaring me had become her life’s passion. She’d picked it up from Marissa, and the two of them together were relentless.
“Stop peeking at me in the bathroom,” I called out loud enough that I knew she could hear. “It’s creepy.”
The door opened, and my boss strode back in, her faded black boots thumping against the tile floor. As she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, a look of amusement pulled at her thin lips and crinkled the skin around her brown eyes.
She’d been a looker back in the day, with her mess of wild curls and hipster fashion sense. Sure, plenty of people still considered the fae woman good-looking even with the thick sprouts of white hair and lines across her face, but she’d given up dating long ago.
The gym was her one true love, and no one else could compare.
“The gym’s closed for lunch,” she said.
“Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus.” I sat back on my heels and winced as my ankle cracked against the tile. “Ow.”
“Never thought you’d sound just like the rest of us landlubbers.” Frankie’s chuckle echoed in the tiled room as she pivoted on her heel to leave. “Finish up and come eat. I got subs.”
“Because eating after scrubbing sticky crap off the toilet bowl is just so appetizing,” I grumbled at her retreating back.
The door swung shut, leaving me alone to finish scrubbing said crap.
I sighed. Marissa was supposed to be the one cleaning today, but as usual, she’d talked her way out of it late last night. I’d hold her to her promised cleanings, no matter how long it took. She could be ninety-nine years old and wheelchair-bound, for all I cared. I’d still make her fulfill her promises.
Leaning forward again, I squeezed the spray bottle’s handle, soaking the bowl in commercial-grade bleach. Scrubbing toilets to make a living hadn’t been on my life’s to-do list. Then again, I’d never planned on running away from home, either.
At least now we were free to do what we pleased, even if it meant living paycheck to paycheck.
Meeting the Red Dragon yesterday might have been one of the highlights of my life. Or of recent years, anyway, even if he was a cocky flirt who hadn’t given me the time of day all those years ago.
Memories of Dominic’s hardened muscles flexing beneath my hands rushed through me like a crashing wave. His body was so much more amazing up close than from outside the ring. Ridiculously so. No one needed to be that good-looking and that rich.
My attraction to him made perfect sense, and I was sure it was completely normal for any straight woman to have. Actually, any person period. Didn’t mean I needed to go acting on that attraction. I bit my lip against a sudden surge of desire.
But what was one steamy night in the grand scheme of things?
As if he were even remotely interested in that prospect with a girl like me. Yes, he’d asked me out, but I was sure it was him just having some fun. He could get any woman he wanted whenever he wanted, a fact I’d seen with my own eyes on several occasions.
As far as he was concerned, I was a nobody. Just a very bad masseuse in training.
Laughing to myself, I swiped the sponge over the toilet and called it a day. No amount of scrubbing would ever make these things look clean again, but at least I’d vanquished the germs.
I winced as I stood, stretching out my sore back and legs. Thirty was a few years away and already I felt like an old blobfish. I shuddered to think how much worse I’d feel by then.
After shoving the caddy into the overpacked supply closet and thoroughly scrubbing my hands despite wearing elbow-length gloves while cleaning, I skipped down the basement steps to grab Finley.
As I approached his aquarium, the axolotl blinked sleepily up at me between gently waving strands of seaweed. He was enjoying a nap, one of many throughout the day and something I wished I had more time for.
“Hey, buddy. Sorry to wake you, but Frankie brought lunch.” I submerged my arm and reached my palm toward him.
Yawning, he let out a stream of bubbles and stretched, taking his time.
“I smelled tuna,” I added.
Immediately, Finley’s iridescent skin swirled with color, and he swam onto my palm. He raced up my arm to perch on my shoulder, where he yipped with excitement. Unlike human-world axolotls, his kind were more than capable of making sounds whenever they wished. He could also use his magic to dry himself in a flash so as not to soak my shirt.
I laughed and dried off my arm before heading back upstairs. “You and me both.”
Because luminara axolotls were even rarer on land than my kind, outings for him were few and far between. We took advantage any time the gym was closed and no one but Frankie, Marissa, or me would see him.
In Frankie’s office, the promised food lay waiting on her desk, making my mouth water. It was the perfect way to recharge after a busy morning cleaning. My boss didn’t glance up from her computer, and I knew better than to interrupt her.
I grabbed half of the tuna sub and sank into one of the worn chairs, hoping today wouldn’t be the day the seat gave out. It held firm, and I bit into the sandwich with gusto before tearing off a chunk for Finley.
The axolotl scurried down my shoulder to the desk where I set his food. He dug in as fast as I did, and his opalescent scales shimmered brightly with happiness.
After a final mutter at her screen, Frankie leaned back in her squeaking chair and nodded to the little creature. “Heya, Fin. What’s shakin’?”
Without lifting his head from the tuna, the axolotl shook his tail in response.
She cackled. “Never gets old. What a trooper.”
My mouth was too full to respond, but I managed an agreeable nod.
“Look, I gotta talk to you about somethin’ important.” Frankie removed her reading glasses and rubbed at the bridge of her nose.
I swallowed the bite I was chewing, a bad feeling rising in my stomach. “Okay…”
She tapped some papers on her desk. They were crumpled around the edges as if picked up too many times to count. It wasn’t an unusual state of affairs for paperwork in here. “The gym’s in a bit of a pickle.”
I drew my eyebrows together. “A what?”
“Pickle.”
Was she losing her mind? I’d never heard of a pickle that large before. “How is that physically possible?”
She shot me a look like she was wondering if I’d lost my mind, too. “Ten years on land and you haven’t heard that phrase? Bein’ in a pickle means bein’ in trouble, in a tough spot, ’tween a rock and a hard place.”
I still didn’t get it. “Why would anyone think a pickle means trouble?”
“Forget the pickle. The gym’s in some hot water.” She paused, grimaced, then threw her hands up. “Ack, damnit! The gym’s in trouble, Bree.”
A dollop of tuna landed on my finger. I licked it off. “You could have just said that, you know.”
Gripping the edges of the desk, Frankie stared at me, her brown irises becoming tinged with violet. The fae woman was about to lose her mind.
That was what she got for using human sayings with a siren, especially one like me. “What kind of trouble?”
The violet hue faded back to brown. Crisis averted.
“Financial.”
Just kidding. Crisis reinstated and lunch officially ruined.
My stomach dropped into a churning abyss. I set the rest of my sub on the table, and Frankie shot me a sympathetic look. Money problems weren’t something I could fix.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Do Riss and I need to move out?”
“What? No.” Frankie shook her head so hard a few curls sprung loose from the pencil holding the rest back. Her idea of a makeshift hair clip. “Not yet, anyway. I’m hopin’ not ever. Unless it’s by choice.”
I nodded slowly, not convinced. Frankie and the gym had been in one kind of debt or another since the day Marissa and I showed up in D.C., soaking wet and starving. Money issues had never been a secret between us, but she’d never had to involve me before.
If she was bringing it up now, things were bad. Bad as in Marissa and I could end up homeless again.
“I only have so much in savings, but I can?—”
Frankie held up a hand. “I’m not askin’ for your money.”
I frowned, not sure where she was going with this. There was no way she’d ask me to do something drastic like become a stripper.
She eyed me as if expecting a certain reaction, I just didn’t know what reaction she expected. “I want you to fight.”
My eyes widened. Well, she’d just proved me wrong—she was going with drastic.
“I know you’re about to object, but hear me out.” Frankie leaned forward, placing her forearms on the desk and clasping her hands together. “No one has seen someone like you do…what you do.”
She waved a hand in the air to demonstrate my magic. At least, I assumed that’s what she meant by that gesture. “Your abilities would bring in a huge crowd, guaranteed. We’d have this place out of debt within a week.”
My heart pounded painfully against my ribs, and my lungs burned as if the air had been sucked from the room. There was no way I could do what she was asking. That kind of visibility would draw eyes, prying eyes that could unveil our secret and expose us to my father’s relentless pursuit, bringing him straight to our doorsteps.
I was paranoid enough already.
My father, a sea king driven by tradition and ambition, had sought to marry my sister and me off to other kingdoms. I vowed to protect us both from that fate, and it would all be for nothing if he found us. The possible consequences of the attention Frankie’s suggestion would bring were too dire to ignore.
For the last ten years, she had been our savior, the one who took us in when we had nowhere else to go. I owed her my gratitude, my loyalty. Maybe even my life. But the path she was suggesting, this so-called solution to our financial woes, sent a chill down my spine.
After everything we’d gone through together, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
Except this.
Frankie must have seen the hesitation on my face. “Listen, kiddo, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. You know that, right?”
I nodded and swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “And I would do it if I could, honestly. But it’s…complicated.”
After a long pause, Frankie leaned back in her chair and kicked her boots up on the desk. Her expression and body language said she was unfazed, but there was no hiding the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. “Okay, sure, kid. Forget I asked. I’ll figure somethin’ else out. I always do.”
“Frankie, it’s just—” I paused and sucked in a deep breath, “I haven’t been completely honest with you about…about our past.”
“You think after all these years I haven’t realized that?” One of her eyebrows rose. “Everyone’s got secrets, kid. You wanna tell me yours, that’s up to you.”
I folded a corner of the sub’s wrapper over, fidgeting with the crinkling paper as I worked up my courage. I could tell her more of the truth without telling her the whole truth. “Rissa and I aren’t exactly orphans like we said.”
Frankie chuckled and reached for an apple. “Runaways, huh? I figured it was somethin’ like that.”
I nodded. “Our father is, uh, controlling. To the extreme. It wasn’t a good environment for either of us.”
Her intense brown gaze considered me for a moment. “So, what? You worried he’ll find you here if you fight?” She bit into the apple with a loud crunch.
I blinked. Geez, she was good. “Yes, exactly.”
“I get that,” she said between chews. “My own pops was a real asshole, beat me senseless any chance he got. But you’re adults now. He can’t touch you.”
Except our father most definitely could. A princess’s life was never her own. “Age doesn’t matter in my family.”
Finished with his meal—or at least as much as he could fit into his tiny stomach—Finley waddled over to the edge of the desk. He blinked his pale blue eyes until I offered him my palm, which he used to climb my arm to my shoulder. Tucking his tail around my neck, he curled up and yawned.
Frankie bit into the apple with another crunch and juice ran down her chin. She swiped her forearm across her chin. “I can protect you. Both of you, you know that, especially once this debt is paid off. We got friends in low places.” She winked.
I couldn’t help but smile. That we did. The type of fighting we did here was outlawed for a reason—no rules other than to keep it in the ring. Oh, and try not to kill each other, though accidents did happen.
Frankie might be able to keep us from ending up in jail, but unfortunately, she couldn’t protect us from our father. No one could.
My stomach rumbled as hunger returned with a vengeance.
Frankie nudged the tuna sub back toward me. “Fine. No fight. I need your brains then.”
Picking up the sandwich, I drew my eyebrows together in confusion. Surely, she couldn’t mean…
She groaned at the look on my face. “Not literally, you nerd. First the pickle, now the brain. Lord, help me. I need your help comin’ up with some ideas. Fundraisers, that sorta thing.”
Oh. Duh. That made way more sense than a lobotomy.
“What if we held a charity auction?” I suggested, trying to think outside the shell. “We could ask local businesses to donate items or services and then sell them off to the highest bidder.”
Frankie shook her head. “Tried that a few years back, remember? It didn’t bring in nearly enough money. Also, it ended up causin’ trouble when some of the hot-headed bidders didn’t win the items they wanted.”
“Right, bad idea.” I crossed it off my mental list and took a bite of my sandwich, chewing as I thought. “How about hosting a talent show? People could pay to enter, and the audience would vote for their favorite act with donations.”
“Too many permits and too much organization needed for that,” she said, her voice heavy with skepticism.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen. Marissa sent a text to say she had a makeup class in the evening, so she couldn’t clean for me today either. I groaned.
Yet again, she was getting away with not living up to her side of the bargain. She knew she could hold her classes over my head, at least until school was over and she officially had her massage therapy license.
“Marissa may be better at this brainstorming thing than I am, she—” I paused as an idea came to me. An amazing idea that would make an evil genius proud. “Actually, Marissa would be perfect.”
“You mean if she were ever here long enough to ask for ideas. I suppose kids her age just chat on one of their electronic dohickeys, right?” She barked out a laugh. “Listen to me. Do I sound old or what?” Her face sobered. “I didn’t use to be this old, Gabs.”
She was the only person in this world I would let call me that. Ever. Anyone else would feel my wrath via a book thrown at their head. A big, heavy, hardcover one, too.
“I meant I have an idea that might just save the gym.” I took another bite of the tuna, chewing and swallowing quickly as my excitement built. “What if we offered massages to fighters and members right here in the gym? We could raise funds without drawing too much attention to ourselves, and Marissa could be the masseuse as payback for not cleaning like she said she would.”
The more I thought about this idea, the more I liked it. If it was successful enough, it could turn into a long-term way of generating extra income for Subliminal. I’d keep that tidbit to myself for now, just in case it wasn’t successful. No sense in getting both our hopes up.
“Since when did you become so devious?” Frankie arched a brow, amused skepticism etched into her weathered features. “You think people would pay for massages in a place like this? We’re not exactly set up for a relaxin’ experience.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” I said eagerly. “We can create posters and flyers to advertise the service, and even offer discounts or package deals to attract new clients outside of gym members. It’ll help pay off the debt, and I’m sure word of mouth will spread quickly.”
Frankie stared at the wall, her eyes unfocused as she considered the idea. “It’s unconventional, but I guess it could work. We’d need to invest in some basic supplies and equipment though. I’m not sure if we can manage it, especially with the current debt.”
“That’s the best part. The upfront costs would be minimal.” I grinned. “We have most of the essentials already thanks to Marissa’s schooling. Give me a week to get everything up and running. If it’s not generating enough interest by then, we can reevaluate. But I think this can be the solution we need.”
I could see the idea rolling around in Frankie’s head like waves breaking against a beach, her initial doubts fading into cautious optimism. She knew how much the gym meant to me and how hard I would work to make this succeed.
Finally, she nodded and a smirk crept over her face. “Alright, let’s give this a shot. But you’re in charge of breakin’ the news to your sister.”
Relief washed over me as I realized we had found a solution that wouldn’t put any of us at risk. “Deal. Knowing Rissa, she’ll find a way to enjoy it.”
Frankie chuckled, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
The gym was my home, these people my family. Failure wasn’t an option. I would make sure this massage business became a success, no matter what. We would find a way.
We always did.