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“I’m so sorry,” Roy sighed, releasing the tension. “Didn’t know you got it wrapped around you like that.”
Cal’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Do that again?”
“What?” Roy froze.
“It felt nice.” With a wink, Cal continued, “There’s also a lot of rope. Just saying.”
Before Roy could stop himself, a flood of images swept his imagination. This intoxicating blue-haired prince, helpless and whimpering under his touch, braided ropes digging into his soft skin—
“Roy?” Neri’s lilt snatched him out of his fantasy. “You there?”
Roy cleared his throat and leaned over the rail. The cold metal pressed against the insistent twitching in his groin. “Over here.”
“Hello, Neri!” Cal appeared next to him, still fumbling with the net. “How are you today, fair lady?”
The mermaid giggled. “You’re a breath of fresh air in this grumpy wasteland, Caelestian.”
If it weren’t true, Roy would be offended. The water rippled next to Neri, and another siren emerged—blonde, with pointy ears and scaly patches along her jaw.
“Hello boys.” Lynn whistled. The rainbow-coloured pyrite hanging from her necklace shimmered between her fingers as she held it up. “Roy, thank you. I would’ve said yes to any pebble, but this—this is truly precious.”
“Congratulations.” Roy smiled, his chest tight with emotion. “When’s the ceremony?”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Lynn responded, focusing on Cal. “We haven’t met yet, have we?”
“To my great disappointment, we have not. I’m Caelestian, but please call me Cal.”
“Lynn,” she said with a flap of her tail. “You’re a good catch, Cal.”
As the conversation steered into dangerous waters, Roy did his best to navigate back. “Any good kelp nearby?”
“I’ve seen whole fields not far from here.” Neri lay flat on her back, lazily flicking her tail as she drifted forward. “Get your rake ready. Also, I think you’re supposed to dry the kelp in that net, not your boyfriend, but who am I to judge—”
“I really need new friends,” Roy concluded and turned his back to the mermaids, hiding his chuckle.
Shortly after midday, Roy’s booking sheet in his e-Scroll filled up, forcing him to decline new customers. They packed the stall and hopped into Roy’s hovertruck. While Roy drove home, Cal curled in the passenger seat, scribbling numbers into the accounting sheet. Fortunately, he seemed completely immune to motion sickness.
“After deducting taxes, your insurance, salaries for Uros and me, ship travel costs, and the buying price of the peppers… net profit is two thousand and seventy-three koruns.”
“Not bad.” Roy flicked the indicator, merging into the right lane on Wedunia’s outer autodrome circle. The road grew monotone, and his palm landed on Cal’s knee. “That’s almost twice as much as before.”
“Uros has been looking into tax law.” Cal laced their fingers together; the e-Scroll powered off in his lap. “You should be eligible for some deductions. In the next three years, you can write off a third of the ship’s price, including the modifications.”
“Right,” Roy mumbled. He’d attempted to apply for tax deductions before, but the forms were too overwhelming. “Maybe.”
Dodging a clueless minicar that almost swerved into his lane, Roy took the exit toward Harbour 70441.
They found Uros elbow-deep in the seaweed brine. Pyraxis’ three suns had reddened his skin. With a loud squelch, he twisted a rope of kelp, squeezed the water, and hung it on the rack, letting it flutter in the breeze.
“Hey.” Cal approached him, hands stuck deep in his pockets. “How’s it going?”
Uros scoffed, returning to the brine barrel. “Wonderful. My fingernails are now permanently green.”
“There’s a lemon scrub in the bathroom for that.”
Roy’s unsolicited advice was met with a glare. “Whatever. Any news from home?”
“No.” Cal sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “Let me help you with this.”
