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“I said—” Gid fished a boxy pistol out of the tracksuit’s waistband, giving them—if only for a moment—a glimpse of turquoise bikini briefs. Shaw considered whether now would be an appropriate time to tell Gid they made him look like he ought to tap into his mermaid tendencies. Merman tendencies. In a good way. “—I can handle it.”
He motioned with the gun toward the front of the house and stepped aside, so North and Shaw could go first. North took the lead, and Shaw kept close to his side.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” North said in a low voice as they took the steps.
“What?” Shaw asked.
“You know what. You’re thinking about that postcard from the Mermaid Society of Texas.”
“Oh my God, North! I forgot about the postcard! And I can tell him they invited you, North McKinney, personally, to join them for their annual conference.”
“Yeah, I wonder how I got on that particular brain-fuck of a mailing list.”
Shaw kept his face perfectly smooth; it was more fun that way. “I wonder if I still have a picture of it on my phone.”
“I swear to Jesus Christ, Shaw.”
Inside, Shaw’s first impression of the house was that it had too much masculine energy, which meant North was going to love it. His thought was confirmed when he saw North glancing around approvingly. Everything was hard lines, painted wood, and modernist glass. Through an opening ahead of them, Shaw glimpsed what he thought was the living room, with white damask sofas and leather accent chairs. Gid called out for them to turn to the right, though, and they passed a dining room, and then what Shaw suspected was called the butler’s pantry or the catering pantry or the something pantry. A flight of stairs rose at the end of the hall, but Gid called for them to turn left, so they turned again, and he sent them through a door.
Into, it turned out, a laundry room.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” North said, toeing a pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m about to get shot on top of some dude’s raunchy trunks.”
“All right,” Gid said, shutting the door behind him. “Who are you?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Shaw said, “you experienced, er, penetrative violence in less-than-surgical conditions.”
For a moment, North’s mouth worked soundlessly. Then he managed, “Look who’s fucking talking.”
“Hey,” Gid said.
“Do you remember Ricky?” Shaw asked. “You hooked up with him for, like, half of sophomore year?”
North stabbed a finger at him. “I found another of those creepy Emery Hazards-with-the-macaroni-doodle under our bed, Shaw. Don’t talk to me about Ricky Booth.”
“It wasn’t just that his room was filthy; it was the smell. You stank every time you came back.”
“Hey!” Gid screamed. He waved the gun. “Listen to me. I’m talking and I have a gun, so you have to listen to me.”
“What?” North snapped, rounding on Gid. “What’s so fucking important we can’t finish our conversation?”
Gid stared back at him. Whatever he’d taken, it was slowing him down, buffering his reactions. Finally he said, “Who are you?”
“Meals on wheels,” North said.
“I think you’ve already used that one,” Shaw said. “We’re delegates from the Mermaid Society of Texas. Wait, he might check that. We’re representatives—official representatives—from the Mermaid Collective—” He gave North a knowing look; North appeared to be trying to take calming breaths through his nose. “—of Missouri.”
“Why in the fuck would they have a mermaid collective in Missouri? What the fuck even is a mermaid collective? Jesus Christ, Shaw, they don’t even have an ocean. Where are the mermaids coming from? Are they humping their way up the interstate?”
“First of all, mermaids are very sexual beings, so in theory, they could hump their way wherever they wanted.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And second of all, mermaids can live in lakes and rivers, North. It’s a speciesist and oceanist stereotype to believe all mermaids—”
Gid screamed. When he finished, he waved the gun again, “Be quiet. Stop talking. Tell me your names.”
Shaw considered pointing out the inherent difficulty in obeying both requests. He considered pointing out that Gid, like North, might have a tendency to repeat himself when he was excited.
