Mermaid Read online

  Mermaid

  By Max Ellendale

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Mermaid

  Copyright © 2019 Max Ellendale

  Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Deadra Krieger

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Max Ellendale

  www.maxellendale.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  "We keep this end chair empty," Jordan, with her black and purple braid swaying behind her, pointed out. "It's yours."

  "I don't know, Jor…" I glanced around the nautical themed salon. It brought a welcome change to the dour, humorless state of my inner being. The sexy mermaid murals on the wall, each with tantalizing eyes for another, settled me. It brought comfort to witness the way the women gazed at each other.

  "You've always liked it here." Jordan gave my elbow a squeeze. "I'm glad you came back."

  "Yeah, well. What choice did I have?" I leaned against the edge of one of the small tables that jutted out from a wall clad with dozens of nail polish bottles.

  "Why didn't you tell me how bad things got?" she asked, folding her arms over her middle.

  "For the same reason you didn't tell me that you were with Allie when she got shot?" I knew the jab was a low blow, but it felt warranted.

  "Point taken. But that was like two years ago. I told you eventually."

  "Months later. I was on the job then, Jor. You should've told me."

  "I didn't want to freak you out. It's bad enough like half my friends are cops or people who put their lives on the line daily. I didn't want you to worry."

  "Yeah…and look where that got me." My thoughts faded and my gaze came to fall on the salon chair. "I haven't cut hair in a decade, Jordan. Let alone learned any of the new coloring techniques." I gestured to her colorful mane. "Let me just wash hair. And clean up around here. Or do makeover birthday parties for kids or something."

  "I'm going to refresh your memory. Cin and I already have a plan for you." Jordan paused, tapping her bottom lip. "The birthday party idea isn't a bad one, though. We could use the back room and take down the massage tables."

  "Maybe." I smirked, running my fingers through the fallen strands of my hair that didn't make it to the careless bun.

  "I could always call Kari. You could sling beers at the bar." Jordan's mouth twitched as she fought a smile.

  "Don't even." I rolled my eyes, scoffing at the very thought. "Keep me away from her drama."

  "She's calmed down over the years…"

  "After what she did to Allie?" I shook my head. "I don't know if I could ever look upon her with favor."

  "They've moved on from it. We should, too."

  "Yeah." I gazed out the storefront to the shimmer of daylight on the wet pavement. Coming back to Seattle wasn't in my long-term plans. Portland had been my home for nearly ten years. Sometimes things collapse though, and we're forced to retrace our steps.

  And here I was.

  "Allie is happy you're home. She can't wait to introduce you to Stella."

  "Stella's the best thing that ever happened to her," I said, returning my attention to Jordan.

  "I agree. And their little girl was the second best." Jordan beamed, her dark eyes brightening with her joy. Only that notion could've brought a smile to my face.

  "I can only imagine." A sigh escaped me as I looked around the salon again. The colors and vibrancy set a stark contrast to my inner world. It reminded me of who I was doing this for, of why I agreed to come back here. "Mine was definitely the first best."

  "How's she doing with the transition?" Jordan asked, waving for me to follow her. We dropped down to sit together on the fluffy sofa in the break room. Jordan pointed to the coffee pot, but I shook my head.

  "It's hard on her. The school part is minor compared to losing her martial arts community. I have to get her into a place here as soon as possible. First, I need money for it."

  "Well, you got a job, so there you go." Jordan held her hand out to me. "And a friend."

  I took her hand and she gave mine a squeeze. "And a roof, thanks to you as well."

  "I also may know of a martial arts place. One of the girls who comes here teaches mixed martial arts around here somewhere. I'll get in touch with her."

  "Is there anything you can't do, Jordy?" I slouched on the sofa. The longer I sat there, the worse I felt. Movement kept me going, and surviving over the past six months.

  "Um...shoot semen across the room?" She grinned and I laughed.

  "Gross. Speaking of semen, how's things with Ainsley?"

  Jordan scrunched up her face. "Semen makes you think of Ainsley?"

  "The mention of ejaculation makes me think of sex which makes me think of Ainsley." I rolled my index finger in the air like a spiral. Jordan chuckled, shaking her head at me.

  "She's really good. This weekend, I'll be at her place most of the time. It'll give you guys some time to settle in," she said, nodding toward the ceiling. "The guest room is all set."

  "We won't be staying too long, Jor. Just until we find a place."

  "Anthony didn't give you a hard time about the move?"

  "No, he's really good about things. Always has been. It's only three hours distance which is minimal these days," I said. "He wanted us to stay with him, but I didn't want to give Finn false hope of having a nuclear family under one roof."

  "Especially when her mom is a raging lesbian. And always has been." Jordan's forehead wrinkled when she lifted both brows.

  "Right now, I'm nothing. I'm a raging nothing."

  She waved her hand in my face, leaning forward almost aggressively. "Stop. Stop that. You're a mother, and a woman attempting to recover her life after two really big losses who is turning to the support of her friends. That's not nothing, Vee. That's life."

  "Yeah well, I hate it." I dropped my head back on the sofa cushion and sighed. "But I have to get it together for Finn."

  "You are. You know what I hate though?" A mischievous grin trickled across her painted lips.

  "Oh God. Do I want to know?"

  "That hair!" She leapt forward and mashed her hands in my gross hair. "Messy bun no more. Let's start your get-it-together process with a new do."

  "Jordan!" I shoved at her, sputtering as a nest of tangles flopped over my face. "No way."

  "Yes way. C'mon. Finn's in school. We have all day. Let's go." She hopped up, grabbing my wrist and dragging me from the sofa. "Onward toward togetherness."

  "Jordan!"

  As always, Jordan got her way.

  She cut my ragged hair into the long layers of yesteryear, and coupled it with a spread of honey-colored highlights. I didn't hate it, though now my hair didn't match the
woman it belonged to.

  While I unpacked the duffle bags a few hours later, folding the clean laundry and storing it away in the shared chest of drawers, my thoughts continued to wander. In Jordan's nearly silent apartment, I wondered what Finn would think of our new temporary home. I'd dropped her off at school before we made it anywhere else. My only goal in mind was to keep things as routine as possible. This morning, we woke up in a dumpy motel in Portland, and less than four hours later, she was already attending school in Seattle. Tonight, she'd come home to a clean, safe apartment with a home-cooked meal on the table.

  Even if it was only mac and cheese.

  I heard the squealing brakes of the school bus before noticing the time. From the window of Jordan's second floor digs, I watched as a mane of red bumbled off the bus. Her sneaker-clad feet splashed in a puddle before she turned around and waved to the kids who returned the gesture. My heart gave a great leap when I saw the smile on her face.

  Finnley stopped in front of the salon, looking right then left. I watched as she shifted her backpack, pursed her lips, and angled her steps to the side entrance of the building. With broad, proud shoulders, she hopped up the stairs. I laughed softly, sniffling as I watched my little girl grow up a few points with her decision. The front door opened, and closed with a heavy bang belonging only to the grace of a middle schooler.

  "Mom?"

  "Here, love," I called out, swiping at my eyes to make sure no tears managed to escape. Tentative steps led her down the hall of Jordan's eclectic apartment. I met her in the hall, between the entrance to the sleek black and silver kitchen, and the brightly colored living room. Finnley's eyes widened as she glanced around.

  "This is Jordan's house? Cool." She dropped her backpack on the floor with a hefty thud.

  "It is. What do you think of that paint job?" I pointed to the long, windowless wall with a geometric mural.

  "It's cool. Like you can touch it and it won't be flat." She perked up, smiling at me. "I like it."

  "Well, I'm glad." I chuckled, holding my arms out to her. Her coat hit the floor before she returned my hug. I kissed the top of her head, smoothing out the static down the length of her hair. "How was school?"

  "Whoa." Her eyes widened as she stared at me. "Your hair!"

  "Do you like it?" I asked, her reaction brought a smile to my face.

  "Yeah. It's cool," she said, reaching up to touch it. "A little more lighter."

  "Just a little." I laughed softly and hugged her again. "So how was school?"

  "Good. The kids are nice—Is that our room?" She pointed behind me, breaking away from the hug.

  "Yep. Have at it."

  "Cool."

  Excellent. Cool hair. Cool apartment. Cool room. Things were looking up in the land of nine-year-olds.

  Finnley looked around before hopping up to sit on the bed.

  "This is gonna be better than the hotel."

  "Much better."

  "It smelled there." She crunched up her freckled nose and I laughed. "Like butt."

  "Gross. But I agree." I sat down beside her. "We'll just stay with Jordan until we find our own place, okay?"

  "Do you got a job here now?" She swung her feet, then kicked off her ratty blue Chucks.

  "I do. Working with Jordan doing hair and stuff." I kicked off my boots, mimicking her actions. "What do you think of that?"

  "I think it's—"

  "Wait, let me guess. Cool?"

  "Yeah." She grinned up at me. "'Cause I think hair stuff is better. And you're good at it and stuff."

  "Am I? How do you know that?"

  "Well, you been doing my hair for my whole life and I like it so..." She shrugged. "It fits."

  "I'm glad you approve, love." I nudged her with my elbow and she giggled. "Better than being a cop?"

  "Yeah." She looked up at me, her expression growing serious. "You're never gonna do that again, right?"

  "Never again." I reached up and stroked her cheek with my knuckle. We both fell quiet for a moment. "So mac and cheese for dinner, and burgers. What's your opinion on that?"

  "Cool." She giggled and flopped back on the bed.

  "Okay, goofball." I poked her belly. "I'll go work on dinner while you work on homework. Cool?"

  "So really uncool. But okay."

  "Good. One thing though, Jordan gave us free rein of the house, but let's stay out of her bedroom, okay? It's respectful to do that."

  "Okay." She swung her legs while staring up at the ceiling, appearing rather thoughtful for a kid.

  I broke away from her, letting her do what she needed in order to settle in.

  While I stood in the center of Jordan's apartment, I took a deep breath, glancing back to the bedroom where I could only see Finnley's dangling legs. Yeah. She was the reason I was doing this, any of it. I'd make things better for her, no matter what it took.

  Chapter Two

  "You're not going to mess it up. I'm literally here to shave my head, girl."

  "Jordan..." I gestured between Jordan and the long-haired client. "I don't even. I can't."

  "I'm going completely down to a military cut." The woman pretended to buzz her own head. "So practice on me. Go ahead."

  "How much are we paying you for this torture?" I asked, my hand nearly trembling as I held the scissors.

  "A free cut and a tryst between the thighs of the brunette-haired maiden over there." The woman pointed to Alex, who was busy at the front of the shop helping a woman pick out nail color.

  Jordan's laughed carried on endlessly. "Hurry up, Vee. Frankie has the hots for Alex who, at present, is single and aching in her girly bits for some action."

  "I forgot what it's like being around you people. Okay." I took a deep breath. "Okay."

  After a few more deep breaths to steady my nerves, I got to work on Frankie's wet hair. At first, we went with the simple trim. Jordan looked on with approval. This wasn't hard. I'd trimmed Finnley's hair myself for years. Next, we moved on to layering. We began with long layers extremely popular these days, then to a more choppy display.

  For the better part of two hours, Frankie sat there as we moved up the ranks from a neutral bob, to hipster chic, and finally a risky punk. From there, a pixie cut, then graduated onto shaving in varied shapes. At each stage, both Frankie and Jordan took pictures. Finally, when we ended on a mostly-shaved head with a mohawk, Frankie grinned.

  "Okay, spike it!" She clapped her hands. "Then we can shave it off."

  We abided by her wishes, and by noon, I'd had my first day of trials. Frankie was pleased with her varied stages and buzzed head, which Cin promptly dyed pink and white. I watched as she applied the dyes, and talked me through the process. Every time she moved, her heeled boots clicked obnoxiously on the tile.

  In the back of my mind, I couldn't help running through the scripts of my life. From celebrated Sex Crimes Unit Detective for the Portland Police Bureau, to disabled ex-law enforcement, to hairdresser.

  It didn't make any sense.

  After Frankie left, with Alex to boot, I swept the floor while Jordan rang up her last client of the morning before the midday lull. Jordan returned to my side, her hand on my shoulder.

  "If you think any harder, you're head's likely to burst."

  "Couldn't I just be the receptionist?" I asked, nearly pouting when she yanked the broom away from me.

  "Shut up and go sit down. You're limping."

  "I'm fine."

  "You've been on your feet for four hours. Sit down." Jordan nudged me to the empty rolling chair at one of the nail desks. I dropped into it, grabbing on to the corner of the chair between my thighs.

  "You're a lot whinier than the old Veronica who used to hang around here," chirped Cin as she finished up the sweeping for Jordan. "Someone needs a good fuck."

  "I forgot how gay you all are. Is everyone who comes in here some sort of raging lesbian or bisexual woman seeking entrapment?"

  "Alas, she has learned our true motives." Cin snapped her fingers.
"She's foiled our lesbian brothel plans."

  "You're an STD away, seriously." I smirked, leaning my head back against the wall while slouching in the chair.

  "While we do have a majority of queer clients, we have plenty of other people who come here, too. So don't get your panties all bound up." Jordan hopped up to sit on the counter beside me, her shins against my leg. "How was the weekend with the Finnster?"

  "Good. She loves your place. Being able to make meals and just hang around a comfortable environment was soothing for her." I brushed a bit of sweat from my brow and Jordan slid from her perch to crouch in front of me.

  "Vee, you're in pain."

  "It's just muscle. It'll pass."

  "Where does it get you?" Jordan's steely eyes wandered over me in a clinical gaze. I wondered if she picked up the habit from her girlfriend.

  "My back mainly. It'll go away." I patted the hand that she had on my knee.

  "Anything you can do for it?"

  "Not really. It'll calm down, I swear."

  Cin came around the corner after finishing her sweeping routine. "When Rodrigo comes in on Wednesday, we should have him work on you."

  "Um...I think I'll pass?" I looked between them and they both laughed.

  "He's the massage therapist. He works here Wednesdays," explained Cin. "So what do you ladies want for lunch? Grace is picking it up on her way in."

  "How about Mexican?" Jordan stood up, her hand on my shoulder in an almost protective gesture.

  "Jor, you're already paying my salary, letting me live in your house, and generally rescuing me from the bowels of hell. You don't need to feed me, too."

  "Business expenses. We get lunch every day. It's a rule," she said. "Sometimes we'll cook for each other, or bring enough for everyone. Most of the time we order out."

  "Is she telling the truth?" I asked Cin, who's hazel eyes softened when I asked. I expected her to bust my chops but she didn't.

  "She is, Vee. Relax. You're back home with the lesbo fam. We take care of each other."

  "Fine." I looked up to Jordan. "Fine."

  "Good." She gave me a squeeze. "Mexican it is."