Page 2 of Goldilocks

Mary:Where are you?? Sam, he showed up! Everybody is going crazy!

Mary:He’s on the decking with Mom

Mary:Sam!!!

There were about twelve messages of roughly the same thing, or at least Sam assumed so. He skipped the rest. Sam finally remembered that it was his aunt’s birthday, and he should have been there hours ago. How many hours ago? Sam cursed as he saw the time – almost 10 p.m. He should have been there at 5 p.m.Great.

Sam:Running a bit late but on my way. Who showed up?

Texting at night was an exercise of extreme frustration, but he made himself do it, slow and methodical so there were no mistakes, and then put his phone away.

Sam’s feet dragged as he tidied up the rest of his supplies. He was going to hear it. From everybody. His dadthis,his dadthat. Sam roughly folded up the table and then the chair, slotting them back into the cabin.

Sam went to secure his daily haul and discovered an empty tub. Groaning, he looked at the darkened sky crowded with stars. He hadn’t pulled the pots yet. He’d planned to do it after studying.

He glared at Devil, intending to blame him, but the merman was so absorbed in Sam’s art that the words went unsaid. His irritation eased, a proud feeling prodding at his ribs instead. Even if it was self-absorbed, Devil was admiring somethingSammade.

Sam adjusted his plan. He would do itquicklyand just re-bait and toss them back. Hopefully, there would be a bit of money in it for him. He needed new textbooks for the second half of the semester, and he loathed the thought of having to ask any of his aunts for money. That always led to a conversation about Sam’s dad and everything he wasn’t doing.

Devil stayed perfectly balanced on the side of the boat as Sam started the engine and got them moving toward his pots. He had ten of them, and of the lobsters caught, only about half were worth keeping. It would net him…Sam sighed. Eighty euro, tops.

Sam could earn more money working in any of the businesses on the shoreline if he could stand to put up with the tourists. But there were a lot of recurring visitors that Sam knew would make his job hell if he tried to work on land. Not to mention his thing with reading made any job that involved writing quickly a nightmare. Becoming a server was Sam’s most frequent stress dream.

Sam re-baited the traps as he went, pushing the thought from his mind as he worked. He didn’t particularly like this job, but nobody gave him a hard time about it. The local fishmonger Archie, even if he never gave Sam a cent above the day’s going rate, also never tried to give him less either. Plus, he could do the work. It was familiar. Sam had been pulling pots with his dad since he was twelve. His dad had been an excellent teacher, safety-focused and patient. He would repeat things endlessly until Sam understood what he needed to, and never once had Oisín ever lost patience with him.

Devil huffed, pulling Sam from his thoughts. Sam turned and found golden eyes fixed on him.

“What?”

Devil showed the unfinished painting, and it niggled at Sam annoyingly. Sam frowned again. “I told you. I ran out of paint.”

Devil pointed at the blank part, where his tail was sketched but not coloured.

“Yeah, I can see it’s not done. I have no paint. Or time. Are you done looking?” Sam reached for the stack. Devil angled away from him, moving them out of reach as he sifted through the pages again.

Sam snorted in amusement but left the vain creature to his self-admiration. He took extra time admiring the ones that had his hair, touching his waves as he did. Sam watched him, entertained, as they motored inland. His local village was mostly wharf and pier, and regular yellow lamps lit the entire stretch of the village from one end to another. In the summer, every single docking space was filled with tour boats and yachts, but given that it was March, the only boats present belonged to local fishermen, with only one or two yachts moored. Sam kept an eye out for anyone working on their boat, but it was late enough that he had the place to himself. Though, even if Sam did spot someone and called a warning to Devil, he wasn’t confident the merman would even care. He didn’t seem to possess the same shyness as Adonis who hid from strangers unless he was in his human form.

Sam’s spot was on the very outskirts of the village, the furthest point on the furthest pier. Sam had moved his spot here months ago when he realised Devil would follow him right to the shoreline, regardless of whether people were around. In the distance, he could see Connor’s yacht parked right against the wharf at Sally’s pub. Technically, nobody was allowed to park there, but Sam had never seen anyone hassle Connor about it.

Sam was sorely tempted to forget Aunt Mal’s party completely. Mary might have been more like his sister than his cousin growing up, but Aunt Mal had never stepped into any sort of ‘motherly’ role. Instead of the party Sam could stop in to see Connor, where he undoubtedly had Adonis causing a riot with the locals with his oddness, and then just crash on the boat. He’d been doing that a lot lately. He’d even repurposed a pallet into a bed frame and had an extra blanket that served as a mattress. There were showers and bathrooms in Archie’s workshop, and all the local fishermen had access. Sam used to fantasise about having something like the blue-sailed yacht a few rows down. Something with an indoor section to live in. A bed.

Even if he could never afford a yacht like that, he was at least determined to be seen as more than a poor fisherman’s son.

“I’ve got to go.” Sam fetched a plastic folder from the cabin and approached Devil. The painting on top was the unfinished one. Devil ran his fingers over the edge where Sam’s paint had run out, and Sam’s fingers twitched, imagining filling in the blank space. “I’ll finish it next time,” Sam promised.

Devil met Sam’s eyes. He didn’t glare. He didn’t have to.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Sam reached for the sheets, but Devil angled away from him with a huff. He started to leaf through them again. “Okay, fine. Here.” Sam set the folder down next to him. “Slide it under the door when you leave. I really have to go.”

Sam locked up and hoisted his crate of lobsters with him onto the pier. He checked again there was nobody about to spot Devil. Last summer Connor said he’d seen other unusual folk like Adonis and Devil sailing toward The Tear, but soon after he’d passed through it himself, the chaos of two weather fronts from different worlds meeting had manifested. Gales and towering waves ensured nothing short of a solid vessel with an engine could get through without being blown off course. Aside from merfolk, Sam didn’t think anything else had made it through to their world. Which meant anyone coming across Devil would get quite the shock. Luckily the waterfront was deserted.

“Good night,” he called behind him.

Devil’s eyes flicked up, tracking after Sam as he walked away down the pier.

Chapter Two

Sam pulled up to the house, surprised at the collection of cars still crowding the drive. Aunt Mal lived in the countryside, and the nearest neighbour was miles away, so it wasn’t like they had to keep the noise levels down for anyone, but his family weren’t exactly big partiers.