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CHAPTER5
The water closed over Calista as she dove deeper into the mermaid tank, initially chilly, but warming once she acclimated. Keeping her body in a straight line, she used her arms to push against the current. Here, the full silence of being underwater replaced all the club noise. Her senses narrowed to the pull of her muscles, water flowing over her skin, and her loose hair that touched her arms. She swam toward the back, down one story, then two. She did a lazy flip and slowed, hanging above the rocky tank floor.
This was really cool. Despite her bravado, Calista didn’t move to the front glass wall. She was here and that was enough. Calista swam to the treasure chest and climbed on top of the coins. From there, she kicked her flipper-clad feet back and forth and took in the scene distorted by the goggles and water.
The Snowers’ dancers performed hip thrusts to the awe of the onlookers shoved against the glass wall. She couldn’t see Ronan from this angle, but most of the guys standing in the closeup viewing area were players. The previous guests must have ceded room for them. Canadians were hockey fans, made sense. The players she’d already met personally stuck out first:
SaxonEtterwahl, twenty-two years old rookie, 6’3”, jersey number eighty-three. Position sniper, still finding his way, but he showed great promise. His eyes were as large as the fishes as he took in the dancers’ antics.
Kiernan Kelchier, twenty-six years old from Boston, 6’1”, jersey number thirty-six, playmaker. Unexpected moves, and crowds loved him. He winked at one woman while nodding to another, and waving at a third. Piper said containing him would be like wrapping a present with glitter paper and trying to not get any sparkles on her hands.
Liam Velhausen, twenty-six, 6’2”, jersey number fourteen, Canadian, nice. He was pointing at various spots on the glass, high then low. From this viewpoint, Calista couldn’t tell whether the women or the fish had his attention the most. Goal tenders were like that, alert to everything.
Calista didn’t know what her exact agenda was. Sometimes diving in without a plan could result in incredible innovations, other times, it left her feeling awkward. She put the fake coin down and picked up one of the prop gemstones, a pearl the size of a beach ball. She weighed the orb in her palms. The opalescent surface shined under the water.
This would look even better inside the giant fake clam over there. Did the shells close? She could climb between the top and bottom shells and be a totally incognito creature in there, peeping out at everyone; or that might draw attention. What was that painting? Aphrodite on the half shell? That would be her, hah. Nah. The stunning dancers drew all the guys, not her.
Being on the treasure chest was a great spot. She had a clear view of the fish. They swam down and nosed the seal over their release hatch. What time did they get freed tonight? The zebra fish looked especially hungry.
As long as Calista kept her gaze on the fish or over the heads of the dancers, she was good. If her eyes dropped, she caught a view of entirely too much of the dancers’ underwater backsides. Their thong-wearing bottoms were topped by a black puck. The look was not working for her. Guess she did have an opinion on the dancers’ costumes after all. She shouldn’t have doubted Dahlia, those suits needed to be replaced.
The water current wound her hair over her upper arm. Calista brushed the strands back. She should have gone with a braid like the long-haired dancers had done.
Only one dancer had short hair. Her razored pixie cut spiked up in the water as if she wore a spiny black sea urchin on her scalp. Not a dancer, Willow, big cheat.
As if Calista had telegraphed her judgement through the waves, Willow pivoted, bent her knees to her puck-covered chest, and scanned the tank by moving her head left to right. She stilled. Her gaze locked onto Calista.
Willow shoved her hands forward and kicked into a horizontal swim position. With sharp strokes, she headed toward the back of the tank. The cheat came to a stop in front of the fish tube, blocking Calista’s view of the exit hatch. Willow planted her feet and threw her arms out straight, like a starfish. After Willow steadied herself, she flipped her hand over, holding out her palm and widening her fingers. She rolled them in a circular motion, indicating she wanted the faux pearl gem that Calista held in her palms.
Willow craved what didn’t belong to her. Shocker.
Calista’s heart punched in anger about far more than the faux pearl. This woman had hurt Piper, then, not learning from her mistake, she’d hurt Dahlia. Calista kept her breathing steady, pulling in the correct amount of oxygen.
Willow deserved to be denied what she wanted for once. Calista tightened her grip on the smooth gem and shook her head.
Willow reached over and snatched the pearl away.
Calista’s empty hands drifted to her sides. WTH. Her muscles tensed to rise, and Calista forced herself to maintain composure, because no one needed a scene. Calista bit her teeth into the rubber of her mouthpiece and resisted the urge to take the pearl back. The crowd near the glass wasn’t only hockey players but other partiers too; neither her sister nor her cousin would thank her for causing a public spectacle. She was a lady. She made her posture relax like she didn’t care.
Willow spun back toward the front, floated her legs out behind her, and mermaid kicked her way to the center of the dance line. Once in place, she shook the pearl over her head like she had won the Stanley Cup. She followed that with a pirouette. The movement and pearly glow drew extra attention her way.
This was not Calista’s scene; she should go. Calista rose.
A movement in the crowd caught her attention—Ronan. He shifted away from his group and followed the glass tank around to the side. He walked, while looking her way, until the wall stopped him from going any further. He was mere feet away. All that colossal manliness right there.
Calista’s heart fluttered like the blades on the faux fern that brushed against the glass. She swam forward and waved.
Ronan flattened his palm on the wall. Calista swam to him as if he was reeling her in. She fitted her hand against his with only the thick, smooth glass between them. His hand was so much larger than hers, no wonder he had stellar control of his hockey stick. What a man. And the best part of this moment? She could stand here in silence because her oxygen tank mouthpiece didn’t allow speech, and it didn’t matter that she didn’t have the right thing to say. Score.
The bad thing about being voiceless was that she actually had things she wanted to say to him. She wanted to express her admiration over how he’d dug deep at the last game and coordinated the effort for a win. She wanted to hear about how he grew up, who coached him, and how he excelled in so many aspects of the game. He had speed, charisma, and control. He was a wonder to watch, perfection. An underrated player who was about to breakout big, but for now, only she seemed to recognize that Ronan would become one of the greatest who ever played. She shivered and pressed her fingers harder against the glass.
Ronan grinned, showing a nice smile and a sparkle in his blue eyes.
He must sense her appreciation for him; he was spot on. He was extraordinary. She tapped her fingers on the tank wall as if she could convey her admiration in morse code.
Ronan pointed to his chest, then up, and arched his eyebrows.
Calista looked up.
He was indicating the fishing pier.
Oh, this was that moment. Ronan wanted to scoop her out of the mermaid tank and talk too. She nodded enthusiastically, gave him two thumbs up, and kicked her flippers back with her legs together in a mermaid emoji pose.
Ronan winked, made a fishing reel motion, and left her. He walked back around to where his fellow players stood. He tapped on the shoulder of a few of the men and pointed to a doorway, then he disappeared from view.
Calista kept her gaze upward. Minutes later, Ronan was at the top of the pier, accompanied by Dodo, Liam, and Kiernan. Kiernan went right to the edge. He held his left hand out with his fingers curled inwards around an imaginary rod, and with his right hand he made forward circles, as if he were manning an imaginary reel. He bucked his body back and forth as if deep-sea fishing against a fierce swordfish. Liam clapped him on his shoulder in encouragement and shared humor.
While those two hovered at the ledge, Ronan disappeared from view and returned with real fishing nets. He handed them out to each of the men, and the four of them lined up at the pier. Not hesitating, Ronan lifted his pole up and over the edge. The end lowered into the water, then Ronan maneuvered the net in Calista’s direction.
