Okay, so chapter 14 might actually be the most disjointed and pointless chapter ever, idk. But here it is!

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Chapter 13

Atlanta drifted lazily along the bottom of her tank. She tugged her chubby boxfish companion along with her as she did so. As it turned out, the little sea creature didn’t have much in the way of intellect. It couldn’t speak, it couldn’t gesture. The extent of its capabilities started with breathing, and ended with ingesting and digesting food. By all definitions it was a pretty stupid and useless animal. Leopold had suggested she called him a ‘pet’, as that’s what humankind normally called dumb little critters they dragged about with them. He also mentioned that pets required names as provided by their owners. And so Atlanta simply called the boxfish ‘Pet’. Not quite what Leopold meant, but he didn’t try to correct her once she had made up her mind on the matter.
“If I returned to the sea, do you think Everett would still come to visit me?” The mermaid mused out loud to her large feline friend who lounged in front of her tank.
The cat stretched out a paw. “I gather that’s a thing a lover might do, yes.”
She rolled over to face him. “You think so? I do miss my sisters. And I left a seagull friend behind too; I hope she’s doing well.”
The tiger perked his ears. “You have sisters?”
“Well, yes about ten of them, actually.” She nodded. “They’re not by Dover though. We live out on the shores of Deal.”
“Huh.” Leopold snorted. “Somehow I had assumed you were one of a kind. I didn’t know there’d be more of you.”
The mermaid pressed against the glass. “Are you the last of your kind?”
“Hah, no.” He shook his giant head. “But tigers are very sacred in the place of my birth, I’ll have you know.”
She placed her chin in her hands. “Have you ever met another tiger?”
He paused to consider the question before sitting up. “No, I haven’t.”
“Then how do you know you’re not the only one left?” She stared at him
Leopold swished his tail as he tried to think of an adequate response. “Everett talks about tigers, there’s more out there. Because I haven’t seen any is no indication that they do not exists.”
“You’re the first tiger I’ve ever seen.” She hummed. “I’d never even heard of tigers before I met you. What if you’re the only one of your kind?”
The cat narrowed his amber eyes. “It’s a silly thing to consider seeing as I’m not.”
“Seeing as? I don’t see any support to your claim at all.” She frowned. “What’s so bad about being the only one like you anyways? Why are you getting upset?”
With a low rumble, Leopold opened he mouth to reply but as he did so, Everett entered through the front door.
“Good afternoon, my love! And good afternoon my dear tiger!” He closed the door behind him, and made his way towards the back of the collection. “How was your morning, did you miss me?”
At sight of him, Atlanta kissed the glass of her habitat. “I did, very much! Leopold and I were just discussing how many tigers were in the world. Do you know the number?”
“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t.” He pated the cat on the head. “There’s a lot of them, though none quite as friends as old Leo, hey son?”
Leopold locked his amber gaze on the mermaid and licked his chops smugly at Everett’s validation.
Atlanta smirked at him before drifting up to Everett’s eye level. “You know, I’ve been wondering.” She twirled her hair with one finger, a gesture she had learned ages ago from watching the human kind back at Deal. “It’s been a lot of days since I’ve been here…”
Everett chuckled. “It’s been a week, my dear.”
“Yeah. I haven’t hosted any parties yet, or met with any other humankind. When will I get to do that?” She stared at him with her enormous eyes. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Well, that’s kind of something I was going to tell you today. I was going to ask if you wanted to post a party, right here in this lovely space. Would you like that?” He raised his brow and cocked his head, expecting the exact response he received.
The mermaid reeled back with a gasp. “Oh, oh, oh! I would love that! Would there be many people? Will there be dancing? And music, oh there must be music!”
Everett stifled a laugh, “Oh there’ll be plenty of people alright. Dancing, I’m not so sure, but music… I just arranged for a quintet to preform here. And the party, well it’ll last the entire day, straight into the evening! It’ll be a long affair, are you sure you’d be up for it?”
Atlanta bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “I can handle it, I can! They’ll love me; I’ll host the most amazing party they’ll have ever seen.” She paused to smile at him. “When is it? Is it tomorrow?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Ah, that’s just it. The best things require patience, my dear. The party isn’t planned to happen until four weeks from now.”
Atlanta wilted. “Four weeks? That’s so long!” She glanced up at him, her eyes heavy with dread. “What if I die before then?”
Everett brought a hand to his face and snorted laughter. “It’s not that long, I’m positive you will still be alive and as healthy and happy as ever in four weeks’ time. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” She didn’t appear convinced, and he leaned in closer. “We still have to make all the arrangement, plan the catering, organize the space, put up the decorations… You can’t just throw a party without putting the time in to organize it first.” He paused for a minute before correcting himself. “Well, you can, it’s just not be very entertaining. And you want to be a good hostess, right?”
Atlanta’s shoulders heaved in what might have been a sigh. “Yes.” She muttered.
“What was that?”
She repeated louder. “Yes, I want to be a good hostess.” She recollected herself. “Can I help with the decorating and such, then?”
Everett nodded. “That’s what I was hoping, anyways. Next week, I’ll start on looking at some options, and I’ll need your opinion on them. It’s very important.”
The mermaid’s smile returned from her. “Okay, I suppose I can do that, then.”
“Ah good. That’s what I like to hear.” He gave a loving tap on the glass. “I have to run off again, but I’ll return before long. Don’t let Leo harass you too much while I’m away, alright?
In a ritual they had developed over the past days, Atlanta closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall of her aquarium. Everett leaned in to kiss it.
He pulled back and waved casually. “I will see you very soon, my dear.”
She waved back as he disappeared back behind the other side of the door.

Outside, Everett locked the place up before continuing down the street. On the corner, a horse drawn coach waited for him, and he hopped in. He rode as the only passenger through Dover streets, and into the outskirts. Houses and establishments thinned out, replaced by trees and hills.
The carriage rocked gently, and the fresh air poured in through the open window. As the horses turned onto a quieter street, the foliage became denser, and the ground softened from packed dirt to malleable mud and stones. The air further away from the city was heavy with moisture, and the droplets the collected on the bright green leaves of trees gave away traces of a recent, but short lived rainfall. Above the canopy, the incriminating clouds still hung over head, but had already been broken up by the sun’s rays.
The coach turned up a narrow, gravel packed driveway which twisted and turned up a lush, grassy hill. It rode to the top, where a large lot was cleared out before an enormous wood building. Try as they might, the trees could not compete with its majesty. The coach parked itself in front of the estate’s entrance, and Everett stepped out. He straightened out the lapel of his jacket, and made his way up the broad, wooden steps.
He stepped through the doors and into and environment of rich reds, and dark, desaturated greens. The heads of large animals common to the area hung mounted on the walls. There were several large couches and lavish furniture, a pool table, cabinet displaying rifles, a bar… There were a great many things that filled the space.
Recognizing Everett immediately, the man at the door provided no fuss, and offered to take his jacket. Everett allowed him to do so before moving in towards the main living room. There were about six gentlemen in total, most sitting on the rather comfortable furniture, others standing with their cocktails in one hand and a cigar in the other.
“Everett!” One particularly stout, moustached, older gentleman opened his arms in a warm greeting upon spotting the new company. “Why, it’s been long enough, wouldn’t you say! Very nice to see you back!” He pulled out a tray of cigars, offering one to Everett who accepted with a thankful nod. “How was America?”
Everett took a match from the man and used it to light his cigar. “Oh, it was interesting enough. Saw eagles, shot cougars, drank bourbon. Took some strange critters back with me, but had no room for them in my little cabinet, so I have to hand them off to other good folks who were more than happy to take them off my hands.”
“Isn’t that always the way.” Another man piped up. “When are you going to forget about the animals and bring back some nice ladies?”
“I’d gladly take one of those off your hands if you find yourself shy of space,” Cut in the voice of another gent.
There was a round of laughter which Everett shared. He held up a finger. “Ah, but nothing in America was as interesting as what I saw on my way back from it.” The men around them made their interest known, and Everett flopped down on a couch, tucking the cigar between his teeth and resting an ankle on his knee. “I’m going to tell you, boys, and you’re not going to believe me. Not one bit. I know this because I wouldn’t even believe me.”
“Well spit it out, lad.” The man next to him scoffed. “Try us.”
Everett grinned at his audience of wealthy, older gentlemen, providing a dramatic pause before confessing. “Right here, right in the English Channel, my ship was being followed. I leaned over the rail to see if perhaps it was a dolphin, or a seal, or something curious like that, but what I saw wasn’t any of those things.” He exhaled a breath of smoke. “It was a mermaid.”
There was a moment of silence as the men digested Everett’s words. One man snorted, and soon the entire room filled with laughter.
Everett simply sat back and shook his head with an emphatic grin. “What did I tell you?”
“Maybe, on you next trip up to Norway; you can spy a unicorn, or a dragon!” A gent barked between laughter. “I heard their indigenous up there.”
Another leaned in. “Tell me, did she have a cute sea shell bra to cover herself by?” He gestured, with a cigar between his fingers, pretending that his hands were shells, cupping them over his chest.
Everett heaved I sigh. “Hmm admittedly she doesn’t have much in the way of ‘covering herself’. Your skepticism and poor jokes might wound me more so if I hadn’t any evidence to back up my claim.”
A man furrowed his eyebrow in mock concern. “Everett, my son, you didn’t shoot her and mount her on your wall now, did you?”
“No,” Everett sat up straight. “I did one better. I took her home and put her in an aquarium.” He offered a genuine smile. “She exists now as the crowning piece in my Cabinet of Curiosities.”
The men quieted themselves and exchanged glances.
Everett hummed. “I actually welcome you all to come by and see her for yourself. She’s a sweetheart. She talks… a little too much, admittedly. But it’s certainly interesting.” He drew in a pleased breath. “I’m actually planning on opening up my little museum for public viewing… a pay to enter kind of thing, of course. But members of our club are welcome free. You good boys are like family to me, after all.”
“So, when you say mermaid,” the moustached man began in renewed interest, “do you mean half woman half fish? That’s a very fanciful thought, how does it come together?”
Everett shrugged. “Actually, I was surprised. She’s all fish. She only appears half woman. She has hair, a round little face on a very human looking neck. She has arms, a bosom, a tummy with a belly button, and then a fish’s tail. As it turns out, all features that are human like in appearance are superficial. They’re mimics of human features; they serve no biological purpose other than to appear human. Just like, ah…how certain flies mimic the appearance of bees and wasps.”
The man sitting next to him shook his head. “I’m still not convinced. If there were such creatures out there, someone else would have found them. Especially if they’re right here in our channel!”
Everett could only turn his palms up to that. “Maybe other people have and we just don’t know them.”
“There’d be publications.” Another man speculated.
“We have plenty of documentation about encounters with mermaids,” Everett pointed out. “They’re in the form of stories, they permeate cultures, and they’re countless.” He threw up his hands. “Anyways, before you dismiss me, come see her for yourself and make up your mind then. It’s easy to speculate as skeptics when the object of debate isn’t staring you in the face with her giant, vapid eyes.”
“Yeah, that does sound more woman than fish.” The moustached man jabbed. There was a collective chuckle.
Everett sat back once more with a resigning sigh. “There’s an opening party four weeks from today. If you do not attend, you have no platform to criticize me by.”
That put a reasonable close to the discussion. The men accepted the terms and moved on to other subjects, beginning with a proper summary of Everett’s adventure across the Atlantic.

Chapter 14
Liv and Bosco had reacted to the news of the high paying museum opening gig in much the same way Rafaele had expected. Bosco remained dubious that the man would hold true to his offer, and Liv straight-up scolded him for accepting it in the first place.
“There’s always a catch when someone offers to over pay so much,” She had lectured. “We become indebted whether intended or not. Such generosity is a well-disguised, double edged sword.”
Eventually, he was able to talk both of them into a reluctant understanding that he made sure their bases were covered. If the man couldn’t pull through on initial payments, than they’d cut their losses and move on to the next town on their way to London. Until then, they had other, smaller jobs to prepare for, and just two days after receiving Everett’s generous offer, the quintet found themselves in an outside venue playing for their first Dover client.
It was a job that Liv had found during their hunt, the affair they were playing for was a wedding. The story, apparently, was that the wedding’s initial plan for music fell through at last minute, and Liv’s serendipitous appearance on their doorstep was something of a godsend. As much as both Liv and Bosco loathed weddings, they wore their smiles and feigned their joy rather successfully after they played standard love ballad after wedding march, after standard love ballad.
On the contrary, Rafaele rather enjoyed the environment wealthy weddings had to offer. The energy was always very easy to play to, as a backdrop, not a main attraction. The audience were always in good spirits, and playing for the official union of two lovers was always quite an honor by his standards. Admittedly the flirtatious gestures aimed his direction by the younger women, easily smitten under the influence of the wedding’s romantic affair, certainly served as a small perk to the job as well. He saw no issue in acknowledging them with a smile and gracious nod of the head, but never more than that.
The ceremony had come to a close, and while joining the bride and groom for the following banquet was not a part of the initial plan, but both the bride and groom insisted that the quintet dine and celebrate with them. They couldn’t have backed out of it without possibly offending them, and offending a bride and groom at a wedding was the very last thing on their agenda.
They succeeded, at least, in ensuring they stayed out of the way of the other guests and remained in the background. They exchanged pleasantries with the family and their friends, but otherwise kept to themselves in a rather graceful manner.
Magritte was, perhaps, the only person who was more happy than apprehensive to dine among the wedding guests. She plunked herself down on a chair next to Rafaele with a small slice of cake on her plate. She scooted herself in before taking a generous bite of the sweet desert. Being a bit overzealous with the helping of her first forkful, she managed to decorate her upper lip with icing.
“They’re very nice, aren’t they?” she beamed. “This cake is really good, you should get some.”
Rafaele humored her by taking the icing off her lip with a swift sweep of his thumb and stuffing it into his mouth with an exaggerated smack of the lips. “It’s not bad, I suppose.”
He felt a strong wrap on the back of his head. “Manners, Rafaele,” Liv scolded in a hushed voice. “You’re sitting with upperclassmen, for heaven’s sake act like it.”
Rafaele straightened up, as Magritte giggled behind another forkful of cake.
The banquet went on without a hitch. The groom made a lovely toast to his bride, the guests, and to their future together. Food vanished from plates, and conversations eased over wine. Finally, Liv called over the other four troupe members to give their thanks and bid the bride and groom farewell and luck with their future endeavors. With their instruments packed and formalities taken care of, they boarded their rented coach and returned to the city’s outskirts.
By the time they left their ride, she sky was already turning red and indigo with the setting sun. On the short walk from the coach to the caravan, Liv let out an exasperated groan. “That’s the last wedding we do in...a long time. Forever.” She leaned against Bosco as she removed her high heels. “My feet are killing me, my head is killing me, my mood is killing me, I’m quite certain the wine will kill me in the morning.”
As she ranted and wobbled, Bosco held her up by her arms. “What’s this, you were doing so well at the actual wedding. Mind your poor feet on the gravel.”
Rafaele turned his gaze to Magritte beside him as she chuckled at Liv’s apparent intoxication.
The older woman shook her shoe at the sky with growing disdain. “You know why I hate weddings?”
Bosco nodded, “Yes, yes. We’re quite aware.”
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she began to pull pins out of her hair. “It’s awkward. I can’t help but feel sorry for the brides; I can’t help it, Bosco. I know, I know they were set up and urged on by their wretched families to marry a rich man who will only treat them badly in the end. They sit quietly and obediently, say their vows with fake little smiles, because that’s what we’re taught to do. The groom receives his…congratulations and the bride is told how lucky she is that someone wanted her. She’s just a prize to him because he deserved it, and lucky her. Lucky her when the wedding is over and they get home and he yells at her drunk. Lucky her when he sleeps with younger, prettier acquaintances, she’s so lucky to have such a rich and charming man.”
As they approached the caravan, Bosco scooped her up off the ground and carried her into the cabin as to not let her trip up the small ladder. “Lucky you,” Bosco said as he lowered her to stand on her own feet again, “to have escaped that. And now you’re stuck with three poor men who only treat you badly.” He grinned at her.
She turned on her heel and gave him the most generous hug. “Do not even joke; you are more kind and doting to me than my own family.”
Magritte took Liv’s shoes and placed them by the entrance for her. “Well, we’re no aristocrats.”
“Thank god.” Liv staggered her way through the partition. “Alright, enough of this. I’m drunk, it’s bedtime. Someone…tuck me in and tell me I’m pretty or I’ll just get angry.”
Rafaele, Magritte, and even Traviss turned their eyes up to Bosco who whispered. “It’s always me, isn’t it?”
Resigning to his assigned task, Bosco followed behind Liv, disappearing behind the curtain.
Magritte pulled a small pastry out of the breadbox as a bedtime snack. She lowered her head behind the food item and whispered. “Why did Liv sign us up for a wedding job when she knows she hates them?”
Traviss and Rafaele exchanged glanced before shrugging.
“Maybe to remind herself that she doesn’t miss the wealthy lifestyle,” Traviss suggested softly. “I—I’m not sure.”
Magritte and Rafaele both smiled at him. “That’s fair,” Magritte replied.
Traviss nodded slowly before tugging at a light curl behind his ear before bolting behind the curtain towards his own corner of the cabin.
Magritte chuckled through a bite of her snack and Rafaele only shook his head. “I don’t know how that man is even alive. He’s more skittish than a squirrel.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s kind of cute.”
“As cute as crippling social anxiety could be, I suppose.” He whispered before laughing at himself. “We’re kind of a kettle calling the pot black, aren’t we?”
“Whatever,” she dismissed. “Musicians, we’re all a little bit broken, right? The music pours through the cracks.”
He waged a finger at her, “That’s a cliché and it’s not true.”
“Mostly true,” Magritte argued lazily. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be clichéd.”
Rafaele opened his mouth to argue, reconsidered, and closed it again. “Hurry up and finish that pastry so we can go to sleep and wake up early enough to avoid Liv’s being sick from all the wine she drank.”
“Oh, good idea!” She shoved the rest of her small meal into her mouth before hopping out of her chair and turning down the lights. “Okay, let’s go before I get hungry again.”

Even with less wine in them than Liv, sleep came to the other musicians with relative ease. By the time morning rolled around again, Rafaele was the first one to wake. As he rolled over, he nearly crushed Magritte who somehow managed to migrate from her bed to his over the course of the night.
He nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, if I wanted a creature who’d habitually take up most of my sleeping space during the night, I would own a cat.”
Without opening her eyes, Magritte pulled on the blankets. “Yes, okay I can be a cat.”
“That’s not what I—” He poked her in the ribs. “Sleep in your own bed, you’re not a child anymore, it’s inappropriate.”
She sat up and frowned at him, rubbing her eyes. “Well it’s inappropriate when you say so. Really?”
He only stared up at him with lips pursed, pointing his finger as instruction to leave his corner.
“Fine. Get dressed then, I’ll meet you outside. We’ll go get breakfast or something.” With a sulk, she left him alone to make herself up in her own quarters.
Rafaele dressed himself in a casual outfit and grabbed his coin before leaving the caravan. Magritte soon joined him, and the two began on a quiet walk.
“Are you cranky this morning?” Magritte stared up at him.
Rafaele chewed on the inside of his lip. “A bit I suppose. Sorry, I woke you up rudely.” He wiggled his fingers at his sides uncomfortably. “But it’s that you’re seventeen now and you still act like you did when you were much, much younger. You do need to understand that some things that were cute and acceptable then aren’t… so much now.”
Magritte shuffled behind him, wilting slightly at the fact that she was being lectured. “Well, the others know I’m not trying to be rude or anything. I mean, I always just—”
“It’s really not about what the others think.” Rafaele raised his hands as he tried to grasp for the right way to explain basic social conduct to her. However, words failed him and he dropped his hands again. “Just, try to stop. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Magritte turned away from him, looking a bit hurt, “Yeah, alright.” With a sigh she asked, “What are we getting for food?”
Rafaele leaned forward to get a gauging look at her. “Whatever you want.”
“I want crepes.”
“Alright,” Rafaele nodded with a slow smile. “Let’s get some crepes.”