Star Blessed

A Question

MERIBELLA

Meribella tugged at the short blonde strands of hair brushing against her chin. The temperature in the pub was unholy hot, and the wig had been itching for the last hour. Two weeks had passed since she'd escaped the clutches of what she'd discovered to be an all male cult, but she still didn't feel comfortable wandering about town without a disguise. She'd have left the moment she reached her rental, but she didn't have the funds to purchase a car just yet. As it was, she'd had to pay a penalty to cancel her lease and had spent a week homeless before finding another house, this one little more than a shack by the shore.

"Bella, you got table nine?"

Giving the wig one last frustrated tug, she nodded at Vivian with barely suppressed irritation before grabbing the drink orders from the rowdy guests. The pub was near the docks, and the majority of the patrons were blue collar men who wanted to unwind after a long day of physical labor. The tips would've been better at one of the five star restaurants in the city, but the chances of running into Mr. Bossy here were almost zero. The car, the clothes (when he finally put them on), and the house all indicated he had money and liked to spend it.

"You singing tonight?" Vivian asked while they were both waiting on the bartender to finish their drink order.

"Hadn't planned on it," she answered but couldn't keep from looking at the stage with longing. Selkies and mermaids were both responsible for the Siren myths, and she'd inherited the magic from Kai, though her voice wasn't nearly as potent. She thought of her escape from the cult. Her voice was strong enough to get her out of danger, but for the most part, she just loved to sing.

"Hmmm, you should totally talk to Joe about singing more often. The local guys love it."

"Yeah, but Serafina has a great voice."

"She's piss poor to look at though," Joe fussed, sneaking up on the two women. "I'd be happy to let you sing more often love, but for now, I'd be happier if you'd get those drinks to their owners and stop yapping."

Her lips twitched and it took her a minute to realize they wanted to curve into a smile, an act that was almost foreign to her. Joe was a big, burly man covered in hair, tattoos, and scars, but she'd not met many men kinder than he was.

"Ah, pipe down old man," Vivian groused, winking at Meribella before sashaying away, her generous hips capturing the attention of many patrons.

When Joe didn't leave, she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm waiting on two more drinks."

"You're fine," he replied, studying her with a critical eye. "I mean it though. If you'd sing more often, this place would stay full. Your voice makes hers sound like a bunch of cats in a bag, and you're not bad on the eyes. You'd be even prettier if you'd toss that wig and those contacts."

Startled, she lifted her hand to pat her wig, and then winced when she realized she'd given herself away. "What gave away the contacts?"

"Your eyes are red most of the time. I'd have thought you were just stoned, but the contacts moved one day when you wiped your eyes and I saw green. You okay?"

"Yeah, I just like playing with my look."

"My daughter liked playing with her look too because it kept her safe from her psycho ex-husband. If you need help, you tell me. You understand?"

Tears filled her eyes and she ducked her head so he wouldn't see. Mostly because she was embarrassed by the odd display of emotion, but also because salt water reacted oddly when in contact with her skin. "Thanks Joe. Let me get these drinks to the table before they start a riot."