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together? Huh? He came all the way from the Black Sea—where the hell
is
the Black Sea, anyway… well, it sounds far away—and you can't just dump him!"
    "I can." She added, "Southeastern Europe. Oh, and Asia Minor.'"
    "What?"
    "The Black Sea. Connected to the Mediterranean by the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara , and to the Sea of Azov by the—"
    "This is not the point—"
    "—Strait of Kerch ," she finished.
    She ignored his moan of despair and fished the last piece of tofu out of her soup bowl. The fact was, both Thomas and Artur made her anxious. She wasn't used to attention from men. And she had no interest in being in a triangle. Not that
that
was likely to happen.
    "When was the last time you went on a date?" Jonas was demanding. "And if you give me the patented Fred 'I don't give a shit' shrug, I'll beat you to death."
    She laughed at him. Then thought about it. And thought. And thought some more. "Dr. Barb's ex-husband," she said at last.
    "Oh, God, that's right. I totally forgot about him. You're lucky you didn't lose your job over that one."
    "She's the one who set us up," Fred reminded him. What neither of them needed reminding was, it was a complete disaster. Dr. Barb's ex, whose name Fred had by now forgotten, spent half the date making gross passes at Fred, and the other half pining for his ex-wife. They had ended the meeting with a handshake, and he'd gone home with a black eye when he'd tried for more too persistently.
    "And ever since then, you've been stuck in the vortex of a—what? Six? Six-year dating dry spell?"
    "Vortex?"
    "And here's two hunky fellows climbing all over you—"
    "They aren't—"
    "—and all you can think of to do is stick them together and vamoose."
    "I've got other stuff to worry about."
    "That's why," he said kindly, "you're a moron. Just like an octopus. No, don't tell me, I don't care. They're stupid, too."
     

Chapter Twelve
     
    Jonas cheerfully trailed behind his best bud and her massive, ridiculously good-looking new pal. He eyed the people milling around on the cobblestones and wondered if any of them had the faintest idea he was walking behind two mer -people. Hell,
be
had a hard time believing it, and he'd grown up with one of them.
    Artur kept leaning over and trying to whisper in Fred's ear, and she kept batting him away like he was a persistently annoying fly. Jonas shook his head. It was so obvious that Artur —a prince! A freakin ' prince!—had the hots for his pal. Did she notice? Nuh -uh. Would she have cared if she did notice? Probably not. Was she a nutjob of the highest order? Yup.
    But then, if she didn't engage in that odd Freddish behavior, she wouldn't be Fred.
    He still remembered the day they met. He'd been pretty shocked when the big kids had ganged up on him, and had barely noticed the small, stick-thin blue-haired girl reading a book up against a tree.
    Whether she didn't like the distraction from her book or couldn't stand to see the odds so badly out of whack (probably the former), it didn't matter. She'd gotten up and put her hands on the big kids and they'd gone flying and then she went back to her book and she'd ignored the stares and the whispers. Almost as if, at the ripe old age of seven, she. didn't notice them anymore, or never had, or just didn't care.
    He'd pestered her the rest of the day until she had sighed and agreed to bring him to her house. They'd been buds ever since.
    He'd known. Not that she was a mermaid, but even as a child, Fred wasn't like anybody else. Anybody
else. That was all right, though, because he wasn't a typical elementary school student, either, not when he knew how to do floral arrangements and had a collection of paint chips which he kept organized by tint and type (matte, gloss, etc.).
    And when she finally worked up the courage to show him her other form, he had been surprised, but not shocked. And not horrified, either. He'd thought her tail was pretty, and had told her so. She'd told him to shut up, and