Kissing the Shark (Maritime Monsters #1)

Chapter 9- Karlo

CHAPTER 9- KARLO

I GROAN WHEN I see the number trying to video call me on my phone. I’m sitting at my tiny apartment’s kitchen island trying to enjoy some pre-work cereal, but I guess my solitude is over. Time to face the music. I take in one last spoonful of milky goodness, then prop up my phone and swipe to accept the call.

“Hello?”

My mom’s face comes into focus and the audio goes from fuzzy to clear. “Hello? Can you hear me, Karlo?”

“I can now, yes.”

“Oh good, your phone works. I was beginning to suspect it fell into the ocean.” My mom has a straight-lined face, the closest thing to a smile she ever has. She evens out the wrinkles on her light-blue blouse, no doubt looking at herself in the video call. Her prim and proper life as a councilwoman has always been the most important facet of her life. Dad has been happy to support her, but this life has been the bane of my sister’s and my existence .

“Nope, I’m still here.”

“You could have fooled us. Your father and I never hear from you anymore.”

“I’ve been…busy.”

“Catching and releasing fish?”

I grunt. “It’s the Maritime Monsters Institute,” I grumble. Thus ends the mystery of why I moved out of Northern California and never looked back.

“You might as well be a fisherman. At least they provide sustenance for the world.” I bite back another growl at the phone. “And call their mothers.”

I point my camera up so she doesn’t see me rolling my eyes. Then, I refocus it. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take adult life seriously.” My mom narrows her eyes, making me feel like she’s going to throw her slipper at me.

“I have a life.”

“A real job, anak . You’re almost thirty.” Mom begins her little speech about how she and Dad moved to America from the Philippines with nothing, and I tune her out; it’s a routine I’ve heard before. I love my parents for what they’ve done for me and my sister, but I can’t keep listening to them deride all my life choices.

“Mhm. That’s great, Mom.”

“Karlo, are you at least making good money?”

“I’m…helping other monsters. Monsters near the sea. Your constituents are monsters, too, Mom.”

“I know all about monsters,” she says in a chastising tone. “I respect them. I donate to the OME and hold fundraisers every October.” I refrain from informing her that that doesn’t mean she respects them. You’d think for an immigrant person of color she’d be more accepting of people who look different. Like the blue hues of a certain shifter on my mind…

I clear my throat. “Well, I’m working hard.”

“And are you playing hard, too?”

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. By the time we were your age, your father and I had you kids.”

I bite back a grimace. I came out to my parents so long ago, yet that never stopped them from trying to get me to settle down. There are worse fates for queer people, I suppose. “I’m…not in any life situation to have kids.”

“You would be if you went to nursing school.”

I grumble and refrain from shutting off the phone. “Right. Well, too bad that’s not me.”

“I hope you get there,” Mom says. “ Anak , we love you. We’re a family. And as a mom, I need you to be taken care of. You ought to settle down with a nice spouse with a good job and credit score.”

“I can take care of myself,” I retort.

“But do you really want to all the time?”

My mom’s words pierce my heart; she may actually have a point. I think back on my recent lonely nights sleeping in my bed. As much as I try to convince myself otherwise, I do enjoy relationships. But relationships don’t enjoy me…

“I’ll…be alright.”

Mom eyes me curiously but decides to drop the topic. We chat for two minutes more about gossip from her neighbors, then I bid her goodbye.

“We’re thinking of you always, anak ,” she says. “We love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say. With that, I hang up and rest my head on the kitchen table. Another day, another reason for me to spend as little time with my parents as possible.

“Are you kids ready?” Skyler asks.

“Yeah!” The adorable schoolchildren cheer. Some of the kids are monsters with purple and green skin, but otherwise, it’s a typical tiny crowd that we’re used to hosting here for field trips. They’re seated in the lobby of MM Institute, right outside the museum entrance. Giant textbook photos of shark anatomy are propped up on the walls. The kids, a fifth-grade field trip, just got done with a tour to visit the animals in the rehab tanks. Now, they’re here for the main event: an interview with a real shark shifter.

I smile and shoot a thumbs-up at Skyler who winks at me. He turns to the tiny crowd and says, “Then let’s all wave our hands for a quiet applause for my good friend, the shark shifter!”

The crowd coos, but otherwise is quiet as Razorjaw walks out. He smiles and stands by the podium just as we coached him. When he waves, the kids lower their hands. I can feel the energy shift in the room as the teachers and kids all pay close attention to him.

Razorjaw glances at me, and I notice his confidence waiver, but only for a moment. Then, he smiles and leans forward. “Hello…fifth grade class. I am Mr. Shaughnessy.”

He closes his eyes and shifts into his human form. He’s wearing a dark wetsuit, and I’m so proud he’s improved in the past week so that he’s no longer ripping underwear left and right. Overall, he’s come a long way in the month we’ve been employing him and studying him.

And no, I don’t check out his beautiful ass in the tight fabric…for more than three seconds.

The children ooh and aww , and some folks take photos. Then, he closes his eyes and shifts back into his hybrid form. Seeing his fins and tail pop out never ceases to amaze me. And when he begins to describe the different parts of his body, I feel myself growing more and more impressed.

Razorjaw is obviously a magnificent specimen as a man. But even in hybrid form, he’s so smart, hard-working, and charming. I’ve watched him struggle with basic skills these past several weeks, and he always rolls with the punches, so to speak.

I lean on a wall and sigh. If I had seen this side of him the day we met, maybe I wouldn’t have rejected him. Would being the mate of a shark be that terrible?

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” Ardsley whispers next to me, and I nearly yelp.

“Huh, what?”

“Mr. Shaughnessy.” Ardsley smirks at me.

“Right. Uh…” I clear my throat and lift up my chin. “Yeah. Look at the way he’s…taking pictures with those kids.”

I point a few meters away where he’s on one knee, smiling for photos. “Sure.” Ardsley gives me a contentious look. “And the way you were all but fawning over him is completely platonic.”

I huff. “I don’t…fa wn.”

“You don’t fawn over good guys. Until now.” Ardsley’s smile drops and he leans in close. “Your previous boyfriends were kind of trash, Karlo. But that guy? He’s a decent monster, always trying to help out.”

I stare at Razorjaw while he flexes with a few little boys and they all laugh. “Would trying things with a shifter really be that bad?” Ardsley whispers.

“Dude, you know it’s not that. I’ve occasionally hooked up with monsters,” I reply.

“Then what is it? Because that stud won’t be floating around waiting for you forever.”

“I just…I’m not…” The truth gets lodged in my throat. I’m no one’s fairytale prince, I’m nobody’s mate. But maybe, this once, I could be worthy. We could get to know each other more, and if the chemistry is there, we could…

My dangerous train of thought is cut short when I watch a little girl hand Razorjaw her phone. “My daddy goes on the shark-hunting contest every year!” she says with glee. Even from here, I can tell she’s showing him a clip of actual fishermen. Oh no. “Do you know these sharks?”

“Um…what?” Razorjaw stares at the phone screen in confusion.

Before I can interrupt, another little boy approaches him. “My uncle got me this shark tooth! He said he killed one himself!” The kid procures an actual shark tooth attached to a string. Real or fake, the veracity is uncanny, and he just handed it to a real-life shark.

“Um, okay, we should, um…” I try to stop them, but another set of kids crowds him.

“My daddy also went to a shark-hunting contest in Hawaii and he let me hold the dead shark heads!” Another little girl shows him her phone. Seriously, how many of these kids are related to fishermen?

“I bet my daddy killed more than yours!” the first girl says to the second.

“Nuh-uh! I bet my daddy skewered the biggest killer shark in the whole world!”

“Um…um…” Razorjaw looks between the dueling little girls. Their phones play clips of marine life carnage, and even from a few feet away, I can hear the human-perpetrated violence. Razorjaw’s eyes won’t stop darting between the two.

“Are your teeth as big as this?” the little boy holding the shark tooth asks.

“Wait your turn!” the second girl says.

“I have a question too!” A fourth child says. Apparently they only know how to interrupt. “Have you ever eaten shark-fin soup?”

“Have you killed another shark?” the first girl asks, pointing at her phone.

“Ooh yeah, have you?”

“Let’s see your shark teeth!”

“How many humans have you eaten?”

The kids’ voices are clamoring, and Razorjaw seems to be panicking. Oh, hell no . This ends now.

“ ENOUGH !” I shout.

All the kids stop and turn to me. It’s quiet, and I successfully have everyone’s attention. “Uh…” I turn to see Ardsley a few yards away. “Who wants to see some real-life electric eel tricks? Have you kids met an eel-shifter before?”

“Wow, really?” they all ask. I give Ardsley a pleading look. Fortunately, he understands my best-friend-telepathy.

“Um…” Ardsley gulps, then shifts into his purple hybrid fo rm. Tiny fins and gill-coverings sprout from under his jaw and he smiles. “Ta-da!” he sings, waving his now purple webbed hands.

“Wow!” The kids take their phones and leave to mob Ardsley while I usher Razorjaw away.

“Now, one at a time, I don’t want to electrocute you,” Ardsley says. As they chatter and fawn over him, Razorjaw and I go to an unoccupied ticketing office.

I sit him down on a rolling chair, and he proceeds to take labored breaths, in and out.

“We’re safe now,” I say. Watching his massive, scaled body go up and down is remarkable, but now is not the time to marvel at him. He’s clearly going through something. Razorjaw takes a few more moments to himself and stares at the floor. I listen to the distant sounds of kids chattering outside then take a seat next to him. “You’re alright, RJ.”

“How...” His voice is so grave.

“Huh?” I ask.

“How can I be alright?” he asks to the floor. He clenches his fists around his head. His voice is strained when he asks, “How can I be alright when my species is being slaughtered?”

I gulp and sit next to him, shame filling my throat. “I’m…so sorry you had to see that.”

“So, it’s true?” he asks, his voice cracking. He looks at me with moist eyes. “Humans…slaughter sharks…for fun?”

I sigh and gently place my hand on his shoulder. “Some humans do, yes.”

He sobs a tearless cry and covers his mouth. “How could this go on?”

My heart aches for him. In this moment, he’s so pained, so vulnerable. His naivete has shielded him from the worst of humanity, and now, after speaking to kids, he knows it all. “I’m sorry, Razorjaw. There are people who do that.”

“Have you ever?”

“No!” We both sit upright. “None of us do. That’s why we work here.”

He nods, seeming content with my answer. After a few seconds of tense silence, I continue, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. But Razorjaw, with your help, we can stop this.”

“By finding the fishermen and destroying their weapons?”

I snicker. “No. By legislation. Laws can keep sea creatures safe. But the public won’t change their opinion without mountains of research. That’s where you come in.”

“How?”

I smile at him. “With the amount of data you’ve given us on shark mating patterns, we can find breeding areas and protect them. That way we can ensure the survival of all shark subspecies.”

He slowly nods, taking it all in. “I still feel awful.” “You’re mourning the violence of your kind. You’re half-shark. I get it.” I pat his hand and feel his warm, scaly skin. “But hopefully some of us humans can make the world a better place for marine life. We’re not all awful.”

His eyes catch mine again, and I swear he looks at my lips for a split second. He’s so handsome, with a chiseled chin and precious, lovely eyes. And today, he’s shown me true vulnerability. There’s something so sexy about a big broad-shouldered monster having a heart of gold. Razorjaw is slowly becoming less of a random shifter from the ocean, and more of a fleshed-out person, the kind of man, no monster, I want to actually spend time with.

He softly smiles at me, and it reminds me of a clear-sky dawn after a cold, rainy night. “You, Karlo Castillo, have always been one of the good ones.”

I jolt my hand away and turn my head before he gets any crazy ideas. “Tell you what.” I stand up, wipe my hands on my shirt, and walk to get some space between us.

“What?”

“In between my research, I can help you be more…eloquent. Literate. That way you can do better in future public speaking events.”

Razorjaw stands up. “You would offer your time for me?”

I idly toy with some pamphlets that don’t need reorganizing. “It’s for the greater good. Helping acclimate you to land is a project, and this is part of it. We should support your learning instead of, like, taking you shopping.”

“I enjoyed shopping with you, Karlo Castillo.” I look up to see him grinning at me. This time, his affection is tender, almost welcoming, and it scares me how disarming he is. “But if you would like to assist me with speaking and reading lessons, I would greatly appreciate it.”

I nod and break away from looking at his perfect eyes. “I’ll bring it up to Emma. I gotta go um, do some data entry. Well…take care, RJ.”

I rush past him and out the door just as he says, “You as well, Karlo Castillo.”

I shouldn’t feel my cheeks blush or my heart buzz at the sound of him saying my name. I shouldn’t be thinking about his pretty smiles or the funny way he talks. But the RJ I know now is so far from the dude who begged me to be his mate several weeks ago. I swear, there were reasons why I shouldn’t kiss this beautiful man-shark—I just need to remember them.