Free Deep Water by Nicola Cameron

stock his larder with
the delicious British chutney.
    “So what about you?”
    He paused in mid-chew. “I beg your
pardon?” he said after swallowing.
    Griffin grinned at him. “Well, I know
you’ve got the two lads that you apparently had while you were in middle
school, but that’s really all I know about you,” he said. “So tell me some more
about Dunn Seaton—the man, the myth, the legend.”
    Poseidon grinned back. It felt
surprisingly good. “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I own an environmental
remediation company that I operate with my sons. When I’m not working, I like
to putter around the house or read. All rather boring, I’m afraid.”
    “Not much for the telly ,
then?”
    “Not really. Sometimes I get out on the
water for pleasure, but that tends to be rare. I suppose I’m a bit of a
workaholic.”
    “Yeah, I understand,” Griffin said. “My
last ex-wife got so hacked off at me working all the time, she mailed the
divorce decree stuffed in a fish. Said it was the only way she’d be sure I’d
read the damned thing.”
    “You were married?”
    “Twice. More fool me.”
    Poseidon tried to show sympathy, but all
he could feel was relief. “Bad?”
    “Nah, just…” Griffin shrugged. “I don’t
know. I met Miranda in uni. We were together for two
years before she got finally fed up with me never being home and packed it in.
Ten years later I met Leilani at a Sea Shepherds fundraiser. Gorgeous girl, had
a mouth on her that could make a sailor blush. A real firecracker.”
    “She was the fish mailer?”
    Griffin smirked. “Yeah. They’re both better
off without me, I suppose.” He took a quick sip of his beer. “So what about
you? I assume there’s a missus somewhere, what with sons and all.”
    There was something almost painfully
ironic about Griffin asking that particular question. “We’re separated,”
Poseidon said.
    “Not divorced?”
    He wondered if that mortal practice even
applied to gods. “It’s complicated.”
    “Marriage usually is.”
    That was the understatement of the
millennium. Poseidon searched for a way to turn the conversation onto happier
topics. “I noticed your Sea Shepherds shirt last night,” he said. “I take it
you’re a supporter?”
    Griffin brightened. “Definitely. You can’t
be afraid to kick arse now and then, you know?”
    With relief, Poseidon allowed himself to
be pulled into a spirited discussion about marine conservation projects, which
led onto Griffin’s work at the institute. The mortal had Poseidon laughing with
a story about an octopus that had learned how to break out of his tank,
wandering across a hallway to another tank full of shrimp and helping himself
to the occupants. “All he needs is some sort of reverse scuba gear, and he could
knock over a jewelry store,” Griffin said, shaking his head in admiration.
    “I could have told you that,” Poseidon
said. “Never turn your back on an octopus or they’ll pick you clean.”
    “Too right, mate.” Griffin lifted a bottle
in salute, and Poseidon joined him. “To octopuses, the best damn sneak thieves
in the world.”
    ****
    It was one of the better days in Griffin’s
recent memory. The weather was perfect for sailing, and his muscles had that
happy ache that came after a really good workout on the lines. And Dunn,
miracle of miracles, had turned out to be a fine sailor.
    Not to mention decent company. After that
first uncomfortable exchange about wives, they started trading anecdotes like
they’d known each other for years. It was with a real sense of regret that
Griffin had to admit he was getting tired, even with Dunn taking turns at the
tiller.
    Dunn took over the piloting duties,
letting Griffin relax in the bow. Before he knew it they were gliding into the
cove’s entrance. Dunn started the recalcitrant engine without a problem and
handed the tiller over to Griffin while he took down the sails.
    Tying up the boat was blessedly smooth and
quick.