The guy gave me a look that repeated what I’d thought only twenty minutes previously—how did a four-year-old come out with this shit?
“Why do you need another tank when you only just got one?” Reid asked me as we set up the new tank near the other one while Shanti squealed over the fry already in the nurseries, and Naomi almost had a meltdown as she turkey basted the latest ones.
“Apparently, we’re idiots who bought pregnant fish.”
Reid moved over to stand next to Shanti before bending over and squinting as he looked into the tank. “Those are babies? I thought they were just tiny fish when I saw them in the aquarium with them at the pet store.”
Naomi’s head turned slowly—scarily slowly—in my direction at this news. “You saw babies and still bought fish from that tank?”
Reid shrugged. “I didn’t realize they were babies. Damn, you’ve got a lot of them. I see why you needed another tank.”
All I could say in my defense was that I had good intentions when I’d done all of this for Shanti. I’d back up my argument with the fact that she loved the fish and had screamed and jumped around when she’d seen the babies. Naomi could picture drowning me in one of the tanks all she wanted, I’d make it up to her later tonight.
Truth be told, I felt more at ease than I’d ever felt since my parents had died, and even Naomi busting my balls wouldn’t change that. In fact, it’d probably add to it.
It was official—I’d entered weird territory, the kind men warned each other about, claiming we became pussy whipped if we didn’t put our feet down.
I wouldn’t be putting mine down, and I gave not one shit what anyone else had to say about that.
After my weekend with Naomi and Shanti, I’d been in a good mood, but then Garrett asked, “So how many fish do you have now?”
We were currently en route back to Bates’ Retirement Home following another smackdown situation between Mrs. Keating and Mrs. Bane. Still, even that and the fact another two patrol cars were assisting us for amusement purposes hadn’t ruined my mood. The question—although it might not seem too bad to most people—did, though.
Scrubbing my face with my hand, I sighed. “I don’t even know anymore. Almost every fish we bought was pregnant, so we’ve got babies everywhere now, and those things can have more for a while after they did the dirty with Papa Fish.”
“How the hell do you cope with that? How many do they have a time?”
“I can’t answer that. I’m too afraid to look it up online, and I’m praying Naomi doesn’t, either. I bought a bigger tank on Saturday and split it into three sections with fry-friendly pumps, so we have a safe place to put them depending on when they’re born.”
The asshole choked on a laugh. “What are you doing with them once they’re too big for the second tank? What if there are males and they start having babies with their sisters?”
It’d seemed like such an innocent and easy thing to get for Shanti to look after, but the responsibility the damn fish needed was almost a full-time job now.
An idea occurred to me. “I’m going to give them away to y’all as your Christmas presents.”
“Dude, no. What if you give us brothers and sisters and they have babies? That shit just isn’t right.”
He wasn’t wrong there.
“All I meant to do was give Shanti something to love and look after, to teach her how to be responsible. Now we’re losing sleep over babies being born through the night and the adult fish eating them. Then there’s catching them, keeping them safe, and putting them in a bigger tank so they can grow and be healthy. Now I’ve added inbreeding to that list.”
“A dog or a cat would have been way easier,” he mused as he drove us through the entrance of the retirement home. “Well, unless it’s my wife’s dog. That fucker takes great enjoyment in ruining my life and my socks with his shit.”
Not wanting to relive the last time I’d stood in his dog’s shit in my socks, I got out of the cruiser as soon as he parked it and watched as Alex steered one of our new Chargers into the space beside us.
Now that there was some funding available to P.V.P.D., all the old vehicles and equipment that’d needed to be replaced ten years ago was gone, and in its place was new shiny stuff. The Charger being a perfect example, and our protective vests another.
I waited until he and Reid were out of it to ask, “How’d it drive?”
They were doing their best to look casual, but their twitching mouths gave away their excitement. “Awesomely. We’re taking it out to the private airfield to test it properly tomorrow if you want to come?”