“No.” Then, “Take me to see the fish you like.”
Grabbing his hand, I tugged him out of the small break room and into the store. All our tanks were on the left side (when you came in through the front). The entire side wall was filled with three long shelves that went from the floor to almost the ceiling. Each shelf had a row of tanks.
“The lighting in here is not great, and honestly, the shelving is pretty basic. But they are able to support the weight of the tanks, so that’s all that really matters,” I said, towing him down the row, which was created by another stack of shelves with tanks.
The carpet was the indoor/outdoor kind, so it wasn’t very plush beneath your feet, but it dried quickly when spillshappened. Kieran suddenly became less easy to tug, and when I glanced around, I noticed him staring at the drop ceiling and the water stain on one of the tiles.
“That’s always been there,” I told him. “C’mon, look here.”
He started walking again, and I stopped partway down the row at a tank on the center shelf. It was a thirty-gallon, which wasn’t ideal for the four plecos in it.
“This tank is actually too small for so many plecos, but it was the best I could do,” I explained. “Mr. Wasashi wanted to put some other fish in here with them, but I refused.” I went on, getting angry all over again. “I put some rocks in here because this type of fish loves places to hide. I made three different little caves, and then I added some of the plants so they could go behind there too.”
“There’s dirt in the bottom,” Kieran said, inspecting the tank.
“It’s substrate.” I corrected him. “There,” I said, excitement making my voice slightly high. I pointed to one of the rocks. “It’s Scop!”
Kieran stepped forward and leaned in, his face near mine. My stomach fluttered a little just at his closeness and because he really seemed interested in what I wanted to show him.
“I don’t see anything,” he said.
“There,” I pointed but didn’t tap the glass. Tapping the glass was too loud for them and could cause stress. “See his tail?”
Scop’s tail swished a little and came out from the underside of the rock.
“I thought you said he was albino?”
“He is. Albino plecos are usually a yellow shade. Some can be white or even pink. But primarily, they are a yellow color.”
“Looks orange,” Kieran argued.
I elbowed him.
Scop moved from under the rock to the top of it, his fins undulating in the water as he draped across the stone. His entirebody was about two inches, his eyes were small and looked a little red, and he appeared to have small white spots over his primarily yellow body.
“It’s ugly,” Kieran declared.
Gasping, I spun and grabbed his face. He gazed at me through unblinking blue eyes, and I tightened my grip on his cheeks. “He heard that,” I said. “Apologize to him before he gets low self-esteem.”
“Fish don’t have self-esteem.”
“I do. And you said my favorite fish is ugly.”
Kieran sighed. He glanced back at Scop, who had moved to the back of the tank and was hanging off the side. “How does he do that?” he asked.
“With his sucker mouth.”
Kieran made a face, and my eyes narrowed. “You have lovely red eyes, Scop. Nice to meet you.”
I glared at him harder.
“You’re a very handsome fish,” he murmured.
I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He said nothing and straightened, but his cheeks looked a little pink.
One of the other plecos in the tank, also a bristlenose like Scop but this one was gray with white spots, came out from his hiding place.
