Bad news: they found small white aphids on the Pearl Calico Shebunkins that morning. These were the moneymakers. The right kind of customer would ogle them while they darted around their tank and mumble, hypnotized, “How much?”
The value was in their color, their shine. Goldfish fins refract light, Faye told the employees when they arrived at Faye’s Fins, outlining a tail with one stubby, unpolished nail. These fish required constant exposure to high-powered lights to keep their colors from dulling. If left in the dark, the fish would eventually fade to gray. Then there’d be hell to pay. It had happened once during a power outage: twenty Telescope eyes big as carp and smuggled in from China had gone from vermilion to gray, tropical fruit to gruel, koi pond to grocery store sushi, in less than eight hours.
Someone asked, “Did they sell?”
Faye snorted and drew her finger across her throat.