by Morgan James
Ash bit back a smile. Remy must have been an adorable child, all big eyes and wild hair. “So you’re close, then.”
“Oh yeah. She’s the greatest. We’re actually living together—well, for now. She and her true love are talking cohabitation.” His shoulders slumped a little, but his smile didn’t dim. “She got degrees in something much more useful—computer design and marketing. So she’s working in tech and making, you know, money. She’s also stupid smart and kinda my hero.”
Ash would have sat and listened to Remy talk about his best friend in glowing terms for as long as Remy wanted, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, buzzed again, and then a third time.
Damn. Only one person sent him texts in rapid succession like that. He glanced at his watch and winced. It was almost nine, and he’d told Etta he wouldn’t be out late.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “My turn.” He thumbed at the screen.
Where are you?
Have you been murdered?
… are you having sex?
Please tell me it’s the last one.
Ash scowled, tilted his phone so Remy definitely couldn’t see, and tapped out hastily, No and No. Got caught up. I’ll be back in under an hour.
“Sorry. Etta, reminding me we’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”
“Ah.” Remy nodded. Then, “Do you mind if I ask something personal? I won’t share it, I’m just curious.”
Ash considered him. “I may not answer.”
“Fair. Some of the fans think she’s your girlfriend. But you two aren’t dating, are you.” It wasn’t really a question.
Ash had heard the rumors and knew he benefited from them. So long as he had a plausible excuse for his not dating anyone else, his secrets were safer. And since Etta didn’t care what his fans thought of her, he’d never done anything to address the speculation. But….
He didn’t want to deceive Remy.
Ash shook his head. “No.” He’d never dated anyone and certainly not Etta. “She’s a good friend and a great bodyguard slash companion”—Remy’s lips quirked—“but that’s all.”
Remy nodded, then smiled. “Well, I guess we better get the check, because I’m pretty sure I don’t want on her bad side.”
Ash nodded. “Yeah, she knows aikido and tae kwon do, and her current obsession is kickboxing.” There was a reason, as a man over six feet, he’d been confident writing bodyguard on her employment contract.
Remy whistled. “Damn. Now I really want to get you home on time. I’m starting to worry for my own safety.”
“As you should. She protects me from creepy fans,” Ash said, straight-faced.
Remy chuckled and waved down their server.
“One bill,” Ash said to Kayla, their waitress, and pulled out his credit card.
“No way—”
“Let me? I’m not in uni.” He smiled, then added to soften the blow, “And I can write this off. This is a business trip.”
Remy arched a brow. “This isn’t exactly a business dinner.”
“No. But my accountant adds up all the money I spend on these trips and does magic with the numbers. No reason to deny her extra fun.”
After the bill was paid and they stood on the pavement once again, they stared at each other in awkward silence.
“So…,” Remy said.
“Can I give you a ride?” Remy cocked his head, and Ash blushed once again. “A driver will be here soon to take me back to the hotel. I could give you a lift home.”
Remy shook his head. “I’m like thirty minutes away from here.”
Ash shrugged.
“I couldn’t ask you to pay for that. And you’re like ten minutes from whatever hotel you’re staying at if it’s near the convention center.”
Ash shrugged again. “It’s a car service. I’ll be charged for an hour even if I don’t take the full thing. Might as well use it.”
After a beat, Remy finally nodded slowly in agreement.
When they got into the town car, the driver, Ray, asked where to, Remy gave an address, and Ray nodded, clearly familiar with it.
“You know,” Remy said, casual, “I’ve never been in a service car like this before.” He ran his hand over the plush leather seats. “Fancy,” he whispered and winked.
Ash’s lips trembled. He wasn’t sure why such a silly moment made him want to laugh so much. “I guess so.”
Remy smiled, leaned back, and then folded his hands over his belly. “I could get used to this.”
“Well, once you’ve made it big on the Times best-seller list, you can afford a driver whenever you want.”
“Oooh, good point,” Remy said happily. “Hmm. Just gotta figure out what I’m going to write about. Vampires are passé, so best to avoid them, I think.”
“Well, after all that research, wouldn’t it be logical to write about werewolves?”
Remy hummed and turned to look at him, his head lolling on the headrest. “You think I should write about them, Mr. Werewolf?”
Ash smiled. “I only played one on TV….”
“Yuk, yuk,” Remy said but not unkindly. He looked pleased. “So I shall write about werewolves…. Oh! I should write a book for kids—or preteens. The Harry Potter of werewolves. Maybe she goes to werewolf school.”
“Werewolf school? What does one learn at werewolf school?”
“Hmm. Good question. How to Control the Shift? Lunar Cycles 101? How to Cook Rabbit? Fleas: How to Avoid Them and How to Remove Them?”
Ash’s shoulders shook. “How to Howl?”
“Oh yes, definitely. Must-have for any young werewolf.” Remy nodded seriously—if lazily—and tapped a finger to his chin. “Scent Marking: How to Pee a Little Bit?”
“Cats: Friend or Foe?”
“When Not to Lick Your Privates in Public?”
Ash let out a bark of laughter. “You definitely win.”
“Oh good. I was worried about matching wits after I lost the dad-joke contest.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“Oh, I was. I’m known for my fantastic wit.”
“Uh-huh.” Despite his skeptical tone, Ash didn’t doubt it.
“Yup,” Remy said softly. He closed his eyes for a moment and hummed happily.
His eyelashes formed dark uneven crescents fluttering against his cheek. As they passed by storefronts, the changing lamps altered the shape of the shadows, and Ash contemplated the way the neons made Remy’s tan skin more golden. It struck Ash of a sudden that he would never see him again.
Once Remy left the car, that would be it. Ash didn’t have his number or email. There would be no more trips to charity shops or bakeries, and he would never get the opportunity to say hello or to send him a holiday or birthday card. This was it. The full extent of their acquaintance would span a weekend—or just over twelve hours, really. Ash’s gut said it would stay with him. He wouldn’t forget Remy, but he wouldn’t ever see him again.
Remy still hummed softly. A couple of the bars sounded familiar, but Ash couldn’t name the tune. Maybe he should ask what it was.
Or maybe he should ask for his number. Or an email. They could stay in touch. Ash was an adult. No reason he couldn’t simply ask, couldn’t say, “Remy, I like you. Why don’t we keep in touch?”
But… there was one glaringly obvious reason. Fame, at any level, changed the rules when it came to meeting people and making friends. Ash was not mobbed every time he went out in public, but Remy was a fan. And though Ash stayed positive that Remy would never share today with the internet, he really had no way of knowing. Maybe Remy was a lie and he’d been saving up the details to tweet later.
Ash shouldn’t ask him, shouldn’t say anything.
But the thought of never talking to Remy again, not even once….
“We’re here,” the driver said and pulled the car to a stop.
Ash looked out the window and noticed they were at the entrance to a community of neat wee row houses. He blinked, then shook his head. Had he really wasted their
last twenty minutes—
“Well, this is me.” Remy was turned in his seat, facing Ash, and smiling. “Today was fantastic. Thank you. I had a great time. Total dream come true. Thank you.” He unbuckled, opened his door, and gave a wee wave. “Toodles. Oh, and safe flight tomorrow.” Then he stood and stepped out of the car.
Ash’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his lips sealed shut. He swallowed and tried to think of something, anything, to say. Thank you too? Goodbye? Don’t go? Tell me your number before you leave me forever?
Remy leaned down and peered through the open doorway. “Thanks for the lift. Both of you,” he said more loudly for Ray. “Have a good one. Bye.” Then he smiled one last time and closed the door.
Ash watched, mute, his lips forming the word goodbye several seconds too late, as Remy walked away from the car, his movements fluid and upbeat.
“Back to your hotel, sir?” asked Ray.
Ash nodded, not sure his voice would work. His hand fell from his chest—useless to touch the coin now. He craned his neck to watch Remy for as long as possible, until he disappeared behind a house and the car pulled Ash out of range.
And he was gone. For good. Out of Ash’s life. And Ash had nothing, not even an address, since Remy had only given them a community, and Ash didn’t hold out any hope for finding a listing for a student.
So. That was it. The end.
Ash sat back in his seat, closed his eyes, and tried to will away the stone pit lodging itself into his stomach. There was no use dwelling on what-ifs.
If only he knew how to stop.
Part II: Vancouver
Chapter One
“ASHLAAAND,” Jasmine shouted and, when Ash reached striking distance, launched herself into his arms, her black ponytail streaking out behind her. He caught her easily, despite her height, and she wrapped her limbs round him in a full-body hug.
He took in a deep breath. She still smelled of honey and freshly baked goodies.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said with exuberance. “We got picked up. Can you believe it?”
“No,” Ash said with a self-deprecating laugh. He really couldn’t. He knew their pilot was gold, well-put-together on all fronts, and their showrunner had a résumé of success, but all that meant naught when it came to the television gods.
He might have been doing his best not to hope.
“But we did, and we’re here.” Jasmine pulled back and slipped gracefully from his arms. She brought grace to everything she did, though you wouldn’t think it seeing her joggers and ball cap.
“Come on, Highlander—”
Ash rolled his eyes. “I’m from Glasgow.” Or close enough, to Americans.
“—come say hello again to everyone.”
She grasped his hand and pulled him to the table. Ash might have a natural un-Scottish bent toward shyness, but he wasn’t wary of this group. He and his castmates had got on like a burning house during the week they filmed the pilot, and he was relieved to see them all again.
“Hey.” Miya gave him an awkward finger wave. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, several locks falling into her face and sweeping in front of her large chunky black frames. She’d curled her petite form into her chair, a feat no one else there was likely to manage, and one knee poked out over the top of the table.
“Hallo,” Ash said. “S’good to see you.” He smiled for her, then turned to the other two members of their cast, Kim and Michael.
Michael, tall, dark-skinned, and beautiful, nodded and smiled in greeting. He lounged in his chair, looking very cool, a contrast to the boisterous energy Ash had often seen that first week. “So glad to see you again, darling.”
Ash rolled his eyes. The Irish accent might charm the North Americans, but it didnae work on him.
“Guid tae see you too, cupcake.” Two could play that game.
Kim snorted, one sardonic eyebrow raised. She hadn’t put product in her short hair today, and her tawny brown fringe swept across her forehead. She was dressed down in flannel plaid and jeans, and pulling the look off well. “You two trying to practice the sexual tension?” she asked drily.
Despite himself, Ash’s cheeks warmed. That was the number one reason he’d wanted this job: Hamish Dunbar was gay.
Michael grinned. “Of course. Nothing comes easy without practice.”
Jasmine snorted. “As if your oh-so-obvious on-screen pining wasn’t one of the number one likes of the pilot.”
Miya nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Janet told me it was very popular with the female viewers.” Even when excited, her voice remained quiet.
Though he’d heard similarly from their showrunner, Ash scratched his new beard, self-conscious.
“Oh!” Jasmine clasped her hands in front of her chest. “They’re going to make so many fan works about you two.”
Having been half of a show’s most popular ’ship before, Ash had seen some of the stuff fans could produce. People had gifted some pretty fantastic art to him and Adele. He even had one of Zvi and Moira framed on his wall.
He was proud to be part of something that meant so much to people, but the thought of being the center of that enthusiastic attention once again made him blush.
Michael didn’t seem fazed, possibly because his résumé so far only consisted of guest roles. He smirked and said, “Well, I am very handsome and charming.”
Kim rolled her eyes. “And it’s all about you, of course.”
“All right, children,” Janet called. She stood in front of her chair and gestured about with her water bottle. “As much as it pleases me to see you all getting along so well, how about we get this table read started?”
“Hell yes,” Jasmine crowed.
Janet smiled. “Thank you, Jasmine. First I want to welcome everyone, new and returning, to the table read for episode two of Mythfits.”
Everyone cheered and applauded.
“Now, as we have a couple of new faces in the room, let’s do quick introductions before we get underway.”
They went around the table, and cast and crew alike gave their names and roles.
“I’m Miya, and I play the yokai weather spirit, Nariko.” She gave a sweet smile and waved to everyone.
“I’m Michael, and I play the Irish fairy, obviously.” Miya poked him. “Oh, Niall.” He rolled his eyes at the name, but his lips quirked.
Kim went next. “I’m the otter shifter, Hana’a.” She brushed her bangs out of her face.
Jasmine grinned and introduced herself as the “kickass vampire-lady, Roxanna.”
Which left Ash, or “Hamish, the brownie.”
“And love of my feckin’ life, sugarplum,” Michael interjected.
Laughter rose around the room, and Ash relaxed into his seat, smiling.
And so it began.
“IT’S everything I ever wanted,” Ash told Langston later that night over the phone.
He hummed softly. “Yeah?”
“Ay. The script is good, it’s funny and real, and my costars are amazing and talented.” Ash fiddled with his coin, twisting it round the chain. “And—” He cleared his throat. “—my character is gay.” He’d been reluctant to mention it before, but now that filming for the full series had started, it was time to tell.
After the longest few seconds of Ash’s life, Langston said, “Really?”
“It’s, uh, why I pushed for the audition.” He’d ranted to Langston months ago about his agent calling it a waste of his time. Even if he could manage the comedy, no one would hire the brooding Zvi to star in a dramedy, fantasy-based or no. But not once had he mentioned that Hamish was openly gay from the first episode or that Niall the faerie and Roxanna the vampire had extremely fluid and flexible sexualities—not to mention the tentative noises the writers made about Miya’s character being asexual.
“Really?”
“Aye.”
“Oh. Are you planning on, er, ‘coming out,’ then? If you’re playing this queer bloke on TV?”
&nbs
p; “No,” Ash said quickly, memories of too-trusting Sam intruding. “Definitely no’. No’ ready for that. But Ah’m ready for this.”
“Good.” Langston huffed. “You know we’d support you, if you wanted—”
“Aye,” Ash blurted, cheeks burning. He’d never doubted it, but better not let Langston finish that thought.
“Good. Ye numpty.”
Ash snorted a laugh and said round the lump in his throat, “Thanks, roaster.” After living in Canada for seven years and London for three before that, Ash had mostly trained the Scottish out of his everyday, but it always came back full-force with Langston.
“So. How are Fi and the girls?” Ash asked, desperate for the conversation change.
“Fit and fine as ever. Linsey says she’s gonna be a ballet dancer, and wee Shona discovered paints. Her art is hanging everywhere. Fi says we’ll have to start binning it soon to make room for more.”
A soft noise escaped Ash. “Fi sent me a photo yesterday.” He was so grateful for mobiles and Insta; without them he’d never see his nieces. “They’re getting so big.”
“Aye. That’s what weans do.”
“Shut yer gob,” Ash said without heat. He and Langston were close as children, but when Ash moved away to acting school and then to Canada to follow a job—and maybe even to escape… something—the distance had done its inevitable damage.
A key turned in the front lock, and Etta walked in carrying a paper bag. Dinner had arrived.
“Etta brought me tea. Best say g’night,” he said, watching her kick off her boots and lock the door.
“Alright. I’ll tell Fi and the girls you say hello. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“How’s the brother?” Etta asked as she transitioned into the kitchen. She settled on the other side of the counter and began pulling Indian out of the bag.
“Alright,” he answered. “Smells well tidy.”
Etta smiled at him, then turned to get plates. “You’re always difficult to understand after you talk to him.”
Ash rolled his eyes and made for the fridge. “Want a bevvy?” He poured a water for himself and grabbed a beer when she asked.
