by Morgan James
Ash went with Thai curry and Jasmine with pizza, and then they settled at a table. She sipped a Coke and asked if he’d had a good weekend, and he shrugged and turned it back on her.
He was busting a gut and she was wrapping up a story involving her boyfriend, her dog, a “puppy purse,” and a trip to the grocery store which had gone horribly wrong, when Remy arrived.
He stepped into the room and Ash’s gaze drifted past Jasmine and focused. Only his desire to not be caught out enabled him to turn away. From the corner of his eye, though, he watched as Remy filled a plate, grabbed a drink, and then turned to survey the tables.
Ash repressed the urge to wave him over. But it turned out unnecessary. Remy came their way.
“Mind if I join?” he asked, lifting his tray.
Ash shrugged and titled his head toward an empty seat, and Jasmine smiled and waved him into it. “Of course. You’re the monster specialist, right?”
Remy put down his food and sat. “Yeah, that’s me. I got my master’s in monsters and everything.”
Jasmine chuckled. “Cool. I didn’t know you could do that.”
Remy winked. “Definitely. You can get a graduate degree in all sorts of useless things. The trick is convincing someone to pay for your hard-earned knowledge after the fact.” The light tone didn’t quite hide his self-deprecation.
Jasmine chuckled and said, “Good thing you found someone who needs to know all the mythical creatures.”
“For sure. This job is a dream come true. I’m not sure how I beat all the other applicants, but I’m thankful every day.”
Jasmine smiled. “Good boy. All right. I’ve got to run and make a call before they drag us back to set, so I’m going to leave you boys to entertain yourselves.” She stood and gathered her tray. “Pleasure to see you again, Remy. And I’ll see you on set,” she added to Ash, then leaned down to drop a kiss to the top of his head.
Ash didn’t flinch, having learned to roll with Jasmine’s tactile nature. “Later,” he said, and she winked and walked off.
“She always like that?” Remy wanted to know.
Ash shrugged.
Remy smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Well, she’s awesome. Mom would call her a card.” Ash raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Have I mentioned my mom is secretly, like, a hundred? One day I’m actually going to make a game of Who Said It with her and like, Agatha Christie characters. Everyone would lose terribly.”
“Ye ken?”
“Yup. Each question would be a fifty-fifty shot. Terrible odds,” Remy said congenially and then took a bite of his salad. “I often wonder what her kitchen staff thinks of her.”
“Oh. Have you not met them?”
Remy offered a weak smile. “No. Not much crossover between Mom’s lives these days. Not much time for trivial things like family. My stepdad probably wouldn’t see much of her if he didn’t ‘work from home’ and use the restaurant as his office.” He poked his salad. “They met because he’s her accountant.”
Ash didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”
Remy cleared his throat. “To each their own.” He took a bite of salad, and Ash drank some of his water.
“So,” Remy said, “I was thinking, maybe this weekend we could go do some sightseeing?” His eyes widened, looking hopeful.
He’d been serious about that trade, then. “Alright.” Ash gave a wee self-conscious shrug. He didn’t know why Remy had asked him, but now he was grateful that he’d spent the year off after Restraint finally exploring the city.
Remy licked his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could check out Granville market or maybe the island?”
They were two of the biggest tourist draws in the city, but Ash wasn’t going to argue with Remy. He hadn’t been to the island since he last filmed there and the market for even longer. It was one of the few tourist sites he’d seen during his first years in Vancouver.
“Sure.” Vancouver Island was probably better kept for another day. Hopefully they’d have shooting days out there at some point, so they wouldn’t have to spend most of the weekend traveling to and from. The market was easier done. “The market will be busy on the weekend, but not too bad this time of year.”
Remy nodded. “Better than nothing. What’s the point of going if there are no tourists?”
Ash’s eyes widened. “If you say so.” He preferred traveling during the off-season.
“Saturday, then? Early morning?”
“Yeah. Easier to get there by bus than car. I’ll take a look at the schedule.”
Remy nodded, and his soft smile showed more pleasure than many a blinding grin. Ash’s heart thumped. “Perfect.” Remy’s fringe was loose on his forehead today, sweeping messily across to brush his eyebrows. His eyes sparkled.
Reluctant, Ash shook himself and looked at his watch. “I should get back to set.”
“Right. Text me?”
Ash didn’t suppress the smile those words evoked. “Yeah.” He gathered his tray, gave a small finger wave, and headed out. He couldn’t help but give one last look over his shoulder before he exited, and he saw Remy smiling absently at his lunch. Ash’s own smile was still in place when he got back to set.
ASH groaned and reached out of his nest of blankets to silence his alarm.
Waking up early on a day off to catch a morning bus to Granville had seemed like a good idea several days ago, before he did a full-day shoot that hadn’t ended until after one.
He groaned again. He’d barely noticed the late hour the night before, when he was working. Michael was a riot, and their on-screen chemistry was undeniable. The current episode had loads of sexual tension for their characters, and Michael always managed to make those scenes the most fun instead of the most awkward.
Now, though, as Ash tried to pull himself from his bed, he was keenly aware that he was closer to thirty than twenty. He had never been good at forgoing sleep, but he’d been able to survive it.
I’m going to see Remy.
His heart pounded and he got out of bed.
Forty-five minutes later, showered, dressed, and fed, Ash made his way out of the flat and into the surprisingly sunny weather. Hopefully May would bring more such days and chase away the coastal rains.
Remy stood waiting for him at the bus stop. His bright eyes crinkled with delight, and he fair glowed in the sunlight.
Ash shook away his soppy thoughts. “Hallo.”
“Hey. Perfect timing. Bus is almost here.” He waggled his phone, screen out, so Ash could see the transit app with the GPS feeds.
“Good.”
“How’s work going? You’re filming the episode with Baba Yaga next, right?” He bounced on his toes.
“Yeah. Did you—”
“Consult on it? Yes, I did. I officially helped craft a character.” He beamed. “I’m super excited to be able to say that.”
Ash smiled, his urge to yawn gone. “I bet.”
The bus pulled up and they got on. “How far do we go?”
Ash shrugged. “Couple of stops.”
Remy settled in his seat with a little butt wiggle.
“They got you researching anything else?”
Remy grinned. “Yup! They’ve actually asked me to find a few monsters—gave me some criteria and asked for stuff that might fit.” His knee bounced. “They even asked me to throw out some ideas for a werewolf-themed story.”
“Oh, fantastic.”
Remy nodded. “Yeah. I mean, no guarantees. Maybe all my ideas will be terrible, but it’s still cool they asked.” His smile morphed into a brave-face type.
“I’m sure they won’t be terrible,” Ash said. With his imagination and background, Remy would turn out something great.
“Gee, thanks,” Remy laughed. “I’ve always aspired to not terrible.” His tone had a hint of sarcasm, but his eyes held warmth.
Ash knocked their shoulders together. “No problem.”
When they pulled into the Olympic Village station, Remy arched an eyebrow. “T
hey still call it that?” he asked as they got off the bus to transfer.
“Yeah.” Ash cleared his throat. “I got here right after the Olympics. Not sure what it was before.”
Remy tilted his head and considered Ash for a long moment. “You must really like it here.”
“Yeah.” Ash swallowed. “It’s home now.” Part of him would always miss Scotland, but he couldn’t imagine moving back. He’d never really fit in, not like he did here. Besides, Etta wouldn’t go for it.
“Well, if you were gonna settle anywhere, I can see here. It’s a beautiful city.” Remy sighed. “Though I could do with cheaper rent.”
Ash snorted. He’d met more than one new costar who’d objected to the cost of housing, and he was grateful he’d been able to buy his place outright. His maw would probably be pleased to know Da’s accident had secured Ash some stability at least.
They boarded the second bus and rode it to the base of the bridge. Once there, they walked to the “island” via the small strip of land that connected it to the mainland. The five-minute trek took them down some unassuming brick paths between towering flat complexes and trees, over a small footpath bridge, down another urban path, and out, at last, into Granville.
The island’s small community was committed to its trade. As they made their way to the Public Market, they walked past several shops and car parks. It was the land of tourism, and if Remy weren’t so intent upon his goal, he would have taken them off course several times over, judging by the cooing and intrigued noises he made at several storefronts.
“We can investigate them later,” Ash suggested, and Remy beamed at him.
When they finally arrived and wandered through the halls of the Granville Island Public Market, Remy moaned in delight over the displays of food, each laid out to their best drool-worthy advantage.
Remy bought a blueberry-lemon oat scone and Ash a cornbread muffin, and then they both got drinks. Ash conceded to Remy’s bullying to forgo his usual tea and begrudgingly purchased a decadent vanilla latte, and they settled in one of the small-business cafés to drink locally roasted brews while they marveled over their breakfast treats. Well, Remy did. Ash spent more time taking in the sight of Remy’s lashes fluttering when he sipped his coffee or took a bite of scone, and the sound of his indecent moans as he savored each bite. Ash had never seen anyone enjoy food so much—well, except for Remy himself when they met. Though Ash didn’t remember Remy being so… suggestive back then.
Ash shifted in his seat and hoped Remy didn’t notice.
He had barely touched his muffin by the time Remy brushed off his fingers and asked if Ash enjoyed his breakfast. He eyed the treat, so Ash pulled it closer and pointedly tore off a bite.
As Ash ate, Remy rambled on about the people walking past and about seeing if there was a local ice-hockey beer league worth joining, and spun the idea of walking dogs here for cash to “keep my hand in, and also maybe to learn about the city a bit more.”
Once Ash had finished eating, they picked up their coffees and wandered about again. Seeing as they weren’t yet ready to buy their lunch and there was a limit to how much drooling Remy could do over the edible displays, Ash suggested they go for a walk.
They meandered about, into the Net Loft and the Creekhouse and whichever other store took Remy’s fancy. He bounced with delight over the shops and stalls manned by local artists, spent a great deal of time hemming and hawing over each one, peered closely at paintings and photographs, touched all the jewelry and sculptures, and fondled scarves and fabrics. He was especially fond of holding up accessories and clothing to his body and asking, “What do you think?”
At noon, they wandered back toward the food at the Public Market and picked up some brie and garlic salami and a black-olive loaf. Remy made cooing noises over the side dishes in the cheese shop, so Ash picked up some apricots and toasted nuts too. Then they headed outside and settled down to a picnic. Once again Remy moaned his way through the meal and Ash shifted uncomfortably, resigned to his awkward-arousal fate.
“Damn, why is all the food here so good?” Remy asked.
Ash shrugged. “Competition and lots of it.”
“Probably.” With a chunk of bread, Remy scooped up another bite of brie. “Shame not to have gotten any of the seafood, though.”
“We can get some for dinner if you want,” Ash said agreeably. He didn’t have any other plans, and Etta would be out with her kickboxing buddies that night, so he might as well pick up something here.
“Yeah?” Remy’s gaze was warm. “All right. Seafood dinner it is.”
And then Ash realized he’d invited Remy over in a rather backhanded manner. Again. Abashed, he blushed, looked away, and cleared his throat. “Guid.” He ate another bite of bread.
So did Remy.
“I, erm,” Ash said, desperate for a distraction, “thought maybe you’d like to go to the children’s market.” He could already picture Remy running round the toy-filled building.
Remy paused, food halfway to his gaping mouth. “There’s a market for children?”
“Yeah. A few blocks away.” Ash cleared his throat. “Near where we came in, actually.”
“We are so going,” Remy gushed.
By the time he bounced gleefully from one store to another in the Kids Market, Ash wondered if he’d made a mistake.
“There’s a ball pit! And a candy shop!” He eyed the map on his phone, and Ash pulled him to the nearest storefront.
“What’s a Kaboodle?” Remy squinted at the sign and then, with a shrug, skipped off to discover the definition.
The contents of the store—toys—did little to illuminate things, but he didn’t seem bothered. He snatched up a Mr. Potato Head and turned it so Ash could see. “Luke Frywalker,” he crowed. “And Darth Tater. Oh my God.” He swapped out the boxes and peered closely at the contents. “Amazing,” he sighed.
Let me buy it for you. Ash bit his lip. Remy wouldn’t want random presents, especially not from someone he barely knew.
“Oooh, Lego.” Remy put down the Potato Head and made for the display. Ash followed. “I had all the Lego as a kid. Loved it, tried to build all the things.” He smiled fondly. “What about you?”
Ash shrugged. “More my brother’s thing.”
Remy shook his head pityingly and asked, “So what was yours?”
Ash felt his cheeks warm. He wondered what Remy would have thought of his collection of My Little Ponies. “I liked Playmobil better.” He tilted his head toward their shelves. He could see the cowboy set, his favorite when he was a kid.
Remy smiled and nodded. “Playmobil. Excellent taste.” He ran his fingertips contemplatively across the various boxes. “You forget about all of them, you know? All the stuff that made up your childhood, that was so important and you had to have and played with every day, and then suddenly you’re doing your best to remember the look or the name of them.” Remy touched the box with a construction worker in it. Then he shook himself and smiled winningly at Ash. “What do you suppose is their most annoying toy in here?”
Ash rolled with the abrupt change and took up the challenge. They moved round the displays, looking for noisemakers. Ash found the instruments, and after testing out any that didn’t involve putting their mouths where children had presumably put theirs, they agreed the drum was the worst. But Remy wouldn’t back down from his stance that the pennywhistle they refused to test would be much more aggravating. They were still bickering about it when they left the store.
“The ball pit!” Remy grabbed Ash’s hand and pulled.
“We’re not going in there,” Ash hastily pointed out, but he didn’t drag his feet.
“I know.” Remy sighed wistfully. “I don’t really want to go in it anyway. I’d probably catch a cold. Still. They’re the greatest.”
“Not sure I was ever in one,” Ash admitted.
Remy made an indignant noise and stumbled to a halt. He whipped round, wide-eyed. “Why would you tell me that when
there’s nothing I can do to fix it!”
“Sorry.” Ash’s lips quirked. “I didn’t know it would be such a crime.” He shrugged—and then noticed their hands were still tangled together. Nervous, suppressing the urge to cast guiltily about, he pulled his hand away and was surprised by a pang of regret.
The market had a sweetie store—because of course it did—and Remy insisted on “sampling their wares,” which apparently meant buying several feet of liquorice.
Ash wrinkled his nose. He’d never liked it, but Remy didn’t have any such distaste, judging by the way he stuffed the first bite into his mouth and groaned. If there were anything which could convince Ash….
“So good.”
Ash cleared his throat. “If you say so.”
“Want some? It’s really good stuff. Just the right amount of chewy.”
Ash shook his head. “Not my thing.”
Remy dropped his jaw and gasped with mock outrage. “Are you a liquorice hater? You are, aren’t you.”
“It’s too strong, too bitter.”
“What a horrible thing to say!” Remy shook his head. “Well, since you have such bad taste… more for me.” He grinned and took another overlarge bite.
He was still munching away when Ash suggested they head home. “We can go back to the market to buy dinner?”
“Yes! Can you believe I haven’t had any salmon since I got here? And it’s so fresh.” He sighed and waved for Ash to lead the way.
They bought a four-pound fillet of salmon and, at Remy’s urging, some green beans, scallions, and all the fixings for a Caesar salad.
“Do you have Caesar dressing?” Remy asked as he grabbed the lettuce.
“No?”
“Never mind. I can make some. Just need to grab some anchovy paste. Unless you’d rather vegan? I’ve got a wicked recipe.” He arched his brows, and Ash furrowed his own.
“Whichever you like best.”
Remy shook his head. “Let’s see if we can find the ingredients here.”
