Page 5

Chapter Five

Travis

“ Y ou look like your puppy died.” Joe handed me another beer.

My third.

I’d taken a bus to my favorite bar on Granville Street in Downtown Vancouver. At night, this place was always alive with animated patrons and great music. During the day, it had a couple of televisions going with sports playing.

“Never had a puppy.”

“That’s too bad.” He pointed to my empty plate of nachos, clearly asking if I wanted a refill.

I shook my head. Not now, anyway. If I stayed a few more hours, I just might. I eyed the downpour outside the window. Yeah, no rush to head home.

“I had a dog when I was growing up.”

“Yesterday?”

Joe had a young face. What some might call a baby face. He hadn’t yet, to my mind, matured enough to even be manning the bar.

He pointed. “Good one. I turned thirty last month.”

I blinked.

“Yeah, I know. You should see my great-grandfather. Doesn’t look a day over sixty and yet he’s ninety-three. Good genes.”

I couldn’t fathom living to sixty, let alone ninety-three. I spent too much time punishing myself at a very physical job where injuries were rare, but vicious. “That’s great news for you. Long life.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I don’t want to be a bartender for the rest of my life. I’m dipping my toe into acting. I’ve got an agent and everything.”

“Wow.” I knew absolutely nothing about the entertainment industry.

No, that wasn’t strictly true. I knew the whole thing was huge up here in Vancouver, and I knew breaking in was super tough.

“You going to be the next Ryan Reynolds?” Hometown boy who had done incredibly well for himself—and insisted on giving back to Canada every chance he got.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He leaned closer. “See that group near the back?”

Surreptitiously, I flicked my gaze that way. About fifteen people. “Yeah, okay.”

“They’re from Vigilante Justice . Some cast, some crew, and the producer.”

“Okay.”

“I would do anything to get a part on that show. Even just a walk-on role.”

Slowly, I returned my gaze to him. “I don’t watch the show.”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Oh God, you’re missing out. It’s amazing. It’s about this superhero and his nemesis…”

He continued on about some plot, but I sort of—to my shame—tuned him out. If the people from the show were here, then why not just go over? I was a proponent of taking risks. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gone home with Marshmallow last night.

I should just call him Mallow. I often gave guys nicknames in my mind. Especially if I hadn’t gotten their name. You could’ve gotten his name. Hell, you might have even gotten a repeat if you hadn’t taken off like the chickenshit you are.

Sure. But then I’d have had to admit I’d felt differently about him. That last night hadn’t been a usual— “Holy shit.”

“What?” Joe cocked his head. “You didn’t hear a word—”

I pointed to the television. “What the fuck is that?”

He turned for just a moment, then turned back. “That, my friend, is rugby. You’ve never seen a game before?”

No, I was certain I hadn’t.

Yes, I wish I had before now.

Because before me was Mallow, being slapped on the back by a guy in the same turquoise-and-black uniform.

Turquoise had been my mother’s favorite color. Otherwise I would’ve just called it some weird shade of blue or green.

All of a sudden, men from what were clearly opposing sides, all leaned in and made this weird…formation.

“What the fuck is that?”

“A scrum.”

“Hey, Joe?” A soft lilting voice came from behind me.

I was too entranced in the show to pay her any mind.

“Yeah, Polly?”

“Valentino would like a rum and Coke.”

Joe cleared his throat.

“I’ll watch the bar if you want to deliver it to him. Do you have your headshot handy?”

At that, I glanced over. I’d seen Polly around, but she mainly served the tables while Joe or one of the other bartenders kept this part going. I offered her a smile.

She gave one back. “Joe’s trying to land a role on the show Valentino produces.”

“So he said.” I smiled. “I think he’d do well.” Truthfully, I didn’t know him all that well. I tended to stick to seedier bars on the eastside. But when I wanted something more upscale, I made my way here.

“Okay.” Joe prepared the drink.

And his hand shook as he added the rum.

“You going to be okay?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, of course.” He sucked in a breath. “I just have to make certain I don’t spill it on him.”

“You’ll be fine.” Again, no reason to be certain of this, but I wished the guy well.

Polly slid in behind the bar.

Joe departed.

My gaze went back to the television.

Apparently hers followed as she sighed. “I love the Orcas. That Roger guy is so hot. Married, though.”

“Do you know all the players?”

“Nah. Just the big ones. Roger’s a flanker, Isaiah’s the fullback, and Johnnie’s the hooker.”

I sputtered the sip of beer I’d just taken. “The what?”

She pressed a napkin into my hand. “The hooker. Maybe come back one day and I’ll tell you what I know. Valentino’s group is large enough that I can’t take the time.”

A shot of the crowd let me know something had happened.

Mallow shook his arms in the air.

I cleared my throat. “And him?”

“Isaiah.” She squinted. “I can’t remember his last name. I think he’s the only one with that name on the team. I’m sure if you look him up, you can learn more about him.” She gazed over, but a commercial had come on. “He’s a cute one.”

I cocked my head.

“Well, you told me you were gay.”

“Jesus, I don’t remember that.”

She shrugged. “I think I was talking about a cute couple I knew. I’ve met a bunch, especially over the last year. That film crew has acquired a few guys lately. Oh, and a few gals. Elouise Hynes and her wife are here today. Uh…Kelci.”

I might’ve lived under a rock for most of my life, but even I knew who Elouise Hynes was. A Canadian actress who had recently won an Academy Award. I glanced over at the group.

Sure as hell, a woman with wheat-blond hair had her arm around a woman with purple hair.

I turned back to Polly. “And Isaiah’s gay?”

She nodded. “One of the first to come out in the Canadian league. Made quite a splash. Not many pro sports athletes are that brave.”

Even more for him to have come to the bar last night.

“Uh, thanks Polly.” I turned my attention back to the television in time to see a guy ram into another guy who threw the white ball sideways and then he threw it behind him to another guy and on that went for a good minute before someone finally skidded across the line.

Mallow was right there to clap the guy on the back.

The score went up by five.

I rubbed my forehead.

Guess I have a lot to learn.

Except…I hadn’t given Mallow my number. And yeah, I knew where he lived. But if I just showed up, would he let me in? If I left a note with the concierge, would Mallow even bother to respond?

You really screwed the pooch when you walked away without a backward glance.

Except I had glanced backward. Last night as I’d fallen asleep and again right now. I was looking back and regretting my hasty retreat.

And fearing it was too late to do anything about it.