Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JOSH
Im bored
So get a fucking life?
Ur my life bro
Get your shit
We’re going out
The paints sat unopened on the spotless drop sheet that had sat in the rental’s hallway for months. A notebook filled with dozens of sketches laid open in front of him, each page offering a variation on the mountain range he’d planned. Places he’d lived. Places he’d visited. The North Shore mountains that had dominated the Vancouver skyline and his childhood, smooth and close and verdant, rising from the ocean like Poseidon. The Dandenong Ranges, though he’d only seen them in the Melbourne summer. A version of the Andes, pulled from a decade-old memory, and admittedly not true to life. Here, the Rockies waited in the distance, jagged and wild, grey against the blue sky, a knife blade thrust towards the heavens. He’d have to decide, eventually.
Josh sat cross-legged on the floor, scowling at the empty expanse of wall mocking him. This wasn’t going anywhere tonight, and with just over a month left in Calgary, it was barely worth starting now. He tossed the pencil and notebook onto the counter, and Stephen’s pounding on the door sounded seconds later.
The bar trying to style itself as a speakeasy had an artificially accelerated patina, all burnished brass, patterned peacock-and-emerald wallpaper, and richly upholstered shell benches. Good vibe, actually, and busy for a Tuesday night. Gusts of cold December air pushed through the doors at his back and under the collar of his warm-up jacket, doing anything but its actual job, and Stephen cut through the crowd with practiced ease.
“This place used to be a country bar when I was in university,” he said, sliding into the booth and frowning at the art déco interior. He nudged his bearded chin at a corner with a wine cave glassed off. “Cover bands used to play on a shitty stage right over there.”
“You seriously think I’d be sitting here listening to country covers?”
“Aw buddy, you’d do anything for me.”
“Fuck off.”
Fine. It was better than staring at the blank wall of his rental, with no clue where to start. Either that, or work on Vivian’s revisions. No clue where to start there, either.
Lo-Fi vaporwave filtered in through the speakers, matched to the knock-off Tiffany lamps at every table. Josh leaned back, his arm stretched along the booth’s backrest, and swirled his elderberry soda in the crystal-cut lowball glass. “We’re going to get kicked out of this four-top,” he said.
“Nah,” Stephen replied, nodding at the server who dropped off his pint of stout. “We got friends coming.”
Minutes later, Libby slid in beside Stephen, who greeted her with a smile and a kiss. Libby stripped her puffer jacket and hung it off the hook at the end of the booth. Josh couldn’t be sure, but he thought her hand reached down to squeeze Stephen’s knee as she settled herself.
That was new. At least one of them had found a way to stay warm this winter. Josh hid his momentary surprise behind a sip of his drink and waved a finger between the two of them. “How long has this been going on?
Stephen took a pull from his beer. “Short version or long version?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Libby deadpanned, shaking the snowdrops from the ends of her hair.
Fair. That was kind of a dick comment. Josh shot a glance at the entrance.
Libby smirked at him. “Don’t worry, she’s coming.”
He whipped his head back like he’d been caught ogling someone’s chest and realized that was exactly what he would have done when Cass showed up. He glared at Libby and swigged a larger than anticipated gulp of his drink, the carbonation burning his throat on the way down.
It didn’t help that when Cass showed up a few minutes later, his chest clenched like he’d tried to swallow the fist-sized ice cube floating in his glass. Her warm hazel eyes widened slightly when she saw he was there, and after a beat, hung her own jacket on the booth’s hook beside Libby’s and took her place next to him. The light wash high-waisted jeans hugged her thighs before they flared over her suede fur-lined boots.
Hell, this woman could even make winter wear look sexy. The simple black ballet top with a wide neckline ended just where her shoulders dipped down, inviting his eye to trace the contours of her collarbones.
All that skin on display meant she was probably wearing something like that bustier he’d peeled off her that first night. He wondered if it was the same one, and if not, what colour it was, and if it was silky and red and … fucking hell, his dick was straining against the fly of his jeans.
Since he was already uncomfortable, might as well partake in a bit of lig ht self-flagellation. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I can’t comment on how you look in low-waisted jeans, but you make these ones look fantastic.”
Cass pursed her bright red lips at him with a look of feigned reproach. “These hide muffin tops,” she said finally.
His hands had been all over those muffin tops and didn’t think they needed hiding. “The tops are the best part. I always eat those first.”
“Stop it,” she said, but he could see her own smile as she looked away.
Libby pulled a pickled asparagus out of the Caesar the server dropped off and waggled it between Josh and Stephen. “So, how long has this been going on?” she asked, parroting his question back to him. “You two lovebirds meet on set?”
“Do you want to tell the story of how we met, darling?” Stephen batted his lashes at Josh.
Josh sighed at the bottom of his drink. He almost wished he’d ordered alcohol. A double. “Nope.”
“So sweet. After all these years, he still lets me do the honours,” Stephen said, and Josh dodged the fist Stephen aimed to chuck at his chin. “I was working on a film a few years back, and we were getting hosed by one of our contractors. Josh was called in as our legal advisor.”
“Legal advisor?” Cass whipped her head around and looked at him like a pair of horns had sprouted out of his temples. “You’re …”
“A blood-sucking lawyer,” Stephen finished with a wide grin.
Fuck, Stephen loved bringing this up. “Former. I don’t practice anymore,” Josh said firmly.
Libby leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “I feel like there’s a story here.”
“It’s not that interesting.” And not that high on his list of stories to retell .
“You never mentioned this,” Cass said, an odd look on her face.
“Don’t hold it against me. Anyway, new topic.”
“Okay. How’s pimping out my best friend coming along?” Libby asked.
Fuck’s sake. Not that topic. Josh glared at her. “It’s not pimping.”
“It’s kind of pimping,” Stephen said.
“Did Cassie tell you about the baby daddy fiasco?” Libby asked innocently.
She had fucking not . “A what now?”
Stephen lit up. “There’s a baby daddy fiasco? I need to hear about this.”
“Date fourteen,” Cass sighed. “This guy had all these names tatted up his arm. It turns out he has five kids from four different mamas. My guess is that he had the names tattooed, so he didn’t forget them like some absent-parent version of Memento . I don’t know if he was specifically looking for baby mama number five, but he dropped a lot of hints on how virile he was and how many women fell over him.” Cass shuddered as she sipped her cocktail. “He licked my face at the end of the night.”
“What the fuck?” Josh jerked. The baby mama drama she’d told him. The face licking and the potential baby mama recruitment had been left out.
“Ah. This was spicy daddy,” Stephen said, nodding sagely.
Fuck that. If anyone was, he was her spicy daddy. Not that he wanted her to call him daddy. Well, maybe … He shifted in his seat. “You knew about this?” Josh directed his anger between Libby and Stephen equally. “Can we get back to the face licking?”
“No,” the trio replied in unison.
Cass gave him a bemused look. “Have you not had to deal with a weird date before?”
“Not ones where my dates were mauling me.”
“Besides,” Libby said, thumbing a bit of foam from Stephen’s moustache, “before you find your prince, you need to lick a few frogs. Or vice versa.”
“I don’t think that’s how that expression goes, but I’m willing to play along,” Stephen offered, and Libby grinned wickedly back.
“No more talk of licking,” Josh said.
Cass asked. “I can fend off a little?—”
“Assault?” Josh snapped.
She was such a gentle thing, way too trusting. That was her problem. She let people walk all over her. The thought of someone touching her when she didn’t want to be thronged through his brain.
Not just someone touching her when she didn’t want it—the thought of someone touching her who wasn’t him .
“That’s it.” He crossed his arms and set his jaw. “No more dates.”
“Or maybe just not dates with assholes,” Libby said.
“I’m only halfway through. And besides, I’ve dealt with worse,” Cass said, and that did not make him feel even a little bit better. But if she wanted to keep going, it was her choice. At least he could make sure whoever she saw passed a higher bar than what he’d set.
“Fine,” Josh snapped. “You don’t want boring. You don’t want freaky. What do you want?”
Cass shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “None of these guys are around longer than one date anyway, so what does it matter?”
It matters if your lips end up on someone else.
And where the fuck was this coming from? He didn’t get jealous. Ever. Jealous meant he thought she was his, and no one else’s. The last thing he needed was to examine why. What he needed was to put distance between them.
By sticking with the stupid plan of sending her out with other guys.
He glowered at her and held out his hand. “Phone. ”
He swiped. And swiped. Left, left, left . What a bunch of clowns. The ones who weren’t assholes were just wholesome chocolate chip cookies that would bore Cass to tears. Or put their hands on her. Whether or not she wanted it. Worse, how could he tell the difference?
Fuck. He sank lower in his seat and swiped left again.
“You literally let him do this,” Libby said, amazed. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment.” Cass peered nervously over his shoulder, and her flowery scent enveloped him. His gut clenched at the thought of Face Licker close enough to get a noseful of her distracting fragrance. “You have to swipe right on at least a few of these guys,” she said.
“I thought the point of all this was fuckboy exposure therapy,” Stephen said. “Just swipe right on guys like you.”
A litany of ways to make Stephen regret opening his trap crossed Josh’s mind. Throw a wrench in scheduling. Or cancel a caterer.
Shit, no. Nothing that would affect filming. They were too close to the end for that. Only weeks away. He pictured himself getting on the plane, alone, and his gut twisted.
“Lord knows I don’t have the best track record,” Cass murmured. “And any time you meet someone new is a chance, right? People take a chance like this all the time.”
“Or maybe this has been a terrible idea from the start, and you should just spend time with people that actually care about you,” Libby snapped, shooting daggers at Josh.
Like he was in a position to do anything about that.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to swipe right on a few dudes who at least didn’t look like mouth breathers, or like they belonged on a government watch list. Each swipe bragged It’s a Match! and Josh repressed the urge to undo the matches with the firefighter, the architect, and the financial consultant with great hair .
“Here,” he said, passing her phone back. “At least a few fuckboys.”
Cass took her phone back and swiped through her matches with a resigned determination. “A couple of these guys seem okay,” she said, voice trailing off.
Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have matched the firefighter.
“Shit, you got terrible taste in men, dude.” Stephen leaned against the bench, his arm wrapped around Libby and grinning. “Are you trying to make Cassie suffer or is that your natural state with women?”
That smirk was coming off his best friend’s maw if it took sandpaper. If they kept ragging on his swiping, he might take it personally. The point was to get Cass exposed to a bunch of different guys to help her get over that fucker who kept jerking her around. He didn’t think he’d been making bad matches for her. At least, not on purpose.
Had he?
He turned to Cass. “This is your cue to say, ‘Of course, Josh doesn’t make me suffer.’”
“Of course, Josh doesn’t make me suffer,” Cass recited dutifully.
“Except when he tries to make her be someone’s new mommy,” Libby finished.
No wonder Libby and Stephen got along so well: they both got off on grinding his gears. “None of these dudes look like they want to make babies on date one.”
And no face licking. Or any other kind of licking. Although, if that was what they wanted, Josh couldn’t blame them. Cass tasted like sin and candy.
“No date two, so shouldn’t be an issue,” Cass said wanly.
“Not like you’re going to be mortgage shopping with these guys, anyway, so who cares if they have kids.” Libby shrugged a shoulder. “With some of these winners Josh keeps setting you up with, they might have kids running around they don’t know about. ”
“Happened to a friend of mine in uni,” Stephen said. “His ex contacted him when his daughter was four years old. She’s a good kid, but he never planned on being a dad.”
“One of the few privileges of being a woman is that we know exactly how many children we have,” Libby said. “What do you think, Josh? You got any kidlets running around Vancouver?”
“No kids.” Josh pierced her with a quelling glare she deflected with an easy smirk. Stephen shifted his eyes from his beer to Libby.
“Unless you’re a monk, you can’t be sure,” Libby pressed.
“Trust me.” A monk, he was not, but his vasectomy a few years back made damn sure there were no random Grahams scampering about. He threw a sidelong look at Cass. “Besides, kids aren’t really my jam.”
Cass dipped her head and huffed a quiet laugh through her nose. “No family?”
“My sister lives in the boonies,” Josh cut in, giving Stephen a look.
“Port Moody is hardly the boonies,” Stephen said.
“But our schedules didn’t let us see each other much,” Josh finished. “My parents move wherever my mom’s latest flip is, as long as it’s west of Cambie, and I have grandparents in West Van. My mom’s family is still all back in Australia.”
Partial truths were still truths.
“Happiness is a large, close-knit family in another city,” Cass said. “Otherwise, they guilt you into babysitting every chance they get.”
“You can say no to that sometimes, you know,” Libby said, and Cass squirmed.
“I don’t know,” Stephen said. “It can be nice to be close to family.”
Josh could dispute some of that sentiment.
The silent ride back to the rental was short enough the car didn’t have the chance to warm up before Stephen was pulling up in front of their building. As soon as Josh stepped out of the vehicle, cold speared his sinuses like he had snorted crushed peppermint candies. He jammed his freezing hands deeper into his pockets and Stephen stamped his feet, waiting for the elevator to arrive.
“What’s going on with you and Cass?”
Josh shrugged his jacket up his neck and stared at the elevator’s numbers flicking down. “Not sure what you mean.”
Stephen levelled a flat look. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I know you’re the king of casual, and I don’t know why she’s doing this to herself, but whatever you’re putting her through isn’t making her happy.”
Josh glared at him. “What would you know about what makes her happy?” he asked sharply.
“Chill, dude. I’ve known Cass a long-ass time. Way back from when Libby and I were together.”
Fine, that might have come off a bit defensive. What he’d been defending himself against, he wasn’t sure. Josh brushed a melting snowflake from his sleeve and said nothing.
“Cass is one of the most optimistic people I’ve met,” Stephen continued, unperturbed. “Whatever she’s going through right now is not the Cass I knew.”
An odd pang spiked his gut. Was he jealous that Stephen had known Cass longer than him? Maybe. Or was he guilty he was making her lose her spark?
“Nothing is going on between us,” Josh said finally.
Stephen shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Cass doesn’t do anything halfway. She loves with all her heart, every time. No matter how many bruised edges it gives her.”
And here he was, tossing her to the wolves over and over, with the hopes she’d get bruised enough it would turn into a scar.
Fuck .
Josh steered the subject to something that wouldn’t make him engage in self-reflection. “So, you and Libby have history?”
“Yeah. I hoped she might be on the crew.”
“When did you and Libby become a thing? Long version.”
Stephen leaned against the elevator’s mirrored back as the doors slid shut, smiling. “She was the first girl I ever kissed. First girlfriend. First everything. We were together all through high school, all the way through university. We broke up when I moved to Vancouver.” Stephen stared at the buttons lighting up as the floors ascended. “I thought she would come with me.”
“And now you’re back in town and picking right up where you left off.”
“I don’t know, man. A lot has changed.” Stephen scrubbed his hand over his beard and sucked the air through his teeth. “Some things are the same.”
Maybe the Cass that Stephen had known had changed in that time, too. Maybe it was this piece of shit Nick bringing her down. Or maybe it was him bringing out the worst in her.
“We’ve got a break in shooting for almost two weeks over Christmas,” Josh said, switching topics. “Is Libby coming to Vancouver?”
Stephen looked cagey. “Actually, I’m sticking around. As much as I’d love to keep imposing on you, I’ve got a whole-ass apartment to myself here. Her folks are having us over for dinner on Christmas Eve, and Libby’s coming to my family’s place for Christmas and New Year’s.”
All the bitching Stephen had done for years about being glad to get out of Calgary winters, he didn’t have to shovel rain, blah blah blah. Now his friend was passing up a free trip back home? Maybe it wasn’t home for him anymore. Maybe it never was.
It was for Josh, still. At least, he had a condo there. How many people in their mid-thirties could say they owned property outright in downtown Vancouver? And he had friends, or people who called themselves his friends. Work he loved, since he’d gotten out of his father’s firm and shredded every tie he’d ever owned. But he couldn’t pick up and move to the other side of the world in a heartbeat to chase something different. Even if he wanted to, he was still tied to Vancouver a little while longer. For how much longer remained to be seen.
Stephen looked like he was filtering through the contents of Josh’s brain faster than he could. “Why don’t you stick around?” he suggested. “Give yourself a break here and not worry about everything back home for a couple weeks. I bet Cass would love the excuse to get away from her family for a bit.”
Tempting. No expectations, no guilt, and sure it would be a polar vortex, but he might be able to find an excuse to spend some time with her. Josh felt the corner of his mouth turn up.
“You know,” Stephen’s voice broke into Josh’s thoughts, “you actually smile when Cass is around.”
But that was part of the problem. He had obligations, guilt-laden or not. And Cass was a distraction from getting that sorted. A distraction from his work. A distraction that took up way too much of his thoughts. When he’d pulled her against him that morning of the sunrise shoot, her softness against his chest, he had to will himself not to slide his arm around her waist and bury his nose in her hair.
He’d cursed every layer of clothes between them. When she’d leaned back, her ass against his thighs felt like a better fit than the gloves that were in the way of him feeling her skin on his. He didn’t know if they’d stood like that for an hour or a second before Dawson had broken the spell. However long it had been, it hadn’t been enough.
Josh wiped his face clear.
“She and I hooked up. Once. End of story,” Josh bit off.
It was a shit thing to say, but he needed Stephen off his back. Josh rolled his shoulders under his jacket and waited for the doors to open.
Besides, he had things to do back home, and avoiding them wouldn’t help.
Lord knew he’d tried.