Service with a Smirk

by Ariel Tachna

  Pascal cursed under his breath all the way up the stairs to his apartment. So much for not shooting himself in the foot. He hadn’t shaved or showered, he was dressed in old ratty clothes without the gym as an excuse for it, and he’d come off sounding like an idiot while he was talking to Mathias. He’d be lucky if Mathias even showed up after this.

  With a sigh, he pulled out a pan and put water on to boil for the pasta and then set to chopping up the vegetables he’d bought at the market. It was mindless work, which was good because all his energy was currently focused on replaying the conversation in his mind and trying to figure out what he could have said differently. He’d finished the zucchini and was washing the squash when his phone chimed to let him know he had a text.

  Should I bring anything for lunch?

  Pascal considered the question for a minute. He had the pasta salad and drinks. He didn’t really have any kind of dessert, though. Only if you want something sweet for dessert.

  I already know what I want for dessert.

  Pascal stared at the reply, entirely unsure of how to interpret it. He could read plenty into it with no effort whatsoever, but that didn’t mean Mathias intended the innuendo. Then again, he was an intelligent young man to have gotten a job working at the Banque de Montréal, so surely he knew how it could be interpreted, even if that wasn’t what he actually meant by it. If he actually had a dessert in mind, Pascal would feel like an idiot for replying to the innuendo, but if he was really proposing what it sounded like he was proposing, Pascal needed to put a stop to it. He hadn’t invited Mathias to lunch as a prelude for a quick tumble between the sheets. He wasn’t interested in fucking Mathias—okay, that was a lie. He’d like nothing more than to take Mathias to bed and spend hours there, but he wasn’t only interested in fucking him. He debated a moment more and then typed back, Then bring it with you.

  If Mathias really had a dessert in mind, that answer wouldn’t give away where Pascal’s mind had gone, and if he’d been flirting, well, maybe it would help tone things down a bit. Pascal wasn’t a prude. He didn’t take issue with sex, even just for sex’s sake, but he was past the age of thinking with his dick. He wanted more than that, and maybe he couldn’t have more with Mathias, but he wasn’t going to ruin his chances by starting with no-strings sex.

  Mathias didn’t reply right away, which worried Pascal a little, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. If his text had been the wrong answer, he’d deal with it when Mathias came for lunch.

  He assembled the pasta salad quickly and put it in the fridge to chill, then went to take a shower and make himself presentable. It was already getting warm in the apartment even with the windows open, so he took as quick a shower as he could so he wouldn’t add steam to the heat already building up. When he was done, he dressed in his lightest linen trousers and a loose button-down shirt. His sister had insisted the forest-green fabric brought out the blue in his changeable eyes when he wore it. Pascal didn’t know about that, but it was light and comfortable, two requirements on a warm summer day in a fourth-floor apartment with no air-conditioning.

  He did a quick pass through his apartment to make sure everything was presentable. Fortunately, he was relatively neat by nature, so other than putting away the previous day’s mail that he’d been too tired to deal with the night before, he didn’t have much to do to get ready.

  When everything was done but the waiting, he picked up his laptop and forced himself to focus on a search for new books. When his ladies had come for their monthly visit last time, Hélène had mentioned a new book, but she hadn’t said when it would be released. Pascal searched for her name, refusing to be embarrassed when it popped up on autofill. His date with Mathias notwithstanding, he had little enough romance in his life. He refused to apologize for wanting it in his fiction. Besides, Hélène was one of his ladies. Pascal St-Laurent had been born soon after Robert’s death in a joking attempt to make him smile again. He hadn’t expected anything to come of it when he gave permission for them to use his name and likeness in one of their books. He’d certainly never expected it to turn into the series one reviewer had named the James Bond for the twenty-first century, but when Martine brought him the first book, he’d had to fight back tears. His ladies had done so much for him. The least he could do was buy their books. He had signed copies of every single one each of them had written, even the ones from before he knew them, and he didn’t intend to have a gap now just because he was distracted by a potential date.

  He’d just completed his search for anything new Nicole had out, in case she’d neglected to mention it (she did that a lot. He relied on the other three to tell him when she had a release) when a knock on the door interrupted him. He saved his order and went to answer the door.

  “I’m a little early,” Mathias said, although the clock on Pascal’s computer had said exactly eleven thirty, the time they’d agreed on. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Pascal said. “I was just buying some books.”

  “You like to read?” Mathias asked as he came inside. Pascal took the bakery box Mathias handed him, relieved to see an actual dessert. It could have been a cover to explain the texts when Pascal didn’t reply flirtatiously to the last one, but it could also mean Mathias had really been talking about dessert.

  “Yes, mostly on my Kindle these days since it’s so easy to carry, but I buy some books in print no matter what.”

  Pascal carried the dessert into the kitchen and came back out to find Mathias browsing through the bookshelf where he kept his ladies’ books. “This is quite a collection. I’m sensing a trend here.”

  “They’re friends,” Pascal said. “I’ve read all of them, so I’m not just buying them because they’re my friends, but that’s why they’re in print, not e-book.”

  “Wait, you know the author of the Pascal St-Laurent books?” Mathias said, pointing to the spines of that series.

  “Martine and the other three as well, yes. I met them at the restaurant,” Pascal said. “They come in once a month. I’ve known them for years.”

  “Do you think…? No, that’s silly.”

  “Do I think what?” Pascal prompted. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  “I was going to ask if you could get her autograph for me,” Mathias said. “I know she has millions of fans, probably, but when I first realized I was gay, I read a couple of her books, not the Pascal St-Laurent ones, but some of the others, and it really helped me feel more at ease with myself.”

  “I can do that,” Pascal said, “but she’d love to hear your story herself. I have her e-mail, and I know she reads and answers all her own fan mail. She’ll sometimes talk about the ones that really touch her when she comes in. They all do.”

  “That’s just so cool,” Mathias said. He looked so young in that moment that Pascal’s heart hurt just staring at him. He’d seen Mathias the waiter and Mathias the banker, but this was just Mathias, no roles, no façades. Pascal wanted to see more of him. “So do they… I don’t know… tell you about their books and stuff? I mean when they’re writing them,” Mathias continued.

  “Sometimes,” Pascal said, “but they’re never my only table, remember, so while they may talk books and plots and problems and everything else, most of that is to each other, not to me. Every once in a while, they’ll ask my opinion to get a male perspective on something, especially if they disagree on it, but for the most part, it’s more like just mentioning they have a new book coming out or they got something accepted or that kind of thing. No real details.”

  “Still… do you know when the next Pascal St-Laurent book is coming out?”

  “Not for sure, but Martine said she was trying for one every six months, so that would be another four months. Why? Do you want to know what happens?”

  “Of course I do,” Mathias said. “I heard Jack finally divorced his wife, not that I’ve had time to read recently. I’m dying to know if Pascal makes a move now that Jack’s free.”

  Pa
scal laughed. “No, I don’t know if he does or not. I do know there will be at least two more because she mentioned working on a new one now, and with her schedule, the one that’ll come out in four months is already complete.”

  Mathias grinned. “Good.” He shook himself a bit, and his smile took on a slightly more flirtatious edge. “Sorry for the geek moment there. I’ve met other fans before, but never anyone who knows the author.”

  “It’s fine,” Pascal said. “I don’t mind.” He couldn’t help but wonder what Mathias would say if he knew Pascal wasn’t just a friend of the author but the model for the character, but he didn’t volunteer that information. It was too tied up with Robert’s death, something he didn’t share easily. If things worked out between him and Mathias, he’d have to talk about Robert eventually, but not on the first date. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got a rosé that’s cold or there’s beer.”

  “I’m usually more of a beer drinker,” Mathias admitted, “so maybe I should expand my palate.”

  “A glass of wine, then?” Pascal confirmed. When Mathias nodded, Pascal went back into the kitchen and returned with the bottle, two glasses, and a corkscrew. If he opened the bottle with a little more flourish than strictly necessary, Mathias certainly wasn’t any the wiser.

  He poured a sip into one of the glasses. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “So that isn’t just for show?” Mathias asked.

  “No,” Pascal said. “Sure, people play it up to make themselves look sophisticated, and part of it is about appreciating the full aesthetics of a wine, not just guzzling it down, but sometimes a bottle of wine goes bad, and the only way to realize that is by smelling and tasting it. Better a little sip than a huge mouthful if it isn’t good.”

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t know if it was good or not,” Mathias said.

  “Taste it,” Pascal said. “You’ll either like it or you won’t. If you like it, I’ll pour you some more. If you don’t, I’ll get you a beer. Even if it hasn’t gone bad, if you don’t like it, you shouldn’t drink it.”

  Mathias took a sip obediently. His face didn’t curl up in disgust, so Pascal took that as a good sign.

  “This is pretty good.” Mathias held his glass out for more.

  “It’s a nice summer wine,” Pascal agreed. “Perfect for a hot day and a cold salad. Take your wine outside. I’ll get the salad and join you.”

  Mathias shook his head. “You made lunch. At least let me help you set the table and carry everything outside.”

  “You don’t have to,” Pascal said, but he didn’t try to stop Mathias from following him into the kitchen. He had the plates and silverware set out, so it was just a matter of gathering them, the pasta salad from the refrigerator, and the wine, and carrying them outside, but Pascal couldn’t have gotten it all in one trip without a tray from the restaurant, which he didn’t keep at home.

  The balcony, when they stepped out onto it, was about the size of a postage stamp, with just enough room for a little café table, two chairs, and a flower box on the railing, but Pascal couldn’t imagine staying inside on a day like this. The balcony faced northwest so it was still slightly shaded from the sun, but it gave them a view of Mont Royal off to the left.

  “Your view is much nicer than mine,” Mathias said as they set the table.

  “Which way does your apartment face?” Pascal asked.

  “Into the alley. I have a balcony if you want to call it that, but I’m not sure I’d want to use it even if I was home often enough to take advantage of it.”

  “Ah. Yes, I can see that not being enjoyable,” Pascal said. “You’re welcome to take advantage of mine today. What time do you have to be at Le Salon?”

  “At four,” Mathias said. “Do you have to work tonight?”

  “Yes, but I don’t have to be there until five,” Pascal said. “I worked until closing last night, so I don’t have to be there until we open tonight. The people who had the earlier shift will have to come in and do all the setup today.”

  Pascal served the pasta salad and poured more wine into Mathias’s glass before lifting his own in a silent toast. Mathias clinked their glasses together. “To a wonderful summer afternoon.”

  And many more. Pascal didn’t voice the thought. Everything was going well, and he didn’t want to jinx it.

  Chapter 6

  “I’M GLAD we actually have some time today,” Mathias said when Pascal didn’t answer his toast in words. He didn’t think he’d crossed the line with the sentiment, but Pascal had already proven oddly sensitive about certain things, so Mathias wasn’t going to press his luck.

  “Me too,” Pascal said. “We seem to catch each other at inconvenient times.”

  “I know you work at la Colombe d’Or, but that’s just a job. I hardly know anything else about you.”

  Pascal looked uncomfortable with the open-ended question, so Mathias rephrased it. “Are you from Montreal originally?”

  “Yes,” Pascal replied. “I grew up in Mont Royal. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. What about you? Where are you from?”

  “La Tuque,” Mathias said. “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I couldn’t imagine spending my life working in the paper mills, although I do miss the chance to go canoeing every weekend. Not as many places to go when you live in town.”

  “You like canoeing?” Pascal asked. “I know a couple of places not too far out of town if you ever have a day off. We could leave early and be back in time for dinner.” He looked so excited Mathias wanted to lean over and kiss him right then. When his expression suddenly grew more closed and his voice more reserved, Mathias wanted to shake him. “I mean, if you’re looking for someone to go with sometime.”

  The sudden bout of nerves soothed Mathias’s own nerves. If Pascal, who had nothing to worry about as far as Mathias was concerned, could be nervous about how Mathias would react, Mathias’s own nerves weren’t so unreasonable.

  “I would love to go canoeing with you sometime. If we make plans in advance, I could even ask for the late shift so we’d have more time.”

  “What are you doing next weekend?” Pascal blurted out.

  “Wishing I were free so I could go canoeing with you,” Mathias said. “Unfortunately I have training sessions for the management program at the bank for the next four Saturdays, and I know you spend a lot of Sundays with your parents.”

  “Not all of them,” Pascal said. “I don’t want to monopolize all your free time, though. You need time to rest too.”

  “I can rest when I’m dead,” Mathias said with a grin. He leaned closer to Pascal, all but offering him a kiss. “I’d rather spend time with you.”

  He knew he hadn’t misread Pascal’s interest, which made the way he suddenly reared back all the more confusing. Mathias frowned and sat back in his seat, focusing on his meal for a moment. The pasta salad was delicious with all the fresh vegetables. “This is really good,” he said when Pascal stayed silent.

  “Merci,” Pascal said. “I don’t have a lot of chance to cook. I’m always grabbing a meal at the restaurant between shifts. And when I am home, it’s just me, and cooking for one is no fun.”

  “Why do you think I eat so many frozen dinners?” Mathias said with a smile, trying to draw Pascal out again.

  “I guess you have even less time than I do to cook.”

  “Or even to eat most days,” Mathias said. “I’ve lost ten pounds since I started working at Le Salon.”

  Pascal raked Mathias with his gaze, his eyes dark with interest. Mathias leaned back in his chair to give Pascal a better view, but the moment he did, Pascal looked away. Mathias frowned at the mixed signals.

  Pascal didn’t look at him like a man who’d invited a buddy over for lunch, but every time Mathias made any kind of a suggestive move in his direction, Pascal drew back.

  It was more than a little confusing.

  Whatever Pascal wanted from Mathias, it obviously didn’t involve flirting. Mathias could t
ake a hint. No more innuendo. No more suggestive glances. He was more than just an attractive package. He’d find another way of holding Pascal’s interest.

  “Tell me about the places to go canoeing. I really would love to get back into that.”

  Pascal relaxed again, affirming Mathias’s choice as Pascal began talking about the various lakes scattered north and west, places where they could rent a canoe and spend a few hours away from the city. “Or if you like hiking, there are some great places for that. I used to go all the time with….” For a moment, Mathias thought he’d lost Pascal again, but then he summoned a smile and continued. “With an old friend. I haven’t been in fifteen years or more, but I’m sure a lot of those trails are still open, or if not, we could find new ones.”

  “Hiking sounds great too,” Mathias said. “I love running, and the neighborhood is still new enough to me that I see things I missed before, but doing the same routine all the time gets old fast.”

  “Yeah,” Pascal agreed. “The gym is the same way. You said you had training sessions at the bank? What kind of sessions?”

  “I’m in a fast-track position,” Mathias explained, “that will lead to a middle-management job in a couple of years, but that means that for the next two years or so, I have to work through every department and pretty much every job at the bank. The idea is that I’ll understand how it all fits together and what everyone’s roles are so I can effectively manage whatever department they decide to put me in when my two years are up. I’ve been working with customers in a branch with account creation and that sort of thing. The training sessions are to get me ready for the next stage, which will be the credit and collections department. I’m not looking forward to that one. After that, it’ll be loans and then investments. I still have a few months before I switch over to the credit and collections department, but this is when the training is being offered, so this is when I have to take it.”

  “That sounds like quite a commitment,” Pascal said.

  “It is,” Mathias said, “but if you make it through the program, you get quite a commitment from the bank as well in terms of job security and advancement. Once I finish the program and get my first assignment—and maybe even before then, depending on bonuses and how things go—I won’t need to keep working at Le Salon. It’s a stopgap measure, not a career choice.”