#karaish legacy
“Ash—”
“Yes, I’m ready,” Asher stated stiffly from the sofa, switching the TV off with a small huff, waiting for Loch to come in from the hallway.
“Did you—”
“They’re waiting for you on the bed.”
“Thanks,” Loch said hurriedly as he rushed through to their room, where Asher had laid out his outfit. Loch was pulling off his work clothes as he went, and Asher pouted, hoping Loch at least kept them together rather than strewn all over the floor as usual. Unlikely, but perhaps one day he’d be surprised.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Asher mumbled grouchily as Loch reappeared, clumsily fastening the button on his cardigan. How had he once been so naive to believe he could keep Loch and Amir away from each other long-term? Loch had been right, of course. Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
“Trust me; this is important for Bay.”
“Oh?”
A sly smirk played at Loch’s lips, a look Asher recognised immediately; Loch knew something he shouldn’t. “Can’t say,” he confirmed. “Now, are you definitely ready?”
Asher sighed. “Physically, sure.”
Loch smiled reassuringly as he grabbed his hand. Sensing Asher’s reluctance, he sighed and tugged harder to counter Asher’s stiff resistance. “It’ll be fine. C’mon.”
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“River!” Chad buttoned up his shirt, repeating himself only a little impatiently. “River, we’re supposed to be—”
“I know.” River lightly chuckled, already leant in the doorframe. Chad recovered quickly, though he was surprised to see him dressed; he’d thought River had lost track of time with his painting. Again.
“When did you—”
“An hour ago. I just got off the phone with Elle.”
Chad tried not to allow himself a frown; he’d come to associate out of the blue calls from Ms. King to mean sudden, unforgiving deadlines for River.
“I called her. To tell her I’m taking from now until after the holidays off.” River sidled up with a smirk as Chad blinked in shock. Sliding his hands around Chad’s waist, his smile turned apologetic, cerulean eyes studying him carefully.
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been swamped lately. But I did have a lot of lost time to make up for, what with Dragon Valley and…” An awkward pause, then River shook himself, drawing together the fragments of his smile. “And my unproductive slump before that. But I don’t want to be stressed out for our first Christmas together.”
“…Thank you,” Chad said quietly, straightening River’s lapel. He hoped his partner would one day open up to him about what happened before the bachelor contest. River froze up whenever he came close, the same fleeting expressions of shame and guilt every time. It clearly linked to their conversation immediately after filming had wrapped, about not making the same mistakes and asking Chad to keep him accountable. Chad wasn’t sure how much he could help without knowing the details but sensed River still needed time. To process or just to talk about it openly, Chad wasn’t sure, but he was willing to wait.
“Are you ready?” River beamed affectionately, leaning back to allow his eyes to sweep over Chad. “You look amazing. As always.”
“I am. Ready, I mean, but I’ll accept ‘amazing’ too. Do you have any ideas what this is all for?”
River shrugged. “Not a clue. It was Bay’s idea. That’s all I know.”
“Everyone is coming?”
River shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “As far as I know… I wonder if there will ever be a time where that won’t be awkward.”
“Best to let them come to that themselves, I think,” Chad said diplomatically. River had explained the situation between his eldest brother and Amir, and Chad had decided it best to pretend he knew nothing. Simpler that way.
“Oh, trust me, I have no intentions of ever getting involved.” River sighed again. “Okay, let’s go.”
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Bay slipped out of Sylvie’s arms to find a shirt. “Suppose we better get going. Is Heaven ready?”
Sylvie chuckled as she perched on the edge of the bed. “She’s been in her new dress for the last two hours. I think we’ll have more trouble getting her out of it, to be honest. I had to convince her not to wear it on the train ride home.”
“Sounds about right,” he said with a laugh. “Thanks for taking her out today. Wish I could have come, but work—”
“Babe, you know I love spending time with her. We had a lovely girlie day, and I spoilt her like the little princess she is.”
Bay groaned, stepping out of the walk-in wardrobe with shirt half buttoned. “You are so setting yourself up for trouble, you know?”
“If years of fairytales and childhood films taught me anything, it’s that things don’t end well for wicked stepmothers. I’m gonna make myself her favourite,” she added, turning her nose up with a self-satisfied smile.
Bay shook his head. “I’ll remind you of that when she’s a teenager.”
“Oh, no, nuh-uh, don’t pretend you’re not the worst one for spoiling his little princess.”
“Granted, I suppose. Right.” He absently smoothed his shirt and took a deep breath. “Ready?”
“One hundred per cent.”
“…Let’s go then.” He held out a hand, only a little shakily, and Sylvie took it with an encouraging squeeze. He gently grazed her knuckles with his lips before tugging her up off the bed. She giggled, her smile bright and excited, the very opposite of his own nerves, though he tried his best to mirror it as they set off to find his just as eager daughter.
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“Now, you’re completely sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, Bay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’ve told you, they’re… a lot.” Bay chuckled awkwardly as he swept a lock of Sylvie’s hair from her face, cupping her face and smiling as she leaned into the gesture. “You can still back out. Wouldn’t want to scare you off now, would I?”
“Not gonna happen.” Sylvie grinned up at him, her green eyes sparkling. She traced a forefinger lightly down his arm, playful yet reassuring. “How are you more nervous about this than I am?”
“Because I know them; I know what they’re like.”
“Not because you’re scared of how official this makes us? Sure you don’t wanna hide me away a little longer?”
“Never. I’d show you off to the world in a heartbeat. How could I not want that? I mean, just look at you…” He let his eyes flicker appreciatively over her, taking in every curve, and she smiled wider. Shaking himself out of it, he continued, “but I’d happily hide them away a little longer.”
“Aw, you don’t mean that. You love them, really.”
“Well, of course. Doesn’t mean I trust them to not chase you off.”
“And I’ve told you, not gonna happen.” She pushed further onto the tips of her toes to give him a light kiss, patting his chest in another reassuring gesture.
“Mm, see, you haven’t met Sky yet.”
“I’m sure we’ll get on great.”
“That’s… actually a scarier thought? Just don’t get between her and anything sweet. I thought she was intimidating enough before, but a hormonal Sky is just… yikes.”
“Bay, I’m a woman. I know better than to get between any woman and the food she has her eyes on. Let alone a pregnant woman and her chocolate.”
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Arriving home from work the next night, Maurice’s phone buzzed the exact moment he stepped inside. Though he didn’t need to read to know who it was, he smiled at the name on the screen regardless.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Get home okay?”
“Literally just walked in the door. Parents get back okay?”
“Yeah. Called about an hour ago to say they’d arrived.”
“Cool, cool. All good?”
“Mm.” Rupert sighed, and Maurice could hear the weight behind it even over the phone. “Told them I’m still not going home for the holidays. They took it well. It’s…” A pause. “I can’t go back, not yet. Talking helped, but… I think they know we’re not… not quite there yet.”
“Fair,” Maurice agreed, secretly glad. Because the holidays were a busy time for the bar, of course. No other reason.
“How was work?”
Boring without you. “Oh, you know, same old, same old. You’re back tomorrow, right?”
“You’re the boss; you should know,” Rupert responded with a laugh.
“Somebody dropped this on me without much warning, so forgive me if I have to double-check,” Maurice returned with snark as he switched his phone to speaker, tossing it onto the bed to pull his shirt off.
“Okay, fair, fair.” Rupert chuckled. “Yeah, I’m back in tomorrow.”
“Good.” Maurice smiled as he retrieved his phone. There was the muffled sound of movement on the other side and what Maurice suspected was a stifled yawn. “I, uh, guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Mm.” The sleepiness in Rupert’s voice was unmistakable, and Maurice chuckled softly.
“Night, Rue.”
“Mm, nigh’…”
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James kept his word and didn’t bring up business again throughout lunch, staying relatively quiet for the rest of their time together. Maurice suspected he wasn’t the kind for small talk or personal conversations, and the comfortable ground of professionalism had been his only card. Still, Maurice could tell he was trying.
As Maurice and Rupert waved them off—they’d decided to spend the rest of the day exploring Grey’s Harbour alone—Maurice felt a great weight lift.
“That. Went much better.”
“Better than I could’ve hoped,” Rupert agreed with a smile, relief clear in his voice as he hugged himself tight.
“You don’t wanna go with them? They’re only here one more day, right?”
“Nah, I’ll spend tomorrow with them while you’re at work. This is such a rare occurrence.”
“What is?”
“Us having a day off at the same time. And more than once in a week? Unheard of.”
Maurice chuckled. “I really do need to hire some more staff, huh?”
“Wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”
Maurice’s mind circled back to his conversation with James. Getting rid of his useless business partner sooner would come with many advantages, surely enough to outweigh the risk? …A good idea to look into in the new year, perhaps.
He glanced sideways at Rue, whose arm pressed ever so slightly against his own. Typically, Maurice would have felt uncomfortable with anyone standing that close, but he found himself savouring the light warmth the familiarity brought. He almost wanted to ask if Rupert had meant all he’d said in the cafe or if he’d simply been praising him up to James. Smiling faintly to himself, he decided to assume the former, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d survive hearing it again anyway.
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“Has my son told you what I do as a profession?” James asked as the waitress brought out their food. He smoothed a serviette onto his lap as he looked at Maurice with a hint of a smirk.
“Uh, no.”
“Unsurprising. In the simplest terms, I work alongside businesses to help them succeed. Evaluating risk and such.”
“Oh.” Huh.
“Six months, you say…” James took a bite of his food and chewed thoughtfully. “Hm. Well, you have a working business now, and therefore enough income… Would it not be preferable to take out a short term loan to cover the rest and be rid of this partner sooner? A bank would surely see you as investable by now.”
“Um… I guess? But then I end up paying more in interest than if I simply waited. And I’d have to hope business stayed good enough to be able to pay off the loan in time to not fu— to not screw myself over.”
“Have you ever had such a downturn in business?”
“Well, no, but…”
“It’s a risk, I’ll concede that, but as someone more qualified to say so—if you don’t mind me saying—I would suggest it a risk worth taking. And yes, it may mean you lose a little paying interest on the loan compared to waiting, but potentially higher profits would make up for that long term. I assume you want to put a kitchen in there?”
“Yeah…” Maurice was surprised James would have guessed that.
“That alone would up your profit margin significantly—”
“Honey, I think that’s enough business talk at the table,” Helena said pointedly, exchanging amused expressions with her son.
“Of course, of course. Just think on it, hm?”
“…I will.”
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“Don’t discredit the efforts you’ve put in,” Rupert interrupted their conversation sharply, a frustrated scowl aimed at Maurice.
“Well, I-I mean…” Maurice stammered awkwardly, blinking in surprise.
“You barely take a day off, if ever, and you don’t hire extra staff so you can. You work every holiday. You do not pay yourself a fair wage—do not let him tell you he does,” he added as an aside to his father. “You walk to and from work so you don’t have the expenses of a car. You do all the accounting and paperwork yourself. You track most of the inventory yourself rather than delegating it to someone else. You’ve done everything you can to make the place a success; it’s not just dumb luck.”
Maurice felt the prickle of a blush creeping into his cheeks as James looked questioningly between them, eyebrows raised. “It’s even less of a wonder you would be bitter about such a slacker for a business partner, then,” James added eventually.
“Uh, y-yeah,” Maurice mumbled with a feeble smile, eyes flickering away meekly from all the faces on him. “Guess so.”
“That’s a drive to succeed you don’t see in many others. Especially not at your age. Which sort of leads me into my next question; why a bar?”
“Uhhhh…?”
“Even half the funds needed to buy the bar must have been a substantial amount. An amount that could have been invested elsewhere, and probably have made you a much more profitable enterprise. Many bars fail in their first year alone. So, why a bar?”
Maurice shifted uncomfortably. “Not sure I could explain that too well…” Yeeeeah, that wasn’t a topic he wanted to broach with the father of his boyfriend…
James regarded him in silence for a few moments, and Maurice willed himself not to break eye contact. A moment of suspicion seemed to pass over James’ face, but Maurice may have simply imagined it. “Fair enough,” James said eventually, and Maurice let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding.
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“Forgive me,” James said with a smile as the waitress placed the last drink down and returned behind the counter. “I know my dear wife asked you a lot of questions about your business, but I’d like to ask my own, if I may?”
“Dad, really? Must you start business talk—”
“That is why I asked, son. He can say no if he minds.”
Maurice chuckled at the similar defensiveness Rue had shown his mother last time. “I really don’t.”
“See, Rupert?”
Rupert rolled his eyes and turned to start a quiet conversation with his mother and sister instead.
“This business partner of yours, you say he doesn’t carry his weight?”
Maurice snorted. “Nope. Pays up his percentage of maintenance and other expenses, takes his share of the profit, and that’s it. Haven’t even seen him in the last six months. Not sure he’s even in the country right now, to be honest.”
“Really? …May I ask why you got into business with such a person?”
Maurice dropped eye contact to rub his neck with a weary sigh. “After I renovated my parents’ house to… something I could live in, I didn’t have enough to cover the entire cost of the bar, and no bank would lend that amount to a nineteen-year-old starting his first business. Especially to buy a bar. The guy’s an old business associate of my father’s, and he offered to put up the rest. I was naive to be so blind; he was after an investment without any effort. Shoulda known better.” An understatement, he thought to himself.
James nodded neutrally, though Maurice could see the cogs ticking behind that calm exterior. “And you want rid of him?”
“Yeah, of course. Another”—he paused to calculate—“six months, year, maybe? And I should have enough to buy him out.”
“That’s not bad.” James nodded, looking genuinely impressed. “You must be good at budgeting, then. Better than most your age, anyway.”
“I guess.” Maurice shrugged uncertainly. “Been pretty lucky, though. No mortgage to pay on my parents’ house. One of the only bars in town, too,” he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Don’t think turnover would be quite as good otherwise.”
James smiled faintly. “Don’t quote me on this, but a sizeable part of business success comes down to good luck.”
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Before Maurice could speak, James stepped forward, hand extended. It took a few confused moments for Maurice to realise the purpose behind the gesture.
“I would like to apologise for our first meeting,” James said a little stiffly, though this time it was undoubtedly more from discomfort than contempt. Maurice quickly recovered. The handshake, though firm, was much more genuine than their last, holding no apparent signs of hostility. “I hope you will allow me to start over, set a new first impression?”
“Uh, s-sure,” Maurice stammered uncharacteristically. “Uh, I-I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth. I didn’t exactly help with my own behaviour…”
“All forgotten,” James said, holding his hands up. “You are working today?”
“Uh, n-no.” Uneasy, Maurice’s eyes briefly flicked just over James’ shoulder to where Rupert stood tensely observing them. Jaw clenched tight, eyes keenly flitting between the two, he was probably waiting for something to go wrong.
“Good. Then you will allow me to take you both to lunch to make up for the last one.”
“Oh, um. Yeah, sure.” From the corner of his eye, Maurice watched Rupert let out a small, silent sigh of relief.
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At the knock of the door, Maurice jolted upright, spluttering and almost spilling tea down his sweater. “Uh, fuck, I-I should—”
“Maury, you’re my boyfriend,” Rupert said with a soft, amused sigh, giving him a reassuring smile as he moved to open the door. “It’s really not a big deal if they work out you stayed the night, you know?”
“Uh, right, right…” Hastily placing down his mug, Maurice was suddenly unsure of what to do with his unsteady hands. He folded his arms, though quickly recognised that might look hostile and dropped them, absently drumming his fingers on his thigh instead. His stomach squirmed as Rupert’s parents caught sight of him.
“Good morning,” Helena said with a pleasant smile.
“Uh, m-morning…”
“Good morning.” Though he looked uncomfortable, the way James held himself did not seem nearly as unfriendly as their last encounter.
“Morning!”
Maurice jumped, having somehow missed the teenager sneaking in. Victoria leant on the counter, smiling sweetly at him, and he attempted to smile in return.
“M-morning.”
He realised he should probably leave the kitchen, though the island made such a comforting shield between them and him. But that’s rude, right? With a steeling breath, he forced himself upright and out into the living space.
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