I threw back my head and laughed. “How about you just set me up with someone who passes your muster, and if I like her, we’ll go from there.”
“Nope. Sorry.” He winced. “That would be an impossible task. Frankly, I doubt I’d find a woman good enough for you.”
Shaking my head, I sighed. I wasn’t sure about anyone not being good enough for me, I hadn’t even been able to find someone actually willing to be with me...for longer than a night. But I wasn’t going to think about that. Glancing at my bud, I had to admit, “You know this is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a guy, right?”
“You’re telling me.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I admitted aloud I had a thing for you.”
I shrugged, not sure how to answer. I’d had dudes hit on me before and it had wiped me clear out of my comfort zone. But for some reason, knowing what Remy thought about me was okay. Maybe because he didn’t come on strong or actually expect me to reciprocate. He was chill and laid-back about it, almost making light of his feelings so we’d ended up laughing instead of turning uneasy about it all.
So I said, “Honestly, man. I’m flattered.”
He swiped a hand my way as if to hit me in the arm. “Shut up. It’s embarrassing.”
Chuckling, I said, “It’s not that bad.”
“Whatever. Now you’re going to have to tell me something embarrassing about you.”
“The hell if I do.” When he scowled, I gave in. “Fine. It says Ashley on my birth certificate.”
At first, the words didn’t seem to sink in. Then he frowned and tipped his head to the side. “No way.”
“Oh...yes way. My mother was so determined I was going to be a girl, she named me Ashley Jean. Had it on my birth certificate and legalized it before my dad found out. He was so pissed off. He refused to call me that, so I eventually morphed into Asher. And when my uncle got me under his custody, he helped me get it legally changed.”
Remy’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit. She really named you Ashley...and not after Ashley Wilkes from Gone with the Wind, but Ashley because she wanted you to be a girl?”
“Yep. And I suspect, she would’ve raised me as if I were a girl in frilly pink dresses if my father had let her.”
“?Dios mío! That’s just...”
When he shook his head as if dazed, I sighed and said, “Fucked up. Yeah, I know. But go ahead. Laugh it up, asshole.”
He chuckled but waved his hands as he did so. “No. Actually, it’s kind of sad.” He blew out a breath. “And here, I grew up miffed because I had such a guy name.”
I sent him a strange frown. “Huh?”
He started to open his mouth when a strange expression hit. After a second, he stuttered, “I just...you know, because of the gay thing, I kind of always preferred the more universal names that could go either way, like Alex or—”
“Remy could go either way,” I argued. “Actually, Remy for a girl would be pretty kick-ass.”
“You think?” he asked, his voice wistful.
When I frowned at him, he quickly cleared his throat. “So, about this chick we’re going to find for you tonight.” Rubbing his hands together, he scanned the crowd for possible targets, but I held up my palm.
“No. Let’s just give it a break for tonight. Besides, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat instead.”
Remy blinked as if he’d never heard of such an idea. “Food?”
“Taco Bell,” I declared. “Only place to go after a night of drinking.” Then I grinned and quoted their slogan, “Yo quiero Taco Bell.”
“No.” Wrinkling his nose, Remy shook his head. “No, no no. No quiero Taco Bell. The only Mexican food I eat is made at Casta?eda’s.”
Remembering the chimichanga he’d shared with me, I rubbed my stomach. That did sound good. But... “I’m guessing they’re not open this late.”
He shook his head. “But I could call my cousin Big T and get him to fire up the grill. He makes the best tostadas de tinga. Ooh, or chicharrón preparado if you just want a cold snack.”
I sighed. “Meh. Don’t bother him. Let’s just find an all-night cafe or something.”
So half an hour later, we found ourselves sitting across a diner booth from each other, scarfing down bacon, and eggs, and biscuits and gravy.
“We totally rocked tonight, huh?” Remy said, brushing crumbs off the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Better than we did in Chicago, I think.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. We were definitely developing our talent and learning to play better as a group. But the word Chicago struck a memory in me, making my mind veer in a different direction. Snapping my fingers, I pointed. “Hey, I forgot to tell you earlier. I saw shower girl at the Granada.”
Remy lowered his fork and blinked at me. Then he slowly said, “Shower girl?”