Sequel: 4 Devils

Chelsea Dawn

Chapter 3

Fernando waited impatiently outside the hotel and scanned the crowd, a big smile forming on his face when he saw Violette coming his way. "Bonjour, Fernando", she said, giving him a hug and kissing both his cheeks.

"Ah, bonjour. Is that a French thing?", he asked.

"Oui, it's also Italian. Just follow me and I am going to show you my city", said Violette.

Fernando followed her to the nearby Metro station as she bought two tickets from a vending machine. "Our first stop is Le Musee de Beaux Artes, it's the largest art museum in Canada and it's free", she said as they passed through the turnstiles and onto the platform.

"I've been to the Prado in Madrid on field trips and I've seen the National Portrait Gallery and the V&A in London, it's a good way to pass a rainy day in London", he chuckled.

"Does it really rain that much in England?", she asked.

"Si, about one out of three days. But it's worse up north, it rains every two out of three days. You get used to it after a while, I'm Spanish and I don't like hot weather at all", he laughed.

"You don't look very Spanish", said Violette.

"Verdad, I get that a lot. My family is originally from Galicia in the northwest and my dad's family has a lot of redheads, that part of Spain is Celtic and many of them are gingers. My hair is actually red, I dye it because being a ginger male isn't nearly as cool as being a ginger girl", he chuckled.

"Why not, ginger boys are cute. Well, maybe except for those that play on the Flyers", she joked.

"What are the Flyers?", he asked as he followed her into the train car.

"The Philadelphia Flyers, the Penguins' main rival. They have a forward line with three gingers, and their captain Claude Giroux is a ginger, him and our captain Sid can't stand each other. Plus, Giroux is ugly with that ginger mop of his, even if he is French", said Violette with frown.

"Ay, I never heard of a team having so many gingers. Please don't tell me they wear orange uniforms", he pleaded.

Violette looked up something on her phone and showed him the pics. "No me jodas, ellos son tantos feos", he said in horror.

"Je sais, mon ami Espagnol. Part of the reason why I hate them", said Violette dryly.

Violette let them off at the Sherbrooke stop and upstairs as he looked around curiously. Rue Sherbrooke was a wide street surrounded by handsome neo-Classical buildings and some of Montreal's finest department stores, elegant well-dressed people out and about enjoying the summer's day. Bits of conversations in French could be heard along with the occasional English, the blue and white Quebec flag fluttering from the tops of buildings along with the red and white Canadian maple leaf.

"We are practically our own country, Fernando. We have our own laws, most of us are Catholic and we speak French, aren't there parts of Spain like that?", she asked.

"Si, Catalonia is like that. They speak Catalan and have their own laws, Basques too. I understand it, even if they don't like us much", he chuckled.

"And you're a regular Spaniard, oui?", she teased.

Fernando pretended to pout. "I am not just a regular Spaniard, I am part Gallego and I play for Chelsea FC", he said proudly.

"All right, you are half-Galician, half regular Spaniard and all Anglophile", she joked as they both laughed.

The museum was half-empty as most people would be at work and the tourists wouldn't be arriving until after later, several school groups already there. Their footsteps echoed in the halls as she led him on a tour of the museum, the elderly docents hiding unobtrusively in the background.

Fernando stared in shock at the painting he saw in the Quebec section, thinking it had to be one of the most ghastly things he had ever seen. Giant human-like beavers were praying and being killed by savage-looking Native Americans, getting their throats cut, their feet caught in traps and being shot while their souls went to heaven, all of it rendered in a highly-realistic style.

"Ese son tanto, muchisimo feisimo", he said in disgust.

"Je sais, Fernando. The early Quebec settlers were Catholics and many of the missionaries were killed by the natives for being a pain en le cul, perdon mon lengue. I know it's ugly, but it's one of the more popular paintings in the museum. Let's see the other sections", she said.

Fernando was grateful when she led him towards the decorative arts section across the street via a passageway underground, the various furnishings, household objects and designs making him feel much better. "After lunch, we will climb to the top of the mountain, the view is the best", she said after they left the museum.

He nodded as he saw the mountain looming over the city, covered in a mantle of green leaves from the trees. "It's a giant park, it's most beautiful during the winter when it's covered in snow. And we go out in that weather, that's why Quebec has so many hockey players", she said proudly.

"Son locos, Blanca Nieves", he teased.

After lunch, Violette led him towards the base of Mont Royal as they started their climb. The mountain was full of people enjoying the warm summer day, mostly families and children with a few solitary hikers using the paths around the mountain. As they climbed higher and higher the view became more stunning until they were near the top, looking around them and seeing the whole city across to the river.

"Que lindas, fantastico", he exclaimed.

"Oui, we can see the whole city from here and across the river too. That is the port and the Olympic Stadium, and those are the suburbs and farms outside the city. The view is even better in the winter", said Violette.

Fernando nodded slowly as he took out his phone and snapped a few pictures before uploading them to Facebook. He put an arm around Violette as she leaned against him, turning his head slightly and kissing her lips. "Gracias para eso, Blanca Nieves", he said.

"Merci, Fernando. Now let's get back down before it gets too dark", she said.

The two of them made their way down the mountain as the sun began to set across the sky, the orange orb gradually sinking into the horizon and lighting up the still waters of the St. Lawrence. Downtown Montreal was buzzing as the bars and restaurants opened their doors and revelers were enjoying happy hour, snatches of French and English competing for attention with music coming from inside the various establishments.

"This is one of the best English bars in Montreal", said Violette as she led him inside the Burgundy Lion on Rue Notre Dame Ouest. The bar was about three-quarters full with patrons watching a tennis match, RDS programming, a rerun of the Stanley Cup playoffs and various reruns of Premier League playoff games. The walls were adorned with English beer signs and posters as an old Rolling Stones song played over the PA, casks of ale behind the bar and the scent of food and beer hovering over everything.

"Table for two, please", she told the greeter.

They were led to a table under one of the TV's and handed food and drink menus. Fernando smiled in delight when he saw the extensive beer and whiskey menu, seeing many that were really English along with the huge selection of whiskey and gin. "You look mas felis", she teased.

"Verdad, I really miss this when I go back to Spain", he replied.

"I will have a Newcastle", she said.

"And I will have a Yorkshire Square", he said as the server looked impressed.

"I love Yorkshire beers, I end up buying them on Ebay because they're hard to find in London", he explained.

Fernando took a sip of his beer and had a dreamy look on his face, his brown eyes hazy and warm. "I have one every time we go up to Yorkshire to play the teams, I wish they exported to Spain so I could have it more often but I'd get fat drinking too much of it", he joked.

Violette sipped her own beer and had a thoughtful look on her face. I really have to introduce Fernando to Kris and Dad, they would like him very much, she mused.