Work Text:
March 2021– Ottawa
Marie hated her job. That wasn’t entirely true– she actually loved it, but she hated when it was slow. Tuesday mornings were always the slowest days at GRWN Handmade Cosmetics, but it was fine because she was alone for the next few hours so she was able to prep all the things she wanted before her manager came in and made her talk to people. It was fine really. There had only been a few people so far who came into the store in the Bayshore Shopping Centre: an old lady shopping for bath products for her granddaughter, a nurse who came in looking for a lotion they no longer carried and an older man who was looking to buy the least amount of plastic that he could.
Marie sipped on her Dr. Pepper that she bought that morning. She could smell the chinese food from the food court and her mouth started watering. Then, a younger man walked in. He was probably a few years older than Marie. He wore a nondescript baseball cap that was pulled low and an Adidas sweatshirt under a black wool coat. He was tall, though being five feet tall, everyone was tall to Marie.
“Hello,” she said from behind the counter. “Are we looking for something special this morning?”
The man visibly stiffened like he hadn’t realized she was here.
“Um, I’ve never been here before.” The man’s voice rang out into the small shop. It was clearly accented. It reminded Marie of her grandmother’s voice.
“Don’t worry. I can help you.” Marie walked around the till to where the man was standing near the bathbomb table. “Are we shopping for you or for someone else?”
“Someone.”
“Okay. Any idea on what they might like? Any ideas in particular you want to get for them?”
The man shook his head. “He likes things that are clean. No chemicals. Where are the mens’ things?”
“So, first off, we don’t have anything that is specifically ‘for men’ because showering doesn’t really have a gender, but I could help point out some things that are definitely considered more masculine scented.”
“Da. Yes.”
Marie squinted her eyes. He may have had a similar accent to her babcia, but “da” wasn’t Polish.
“Da?” Marie questioned. “Are you Russian?”
The man shook his head.
“Sorry. My grandmother is Polish so I was trying to figure out where your accent was from,” she apologized.
“No problem. Where in Poland is she from?”
“Biala Podalasko. It’s near the border with Belarus and Ukraine.”
“Ah.” The other man nodded.
“So, your friend. Do you know what scents he likes? I know you said he likes clean things.” Marie couldn’t get lost talking to this man. However, he seemed like he would be an interesting person to have a conversation with.
“The ocean, I think. He has seaweed shampoo from here.”
“Seaweed… Oh!” Marie walked over to the haircare, pulling a black pot of shampoo from the testers. “Is this it?”
The man looked at it skeptically then sniffed. His eyes lit up. “Yes. He likes it. Do you have anything else?”
“Not this scent in particular, but we have a lot of similar ones. Do you have a budget for what you want to get him?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “Whatever you think he will like.”
Marie lived for these customers. She didn’t even work for commission, but she loved helping people and building gift sets. It made her happy knowing she helped someone and hopefully the recipient loved the gift.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me more about him? What does he do for work? Is this to help him minimize his routine for time or is this meant to be elaborate and luxurious?”
“He’s very busy. He needs– what is it?-- self care night. He likes the environment so if it is good for the environment he will like it even more.”
Marie nodded. She was starting to build the idea in her head. When they were done, the man left with soap, a shampoo bar that also had seaweed in it, a bubble bar, three bathbombs, a massage bar, and conditioner. She also gave him a few samples including a curl cream because he mentioned that his friend told him he needed to take better care of them.
As she finished ringing him up, she noticed he was staring at her chest. Fuck. She knew this nice man was too good to not be a douchebag, but surprisingly he spoke, still staring at her chest.
“You are Voyagers fan?” the man asked.
Marie glanced to her own chest. Oh. My apron. All GWRN employees had to wear a black apron and could decorate it with pins. She had put on an old Montreal Voyagers pin.
She chuckled. “Yeah. I am. I grew up outside of Montreal. My dad was a big Voyagers fan. It also didn’t help that my first crush was Shane Hollander.”
The man barked with laughter. She smiled back.
“It probably doesn’t help that Hollander’s rival is in Ottawa now. You are a traitor to your home now.”
“He left Boston after I moved here!” Marie protested with a smile. “It’s not my fault he got traded to Ottawa.”
“Traitor,” the man said with a smile. She handed him his receipt and told him good luck on his gift.
***
The next time she saw the Russian man was two months later. She was working with her co-worker, Ana. It was once again a slow Tuesday morning, but unlike last time, Marie was updating Ana on the latest hockey drama.
“And then, they made a post saying they’re in a relationship. You don’t understand how crazy this is. A couple in the NHL. It’s insane dude. Kinda crazy that I had a massive crush on Hollander as a kid only for us both to end up queer.”
Ana shrugged. “It kinda poetic. Oh, hello!”
A familiar customer walked in. He was dressed like last time except he was wearing a Boston Bears t-shirt.
“How can I help you?” Marie asked the man.
“Hi.” He smiled. “I’m looking for some things for my fri– boyfriend. I think you helped me last time. He likes the ocean.”
Everything clicked into place for Marie.
“Yeah, of course. Are you wearing that shirt just to taunt me?”
“Of course I did.”
Marie shook her head. “Hollander is still better than the entire Bears and Centaurs franchises combined.”
The man tilted his head. “You and your beloved Voyagers…”
“Of course. I have a soft spot for Rozanov because he’s dating Hollander, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him as a player.”
The man shrugged. “That’s fair. I wish more fans were like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not everyone has been as understanding about Shane and I.”
The words echoed in her head. What. The. Fuck. She stared at the man for a second more before realizing that the reason she thought he looked familiar months ago was because he was Ilya fucking Rozanov. She knew his face– not as well as Shane Hollander’s– but she’s seen him enough to know that it was him.
“Holy shit– sorry. I just– I didn’t realize it was you. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever yelled at you through the TV.”
“Is okay. I say worse to players faces.” Ilya Rozanov winked at her. “Do you remember what I got last time? He liked most of what I got. I really liked the minty cube bathbombs.”
After Ilya Rozanov stocked up on his new favorite products and the ones he bought last time, the question that had been eating at Marie finally escaped.
“Sorry, but last time, when you came in here, were you shopping for Hollander?” Marie regretted it, but she would regret not asking even more.
Rozanov nodded. “Yes. He was very surprised. You did a great job. Would not have done it without you.”
Holy. Shit.
Marie thanked him and watched him walk out of the door with a bag emblazoned with GWRN written on it.
“So that was the guy who just came out?” Ana asked after a few moments.
“Yup. That was Shane Hollander’s boyfriend, Ilya fucking Rozanov…” Marie stared out to the mall as a group of old women walked by. “I have to call my dad.”