Knife's Edge Pt. 04

---- ---- ---- 4.

A couple of days later I was coming in for the mid shift after a night at Mum and Dad's. They'd mentioned maybe, if I was staying long term, paying a little bit of board, and I awkwardly asked how they'd feel about me moving in with Joel. Not that Joel and I had actually properly talked about it- but I kind of knew, deep down, that he was waiting for me. If I said I wanted to move in he would have half the closet cleared in about five minutes, and a giant smile on his face.

They hadn't MET Joel- chef's hours being what they are- but they'd seen him. He picked me up sometimes and gave them a cheery wave. Mum and Dad sort of exchanged serious looks and said while I was an adult and they couldn't stop me from doing anything, they'd feel safer if he'd at least have dinner once, and I couldn't really argue with that. I wanted them to meet him too. I think if I knew they thought he was alright certain residual doubts might be easier to manage. So that was parked for a bit longer.

Joel met me at the door and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Don't stress, ok?" He said. My cortisol levels spiked.

"Ahhh.... Being told preemptively not to stress is really not helping with my stress." I laughed. "Oh fuck, what is it?"

"Ok, so the advance copy of Cuisine arrived." Joel fiddled with a strand of my hair.

"We're not in it?"

"Kind of... the opposite of that..." He winced. "We're... pretty heavily featured."

"Oh. Why?" I frowned. He closed his eyes in the tiniest half a second micro expression of total exasperation.

"Because we are brilliant, we are young, and we are a talented hot LGBTQ couple in an industry that's on its knees."

"Gotcha." I laughed. "Oh, ok." I ran my fingers through my hair. "Ah... I mean. That's kind of cool? What is it, like a three page spread?"

"Ye-ah..." Joel took my hand and led me inside, where Lydia and Marty were seated with Champagne. She whistled at me and waved her lacquered fingertips. "Just to be clear; this is really fucking cool, Rubes. I just know how you feel about any kind of attention at all." Joel squeezed me.

"It'll be fine." I waved him off as I put on my Effective Restaurant Manager face for the bosses. His eyebrows raised. But really, it would be fine. He was right- how cool was it that we were featured in such a massive publication? My parents would be stoked! And if I you know... stayed the path and went off on my own someday, this kind of thing wouldn't hurt. I'd probably need investors and...

My stomach twisted a bit as Lydia flapped the magazine in my face. I glanced at Joel, who had a shit eating 'I told you so' grin on his face.

Oh. The COVER. We were on the fucking COVER.

It was a candid shot that someone must have taken while we thought Lydia and Marty were talking. We were standing outside, looking into each other's eyes as we laughed, framed by the wild roses that grew up the brick outside. They'd edited out our cigarettes. "Chefs, Communication, Companionship: the new faces of New Zealand Cuisine".

"Woah." I took the champagne Lydia shoved in my hand. Joel touched my shoulder.

"Are you going to die?" He asked seriously. I looked at the glossy paper.

"That's a really nice photo." I said slowly.

"It's LOVELY." Lydia cooed. "Oh we've done SUCH a good job."

"Good hustle." Marty nodded at me. "Well earned. This will open doors for you." He clinked his glass against mine.

---

I quietly asked if I could take it home to Mum and Dad. Everyone melted a little, in a saccharine way. I would have been embarrassed about that once, but I was busy thinking about how excited they'd be.

"Oh shoot. Talking of Mum and Dad-" I caught Joel before he left, "ummmm. You wouldn't be free to come over for dinner sometime?" Joel's eyes started to sparkle.

"YES!" He responded. "When? We're both off on Monday night yes? Does that work?"

"Probably, I'll check."

"What do they like? What can I make?"

"Oh, Mum can cook."

"Absolutely not!" Joel shook his head. "No, I'm giving them the full experience. I'll cook- " He paused. "Assuming that's ok..." He cleared his throat. "But I want to, if it is. I'm desperate to impress Signore and Signora Valentini."

"That's Mr. Williams and Signora Valentini." I corrected him.

"Oooh you took your mum's last name? That's fun." Joel laughed.

"She says Rueben Williams sounded like a dentist." I smiled.

"Yeah fuck that guy, I'm glad I got you."

"Me too."

--- --- ---

My schedule was filling up. I went from nothing- ever- to band practice twice a week, and quiz night when I could make it, and in the next couple of weeks I had Joel coming over to meet the family, and the Felix awards, and a gig. It didn't look so bad when I put it on a calendar, but it was pretty overwhelming anyway. Carl helped. One thing at a time.

Mum was a bit confused about Joel wanting to cook for them.

"Do you want us to go to his?" She asked. As if I was going to invite my parents into Joel's grotty flat.

"No, he wants to come over- but he wants to cook for you." I explained for the third time. "Mum, Ponga has three Hats. Joel got that. That's almost a Michelin Star." I poked his face on the cover of Cuisine. "Food is how he expresses love. He wants to show you."

"Ahhh." She nodded. "Ok. Fine. But it's how I express love too."

"Mama, I know." I gave her a hug. "Why do you think I fell for him? You can cook next time when he's not shitting himself."

"I'll do dessert."

"I'll tell him."

Having offered to cook, Joel was suddenly completely incapable of creating a menu.

"Joel!" I slammed my hand on the pass. "Fucking. Garnish. This. Fucking. Steak."

"Sorry." He blinked. "Shit." He sighed. "Do your parents like falafel?"

"Oh my god, my parents will eat rotting kale and pretend they like it if you're nice! Fucking focus!"

"Heard." He coughed. "I'm genuinely more concerned about them liking me than..."

"Baby, if you don't shut up and get through service there won't be a meeting my parents."

"Ok, ok. Heard, chef. Truly." Joel mimed zipping his lips shut and managed to get through service.

He decided on fish pie, eventually. And naturally it was the best fish pie I'd ever tasted. He trialled it at work, pretending it was a potential new menu item.

"You really shouldn't take advantage of your position like this." I mumbled to him as I tasted it.

"And a yellow zucchini, radicchio, geeen apple salad with a lemon vinaigrette..." he blinked. "Look, we had the line caught snapper anyway, I just needed to make sure the recipe was ok."

"I really wouldn't have guessed your thing was peasant food."

"I grew up on hangis, baby. I lived off cheap grains and vegetables that grow anywhere. You have to admire the sheer tenacity of easy to farm food..." he trailed off. "Will they like it?"

"They will love it." I kissed his cheek. "Please don't go to all this trouble every time."

"First impressions count." His mouth settled into a tiny worried frown.

----

"Oh, he is so handsome!" My mum whispered loudly at me after Joel had charmed the pants off her by admiring her bookshelf and asking all about the artwork in the hallway.

"He's ok." I joked.

"Does he need help? Paul, go see if Joel needs help." Mum snapped at Dad. Dad looked at me and slowly put down the paper. He'd been a bit less enthused, a bit less charmed, and very reserved. I hopped up and went to top up Joel's wine.

"Dad's gonna offer to help." I kissed his neck. "Just let him ok? That way he's out of Mum's hair for a bit." I smiled at Joel. His face drained of almost all colour. "No, Dad's the easy one." I giggled. "You already won with Mum, don't worry." Joel nodded.

"Yeah thanks." He mumbled.

I went to sit with Mum and we nibbled on crackers and sipped on Rosé while my ears strained. Dad was laughing. Thank god. He wasn't the easy one at all. Which I knew Joel knew, because I still hadn't mastered the art of convincing lies.

By the end of dinner they were both in love with him. The food was good, of course, but I think it was the way he looked at me that did it. The way he offered to do the dishes and I argued with him since he'd cooked. The interest he showed in what Mum and Dad did for work. His dumb jokes. The way he begged mum for her limoncello recipe. His authenticity. He was very proper, and didn't stay after 9, shaking my parents hands and kissing me on the cheek before heading home.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

--- --- --- ---

I hadn't played to a real crowd for over a year. That felt like a really long time. I missed it. I missed the outlet- and maybe even the spotlight, sometimes.

Technicolour Pachyderms were... I mean we were almost kind of awesome these days. Roy had managed to rope in one of the higher ups from his office on bass- he was slightly older and didn't take it very seriously, but he knew what he was doing. With Blake's vocals and the pretty technical ability of the rest of us, we were developing a cool proggy sound. Enough to get us gigs obviously.

The crowd was always decent at San Fran Bath House. We were one of a few completely unknown bands on that night so it skewed young- but, being so cheap, it seemed like the 9-5ers were out as well. Roy took rehearsals very seriously and our short set had been perfect for a couple of weeks now. We were taking turns coaching- I felt a bit awkward while we were starting to get serious, like I was way overstepping every time I made a correction or tried suggesting something new- but I think he was happy he had a co pilot. Trying to move into gigs and recording after years spent bumming around with his brother gave him a shiny energy. He took the reins really well. I told him if he did get laid off from Policy he had a job waiting for him.

"As if I could ever work for Joel." He snorted. "His reputation precedes him."

"He's a million times nicer." I promised. "We had our first cold caller desperate to work with him the other day."

"He reckons it's all you." Roy raised his eyebrows. "Is it?"

"He always had it in him." I grinned. "Anyway, you'd be working for me."

"That, I would consider."

--- --

Backstage was a flurry of cool young people getting high and drunk and somehow still sounding amazing on stage. I'd forgotten I'd have to be social and pleasant to be around- which was probably good. Phantom stress, Carl called it. I carried it all the time- practising conversations and worrying about what could go wrong. Being thrown in the middle of things without a warm up was a different kind of stress- I got hot and weird, but it flared up and died down quickly. I found that asking a lot of questions always helped. Then we were talking about them and as long as I stayed interested I didn't have to worry about me so much, and if I was up to the cool standard, and if I was about to embarrass myself utterly. It had been so long! I never used to get stage fright! But I also used to play in a suit at the back and while I knew I could make or break a piece- the audience usually didn't. This was different.

But from the second we stepped on stage I knew it would be fine. My face lit up. I could see Joel in the front which anchored me, and I blew him a kiss as I sat down and rearranged the kit. The problem with gigs like this is it's hours between your sound check and everyone before you has a different way of doing things- but the techs were used to adjusting on the fly. I could see, even under the lights, that Joel was seriously checking me out. Roy had singlets made with a design his friend had mocked up for us. The kind of thing I wouldn't even wear to the gym because you could see too much of me. Blake told me it looked hot, in the salacious way only very straight men secure in their sexuality can. So... I kind of felt hot.

I felt really hot when we played. The crowd was awesome, and gave us so much. The set was super tight. For the first time ever- I felt like a rockstar. Playing with a band just made you feel so cool, you know? I was really riding a high as I stood up to take my bow, and even after packing up and slipping into the floor the cheers were ringing in my head.

"You weren't joking." Joel pressed me into him. I was sweaty and sticky and tired but I could definitely use a few drinks. "You. Are. So. HOT." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling us both into a single bar stool as he kissed me. Thank fuck it was dark, my body reacted instinctively. "And talented." He mumbled, as an afterthought.

We stumbled to the bar after a make out session that I had to break up because I was going to die of shame if anyone we knew caught us. The bar tender snapped his fingers.

"Sticks!" He grinned. "I wondered what you got up to these days!"

"Oh, hey! Marc- this is Joel, my boyfriend. Joel this is Marc, we used to play together in NYO- violin- wow, how are you? What are you doing?" Marc looked Joel up and down frostily.

"Actually, I've taken over 1st from Gerald Huffman in Allegro- have you heard of it?"

"Oh, cool!" There were a few places to play when you were an elite musician and missed out on the big gig of the NZSO. You could play in the city orchestra, or find a community group- or join something like Allegro which went round to schools- performing and training with the kids for a couple of weeks to put on a show for the parents. It was pretty casual- certainly not full time year round work, but it had been a breeding ground for some notable success stories. "Congrats. I've always thought the best people somehow drift to Allegro."

"Well. Actually. Speaking of the best people, there are auditions next month. Will you be interested?" Marc glared at Joel again. "Assuming that's ok with you." His voice dripped with sarcasm. Joel's friendly smile was fading. "I seem to remember there were doubts about Rueben's schedule." Marc folded his arms. Joel sighed with relief and shook his head.

"You have the wrong guy." He wrapped his arm around me. "You're thinking of his ex."

"OH!" Marc grinned "You got rid of him?"

"Yeah." I mumbled

"Oh so you're actually free to join then?! Fuck yeah, Sticks! Here, give me your email and I'll talk to Allan, the conductor... "

Marc and I caught up a bit. I'd missed music talk. Roy and Blake were awesome to play with and ended up being really close friends- but we were a band. We didn't talk about theory. We didn't talk about composition. Joel didn't have much to say, but he engaged where he could, and managed not to seem too bored, which I thanked him for when we moved back to circling the room looking for my band.

"Don't thank me! I'm hanging out with you!"

"Boring though?"

"It's never boring hearing you talk about something you're into." He smiled. "Speaking of which, I was thinking. You know you'll have to get on stage and do a speech at Felix right?"

"I won't win."

"There are five awards that YOU are nominated for. There is no way you won't win one of those."

"There's just one?"

"No: there's your one, then wine- that's you, then best front of house team- that's you, then restaurant- that's us I guess, then ambience and design- that's Lydia really but she never goes to Felix so that's on you to make a speech."

"Kurt can do it, he'll be thrilled."

"Rubes." Joel stopped us and pulled me out onto the balcony where the din was quieter. "All you have to do is go up. Say wow, this is so exciting, thanks everyone and thanks in particular to my amazing team who make everything feel smooth."

"I..." I could feel it already. All those eyes. Staring. Judging.

"How do you get up on stage?" Joel stroked my hand. "You rocked it tonight! Practically shirtless- how's that ok?"

"Well, I'm at the back and I don't have to talk." I shrugged.

"Well, how do you manage the floor then? You have to talk to hundreds of strangers every week and make them feel like you love them. What do you do?"

"I dunno. I just put on a face." I shrugged.

"Ok. So put on a face for the speech." Joel nudged my shoulder.

"Kurt would genuinely love to..."

"Baby." Joel sighed. He lit a cigarette as he thought about what he wanted to say. "Kurt did not write the wine lists. He didn't build the front of house team. He isn't you. I really think you should accept the awards."

"Well. We might not win." I smiled.

"Yeah, but maybe you can practice just in case?"

-----

"Tēnā rawa atu koe, tēna rawa atu koutou..." I bit my lip, hearing my voice waver. "I feel stupid." I looked at Joel. He pursed his lips and glanced at Syd and Roy.

"That's why we're practicing." He sighed. "And um. I dunno. Maybe ditch the Te Reo Māori?"

"You always lead with Te Reo?"

"Babe, I hate to play the race card but that's because I am Māori." Joel shrugged. "Your accent is..." He paused, thinking.

"Oh don't even try to be nice." I sighed. "I hate this."

"Try it again." Syd smiled encouragingly. "But Joel's right, skip Te Reo."

"Ok." I took a deep breath. "I'd like to thank..." I trailed off. "You know, if we do win, I'll just wing it."

"Terrible idea." Roy snorted. "Rubes you're not really a 'wing it' guy."

"No, I am. Joel said to act like when I'm running the floor, and that's winging it all night."

"Run through it just once?" Joel said.

"I know!" Syd made a spinning motion with his hand. "Turn around. Do it to the wall first."

"Oh....kay."

"It's a public speaking thing." He said. I shrugged and turned around.

"I feel extra stupid." I said to the wall.

"Do it once and I'll show you the surprise I have in my bedroom." Joel said.

"Noooooooo." I could hear Syd and Roy covering their ears and groaning.

"Ok." I sighed. "Wow! It's so cool to be in a room filled with so much talent. It makes me feel so proud about our industry. I need to give a massive thank you to the crew at Ponga. You all hold yourselves to excellence at all times and it's down to every single one of you that we're up here tonight. Thank you." I heard the guys cheering and banging the table. I turned around and winced, sinking into my chair.

"No do the 'you' one." Joel grinned as he finished clapping.

"You said ONE!" I protested. "And that's all I need to say for any of them."

"Don't make it about the crew at Pongakawa if YOU win." Joel winced.

"But they're the reason I look any good?"

"No..." A flash of annoyance rose up in Joel's face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're the reason they look good." He sighed.

"That's not true at all...."

"Oh my fucking god how are you like this?" Syd got up to get more beer. "Fuck. Joel mentioned you were self deprecating but this is unbearable." He called over his shoulder. Roy and Joel glanced at each other.

"I would say... challenging at times, not unbearable." Roy said softly.

"Deeply in denial but not beyond hope." Joel smiled at me.

"Ignore Syd, he's still learning times tables, he doesn't know about emotions yet." Roy nudged me.

"I'm not going to break into a million pieces because of some criticism." I folded my arms. "You don't need to be so...."

"Thoughtful?" Joel suggested.

"Nice?" Roy raised his eyebrows. "Aware that bro gets moody and a fraction too reflective when people call him things like 'unbearable' and trying to break that spiral before it starts?" I blinked at him.

"Did I miss a seminar on how to read and respond to situations like a mature adult on my 21st birthday or something?" I shook my head. Syd returned, tossing us all a beer. "Thanks." I muttered to Roy.

"Ok, again!" Syd grinned. "Face us this time, but you can sit down and hold your beer."

"You said one!" I moaned to Joel.

"Ok, well I said I'd SHOW you the surprise. How about if you can say a speech facing us we PLAY with the surprise?"

"Please tell me the surprise is a kitten." Roy groaned, downing his beer.