Getting Real

41. Family



Jake tossed the keys to Bonne from one hand to the other while he listened to Glen give a last update for the day. The set build was on schedule and they’d be ready for a sound check and a rehearsal tomorrow. When his phone rang he expected it to be Mum checking up on his arrival time, asking him to bring a forgotten item, milk or peppercorns or a certain brand of ice cream he’d have to visit at least three different supermarkets to find, so without looking at the screen he said, “What did you forget?”

“My manners.”

“Rie!” What was it about her voice alone that made colours look brighter, could change his weather both to sunshine and raging storm?

“Do you think your mum would mind if I accepted her invitation after all?”

He laughed, this was chocolate flavoured sunshine. Who gives a toss what Mum thinks. “I think she’d be delighted. Are you still at the studio? I’ll pick you up.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m not really meet the parents material.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone home for dinner, let alone a girl, I’m pretty sure Mum’s beginning to think I’m gay.” He was trying to imagine Rie at the family dinner table. He was succeeding in imagining her in the gym, in his arms, in the rest of his life.

“You’re not, are you?”

Caught out not listening. “Not what?”

“Gay.”

Jake shook his head, growled. “You hate me don’t you?”

She laughed. “You’re pathetic. Come and get me, Jake. I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s worrying me. I’ve seen your best behaviour and it includes punching people, drinking too much, being entirely too sexy and seducing members of your road crew.”

“Just one roadie.”

“Better be. I’ll see you in fifteen.”


Jake couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he helped Rielle off Bonne outside his family home.

Coming straight from the studio, she was dressed to shock in skin-tight pants that were shredded up the outside of her legs from ankle to hip and a strapless corset. Her hair was wild and her makeup was extra heavy, done for television lighting, so even more exaggerated than normal.

Judging by the slack jawed look on the face of the neighbour, who was hosing the front lawn and an unnecessary swath of footpath, they made an unusual scene in the quiet suburban street.

“There goes the neighbourhood,” she said.

He pulled her in close, hands on her butt. “Let’s give them something to complain about.”

She laughed and pushed him away, but he was beaming proudly as if she was a brand new shiny toy he couldn’t wait to show off. Every chance he’d gotten on the drive over he’d touched her, putting his hand over hers, stroking her arm, leaning into her.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. This was for Jake. No matter how hard it might be to play happy families for the evening, she was going to grin and bear it, and be that shiny new toy til her batteries ran out.

They heard the yelling before they got inside the front door. A male voice, raised in anger, cursing loudly, and a female voice shrill with indignation, and over the top of both the deep insistent bark of a fat chocolate coloured Labrador who threw himself at Jake full tilt.

Jake staggered back a pace, hunching down to roughhouse the dog; not dodging fast enough to avoid a slobbering lick to the jaw.

“Ugh Monty, down, down.” He grabbed the dog’s collar to prevent him launching himself at Rielle.

“They’re here, Mick,” said the female voice. Its owner appeared, red faced in the hallway. “Monty, outside,” she snapped, then, “Darling,” holding her arms out for a hug which Jake willingly obliged, lifting his mum off the ground in his enthusiasm.

“Mum—Trish, this is Arielle Mainline,” Jake said. He did a bad job of smothering the laughter inspired by Trish’s raised eyebrows and Rie immediately regretted not stopping by the hotel to change.

“I’m so glad you could come. Please don’t mind the dog, he won’t hurt you,” Trish said.

In the kitchen Jake’s dad tried to look like he hadn’t been electrocuted. When Rielle held out her hand saying, “Mr Reed, nice to meet you,” he just stared at her.

Jake said, “She won’t bite, Dad,” and Mick Reed blushed and stammered out a welcome, taking Rielle’s hand in both of his and pumping it up and down manically.

“Don’t mind my dad. He’s like the dog—wildly enthusiastic but he won’t hurt you.”

“Ah Jake,” said Mick. He turned away to open the fridge.

Jake pulled out a kitchen stool for Rielle. He turned to his mum. “What was all the yelling about?”

“Never mind that. Your father is an idiot.” Looking to Rielle, Trish said, “I hope you like roast chicken, Arielle.”

“You can call me Rielle or Rie.”

“But Arielle is such a lovely name. I’m sure your mother doesn’t want you shortening it.”

“No, she didn’t,” Rielle said softly, and she felt the comfort of Jake’s hand against her back.

“So, you’ll be Arielle to me then,” said Trish. “Dinner will be about half an hour. The three of you go out in the garden. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rielle walked around the kitchen bench to stand beside Trish. If she had something to do, to contribute, maybe she could stop feeling like a she was Jake’s take-home science experiment.

“Oh no, not at all, you go with the boys.”

“I’d like to stay with you if you don’t mind?” She made a shooing motion to Jake.

He said, “Right Dad, we know when we’re not wanted,” and together with Mick and the dog, Jake went through the back door to the garden.

As soon as he was out of earshot she said, “I’d like to apologise for my appearance. I’m not dressed appropriately. I’ve come straight from a TV interview, but I could’ve changed. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t mean any disrespect.”

“Oh don’t worry, Arielle. I was concerned for a moment Mick might lose the power of speech, but he does seem to have pulled through.”

“Does Jake leave clothes here? Maybe he has a shirt I could put on?”

“We can do better than that,” said Trish, a gleam in her eye. “Come with me.”

When the four of them converged in the dining room, Rielle caused another sensation. Jake’s dad was thoroughly flummoxed. He reached across the table and held his hand out, “Hi, I’m Mick. You must be a friend of Jake’s?”

“Ah, sorry Dad,” Jake laughed, “this is Rielle, remember from before? She’s dressed down now.”

Mick looked from Jake to Rielle and then to Trish. “I’ll be buggered.” He promptly sat at his place at the head of the table. “Sorry love, you look so different, I didn’t realise you were the same girl.”

Rielle laughed. She looked like deranged spawn of punk fairy and a depressed 1960s housewife in Jake’s sister’s dress, a floral number, with her hair up in a borrowed clip, but it was more appropriate for the family dinner table and almost worth it for the double-take Jake did when he saw her. It was another memory she could leave him.

“No problem, Mick. That was my disguise.”

“Like Supergirl,” said Mick and Rielle grinned at him. “I liked it though.”

“Dad!”

“Mick!”

“Well, I did like it. Of course that’s why you do it, isn’t it love? To give old blokes like me a bit of a thrill?”

Rielle blushed, thankful the heavy makeup would hide her embarrassment. “It’s part of my job.”

“She’s a musician, Dad,” said Jake with an edge on his voice. “Didn’t Mum tell you?”

“Your Mum thinks I don’t listen and I need a holiday.”

After that, Mick concentrated on carving the chicken and seeing to everyone’s drinks while Trish dished up roasted vegetables and warm bread rolls. Rielle couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in a kitchen like this to a meal cooked with love. When Jake helped carry their plates to the kitchen, Mick said, “So what’s with the Supergirl outfit?”

“It’s more or less expected in the music industry, to stand out, to have an outrageous look.”

“Was that what you wear on stage?” He topped up her water glass.

“No. I have different costumes for the stage show.”

“So, that’s what you wear when you’re not performing?”

Rielle paused. How to explain that she was always performing without it sounding completely insane? “Ah yeah, that’s right.”

Mick frowned at her, trying to understand. He was a handsome man. His knitted brows so much like Jake’s would be in thirty years’ time.

“It’s difficult—we’re kind of famous. I have to dress the part all the time. But I can escape when I dress down, I don’t get recognised.”

“Ah,” said Mick nodding, “must be hard on you to have to go around all the time pretending to look like someone else.”

Rielle opened her mouth to tell Mick he had it the wrong way about. The reason she dressed outrageously was to escape looking like someone else, but the words stuck in her throat. Something about the look on Mick’s face, the same even features that graced Jake’s, made her stop. Maybe the Reed men had it right after all.

Later in the yard with Jake, while a homemade apricot pie was setting, and the kettle was boiling, Rielle realised she’d lost that horribly awkward feeling she had when they arrived. It was a nice night, she was in the company of a man who loved her and his parents weren’t fussing over her like visiting royalty or putting them through the third degree. On top of that, she’d just played fetch with the dog and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched an animal. Except for the ugly dress, these were simple pleasures that made her happy.

So far Jake had managed to dodge the inquisition, but he knew it was waiting, brewing like the tea and it made him smile to think that if Mum didn’t manage to corner him, she’d be up half the night speculating endlessly about Rielle and what her son was up to.

He watched Rie throw a chewed up tennis ball to Monty. The dog was doing ecstatic doggy backside wriggling every time he brought the ball back, and Rie, while not exactly wriggling, looked damn happy too.

“You look incredibly sexy in Issy’s old dress,” he said, coming up behind her, relieving her of the slobbery ball. “Whose idea was that?”

“I told your mum I felt uncomfortable and she suggested it. You like it, do you?”

“I do. A lot.” The dress with her makeup and hair made her look like a cartoon anime girl. “Though Issy was about sixteen when she wore that.”

“Funny, your Dad likes my other look better.”

Jake threw the ball right to the back of the yard. “My Dad should keep his thoughts to himself.”

“He thought I was a stripper or worse, didn’t he?”

He snorted. “Yeah, probably.”

“I told you I wasn’t parent-friendly.”

“You did fine, Rie, thank you. It’s made me really happy to have you here tonight. You’ll have to wait til we get back to the hotel so I can show you how happy.”

“Really, I have to wait?” Monty dropped the ball at her feet. It made a splat sound. “I thought we might have a tour of your old room.”

Jake grinned, reached for Rielle and pulled her against his chest. “There’s an idea. You sure you want to do that? It’s not like it’s been kept a shrine to me. I’ve been gone a long time. It’s pretty much a guest room now.”

She turned in his arms. “I’d still like to see it.”

During dessert all Jake could think of was getting Rielle into his old bedroom and tumbling her on the bed. It wasn’t actually his old single bed, though he did sleep in this one from time to time, but the whole notion of having her in that room, while his parents clattered dishes in the kitchen, was a major turn on.

He reached for her hand under the table and she took it willingly, letting him link his fingers through hers. Until he saw her in the kitchen when they arrived, looking like a fantasy from a parallel universe, he hadn’t focussed on how strange it would be for her to be enveloped by someone else’s family. He knew she’d done this for him and it made him want her all that more desperately.

Knocking back an offer of seconds, Jake stood, Rielle’s hand still grasped in his. “We’re going to my room to listen to records,” he said, coming out with words he thought he might’ve used if he’d ever brought a girl home during his teens. Choking on his laughter and the surprised looks on Trish and Mick’s faces, he dragged Rielle through the lounge room, down the hall and into his old room, backing her up against the closed door.

She said, “Steady tiger,” and they collapsed into each other’s arms laughing hysterically. He didn’t wait for her to catch her breath before tossing her on the bed and kissing her senseless.

Flopping on his back and pulling Rielle onto his chest so he could look in her violet eyes, he said, “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

“They’re nice, your parents. Can’t think what they’ll make of me.”

“Why would you worry about that? It’s not your problem what they think.”

“But I don’t want it to be your problem.”

He looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

She tucked her head down into his neck. She smelled of apricot pie and mothballs and dog and it wasn’t revolting, because it was Rielle. “I don’t know.”

“Could it be, Ms Mainline, that you might miss me when I’m not around?”

She went very still.

“It’s okay, Rie, I was joking.” He gave her a little shake, wanting to recapture the earlier fun; cursing himself for making it too serious.

Rielle lifted her head and a breath away from his lips whispered, “Teenage boys just don’t know when to shut up,” and he was only too happy to prove her wrong.

As a kid, Jake thought the closest he’d ever come to having a rock star in his bedroom was a poster on the wall. The one he was making out with was flesh and blood and attitude more than he could handle. And the fact his parents were only two rooms away, and likely all ears, made the whole thing a million times more exciting than his wildest wet dreams.