Chapter Two Satoshi
Excellent expressions of this mischievous grape are elusive – but if you manage to get your hands on one, don’t, under any circumstances, let it slip through your fingers.
‘Sorry, Birdie, I know I’m late,’ I said, doing up the last two buttons on my work waistcoat as I half-ran into the bar. ‘Study group ran over and traffic back across the bridge was a nightmare. Give me five minutes to run upstairs and feed Yquem, and then you can—Isamu?’
‘Okaeri.’ Isamu glanced over his shoulder at me, elbow-deep in one of my fridges.
‘What are you doing here? Please tell me you’re not reorganising that.’
‘Of course I’m not. I know how you feel about your systems. I’m just checking—’ he pulled out a bottle of Bibliophile fumé blanc ‘—your stock levels.’
He eyeballed the level in the bottle, then put it back in the fridge. ‘And I’m here because Birdie had a family emergency. She couldn’t get a hold of you, so she called me – in a panic, I might add. I was in town anyway, so…’ He shrugged.
‘Why were you in town? We didn’t have a meeting scheduled.’
‘Dinner plans.’ He took out a bottle of grüner veltliner. ‘Not everything I do revolves around you, Sato.’
I gritted my teeth. I really thought I’d fixed the issue of Isamu interfering in my half of the business when, earlier in the year, he’d rented out the Hobart apartment he used to share with Noriko and moved to the vineyard full-time.
And for a while, things had been fine. I’d even begun to hope that maybe – finally – I’d proven myself enough that he considered me capable of doing my job without crumbling into dust.
But once again, hope had kicked me in the teeth.
As soon as vintage – Isamu’s busy period – ended for the year and he no longer had to spend all his time in the winery, these unannounced, occasional pop-ins had started back up.
I’ve got a few things to do in town, just thought I’d stick my head in and see how things are going, he’d say, as if there were an endless amount of tasks a winemaker had to do in the city.
I knew he missed Noriko. I knew he was probably lonely out at the vineyard, with only our mother, the occasional guests in her B something to distract me from the gnarled, twisted-up ball of emotions in my stomach – the longing, the yearning, the agony, and worst of all, the hope – and the MS was the thing I’d chosen.
The exam had three components: theory, tasting and service.
I was hoping to pass all three – something few people rarely managed, especially not on their first attempt – at an exam date in Paris in less than a year’s time.
Isamu had been livid when I told him – Are you trying to kill yourself? he’d demanded – but I’d held firm.
‘It’s all right for now,’ he went on. ‘I’ve got the time to pinch-hit. But what about when vintage hits in the new year? I won’t be able to leave the winery, and then—’
‘This is my side of the business, Isamu.’
‘I know, but—’
‘I’ll think about it, all right?’ I said. ‘I’ll work something out. Just give me a minute.’
Isamu regarded me for a long moment, but eventually, he nodded. ‘How was study group?’ he asked in English.
‘Fine,’ I lied, taking a microfibre cloth out of my pocket so I could polish my glasses.
Birdie’s absence meant I had to ask him a favour, and I really, really didn’t want to.
‘Carlton’s boss invited me to work a shift tomorrow night.
He works at Abode, over on Brooke St Pier.
It’s fine dining, so staging there will be useful for practicing all the fiddly bits for the service exam I haven’t had a chance to do properly since Geneva. But I’m rostered on here, and…’
‘… you need me to fill in. Because you don’t have anyone else who can run the floor.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘I can say no, if you can’t come up from the vineyard.’
‘I have to be in Hobart tomorrow anyway.’
Sure he did.
‘But you can’t keep going like this, Sato,’ Isamu said. ‘You’re going to burn out.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said tightly. ‘Everything’s under control. Now if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have a cat to feed.’
I took the stairs up to my apartment two at a time.
Yquem mewed from her spot in a sunbeam on the couch as I refilled her food and water bowls, but she didn’t move.
Some days, when I came in, she was all over me, pouncing on me the second I walked in the door.
Other days, though, like today, she ignored me completely.
I sighed. I adored her unreservedly, but she – like the notoriously expensive and temperamental wine I’d named her after when I’d adopted her late last year, trying to find somewhere else to put all the frustrated love in my heart – was so all-or-nothing.
On days like today, when I could really use a hug, it was hard not to take her disinterest personally.
I took my glasses off – red frames today – so I could splash cold water on my face in the bathroom.
Much as I resented Isamu’s lack of faith in me, I was going to have to figure something out.
Unless I at least gave the appearance of changing something, he wasn’t going to stop trying to boss me around.
I really couldn’t afford to hire another qualified somm, but maybe I could mentor one of my more experienced bar staff through some certifications. Admittedly, it’d be a significant investment of time and energy, but perhaps it could be a stopgap until Birdie’s circumstances stabilised.
And maybe Yquem would be in a snugglier mood once I closed up this evening. I was going to have to put in some serious study time, but it would definitely be easier if I had the little warm lump of her in my lap.
I sighed again, sliding my glasses back on. Study group this afternoon had been an unmitigated disaster.
We’d been focusing on tasting: specifically, old world white wines. Maxi and Carlton, the other two somms in the group, had each nailed at least the grape or appellation of a respectable four of the six we’d blinded, but I hadn’t been close to a single one.
It’s okay, Satoshi, Maxi had told me afterwards as we washed up our spittoons. We all have bad days. You just need to practise.
She was completely correct, but that just made it even more frustrating. In whose time? I’d wanted to yell.
But there was no point. Complaining wouldn’t make my chances of passing the MS any higher, and it would just take up more time that I didn’t have.
I adjusted my shirt collar, straightened my cuffs, combed my fingers through my hair (the bleach had dried it out, I should do a hair mask tonight while I studied), and put on my customer service smile.
One thing at a time. I would get through service, I would sacrifice a few hours’ sleep so I could study, and tomorrow would be a new day.
I should rip the bandaid off and give dating apps a try, I thought, taking two steps at a time as I headed back downstairs to the bar.
It had been nine months since I’d been with anyone – a deeply unhealthy and unsatisfying backslide with Kieran, aggressively reinforcing that I wasn’t remotely in love with him anymore.
Going to bed with someone wouldn’t solve anything – the Kieran incident had proven conclusively that I couldn’t fuck Fiona out of my system – and casual hookups really weren’t my style, but everything was just so frustrating, and I could use—
‘Hello, stranger,’ Fiona said, beaming at me.
Every single thought left my head.
‘Hello!’ I replied, as she twisted sideways on her barstool and put her arms around my neck.