Chapter Seven. Riley #3
“Definitely,” I say, although Ashley hasn’t mentioned the next leg of the tour to me.
I know she’s dubious about me being the right fit for this, but I’ll have to prove to her that I am, because now that I know I could keep doing this, I want to.
I think I could convince my dads to give me their blessing to finish out the tour.
My stomach twists uncomfortably as I think about going back to pretending I can be happy doing anything for my career but cook, but I pick up my wineglass and take a long sip as I push the feelings aside.
I’m going to need to get used to the idea.
Rhia tops off all of our wineglasses, although James and Anya are so deep in conversation, they’ve barely touched theirs. “So do you think you’ll keep on with private chef work after the tour? Or tour with someone else?”
“I mean, probably not. My dads paid for my MBA on the condition that I literally do anything but cook.”
Rhia gives me a skeptical look. “I mean, that’s kind of fucked, don’t you think? When clearly you love to cook.”
I flush yet again. “It’s not like that. They just … My sister worked in restaurants and she couldn’t hack it. She started using and they blamed working in a kitchen.”
“Yeah, but you’re not your sister. Is she clean now?”
I wince and look down at my drink. “Well, Liv died. But she was clean.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rhia says quickly. “I shouldn’t have assumed I knew everything.”
I exhale, blinking back the tears that come when I think of how hard Liv worked to get clean, just to have it all taken away in one moment.
“It’s okay. And I mean, you’re not totally wrong.
When she … when she…” I feel my throat start to close.
Talking about her in the past tense always does that.
I clear my throat. “I was literally planning to tell them that I couldn’t do anything but cook and that I needed to drop out of school and try to work my way up in kitchens.
That I wasn’t my sister. But then she was gone and everything was so heavy.
I thought my dads were going to break up.
The stress of it was all-consuming, I would’ve agreed to basically anything to keep our family together. ”
“I’m sorry,” Rhia says gently. “I can’t imagine how hard that is.”
“Yeah…” I agree. “Sorry, I think I just got way too deep there. I know we don’t know each other that well and—”
“Say another word of that apology and I will have to tell you to fuck off,” Rhia says firmly. “Anything you share is safe with me. Everyone knows tour friendships aren’t like normal friendships; they progress at approximately twenty times the typical pace.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. Liv had been my best friend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed having someone to confide in. “I just don’t want to disappoint my dads.”
“You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve disappointed my parents,” Rhia assures me.
“Ooooh, are we talking about disappointing the ’rents? I win,” James says firmly as he turns his attention back to us. “I’m gay. And I’m not ashamed of it. I literally dance, in sequins, on a stage, sometimes on TV. My parents didn’t speak to me for a year when I went on my first tour!”
“James, sweetie, you do win.” Anya says.
“But I’m a solid runner-up! My mom cut me off and gave my college fund to my little sister when I said I wasn’t going to college.
I thought I could use that money! I had to put my dance intensive on a credit card.
I spent five years paying off my credit card debt. ”
“Do you think my dads would actually make me pay them back for my MBA?”
Anya nods emphatically. “Yes. I don’t even know the details, but yes.”
My stomach sinks. But Rhia interrupts before I can spiral too far.
“Don’t worry about that. We’re young—we have time to make money.
Being an artist is never going to be easy.
But look at us! We’re in fucking Paris having cocktails after an arena show and we get to wake up in three hours and do it all again. ”
My skin prickles uncomfortably because I know what she’s saying is true.
But I also don’t think I can tolerate disappointing my dads.
Losing Liv broke them, and I can’t do that too.
I’m supposed to be the easy one. Maybe I won’t feel alive in every inch of my body and so excited for every challenge I’m thrilled to jump out of bed in the morning.
But I can be happy following the plan. I have to be.
“Cheers to that,” James says, and we all clink our glasses.
“So, Riley, worst cooking mishap?” Anya asks.
I laugh. “That story might take all night.”
Rhia shrugs. “It’s almost morning anyway.”
I launch into the story of learning to make panna cotta, and as we laugh and talk, I feel like there’s nothing more perfect than this moment.
The beautiful setting of the bar, the balanced cocktails and curated wine list, the artistically laid out sharing plates, they enhance this moment and make it really special.
And I wonder what it would feel like to be the head chef at a place like this.