Getting Real

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.”