‘Fair point, and I know this sounds like a first-world problem, but it’s a really pressurised environment. Not only do I have to be absolutely on top of my game professionally, but I have to project just the right persona when I meet people. I love what I do, but that part really takes it out of me. So, for one month every year, I come back to Jamaica to rest. And, this year, I met you. And one of the best things about meeting you is that, not only are you someone interesting who I enjoy spending time with, you’re not a music person, which means I can relax and just be myself around you.’
‘Except you weren’t you. You were projecting an image at me too,’ I counter.
‘How so?’
‘You were pretending to be a humble hotel pianist, an itinerant musician.’
He grins. ‘If we’re going to get really forensic about it, I wasn’t pretending. You made an assumption.’
‘You allowed me to make a fool of myself.’ My embarrassment is turning into irritation.
‘I never meant that, I promise. You’re right. It was selfish of me, but it’s been so nice not having to deal with any of the artifice that I normally get.’
‘Artifice?’
‘Oh, yes. When I meet people, they tend to fall into one of two groups. The first group are the fawning sycophants, who think I’m so wonderful I could probably defecate on the carpet and they’d think it was genius. That’s a bit rude; I don’t mean to be unkind about them, but it gets a bit much after a while.’
‘And the second?’
‘The second are out to try to prove to me how clever they are. So they’ll ask a question about some obscure fact or technicality, in the hope that I won’t know the answer and they can enjoy their superiority. To be honest, I don’t mind them either, but the point is it’s all a performance. I have to be gracious no matter how difficult a person is, because everyone is a social media critic these days, and if people start thinking I’m snotty and obnoxious, that isn’t good publicity.’
‘And then there was me.’
He smiles again. ‘And then there was you. And you aren’t like any of them. It’s been so refreshing just spending time with you and being a normal person. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you earlier, or been more upfront, but I was having such a good time having ordinary conversations with you about relationships and one-night stands and stuff that I didn’t want it to end.’
I look at him as he drives and, although I’m still embarrassed by the things I said to him, my heart goes out to him a little bit and I kind of understand why he did it. It was a bit dishonest, even if he didn’t outright lie to me, but then I’m not exactly a leading figure in the honesty department myself after the last couple of days. I turn to him and smile.
‘What?’
‘My tour guide has his own Wikipedia page.’
He laughs. ‘That’s the thing you’ve latched on to?’
‘Well, the Sydney Opera House is impressive, I suppose, and the Last Night of the Proms.’ A thought comes to me and I laugh. ‘All those people you were talking about before, the sycophants and the clever ones. How would they feel about you playing “Disturbia”?’
He laughs. ‘It was a request from someone very special. I really am sorry for not being honest from the start.’
‘It’s fine. I get it. There is one thing I’d like you to do to make it up to me though.’
‘Go on.’
‘I want to know everything. Your family, your accent, the lot.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘OK. Well, we can start here,’ he says as he pulls over to the side of the road and shuts off the engine.
‘What’s here?’
‘This is where I went to school, before we moved to the UK. If you really want me to tell you everything, I will.’
I take off my seatbelt so I can turn to face him while he speaks. His face really is very nice to look at and, after admiring it for a moment, I let my gaze travel down to his hands, understanding at last why they’re so well kept. I can feel pieces of the jigsaw dropping into place as he breathes in and prepares to start his narrative. I can’t wait. Now that he’s started to open up, I want to know everything about him.
19
‘You’re right that I was born here,’ Gabriel begins. ‘And you already know that I’m one of six. Grace, my sister who owns the Elixir, is the eldest, then Michael, me, Blessing, who I’ve already told you about, Raphael and Uriel.’
