Wax - Chapter 32: Chapter 32

Thank goodness Rexi had offered to pick Annie up from the restaurant after our meal together. Several glasses of wine into the evening and she had narrowed in on the questions I found particularly difficult and frankly, quite illegal.
"I'm not even sure if he's potent. All he cares about is work and Chicken and and and... does he even watch porn?" "He's not even romantic. I don't think he's ever watched a rom-com in his lifetime, let alone read a novel about two people falling in love unless, y'know, Free had stuff like that in his apartment back in New York but I doubt it." "And look, if he ends up hurting or or or rushing you into anything, you're telling me about it, okay? I mean, have either of you even done your research? You both are practically infants."
I attributed the nature of our conversation to the food and the drinks but found myself immensely relieved at the sight of Rexi in a black SUV, pulled up right before the restaurant with a look of exasperation written all over her face. After helping Annie into the passenger's seat and stowing her wheelchair into the boot of the car, I bid them both a goodnight and made a mental note to send a text tomorrow morning, thanking Annie for her company and Rexi for picking her up from the restaurant.
And then it was a mad rush for home.
Needless to say, I had my suspicions. And with the events of today, these suspicions were nearly confirmed with the extent of evidence supporting, corroborating with the claims I had been making at the back of my mind and yet, found so terribly hard to believe.
I was phoning Leroy all the way home, having Jason take the shortest route and several shortcuts through possibly dangerous alleyways that wouldn't have made the cut on every other occasion. The urge to see him right this instant, perhaps even summon his presence right before me grew at every crossing, every red light, every stop of the car.
Simply put, this called for a confrontation; quite frankly one of our firsts ever since I arrived in London since the others were mere conversations of the past, a reflection on the us before and the present but this was a call on the future and what he was trying to make of it. The more I thought about the possibility of him having hid this from the rest of the world, the faster I froze over with the fear of it all happening again.
His return to the heat and the burn of a stove.
No one thinks about this; but in burning, a candle disappears. It burns and burns until nothing of its original self remains. A candle is, first and foremost, victim to the flame of its own.
So then, there existed a form of urgency to stop it from destroying itself and here I was feeling the heat of it all; desperate to sate the need to see him right this instant. All that harbored within soon translated into greater strides and a quickened pace, an unholy moment waiting for the elevator and then, inside it; watching the digital numbers climb at the slowest pace while things began to form at the back of my head.
No, he couldn't be home. Annie and I had left the restaurant moments after dessert, a far cry from the end of service, let alone the restaurant's closing, and surely, the kitchen would have had much to clean and so judging by the time I took to arrive home and in comparison, the time he would take, everything was accounted for. Even the missed calls and the—
"Hey."
I jumped at the light in the living, re-calibrating at the sight of an idiot lounging on the couch with a bag of chips in hand, hair slightly damp and without a shirt on, presumably after a bath and with Chicken by his side. I turned to the TV. An ongoing basketball match. Second half.
Impossible. "Oh. Oh you're..." I breathed, having forgotten to do so and for the first time since leaving the restaurant, registered the insane thundering in my ears and the hasty mess I'd been reduced to. "You're home."
He had the usual amusement in his eyes and everything else was as criminal as I remembered it to be. Nothing out of the ordinary. "Yeah. We played darts and pool. Had a couple of drinks. You okay?"
I paused. And by that I mean my brain experienced a temporary malfunction from processing an alternate reality before rebooting itself and immediately troubleshooting for problems. Alright. I was wrong. Anxious over, quite frankly, nothing. I pieced things together with a clearer mind; surely, Leroy could not have made his way home within thirty minutes or less and even had time to change out of his chef whites, take a bath, lounge on the couch with Chicken and a bag of chips labeled 'Masala Chicken Crisps' from Sainsbury's. So then... he really did go out for drinks.
But then there was always the possibility of leaving the restaurant early, before the end of service, but knowing the kind of person Andre was and the circumstance he was in, surely he wouldn't have let him off; not in his kitchen, he wouldn't. Clean-up would have been mandatory under a chef like him and then there was the issue of making it home on time, before me and on a weekday evening with terrifying traffic. Unless routes had been planned ahead and he'd left at least fifteen to twenty minutes earlier before the end of service, this would have been near impossible. And yet here he was, lounging on the couch as relaxed and comfy as a lion.
The instance of rapid rationalization had me unconsciously drawing closer to the couch, filling the remaining space without so much as a blink and most likely with an unnaturally straight back and tensed shoulders. By the time I came to, Chicken was staring up at me strangely.
"Vanilla?"
"Sorry, um. What an evening." I met his gaze from the other end of the couch, and his eyes softened. "I feel faint. It must be the wine."
"Want some hot chocolate?" He sat up, placing his bag of chips aside.
I laughed. "You know, that sounds surprisingly inviting. Yes please. I'd like some hot chocolate."
Leroy rose from his side of the couch with the fleece throw he'd somehow grown fond of, draping it over my shoulders before altogether lifting me off the couch in yet another one of his embarrassing bridal carries in which, I repeat, I was not the bride.
He sat me down on top of the kitchen counter before turning to the third cabinet just above the coffee machine, producing sachets of instant hot cocoa I never knew I had. "I'm here if you want to talk," he said whilst filling the electric kettle. I actually laughed.
"Oh yes. Now that we're living under the same roof, I suppose I am slightly more entitled to complaining. You didn't pick up my calls or answer my texts all afternoon. I was worried. Hm! I might even raise this to the authorities. Annie, for instance. Whom I got particularly close with over dinner. Oh right I brought her along as my guest and texted you about it."
He'd paused halfway through my complaint, looking around the kitchen as though his phone would magically appear within his vicinity and then roaming the living room for a bit before finally producing it from the bathroom. "Fuck." He scrolled through, registering the missed calls and messages before looking up from his phone with an apologetic look in his eyes. "Sorry."
It was my turn to flick him on the forehead, a grand moment worthy of celebration. "It's fine. I don't particularly mind late replies. Although I would, very naturally, be worried for your safety if you didn't. Respond. I'll take the hot chocolate as compensation."
He snorted, putting his phone aside and picking up where he'd left off my fix of warmth. "I'll make it up to you. And I'll pick up next time. Promise. In less than three rings."
"Hm! You sound very confident." I observed, receiving the mug of hot chocolate and taking a sip while we returned to the couch. Chicken had scooted over to the far left, allowing us to sit side-by-side on the right. I was about to take another sip when Leroy held his palm over the mouth of my mug, moving it downwards and out of the way so that he could lean in for a kiss.
He was a professional distraction at times like these, fending off prior thoughts in a single instance of warmth and doing it all too well. I pulled back to breathe and register an odd tingling on my lips that felt very much like spice. He tasted nothing of alcohol. And for someone who'd gone drinking with his buddies, did not smell very much like a pub either. This, I voiced.
He'd given me a smug look of triumph. "I didn't drink. Rode my bike there so I had to ride home too."
I hid my smile behind hot chocolate. "Hm. For once in your lifetime, following the rules."
"When it matters, of course," he had the gall to throw me a wink. "Otherwise, I heard you like the bad guys."
"Oh be quiet."
Words dissolved into quiet laughter and I leaned closer to rest my head against the side of his shoulder while he resumed snacking and offered me a bite. I got slightly more comfortable—which may or may not have been the miraculous work of instant hot chocolate—relaxing after an evening of flurried thoughts that were somehow soothed by his presence, even raising and folding my legs sideways on the couch. For some reason, Leroy's gaze followed.
"Also. Guess who we ran into today. Well, not ran into, exactly." "That's overestimating my abilities again. Thinking I can read your mind." We spoke in lowered voices, hushed despite the private space as though we were somewhere above the clouds and this was the secret of the world. "Good heavens just humor me will you." "A little bird." "You are terrible at this."
"It's Siegfried," I said at last, staring at the TV without quite taking in the ongoing match. "He was at the entrance of the restaurant, apparently the host of the evening. Although admittedly he never stopped by our table even once. Perhaps intelligent enough not to, I suppose."
Leroy was frowning, but said nothing much of it. I went on. "I mean, well. He didn't say a word about being there at the dinner event today and I certainly wouldn't have put Annie on the spot had I known but, well, do you think he could have done it on purpose? Not that he could have predicted my partner for the evening but, I mean, if it'd been you... well... I'm actually a little glad you didn't come with me."
He snorted. "No one knows what's going on in his head. He gave you any trouble?"
"Surprisingly, no. Like I said, he never once stopped by our table and merely greeted Annie and I at the entrance. Perhaps he really does fear the avalanche," I teased and he took the opportunity to return the flick. "In fact, it was Annie who was far more illegal than anything else."
"She's fine with him, they just don't talk much. They're not exactly on bad terms."
"That wasn't what I meant..." I coughed, clearing my throat. He raised a brow, glancing down to meet my gaze.
"She told you to call her mom or what?"
I felt my ears burn and instantly retrieved a couch cushion within reach to smack him with. "N-no, no of course not for goodness sake."
"Then what?"
"Nothing," I concluded, tight-lipped but feeling the heat settle on my cheeks upon recalling the embarrassing conversations we had over dinner.
"She asked about our sex life," was the idiot's awfully accurate and illegally forward guess, effectively turning me into an open-mouthed goldfish gasping for air.
"H-how did you? Was it—" "It's written all over your face." He laughed and I could not afford to meet his gaze and expose myself any further and so I busied myself with the basket of freshly-laundered clothes beside the couch, searching the pile for a shirt and tossing it his way, also dropping a warning or two about him catching a cold. He then asked about my plans for tomorrow, which made things slightly curious.
"Oh! Are we doing something? W-was this planned? Did I forget?"
He shook his head, offering to take me around Borough Market at lunchtime since tomorrow was a weekday and I was therefore functioning on the usual work hours. Leroy on the other hand, had two days off after his forty-eight-hour shift. Borough's would've been closed by the time I was done with work.
I was about to agree and start researching on the must-haves at the market when the doorbell rang. It was nearly half-past-ten.
Both Leroy and I turned to each other with a look and it was clear that neither of us ordered anything online or called for food delivery. Chicken had raised a head and barked once. I got up to check the peephole.
It was Erlynn. Flustered, I hastened back to the living and announced her arrival in a whisper and Leroy, too, appeared rather surprised. He had a hand on Chicken's head for soothing pats. "I didn't tell her I was staying over to yours. And she doesn't know your address."
"Y-yes but then she's right here. At our doorstep. And quite frankly, she doesn't look too happy."
"We haven't spoken since the fire."
"Yes so maybe you two should speak about it and make up already!" I was flapping my arms for some reason and I never flapped my arms. "Alright. You answer the door. I'll hide."
It rang again. Twice in a row, this time. I propelled the idiot towards the hallway and he grabbed my wrist.
"I don't want to talk to her."
"Oh so I, a stranger, am supposed to entertain her at ten in the evening? She's most definitely looking for you!" "Okay, you answer the door, I'll stand by." He took the spot to the left of the front door, right before the shoe cabinet and out of sight from Erlynn who would be standing out on the corridor. A blind spot.
I sighed, taking one deep breath before unlocking and opening the front door. Her gaze did not waver at the sight of, well, me. "Erlynn. Good evening. I um, wasn't expecting you at all. Are you looking for Leroy? If so—"
"No, I wanted to speak to you," she cut me off sharply, folding her arms with a heated look in her eyes. I nearly turned to the idiot standing less than five feet away for help.
This was, very naturally, not within my realm of expected, probable simulations of reality and therefore, my only reasonable option was to politely offer her a cup of tea while we spoke. Inside.
"No. It'll take less than a minute," she dismissed with a wave, surprising me yet again by refusing my suggestion. "I just want you to know that by forcing yourself back into Leroy's life, you're only going to ruin the peace that he has found here. That's all I came to say. And I'm telling you this because you don't seem to be very aware of it. Almost ignorant, actually. The way you behave around him. So I'm going out of my way to break it to you so don't even think about using 'I didn't know I was hurting him' as an excuse. You know he doesn't want anything to do with the culinary world so why are you doing this to him?"
Somewhere in the distance, it thundered.
Naturally, this all confused me very much since Leroy did not, in actuality, have anything to do with the culinary world and we were living our professional lives perfectly separate; him with his firefighting duties and me, on my own as an academic and food critic. In fact, Leroy's presence right beside me this instant proved it. Under usual circumstances, wrapping up at a restaurant could take hours, and it was considered the norm to return home at eleven in the evening.
At the corner of my eye, I caught a movement of Leroy's arm and by reflex, pushed him out of the way and pretended to reach for an umbrella.
"Erlynn," I addressed her calmly, noticing the urgent tap of her foot. "Thank you for stopping by. I think it rather commendable; you being so concerned about a friend and protective of his well-being. I understand you mean well. I believe there are some misunderstandings between you and I and perhaps we could clear them another day but otherwise, I don't think I fully... comprehend whatever it is you're referring to." I presented her with the umbrella. "Please take this."
She snorted, taking a single glance at it before returning my gaze. "I have a driver. Anyway, I don't really care about what you say because for all I know, you may be lying and pretending not to understand me but deep down, you know that what you're doing is selfish and immature. Have some conscience, Vanilla. Good night." And with that, she started down the corridor towards the elevator without turning back.
My gaze lowered to the lone umbrella in hand with a sigh before closing the door gently and turning to Leroy with a look. "That went so well. It appears that my conversational skills have experienced a dramatic improvement."
He snorted, relieving me of the umbrella and returning it to the stand. "Why'd you stop me?"
"Oh I doubt Erlynn would have liked to know you were listening to all that. Or perhaps she would have. Quite frankly, I can't tell. Either way, she'd come to speak to me out of concern for you, so. You were not needed in that conversation."
We stood at the entrance, staring down the front door as though still in disbelief of the present. "Yeah but... I've never seen her like that. Like a different person."
"I'm not surprised. She did appear rather incensed by, um, the situation," I tried to put reason behind her behavior. "Whatever it is. Or just by me. My existence."
"Why didn't you tell her off?"
"Are you seriously asking me that?" I turned to him, surprised. "Of course I'd keep my mouth shut, Leroy! She's your friend. Your neighbor. I couldn't possibly unleash my final form on her, that'd be far too devastating."
And all of a sudden, this idiot burst out laughing like never before. This was not one of his low, short, expressions of amusement and entertainment; it was mirth at its greatest, as though I was an expert comedian and he had the lowest threshold for laughter. "Release the avalanche! Fucking hell."
It clicked and I understood his point of humor, rolling my eyes as I did but smiling all the same. "Alright, calm down you idiot."
"Unchain the winter!" "Stop iiitt." "Free the Vanilla!" "Oh my goodness someone's got to be reporting us to the authorities by now, thinking we're about to commence some unholy summoning ritual." "So you'd watch your words around Raul?" "That's different. He's a co-worker. I correct him when he makes mistakes. I applaud him when he exceeds expectations. But I'd never cross the line with your crew members, for instance. You know I don't wish to make things difficult for you." "We actually compete for grade A burns. Was banking on you as my wild card." "Please don't tell me that's the impression your crew members have of me. Is this why Erlynn is having a difficult time speaking to me? I mean I am rather terrible at conversations."
"No," he slowed to a stop, pulling me in for a hug. I sighed, sinking into it. He was, after all, unfairly warm. "It's not you. I'll talk to her."
"Alright but be reasonable about it."
I caught him looking doubtful. "Dunno. Starting to think the neighbor I knew doesn't actually exist."
"What do you mean?"
"People have masks. Some wear them pretty well."
"Wow, an analogy. How surprisingly intelligent of you," I teased into his chest and was stunned into oblivion the moment he picked me up, brought me into the living, and tossed me onto the couch. I expressed my horror in the form of more non-existent words, unable to comprehend how he'd do that time and again to a grown adult male of decent height and build without breaking a sweat.
"We train with members more than twice your weight," was all he had to say. "I'm in the rescue team for a reason."
I curled up on the couch with the fleece throw that now, for some reason, smelled of candles for company. "Yes yes, Mr. Cox. You have the capacity to impress, fine. So you'll talk to her? I wonder how she found her way here without an address."
"Beats me. But yeah," Leroy attempted to join me on the couch but I was already up and heading to the bedroom. "I'll talk to her."
"That concludes things then. I'm going to take a shower." "Can I join?" "Leroy, you smell of my shampoo and your hair is slightly damp. Are you saying you'd like to have two showers in the span of thirty odd minutes?" "Yes." "You are being unreasonable." "Yes." "T-that is quite enough." "Yes." "What is going on with you today? I did not sign up for this villainy." "Yes." "I'm go—stop following me around! Why are you taking your shirt off?" "Haha." "Oh good god someone save me."
===========================
[Leroy]
Shower was off-limits. :(
We had a good night's rest and I woke to send him off before going back to sleep with his fresh-out-of-the-washer jacket, enjoying a nice little dream or two about sinking my hands into the snow before waking to the usual activity going on below my waist. I took care of it in the shower and played with Chicken for a bit, recalled the list we were supposed to be making and retrieved it from the cabinet beside the front door to add another.
The surprise was in finding two more on the list written in hot cursive that reminded me of the letters he used to send. I searched them up and as expected, they were well-researched, functional finds that prioritized practicality and purpose. I wanted the fun. Looks like I was going to have to convince him.
Either way, I picked him up from his office at twelve sharp and headed over to Borough for lunch; a better way to spend his hour-long lunch break instead of take-outs from a bistro nearby. His co-workers seemed a tad surprised by my appearance at the reception, noses nearly pressed up against the glass once he came up to me like a deer in the snow, quiet excitement in his eyes.
"I mean, Borough's undeniably famous all over the world and quite frankly, a tourist destination with incredibly steep prices but I wouldn't go as far as to call it a tourist trap," he did all the talking on the ride there, pushing up his glasses and trying to contain his anticipation. "Do share your recommendations. And whatever reservations you may have on certain food stalls, of course."
I couldn't tell if he was this worked up because of the food or me. That I was his date. I asked when we got to one of the market's entrances and he blushed on cue, lowering his gaze to the notebook in his hands and stowing it away before whispering the answer I expected: neither. And that he wouldn't hesitate to have me arrested if I continued with such criminal activity in public.
We made first for Middle Road where the mains were cooking and followed the smell of grilled vegetables, roast chicken, good stir-fried shit and slow cooked pork shoulder. Street food. The kind that was served in take-out boxes and you'd eat while walking around for a good time. I let his eyes wander around while I looked out for him instead. It wasn't as busy as it was on weekends but still packed. People were all around.
"I can't disagree with you about the prices but everything smells incredibly good. Oh look, they have phad thai! And Ethiopian cuisine. What's that?" "Some Japanese fusion rice bowl. Haven't tried that one but Zales said it's good." "Cherry crumble slice!" "Look at the price." "Oh." "Shrimp and chorizo paella. That sounds like what you made back in school remember? Your class's booth for the festival." "Wanna try?" "We could share one serving. O-or, no, wait. Let me think. A critic's stomach capacity is critical. Optimally speaking, I wouldn't want to waste it on a paella that everyone's already tried." I laughed at that because he looked so cute trying to maximize his food efficiency. "The mussels are good though. Classic French style." "Moules Marinières?" He gasped, pronouncing that with a perfect accent and successfully turning me on. Not that I wasn't already turned on by him all the time.
We ended up getting one serving of the mussels, cooked in a nice garlic butter cream with lemon on top, and one serving of phad thai to share. I watched him scribble on his notebook as he ate, commenting on the sweetness of the fresh mussels and the rich, creamy sauce that emphasized the slow-sweated leek, shallot, and garlic. Hearing him compliment others made me feel like asking him about last night's dinner and dessert, clearly made for his Rum and Raisin preference.
"Well um... the phad thai is..." I waited, because I knew it wasn't up to standard and it was the first thing I tried waay back during my first visit with Annie. "It's a two, I suppose."
I raised a brow. "That's generous. I gave it a one."
He laughed, rolling his eyes. "I mean, it was seven years ago when we made something far superior in taste and presentation so yes, I suppose I am feeling a little generous today." I gave him the usual on his forehead, finishing up the rest of the noodles so that he could save that tongue of his for better shit. Which is me, by the way. I was the better shit. But I wasn't gonna get some of that tongue out in public :(
We went on to that fusion Japanese food stand he was interested in, and he took three seconds to look at the menu and pick out something signature for the chef to stand out.
"I'll have the simmered tofu and mushroom rice bowl with spring onions and sesame seeds, please."
"Would you like to mix with aubergine or cauliflower?" The lady behind the counter asked with an accent and he paused. Blinking.
"Sorry. Auber—auber-jean?"
I mused privately, leaning over to say in his ear. "Eggplant."
He went: "Oh! Oh, yes—yes, um. Aubergine, please. Thank you." He turned and after catching me trying to hide a smile, hit me on the shoulder. It tickled. "Yes, yes, Leroy Cox the expert, teaching me English. How very intelligent."
"You should be ashamed, Mr. White," I threw him a wink, liking the tease and he rolled his eyes.
"Very. I assure you, it will never happen again." "I'll have you on detention if it does. How about that?" "That would be over-confidence. Clearly, odd is spelled O-D-E." "Fuck you."
Turns out, he quite enjoyed the aubergine tofu-mushroom rice bowl thing and finished more than half of it, giving it a decent three-point-five, which was high for his standards and reputation. The last thing on his menu was dessert and everyone sort of knew the doughnut (donut) place down Cathedral Street that had insane sales all-year-round. This one, he had a hard time making up his mind. So I helped.
"Classic vanilla," I was the devil by his shoulder. "Classic vanilla."
"Oh be quiet, you," he slapped my abs with the back of his hand and it felt like something intimate. Like only couples would do. Of course, he didn't realize; his full attention was on selecting the two best donuts he was going to try and best-sellers weren't going to make the cut because 'the taste buds of a critic greatly differs from that of the ordinary folk' and so he was going to at least select one special flavor for his review.
I watched him finally decide on the pistachio and hazelnut almond praline, completely ignoring the vanilla doughnuts that were close to running out. He was about to pay for them when a guy by the sidewalk who'd just bought a bunch of goods himself decided to point at Vanilla and, in surprise, sounded as though he was calling out to someone across the street. "Oi! Aren't you that bloody critic from the video?"