The Sauna Part 270

Jon and I took a peek in the hotel sauna after we left Richie, but it was already occupied so we decided to forgo it in favor of a hot bath by ourselves in our room. Tonight’s gig was a large one at the Telstra Dome and we wanted some time to ourselves beforehand. We were staying at the Grand Hotel which was close to the stadium, so there would be plenty of time for a sound check and to scope out the stage before dinner. This was the first show in Australia in quite some time and Jon wanted to be sure that the fans wouldn’t be disappointed.

We took a leisurely bath and headed off to the Dome where the road crew was finishing up minor details and waiting for Jon’s final approval. He tested the catwalks before the others arrived and they made several small adjustments to the lighting based on his specifications. Jim and the rest of the guys showed up within the hour and they ran through the set list and made sure that the sound system was working properly before we returned to the hotel together for dinner.

“So, Richie, what’s a traditional Australian food we should try?” I asked, perusing the menu.

“Wait, wait…I know this one…Vegemite!” Jon announced proudly.

“That’s for breakfast, you dumb fuck!” Richie contradicted with a laugh.

“Shrimp on the barbee!” David volunteered, which earned him a disdainful look from the food authority.

“Fish and chips?” Tico suggested which also resulted in a negative head shake from Richie who turned to Hugh, waiting for his answer.

Hugh declined to venture an opinion, acknowledging his lack of expertise in this area. Richie glanced at the menu to see what was available and pointed to the third choice, explaining that there weren’t a lot of main dishes that were considered purely Australian.

“The closest thing here is the Gippsland beef pie” he announced before launching into a history lesson on the British roots of Australian cuisine. “But for dessert, we have Pavlova” he added with a smile.

“Oh shit, here we go” Jon whispered to Jim and I shot him a disapproving glare.

“Go ahead, Richie. Tell us the story” I encouraged.

“Well, you see, it all began in the early part of the twentieth century…” he began, followed by unanimous groans from the guys.

Richie was nonplussed and continued despite the lack of enthusiasm from his brothers and turned his attention to me. I found it really fascinating to hear the story behind the infamous dessert and Richie told it with such aplomb that I was caught up in the tale. Apparently, the dish was actually considered to have originated in New Zealand and as such, had been the subject of some controversy. It had even inspired a tongue-in-cheek advertising campaign at one time where it became the symbol of New Zealand traditions that had been stolen by Aussies. When he had finished, the guys all joined Jon in a sarcastic round of applause and I scowled at the lot of them.

“You know, a little appreciation wouldn’t kill any of you” I scolded.

“Nevermind Trish, don’t waste your time trying to educate these peasants” Richie grinned. “You and I can split a Pavlova for dessert and we won’t share it with ’em” he winked and Jon snorted.

“So, ‘Teach’, what exactly is a Pavlova anyway? Do you even know?” Dave challenged.

Richie leaned closer to me and whispered a description in my ear, dismissing Dave’s query with a snarky look. I had to laugh as I knew everyone would be ordering a Pavlova for dessert out of sheer curiosity and I nudged Richie.

“Just watch-they’ll all order one now and then we’ll see some appreciation” I nodded.

We ordered our dinners and the conversation became focused on memories of Australia and Jim asked the guys if the stories he’d read about their earlier adventures in the outback were true. I’d heard the stories myself and I gathered that the rumors had merit when his question was met with sudden silence and downcast eyes. Jim drew the same conclusion.

“It’s true then? Even the stories about the zucchini?” Jim asked with a look of stupefied shock.

“It was a cucumber” Dave muttered and all eyes focused on him with a warning.

“Let’s just say that it was the basis for the album ‘One Wild Night’ and leave it at that, okay?” Richie said seriously.

“I realize that it wasn’t a story that any of you chose to share, but you know it is out there, right?” Jim asked.

“We know. You’ve done your homework, I see” Jon said rather cryptically.

“I don’t need to repeat what’s already been said, but I needed to know” Jim replied honestly.

“We did a lot of shit back in the old days, but we were kids. We hadn’t learned how to handle everything that came at us and we went along for the ride. It’s not like that anymore” Tico interjected.

“I realize that, but I’d rather demonstrate that in the book by reflecting how things evolved over time. I don’t need to reveal every secret, but it would help me to paint an actual picture if you guys would trust me enough to tell me the actual stories. Do you want me to paint a genuine portrait of the band or do you want some sanitized version of the truth? If you want only the latter, than maybe I’m not the person for this job” Jim announced, making a stand.

The tension was thicker than a New England fog and almost as heavy. Our meals had arrived, but no one was eating and I could hear my own blood as it thundered in my ears. From the corner of my eye, I glanced over at Jon and I saw his jaw muscles twitch almost imperceptibly as he worked through the implications of such an ultimatum. He didn’t appear to be breathing as he spoke.

“We want you to tell the story of who we are, not who we were” Jon said quietly.

“Who you were is part of how you became who you are” Jim said evenly.

Jon knew he was right, but he still wasn’t sure. This wasn’t a decision he could make on his own and it was up to the guys as much as to him. He looked up at their faces and went round the table, one by one, reading their expressions from years of experience at judging subtle cues. His gaze rested longest and last on Richie and I watched closely, but his eyes were impenetrable.

“Let me in or let me off. What’s it gonna be?” Jim prompted.

“This isn’t a conversation for dinner” Jon replied solemnly, “but it’s a conversation that will need to take place eventually. You should probably talk to each one of us individually before you form any impressions about how you think those early experiences shaped who we are. We are a band, but we each have our own stories. I won’t tell you what conclusions to draw” he finished.

I let out the breath I’d been unconsciously holding and laid my hand on Jon’s arm. I could feel the tension release as he turned, smiling, and patted my arm.

“We’re getting too old to keep secrets from ourselves” he said steadily before turning his attention to the meal that was waiting.

Jim was relieved that Jon and the guys were ultimately willing to talk and he was determined to try and be as objective as possible. He wanted to hear everything and determine for himself what needed to be shared with the public. He wasn’t looking for sensational details to appeal to the masses; he was looking for the story that needed to be told and, in truth, that particular moment earned Jon more respect in Jim’s eyes than any other.

When the waiter returned and inquired about dessert, he was taken aback by the collective request for Pavlova. Like it or not, Richie’s story had made an impression and everyone wanted to try it and the poor waiter appeared rather distressed.

“Uhm, we weren’t expecting this many orders. We only have one piece left” he stammered uneasily.

“Mine!” Richie called dibs.

The poor waiter, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen, was at a complete loss when our entire table erupted in hysterical laughter. He looked uncertainly from Richie to me and the rest of us and it was obvious he was unprepared for how to respond to such a scenario.

“I’ll share” Richie volunteered and the young kid swiftly left to go get the coveted last piece before someone else ended up ordering it too. “but only with Trish” Richie cackled gleefully after he left.