Everyone looks at him as he puts his coffee cup back down on the saucer and runs a hand through his hair.
My name is Rex, and I usually dont say anything, I just sit and listen, he begins, then gives an awkward little smile. I dont really know what you want me to say.
Tell us why youre here, says a woman with sad wrinkles around her mouth.
Im a pretty good chef, he goes on, and clears his throat. And in my line of work you need to know about wine, beer, fortified wine, spirits, liqueurs and so on... Im not an alcoholic. I maybe drink a little too much. I do stupid things sometimes, even though you shouldnt believe everything the papers say.
He pauses and peers at them with a smile, but they just wait for him to go on.
Im here because my employer insisted, otherwise Ill lose my job... and I like my job.
Rex had been hoping for laughter, but theyre all looking at him in silence.
I have a son. Hes practically grown up now, in his last year at high school... And one of the things I probably ought to regret about my life is not being a good dad. I havent been a dad at all. Ive been there for birthdays and so on, but... I didnt really want children, I wasnt mature enough to...
His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, and to his surprise he feels tears welling up in his eyes.
OK, Im an idiot, you might have realised that already, he says quietly, then takes a deep breath. Its like this... My ex, shes wonderful, there arent many people who can say that about their ex, but Veronica is great... And now shes been hand-picked to launch a big project about free healthcare in Sierra Leone, but shes thinking of turning it down.
Rex smiles wryly at the others.
Shes perfect for the job... so I told her I was trying to stay sober these days, and that Sammy can live with me when shes away. Since Ive been coming to these meetings she believes Ive started to show more responsibility... and now shes actually going on her first trip to Freetown.
He runs his fingers through his messy black hair and leans forward.
Sammys had a pretty tough time. Its probably my fault, I dont know, his life is very different to mine... Im not for a minute thinking I can repair our relationship, but I am actually looking forward to getting to know him a little better.
Thanks for sharing, one of the women says quietly.
Rex Müller has spent the past two years as the resident chef on a popular morning programme on TV4. Hes won silver in the Bocuse dOr contest, has worked with Magnus Nilsson at Fäviken Magasinet, has published three cookbooks, and last autumn he signed a lucrative contract with the Grupp F12 restaurant company, making him head chef at Smak.
After three hours in the new restaurant he hands things over to Eliza, the sous chef, changes into a blue shirt and suit, and heads over to the inauguration of a new hotel at Hötorget. He gets photographed with Avicii, then takes a taxi out to Dalarö to meet his associates.
David Jordan Andersen or DJ, as everyone calls him is thirty-three years old, and set up the production and branded content company that bought the rights to Rexs cooking. In three years he has taken Rex from one of the countrys foremost chefs to genuine celebrity status.
Now Rex sweeps into the restaurant of the Dalarö Strand Hotel, shakes DJs hand and sits down across from him.
I thought Lyra was thinking of coming? Rex says.
Shes meeting her art school friends.
DJ resembles a modern-day Viking with his full blond beard and blue eyes.
Did Lyra think I was difficult last time? Rex asks with a frown.
You were difficult last time, DJ replies frankly. You dont have to give the cook a lecture every time you go to a restaurant.
It was supposed to be a joke.
The waiter arrives with their appetisers. He lingers a little too long, then blushes as he asks if Rex would mind giving the gang in the kitchen his autograph.
That depends on the food, Rex replies seriously. I cant stand it when a lemon emulsion tastes like sweets.
The waiter stands beside the table, smiling awkwardly, as Rex picks up his knife and fork and cuts a piece of chargrilled asparagus.
Take it easy, DJ cajoles, rubbing his blond beard.
Rex dips a piece of smoked salmon in the lemon sauce, smells it, then tastes it, chewing with a look of intense concentration. He finally takes out a pen and writes on the back of the menu: My congratulations to the master chefs at Dalarö Strand Hotel. Warm regards, Rex.
The waiter thanks him and hurries back to the kitchen with a look of unfeigned delight on his face.
Is it really that good? DJ asks quietly.
Its OK, Rex replies.
DJ leans across the table, fills Rexs glass with water, then nudges the bread-basket towards him. Rex takes a sip and looks out at a large yacht heading out to sea from the harbour.
Their plates of fried herring, charred red onion and mashed potatoes arrive.
Have you checked to see if you can make it next weekend? DJ asks tentatively.
Is that when were meeting the investors? Rex asks.
Rex and his team have spent over a year developing the first items in a set of kitchen equipment with Rexs name on them.
Theyre very good quality, sleek design at a reasonable price, and intended to be for kitchen royalty. Rex of Kitchen.
I thought we could spend some time with them, have a decent meal. Its really important that they feel special, he explains.
Rex nods and cuts a piece of herring, then reaches across the table for DJs glass of chilled beer.
Rex?
No one needs to know, he says with a wink.
Dont do it, DJ says calmly.
Are you going to start too? Rex says, smiling, and puts the glass down. Im sober, but its pretty ridiculous. Everyones just decided that I have a problem without asking me.
They finish their meal, pay, and walk down to the hotel jetty, where DJs motorboat, a Sea Ray Sundancer thats seen better days, is moored.
Its a warm evening, almost impossibly beautiful. The water is still, the sun is setting slowly, and the clouds are lit with golden light.
They cast off and slowly pull away from the jetty, rocking through the wake of another boat. They head carefully into the main waterway. The hillside on the port side is strewn with ornate wooden houses.
Hows your mum these days? Rex asks, sitting down beside DJ on the white leather seat.
A little better, actually, he replies, accelerating slightly. The doctors have switched her medication and shes not feeling too bad now.
His voice is drowned out by the roar of the engine when they reach open water. White foam whips up behind them, the bow lifts up and the hull strikes the waves. They keep accelerating, and the boat starts to plane and shoots off across the water.
Rex stands up unsteadily and starts to pull on the water-skis that are tucked behind the seats.
Arent you going to take your suit off? DJ shouts.
What?
Itll get soaked.
Im not going to fall in! Rex shouts back.
He starts unrolling the line, then feels his phone buzz in his inside pocket. Its Sammy, and Rex gestures at DJ to slow down.
Hello?
He can hear music and voices in the background.
Hi, Dad, Sammy says, with his phone very close to his mouth. I just thought Id check what youre doing tonight.
Where are you?
At a party, but...
The swell from a large yacht makes Rex sway. He loses his balance and sits down on the white leather cushion.
Are you having a good time? he asks.
What?
Im out at Dalarö with DJ, but theres some of last nights sole in the fridge... You can have it cold, or heat it up in the oven for a few minutes.
I cant hear you, Sammy says.
I wont be late, Rex tries to shout.
He can hear loud music over the phone, the thud of a heavy bassline, and a woman shouting something.
See you later, Rex says, but the line has already gone dead.
19
Its late at night when the taxi rolls down Rehns Street and stops in front of an ornate wooden door. Rex has borrowed some dry clothes from DJ, and has his wet suit in a black bin-bag. Hes supposed to appear on television early the next morning, and should really have been asleep hours ago.
Rex makes his way inside, shivering as he presses the button for the lift. It doesnt move. He steps forward and peers up into the lift shaft. The cabin is standing motionless on the fifth floor. Theres a creaking, scraping sound. The cables are swaying and he wonders idly if someone is moving out in the middle of the night.
He waits a little longer, then starts to walk up the stairs, the bag of wet clothes over his shoulder like hes Santa Claus.
When he gets halfway up he hears the lift creak as it starts to move. It passes him on the third floor, and through the grille he can see that its empty.
Rex reaches the top floor, sets the bag down and catches his breath. As he puts the key in the lock he hears the lift come back up and stop at his floor.
Sammy?
The doors slide open, but the lift is empty. Someone must have pressed the button for the sixth floor, then got out.
Rex walks through the flat without turning the lights on, wondering if its worth checking to see if Sammy has left any of the sole before he goes to bed. The floor glints silver in the gloom, and through the glass door to the deck he can see the citys carpet of lights spread out below.
Rex opens the fridge and has time to register that Sammy hasnt touched the fish when his phone rings.
Rex here, he answers hoarsely.
The receiver crackles. He can hear heavy music in the background, and someone whimpering.
Dad? a voice whispers.
Sammy? I thought youd be home by now.
Im not feeling too good, his son slurs.
What happened?
I lost my stuff, and Nicos pissed off at me... I dont know. For fucks sake, just stop it, will you? he says to someone at the other end.
Sammy, whats going on?
Rex cant hear what his son says, his voice is swallowed up by the noise, then theres the sound of dishes breaking, and a man starts shouting.
Sammy? he says. Tell me where you are and Ill come and get you.
You dont have to...
Theres a loud noise, as if Sammy has dropped his phone on the floor.
Sammy? Rex shouts. Tell me where you are!
A lot of crackling, then Rex hears someone pick up the phone again.
Sammy? Rex shouts. Tell me where you are!
A lot of crackling, then Rex hears someone pick up the phone again.