Emmy and I flew to San Jose the next morning when everyone else returned to Los Angeles for the week. I wanted to spend some time in the San Jose office and Emmy had no real need to go back to LA for anything. Emmy assured me that she would be fine by herself while I was at work but I wasn’t too convinced, so I made sure I was back at the condo for lunch. A half day at the office per day was enough, since it was for the whole week. Afternoons, Emmy and I would spend together, resting and relaxing.

While getting ready for bed on our first night at the condo I found Emmy sitting on the foot of the bed, staring at the nearly life-sized photograph of Angela hanging on the wall. I’d taken the picture using Angela’s good camera right at dusk, and the combination of out-of-focus city lights and the last hint of daylight on Angela’s bare skin gave it a mysterious softness. Angela was nude, leaning forward against the balcony railing but looking back over her shoulder at the camera, a playful little smile on her lips. The photo captured Angela’s unique combination of innocence and sexuality perfectly.

“She was so beautiful,” Emmy said in a soft voice when she noticed I’d caught her looking at the picture.

“Yes, she was,” I agreed, sitting down next to Emmy on the bed. I wrapped my arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “And she was ours for too short a time.”

“It should have been forever,” Emmy said, her voice breaking just a bit.

“It should have,” I agreed. “But at least we’ll have her memory forever.”

“That is a mixed blessing,” Emmy said, leaning against me.

“It is,” I said. We stayed like that, just looking at the photo for quite a long time, each lost in our own thoughts. Neither of us said any more about it as we settled down to sleep, but I wondered whether having that reminder of Angela was going to do Emmy harm, or help her heal. I hated the idea of taking the photo down, but I’d do it if it was what Emmy needed.

Knowing Emmy would sleep for hours longer when I woke at my usual early hour, I decided to get in a decent workout at The Pit. Ruben wasn’t there, but the old-timers on the staff recognized me and let me do my thing. One of the trainers asked me how long I’d be in town, but that was it. They knew I knew what I was doing, and had no need for any hand-holding.

Emmy was still sound asleep when I got back to the condo, so I showered and got dressed quietly, leaving a little love note for her to find on her dresser. As far as I could tell she’d slept well the night before, so maybe she would wake up in a good emotional state. My note telling her that I loved her and that I’d be home in time for lunch was a little thing, but sometimes the little things can add up.

I rolled in the front door of the office right at eight, ready to spend the morning reassuring everyone that I still existed and was still on task- which is pretty much exactly what I did. I didn’t get any actual work done to speak of, but my meetings with the various local Heads did a good job of proving to them that I was reading their reports despite everything that had been happening.

Everyone tiptoed around what had happened in Atlanta in our meetings. The only person with the ovaries to confront the issue head-on was Sheryl, the Head of the real estate investment trust. She brought up the attack and the following news coverage since it directly affected her work, and I certainly didn’t fault her for any lack of tact. It was simply the elephant in the room that needed to be discussed.

I told her that the District Attorney in Atlanta had communicated to my lawyer that there would be no charges filed against me or either of Emmy’s bodyguards, so there were no legal ramifications putting me or Royal Holdings at risk in any way.

Sheryl mentioned that she’d watched the videos, just to see what everyone was talking about.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Now you finally believe the story about this,” I said, touching the scar on my cheek, “being from a knife fight?”

“I never actually doubted it,” Sheryl said. “I actually saw you on TV when it happened. It made me laugh out loud when you threatened to punch the smirk off of that reporter at the press conference. They never found those guys, did they?”

“If they did, I never heard about it,” I said. Then, changing the topic, I said, “So I’ve got everybody on the management side looking for ways to absorb the capital that’s been pouring in, but now isn’t really the best time to buy. A lot of markets have rebounded since the Great Recession. In fact, we really should be unloading these days.”

“I know you’re big-project averse,” Sheryl said. “But it may be time to look into major commercial properties. Office high-rises are still lagging behind the residential market.”

“I’m not in love with the idea of giant white elephants,” I admitted. “Too much depends on the whims of large tenants. I’m O.K. with high-rises in general, but let’s stick to residential. For one, managing residential is more within our wheelhouse, and for two, the potential for loss is much lower. Let’s leave the trophy office buildings to others.”

“What about convertable office buildings?” Sheryl asked, unwilling to give up on the idea of big-ticket purchases.

“They’d need to pencil out,” I said, not dismissing the idea outright. “It’s one thing to convert an old warehouse into lofts, but an older Class B or even C office building would need a lot of work. They’d have to be in an area with an upward trajectory, too.”

“But you’re O.K. with the idea in general?” Sheryl pressed.

“If it’s the right fit for us, yeah, I don’t see why not,” I begrudgingly admitted.

“I spoke with Imogen this morning,” Emmy told me as we ate lunch. “She would like us to have dinner at their house sometime this week.”

“Go ahead and set it up,” I told her. “We have no plans.”

“I told her that I thought that was the case,” Emmy said. “She suggested tomorrow night.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, and found I was looking forward to it. Of course it would be good to spend some time with our friends, but the very fact that Emmy had reached out to Imogen meant that she was taking our discussion to heart about not shutting out those who care for her. Time spent with supportive friends and family could only be a good thing, as far as I was concerned.

Dinner the next night was just as positive an experience as I’d hoped. Imogen and James didn’t avoid the topic of Angela’s murder- after all, she was a friend of theirs as well- but they didn’t dwell on it, either, and most of the conversation around that topic was about how to move forward in the aftermath.

James reiterated his offer to stay on the family’s private island in Connecticut, but when Emmy told him that we were going back to Cartagena to spend some recovery time with the Castro family, both he and Imogen supported the idea.

“I’m very glad to hear that the family down there is so supportive,” Imogen said. “That speaks very highly of their feelings for the two of you.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It could have been really easy for them to hate us for what happened to their daughter, but just the opposite is true. If anything, they feel closer to us now. I guess it’s the shared tragedy, but the truth is, they’re just really decent people. I don’t think they could have produced a daughter as amazing as Angela if they weren’t.”

“That makes sense,” James agreed. “She was a very special person.”

After dinner we had some white wine from a winery up in Napa that the Athertons enjoyed. Emmy, as usual, appreciated the nuances of the vintage more than I ever could. I could tell you that I enjoyed it, and that was about it.

“The Bordeaux you sent us from your family estate was a really big hit, Em,” James said. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve re-gifted quite a few bottles from the case you gave us to friends.”

“Of course I do not mind! Wine is for sharing, after all. I will have my parents send you another case so you may share more freely,” Emmy said with a smile.

Imogen laughed at Emmy’s response, then explained that she’d told James that would be Emmy’s feeling on the subject.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“I knew you would say that!” she said. “James was worried that you’d be offended that we gave some away, but I pointed out that twenty-four bottles is a lot for two people to drink.”

“Not impossible, though,” James objected, getting laughs from the rest of us.

The talk turned to New York, and James turned on the TV and connected it to his laptop to show us a few properties they were considering buying in Manhattan. The one we all agreed was the best was a classic Pre-War Fifth Avenue penthouse with great views of Central Park across the street.

“The drawback to this one,” James said, “Is the co-op. They have a real reputation for difficulty.”

“Ugh,” I commiserated. “That’s one real advantage to buying a brownstone. None of that sort of nonsense.”

“We haven’t actually contacted the co-op board yet,” Imogen admitted. “Much less submitted our financial information package.”

“Realistically, you two are dream buyers,” I said. “You’re rich, you’re young, you’re high profile but in a respectable way. You’re personally charming and attractive, and that always helps. As a bonus, you’re old money and appreciate the classic building and condo for what it is. You aren’t going to come in with a wrecking ball.”

“We should have you present our offer to the board,” Imogen laughed.

“That would work,” Emmy said, laughing along with Imogen. “Nobody ever tells Leah no.”

“I can imagine not,” Imogen agreed, raising her glass in a toast.

The rest of the evening was spent just chatting about various relatively harmless topics like Madison Bennett’s race season (which was going really well), or a new restaurant in San Francisco that we really must try. All in all we wound up staying surprisingly late at the Atherton’s lovely house in Mountain View, getting back to our condo in San Jose well after midnight.

Emmy was too tired for a bath, so we opted to just go straight to bed. After I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face I found Emmy sitting on the bed, looking at the picture of Angela.

“She was very beautiful,” Emmy said. “But that is not why I loved her.”

“No,” I agreed. “She had a beautiful face and an amazing body, but it was her heart that I fell in love with.”

“I was convinced she would be the perfect mother to our children,” Emmy said. “So kind, so sweet. She would be there for you and our daughters after… after I am gone.”

“She would have been an amazing mother,” I agreed, not wanting to touch the ‘after I’m gone’ part.

“But we lost her. Angela is nothing but a sweet, sweet memory now. Leah?” Emmy said, looking away from the photo and at me instead. “Do you think I could be anything near the mother that Angela would have been? Has my own childhood taught me all the wrong lessons on the subject?”

“Em, you’re a wonderful, caring person. I truly believe that your parents love you and did what they thought was right, raising you the way they did. In fact, your father expressly said so to me. He wishes you could have had a more normal childhood and regrets some of the choices that he and your mom made, but they felt that they had to shape you into what your people needed, and that was a sacrifice they made for the greater good.”

“Intellectually I understand that, but emotionally… that is a different matter. Leah, what I am trying to say is that I simply do not know how to be the mother I want for our children. I have no role model,” Emmy said, her voice sorrowful.

“Watch Mamá closely when we go back to Colombia,” I said, sitting down next to Emmy and holding her close. “I can’t imagine a better example of how to raise a daughter than she’s done. And still doing. Let her guide you.”

After a long moment of the two of us lost in our own thoughts, I said, “My mom always tried to do the best she could but it was tough for her, raising two daughters by herself. Even when Dad was still alive he was gone on deployment a lot of the time. Tiffany never got to meet our father, but the truth is, I didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with him, either. In that sense, my parenting role models weren’t ideal, either. I’d like to think that we could both take the best parts of our childhoods and ditch the bad parts. Mix in some Castro family parenting and maybe, just maybe, our daughter will turn out O.K.”

“Maybe,” Emmy said wryly.

A long pause happened again while we just held each other, looking at the picture of Angela.

“There are very, very many amazing photos of Angela on her camera and on her computer. I would like to print a few more to have in our houses to remind me- to remind us- of her love,” Emmy said finally.

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I was worried that I’d have to take this one down because seeing it was breaking your heart,” I said.

“It is, but in a good way,” Emmy said, and I understood exactly what she meant.

I worked a half day again the next morning, and after lunch Eddie and Nick showed up to take Emmy to the sound check at AT&T Park. Emmy and I had had a little argument about me attending the two San Francisco shows. I didn’t want to leave her on her own, but she insisted that I should spend the evenings at the speakeasy. She thought that I needed a return to some degree of normalcy as much as she did, and I’d been neglecting that part of my life. She insisted she'd be fine for a couple of nights without me, since we were together during the days anyhow.

Eventually I gave in, as much because I didn’t want to smother Emmy as because I really had been neglecting the club.

“It’s really good to see ya, boss,” Tony said when he opened the unmarked door into the club. “It just ain’t the same without you around. And I gotta admit I don’t know how to say it, but the news about Miss Angela hit all of us really hard.”

“Thanks, Tone,” I said. “Nothing’s gonna be the same without her.”

The place was more than half full, even though it was only just past nine, so I made my round of saying hello to the regulars before I turned to see my table. I almost lost it when I saw it was nearly covered with flowers.

The waitress that Angela said had a crush on me saw me just standing there, looking dumbfounded at the table festooned with white lilies, roses, and tulips.

“They do that every Friday and Saturday night,” she said. “We’ve kept all the cards and notes for you to read.”

I didn’t have any sort of response to that, so I just sat down and stared at all those white flowers for a while. I guess it was out of a sense of respect for the moment that nobody came and bothered me while I read the cards that club regulars had written expressing their sympathy. One card, handwritten on what seemed to be handmade paper stock, said that heaven must have gotten noticeably better when Angela arrived, but the Earth was the poorer for it.

It took me a while to compose myself after that reminder that it wasn’t just Emmy and I who felt the loss of Angela’s death. She’d been a ray of light for a lot of people, and yes, the world was worse for her passing.

The usual flow of people coming to the table had a very different tone than it had in the past. There were lots of “So sorry to hear what happened,” and “She’ll be missed.” Interestingly, although I got some odd looks, nobody mentioned seeing the videos of me from Atlanta. I was sure most of the patrons had seen the clips, but nobody seemed to be in any hurry to say anything about them.

A little after ten or so Andrej came over to talk- by himself, interestingly enough.

“Where’s Lauren?” I asked.

Leaning in, he said just loud enough for me to hear, “She’s not drinking these days. For the next six months at least, but we haven’t told anyone.”

I reached out and took his hand, giving him a congratulatory shake. “Give her my best, and here’s to everything going smoothly for her and the little one.”

“Thanks,” he said, a proud smile on his face. Then, catching himself, he said, “I am really sorry to hear about Angela and your two babies.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It was a huge blow. Our world got dramatically shittier just like that,” I said with a snap of my fingers.

“I accessed the evidence photos from the police department there in Atlanta,” Andrej said, his voice too quiet for anybody else to hear. “I recognized most of the attackers from the group in New York.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t access those pictures, you know nothing about New York, and you’re not involved in any of this at all in any way,” I told him, my voice just as low. “You are completely untainted by any of this, Andrej. Your name will never, ever come up. I’m the only one in my organization that knows you provided services. Not even my security guy knows who you are, and that’s the way I’m keeping it. I will not put you at any risk, ever.”

He gave me a pained look. “Leah, I am involved. I understand that you want to keep me safe, and I appreciate it, but… Look, I want to help you however I can. They need to pay for what they did to Angela and Emmy. If I can do anything at all to help you get them-”

“What makes you think I’m not just going to let the police handle it?” I asked.

Andrej looked at me, then after a moment he said, “No games. Leah, I was concerned about the rumors surrounding you when you first asked me to help out with your security situation in New York. You told me that you were just a real estate investor, and everything I could find anywhere confirmed that was true. Despite that, I wasn’t convinced you were just what you claimed to be. When you got into that fight with a UFC champion and put her in the emergency room, it became obvious that your tough act was no act at all. Leah, I’ve seen the videos from Atlanta. Ordinary people can’t do what you did. That was so extraordinary, so outside the realm of what is possible for most people… Leah, even a blind man could see that you’re a very highly trained killer. That doesn’t just happen, Leah. You’ve obviously killed before, and more than once. It makes everything, well, fall into place, if you know what I mean.”

Andrej, suddenly realizing that Theo had set down his favorite drink while we were talking, took a long sip, then continued. “You haven’t been around the Valley for a while, so you have no idea how much everybody has talked about you since what happened. You’re a superstar these days! I guess most people who knew you - especially members here- knew that you and Emmy and Angela had some sort of thing going, and that was… let’s call it a source of fascination, right? And the rumors surrounding you, and the fact that everybody who ever had any dealings with you agreed that you were, well, not somebody you fucked with, ever… Then, the videos. It was all anybody could talk about. Nobody in this town knows what to think about you, Leah. You can’t believe the wild stories people are telling.”

“I can imagine,” I said with a sigh.

“Well anyway, everybody knows, or think they know, that I’m somehow in your pocket,” Andrej said. “Nobody knows what it is we have going on, but they know… well, they know something is going on. So I guess what I’m saying is that people are looking at me, no matter how silent you are on the subject. I haven’t said anything one way or another, you know that, but the connection has been made.”

“It’s a small town in a lot of ways,” I said with a shrug. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Heck, us having this conversation all hush-hush over here probably doesn’t help, since half the industry is in this room.”

Andrej chuckled at that, and said, “Yeah, it might not. But here’s the thing- I can’t say that I mind the… the notoriety. It’s fair to say that my connection to you has made me more interesting as far as the big boys are concerned. Nobody has asked what the connection is. It’s just the knowledge that there is some connection that matters. I don’t mind being seen as part of your crew. As far as I’m concerned, I am a part of your crew. Whatever help I can give you, just tell me and it’s done.”