Angela and Emmy came to bed together some time later, but they were quiet and I only woke up enough to mumble something about how I needed to be up early. When I woke for my morning run, the two were sleeping cuddled together, looking totally adorable. I slid out and got dressed as silently as I could, and managed to not wake them.
The weather had turned during the night, and it was gray, drizzly and a bit colder than I was ready for, but I went out in it anyhow. The old rule of thumb that says ‘if you’re comfortable when you start, you’ll be too hot ten minutes in’ proved to be correct, and the only parts of me that really felt the cold once I got moving were my ears and my hands. The cold weather was a good incentive to keep the effort high, and as a result I posted my fastest time for my now-traditional Roosevelt Island loop.
Feeling good but certainly ready for a hot shower, I entered the master bedroom as quietly as I could in case Emmy and Angela were still asleep. Finding the room empty, to my surprise, I ditched my clothes and jumped in the shower, grateful for the recirculating water heater system that meant instant hot water. Reveling in the steamy heat, I didn’t notice Angela come in.
When she rapped on the glass shower door to get my attention, I just about jumped out of my skin with surprise.
“Hey, I’m about to start my workout,” Angela announced. “Naked.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said with a smile.
Hurrying, I finished my shower and toweled off, throwing on a pair of Cardinal sweatpants and a T shirt. Hey, if things went well, it’d all be coming off in just a short while, right? No reason to get any more dressed than that.
Padding barefoot down the hall to the bedroom that had been converted to a small home gym, I heard some noise from downstairs. Curious, I went down two flights to the foyer, only to find delivery men unloading boxes from a truck, and Wally and Emmy supervising.
“These are the things I bought for the studio,” Emmy explained as I gazed at the ever-increasing stack of boxes. I saw a Yamaha keyboard, a whole bunch of boxes containing drum-type things, microphone stands, you name it.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I think that between Mia, Wally and me, we have it under control,” Emmy said.
“Where is Mia?” I asked, looking around.
“She has taken a load up already,” Emmy said, indicating the ancient elevator.
“All right. You know our flight takes off at noon, right? We need to be out of here by eleven.”
“I have not forgotten,” Emmy assured me as she leaned in for a kiss. “I will be ready.”
Heading back upstairs, I found Angela in the gym, sadly still clothed.
“You said you’d be naked,” I pouted.
“I needed to take my social pictures first, and I’m definitely not going do that naked,” Angela said with a laugh. “But now that you’re here…”
“Ange,” I said, "Just go ahead with your normal workout. I really wish I could stay and watch you take your clothes off and get all sweaty, but I’ve got some work I need to get done before we take off.”
“Aww,” Angela said with an overdone pout. “Can I at least give you a peek?” She asked, then pulled her leggings down around mid-thigh, exposing her lady parts.
I smiled, and as I leaned in and gave her a kiss, I cupped said parts in my hand and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“Very nice,” I said. “And now I’m going to have one hell of a hard time concentrating on work…”
As I made to leave, she grabbed my wrist to hold my hand where it was. “Leah, I was serious when I said I want to be your little sex toy.”
Squeezing a little more firmly this time, I said, “And I was serious when I said I want that, too.” Our next kiss was quite a bit more passionate, and while our tongues explored each others’ mouths, my fingers slid up and down her delicate bits. “But I really do need to take care of some emails. Tonight, though, I’d love to make up for it.”
“You promise?”
“I expect you to hold me to it,” I said with one last squeeze. “And to hold it to me.”
“You’re terrible,” Angela laughed as she pulled her leggings back up, wiggling her hips to get them to sit right.
The work emails were pretty standard stuff, and easily dealt with. The only one that really caught my attention was that the San Jose office had set up quite a few appointments to meet with clients (or potential clients) on Friday. Wishing that I didn’t have to go up there but knowing that I did, I confirmed I’d be there.
Turning to non-work email, I read through Michael’s report. There had been no sign of The Boss since the warehouse fight, and quite a few of the locals were eager to accept our shadow. Of course, this meant another visit to Chicago, but that was something that could happen at some point in the reasonably near future and not necessarily this week or next.
There was an email from Sana, which was about evenly split between personal stuff about Donny, Aaron, and Donny’s parents (all of whom were doing well, I was happy to read) and the trials and tribulations of managing a small apartment complex mostly full of students. I replied that her list of issues was almost exactly the same as the problems that Grace had had there in Flagstaff, and that’s why I didn’t do that sort of managing myself. I gave her the contact info for a couple of our easier-to-get-along-with managers in Santa Monica and San Jose and told her to hit them up for practical advice as needed, and said that Emmy and I would like to come up and visit sometime soon.
Mom had sent me a link to her online photo gallery of the pics that she and Tiffany had taken during their summer in the UK, and I spent a few minutes scrolling through, more than a little bit envious of the time they’d had. When I was a kid, Mom never had the money for us to go on vacations like that, so we had camping trips to Yosemite, a week or two at Grandma's house in Palm Springs, or a long weekend in San Francisco. Now that Mom no longer needed to pay rent and had one less mouth to feed, she actually had spending money, and she and Tiffany had had two months abroad to enjoy it. Of course, I’d contributed by buying their airfare and paying for their rental car, but Mom had insisted on covering the rest.
Seeing their smiling faces at this cathedral or those standing stones, the green, green countryside behind them, made me wish I could have had that experience at Tiffany’s age. Of course, she was right around the age I was when Dad was killed, so our life experiences were drastically different.
Thinking about that time reminded me of Andy Temple. I really had forgotten so much of our childhood, blocked it out so it would hurt less. Andy’s revelations had shown me that I’d thrown the baby out with the bathwater, though, and not everything from back then was so terrible. We really had been close back then, and the more I remembered of our friendship, the less it hurt to remember what it was like to be eleven years old.
Thinking about Andy, I sent him an email, asking if he and Jenna would be able to make it for dinner on Wednesday, and asking how the remodel planning was going on with their new house.
Done with all that, I wandered to the other end of the hall to see all the stuff that Emmy had bought for the studio. Between Wally, Mia and Emmy, they had it all unboxed and the boxes removed, but the equipment was far from set up. Emmy was trying to figure out the arrangement to fit the drum kit in the little isolation room, but eventually just threw up her hands.
“I will let Lee arrange it as he wishes,” she explained to Wally. “For now, just put it all in there and we will not worry about it.”
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Seeing me standing there watching, Emmy asked, “Leah, could you please move that keyboard over there?”
Wally moved to help me, grabbing one end. When I went to lift it, I suddenly understood why he had done so- the thing was much heavier than I’d expected. “Here?” I asked as we set it down.
“That is good for now. When we get the boys here we can arrange things as we like,” Emmy said. “Right now we just need to put things more or less where they will belong.”
“Alright, but don’t forget we have to leave in a little bit over an hour from now, and you haven’t packed yet.”
Suddenly looking distressed, Emmy asked, “Could you please pack for me? I would like to keep working on this.”
“Sure, I can do that. But it’s gonna cost you.”
“How much?” Emmy asked, a saucy look on her charcoal-black face.
“To be determined. Payable tonight.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs Farmer, but I accept your terms.”
“I’ll need a down payment,” I said, leaning down for a kiss.
“Get a room, you two!” Mia catcalled, making Emmy laugh, ending the kiss.
“You are simply jealous,” Emmy countered, and as I left the two were bantering back and forth.
I packed Emmy's stuff up first, leaving out a sweater for her to throw on when we left, since it was still cold and damp outside. I’d checked the weather back in LA, and was completely unsurprised to find it was sunny and warm. As strange as most people outside the region find it, September is typically the hottest month in Southern California, after all.
I was just packing my things when Angela came into the bedroom, done with her workout. She stripped down for her shower, making sure I was watching. Which, of course, I was.
“It’ll only take me a few minutes to pack,” she assured me as she sashayed into the bathroom. I could tell she wanted me to follow, and I briefly considered it, but in the end I didn’t. I let Angela shower without an audience.
I carried the luggage down to the foyer, then wandered down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I sat at the small farmhouse table off to one side of that enormous kitchen and just relaxed for a few minutes. We weren’t late, there was nothing to deal with, and nobody was demanding my attention. It was nice. When my coffee was done, I set the cup by the sink and went upstairs, finding Angela and Emmy waiting. Mia was standing off to the side, unsure what she should be doing.
“Wally has gone to get the car,” Emmy explained, somewhat unnecessarily. It was a bit like being in an elevator- none of us really knew what to do or say except maintain the awkward silence while waiting for our floor.
Thankfully, Wally only took a couple of minutes. We quickly had the luggage loaded and we were off, with one last goodbye to Mia.
“Say goodbye to Luisa for us!” Emmy called out as she climbed into the big sedan.
For some reason it felt as if we were leaving permanently, rather than just the few weeks until we were planning on returning.
Wally drove straight into the hangar where the jet awaited, keeping us out of the increasingly heavy rain. The morning was dark and dismal, but we were bound for the SoCal sun in just five hours or so.
The flight crew welcomed us aboard the family jet, as usual, and we were in the sky with no delay.
Relaxing in the comfort of the leather couch towards the rear of the main cabin, I idly wondered about the economics of private jet ownership. How much would it cost to have that sort of convenience all the time? Of course, I’d heard the saying ‘If it flies, floats or fucks…’ but at some point maybe owning our own plane would make sense. I was idly doing the math in my head, estimating hours per year of flight time vs the overhead of owning a jet, when Emmy came back to where I was relaxing.
“You are being terribly quiet,” Emmy said, sitting down next to me and leaning her head on my shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
Sheepishly, I admitted that I was considering the merit of buying a jet for ourselves. “I’m not sure how much we’d have to fly to make it worthwhile,” I said. “Probably more than we do now.”
“If we had our own plane, we would fly more than we do now,” Emmy countered.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, thinking about it. “I feel guilty every time we borrow your parents' plane, but it sure is nice.”
“It is,” Emmy agreed. “I really do not like flying commercial airlines. It is inconvenient and uncomfortable.”
“Babe, you’ve never flown coach in your entire life,” I rejoined. “You have no idea what uncomfortable really means in regards to flying.”
“It sucks,” Angela agreed, joining us. Sipping from the flute of champagne she’d gotten from the flight attendant, she said, “This is so unbelievably much better. The seats are comfy, you can move around, and the plane takes off when you want it to. This is the life,” she sighed, reclining her legs out in front of her.
“It sounds as if you both vote for our own plane,” I laughed.
“Oh, God yes,” Angela said. “Absolutely.”
“Sure, why not?” I asked. “A plane like this is only, what, about the price of the Los Angeles and New York houses combined, and only costs, I dunno, a million bucks a year to run? Seems like a great deal! I’ll buy one right away!”
“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound like a terrible idea,” Emmy admitted. “Are they really that expensive?”
“Honestly, I have no clue,” I admitted with a shrug. “I’ll ask around.”
Back in Los Angeles, I really didn’t have any time to relax at the condo before I had to leave for class. I hit the Starbucks drive-through (something I would never, ever do in the Aston) for some java and made it to class just in time.
Really, I should have stayed back at home, since the material that night was more of the same from my junior year at Stanford. Still, my attendance record was perfect so far and I didn’t want to start coasting and thinking I was above the material, only to get caught out for not paying attention.
At the evening’s fifteen minute break, Myles came over to talk.
“You look tired, Leah,” he said. “Wanna hit the coffee cart? My treat.”
Smiling my thanks, I said, “Coffee sounds good.”
Standing in line, Myles asked me why I was looking dead on my feet.
“Well, I got up early for my run this morning- five thirty New York time- that's two-thirty AM here. Then, a five hour flight, and we landed just in time for me to make it to class.”
“You were in New York last night?” Myles asked, amazed. “And you came to class today?”
“Sad, but true,” I agreed as we were handed our paper cups full of hot, caffeinated goodness. “We were in New York the last couple of nights. Before that, it was three nights in Chicago. We actually left right after class on Thursday.”
“Jesus,” Myles said, sipping from his cup. “That’s a lot of airport time. I bet you wish you had your own plane.”
Laughing, I said, “We did. Emmy’s parents loaned us their jet for the week.”
Myles looked at me as if I were some sort of alien from another planet. “You seriously had a private jet? A private jet that your in-laws just let you use for a quick little vacation?”
“Seriously,” I agreed. “It was nice. I’m considering getting one of our own.”
Myles gave me a dead-eyed stare for a long moment, then finally asked, “Why are you even here? Why are you bothering with getting your MBA? I mean, you have your own company already, you have enough money to buy a private jet, so you must be doing freaking great, right? Why bother?”
“You know,” I replied, “It’s funny. Everybody I’ve talked to in the program here has told me they want their MBA to help them get a leg up in their fields. You said so yourself. I think I’m the only one here who just wants to learn how to run my business better. I just want the education, not the degree.”
“Yeah, that is different,” Myles agreed.
That night when I got back to the condo the place was quiet and all the lights were off. I slipped into the bedroom as quietly as I could, finding Angela and Emmy fast asleep. I took off my clothes and climbed in next to Emmy, and within moments I was asleep, too. Sure, we'd joked about having sex that night, but I guess we were all just too damned tired.
My alarm went off way, way too early, but I got up anyway and made it to Clancy’s fight gym on time.
I told Jody I was feeling a bit tired and wanted to take it easy, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Bullshit,” he said. “We’re gonna spar, and spar like we mean it. When you’re tired and just wanna crawl back into the rack is when the enemy has the greatest advantage. That’s when you need to be ready to dig fucking deep, and fuck those motherfuckers right in the fucking face.”
Laughing at his salty language, I said, “Well, fucking alright, then. Let’s get wrapped up and fucking get down.”
I could tell I was a tiny bit off the pace when we threw down, but even so I was still faster than Jody. Not fast enough to avoid taking a few hits, and when he shot in on me my sprawl was too late and too little, and before I knew it we were on the floor, wrestling.
He had an enormous advantage on me in every way once we hit the mat. He was a lot stronger, much more compact, and had years of wrestling experience under his belt. It didn’t take long, despite me trying every escape technique I knew, for Jody to have me tied up like a knot and tapping out.
“We really do need to work on your ground game,” Jody said when he helped me up.
“As fun as that was," I said as I rotated my sore shoulder, “I’m not sure how useful it is to me out in the real world. I mean, wrestling is kind of a ring thing. How often does it happen in a dark alley?”
“Alright, I will admit that I never, ever once tried to pin anybody to a mat in my years operating,” Jody said, rolling his neck. “But that’s mostly because it was all either kill or be killed, and I always had a weapon of some kind.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “I mean, it’s good training, and I do realize it’s a weak point for me, but for what I want…”
Jody looked over towards the front desk, where Eddie was playing with his phone, making a point of ignoring us. “Look,” he said, his voice low. “There are a lot of ways to kill a guy bare-handed, in close. If you want, we can, um, work on that stuff, instead of competition wrestling.”
“You ever kill a guy with your bare hands?” I asked, in the same quiet tone.
“Yeah, once or twice,” Jody admitted. “Is this something you think you might want to learn?”
“Last Friday night?” I said. “I got in some practice.”
Jody gave me that same long, assessing stare that I’d gotten from Grant Henry way back when. “Is this something you should be telling me?”
“I didn’t tell you anything,” I said.
“No, I guess you didn’t.” Jody replied, looking me up and down. “I think it’s best if you continue not telling me shit. Need to know, and I don’t need.”
“So anyway, yes, I could probably use some new weapons in my arsenal,” I said.
“If this fucking comes back to me…” Jody growled.
“It won’t.”
“If it does-”
“Seriously, it won’t. Hell, it won’t come back to me, much less you. You’re just my fitness trainer.”
“That’s right,” Jody said. “I’m just your fitness coach, that’s all. I don’t get paid enough to do anything else.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” I agreed.