Wednesday dinners were developing into a huge deal. It wasn’t just Andy and Jenna anymore- usually Lee and Jen came, and Jackson and whoever his plus one was for the evening. Stephanie and Stephen (who were definitely an item) generally attended, too. Even Lacy, our next door neighbor when we’d lived in the Century City tower, made it a regular thing. Johnny, our neighbor from across the street usually came, too, and so did Livy and Margaret when they could convince Margaret’s parents to baby-sit.
In addition to the regulars we had a lot of others who came every now and then, so most Wednesday nights we had fifteen to twenty guests. Thankfully, the house was big enough to easily accommodate that number with no problem. There was no way I was going to have Angela work that hard in the kitchen, though, so we brought in a professional chef, and after a while, the bartender from the place in Silver Lake. This freed the three of us from actual hosting duties, allowing us to mingle and enjoy the company.
One Wednesday night I was chatting with Andy and one of his friends from the team as we relaxed out on the deck by the fire pit.
“I don’t know how much more I got in me, man,” Darius said, looking at the flames. “I’m seriously thinkin’ that when my current contract is up, I’m done.”
“Your stats are still good, man,” Andy said. “If you keep it up this season, you could go into free agency in a solid place.”
“I just don’t think I wanna,” Darius replied. “I’m thinkin’ that it’s maybe time to downsize, and think about what I’m gonna do in retirement.”
“Lee here gave me the best advice ever, when I first signed,” Andy said. “She basically said that I have to think about the rest of my life first, because playing is only going to be for a few years, but the rest of my life is going to be a lot longer.”
“Yeah? No shit?” Darius asked, looking at me.
“Pretty much,” I agreed. “You’re thinking you want to retire after next season, right? That’ll mean no money coming in. Do you have enough saved or invested to be able to spend the rest of your life the way you want? That’s the important question.”
“Oh, fuck no, man,” Darius said with a grimace. He leaned back and took a drink, then admitted, “Man, I can barely cover my shit on my base. I gotta make the incentives, you know?”
“You’ve been to my place, Dar,” Andy said. “You’ve seen my car. What Lee said made sense. If I get injured and can’t play another game, well, I won’t be buying any Ferraris or anything, but I’ll be O.K. with my investments.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, man,” Darius moaned, shaking his head. “I got my people, and you know, they need this, they need that, and me, I’m the only one in the family that’s made it, you know?”
“Hey, Leah,” Jackson said, interrupting. “Hey, Darius, that was one hell of a play you made on Sunday. Turned the game,” Jackson said.
“Thanks, man,” Darius replied, but he was still too busy feeling sorry for himself to really accept the compliment.
“Anyway, Leah, my dad told me he tried your barbecue place the other day. He said he’s found a new favorite ‘cue,” Jackson said. “And that got me thinking. I know you take investors in your real estate trust, but have you thought about it for your restaurant business?”
“You want to buy in?” I asked, amused.
“I’m, thinkin’, maybe, yeah,” he replied.
“We can talk about it,” I said. “You know it doesn't make as much money as the real estate trust.”
“Yeah, I get that, but it could be a lot more interestin’.”
After Jackson left, Andy turned to Darius. “Dar, man, that’s the other part of what Leah told me. Invest the shit outta your earnings- have the money work for you, so you don’t have to work for the money. Her real estate trust? I’m throwing every dime I can into it, so that when my time comes to hang up my cleats I can live comfortably and never have to worry about money for the rest of my life.”
“You got me thinkin’,” he said, back to staring into the fire.
“Why do you all look so serious?” Angela asked as she plopped down on my lap and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“I got a lot of thinkin’ to do,” Darius said, looking up at her. “They helpin’ me sort some shit out.”
“No, not tonight,” Angela said. “No more thinking. Come inside- Emmy and Lee and Jackson are about to play, and you don’t want to miss that.”
I certainly didn’t want to miss that, either, so the three of us followed Angela back into the house and found places to sit. Emmy and Jackson both had their acoustic guitars, and Lee had a sort of wooden box that he held between his feet and played on like a drum.
“Play that Willie and Ray duet you two did last summer,” Lacy urged as they got ready. Emmy looked at Jackson, and he gave her a sort of ‘Why not?’ look, so she started in with a classical-sounding guitar while he strummed rhythm.
“Looking down into her green eyes,” Jackson sang, soft and sweet. “He said, ‘Say a prayer for me’.”
All conversation had stopped and the room was hushed, listening to Jackson’s voice like liquid gold.
“She threw her arms around him, whispering, ‘God will set us free’,” Emmy replied.
The two sang the song differently than they had before, mixing it up so any given line was sung by whoever made the most sense in respect to the lyrics. The last time Emmy and Jackson had sung it they each had their own verses, just the way Willie Nelson and Ray Charles had done it, but this was different.
Together they sang the final verse about the seven Spanish angels taking another angel home, and there was barely a dry eye in the house.
“Dude, that was fucking amazing,” Jen said when the last notes faded away.
Darius turned to Andy and said quietly, “Thanks for bringin’ me, man. The guys ain’t gonna believe this.”
“I told you,” Andy replied.
While Emmy took a moment to sip her sangria, Jackson started in on the next song, finger picking a tune I was sure I’d heard before. As Emmy strummed gently, Jackson plucked the melody. After a few moments he started to sing, and that’s when it hit me. I’d never heard the Beatles’ song ‘Let It Be’ played as an acoustic guitar tune before, but it worked really well. They played it slower and softer than the original, too, really bringing out the introspective nature of the lyrics.
Keeping it slow, Emmy played the opening chords of the next song, using a bottleneck on her finger to get the slide guitar sound she wanted.
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“He’s just a man, made of flesh and bone,” she sang, sad and remorseful. “I’ve thrown away all that was once my own. Now I’m old and worn, and tired too. I’m cold, so cold, and blue, so blue.”
I’d never heard the song before, and found it interesting that Emmy was singing such a classic-sounding blues tune. Those were usually Jackson’s thing, but here she was, singing a song about a woman’s loss.
“Letting my love slip through my hands, too much to lose, for just a man,” she sang in a slow lament, and you could hear the heartbreak and misery of lost love in her voice.
When the song finished, nobody said a thing. There was nothing anybody could say, but then somebody started clapping and we all joined in.
“Well, thank y’all,” Jackson said when the applause died down. “I guess we probably shouldn't have started out slow like that, but these things just happen sometimes. Let’s lighten the mood a bit, whaddya say?”
Looking around, he said, “I know just the thing.” He picked the first few notes, and Emmy and Lee both laughed when they recognized the song. It took a bit longer for me, but when Emmy’s guitar joined in it seemed familiar.
Of course, when she belted out, “Welcome to the jungle, it’s all fun and games,” any doubt was erased. Emmy was singing with her full outside voice, but somehow managing to keep it from drowning out the two guitars. Normally when she really leaned into it her vocals were stunningly loud, but not this time. She managed to sound loud without actually being loud, if that makes any sense.
The Guns N Roses song did the job of changing the mood, and people went back to laughing and chatting while the three played.
I glanced around and spotted the hipster bartender who had come in and was standing near the sliding doors, just as captivated by the informal show as everybody else. I caught his eye and smiled at him to let him know it was fine, and he relaxed a bit.
After a few more songs, the three took a break. Emmy came over to where Angela and I were sitting and stole a drink from my glass. Making a face, she said, “I do not understand how you can drink this. Give me a good glass of wine and I am happy, but this whiskey? It is too harsh for me.”
“I know, right?” Angela agreed. “I can’t even drink that stuff Papí sent her.”
Smiling, I patted my lap for Emmy to take a seat, which she did.
“You guys done for the night?” I asked, wrapping my arm around her waist.
“I think so, yes,” Emmy said, leaning into me. “It is fun, goofing around like that, but we also want to enjoy visiting with our friends.”
“I saw you talking with Stephanie earlier,” I said, nuzzling Emmy’s long, slender neck. Still, after our years of marriage, her subtle jasmine perfume still got me fired up.
“We- Jackson, Lee and I- have been discussing the need for a road manager for our upcoming tour, and we thought that perhaps she would be the right one for the job.”
“I thought Jackson was your manager?”
“He is, but the duties of a road manager are very specific and extremely time-consuming, so it would be better to have a full-time professional for this,” Emmy said, enjoying my kisses.
“Has she ever done it for a band as big as The Downfall?”
“No, and she did express some reservations about that, but I think she could rise to the occasion,” Emmy said. “And we already know her, and that is important.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” I agreed.
Eating lunch at the Irish pub one day a week or two later, Real Estate Henry took the seat next to me at the bar. “How’s business?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” I said. “But we’re gonna have to stop meeting like this.”
“Why’s that? Your husband getting jealous?” Henry asked, signaling to the bartender.
“No, nothing like that. We’re moving the office to a new site over in Westwood, and to be honest, these tacos aren’t good enough to justify coming all the way over here,” I explained.
“All the two miles over here from the other side of the 405?” Henry asked.
“I walk here from my office now,” I clarified. “It’s a couple of blocks.”
“Yeah, O.K., I can see how this place could be a lot less convenient if you have to drive,” Henry admitted.
After ordering the Cajun pasta, Henry returned to the subject. “I’ll always treasure these times we had together,” he said.
“Until our paths cross again. May you be in Heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you’re dead,” I said, raising my iced tea in a toast.
“Sláinte,” Henry replied, clinking my plastic glass with his.
After a few minutes of silent eating, Henry said, “Westwood, huh? Is it a move up?”
“We just need a bigger space,” I said with a shrug. “We’re maxed out in our current location, and the property owner didn’t want to sell. So they’re losing their biggest tenant, and we’re getting the elbow room we need.”
“Sounds like real estate has been good for you,” Henry replied.
“It has,” I agreed.
“You know, I’ve never asked. Not to be, um, obvious, but you have the look of success. Do you specialize in the high end of the residential market?” Henry asked. “Me, I’m in commercial leasing.”
“Property management and development,” I said. “Mid to mid-upper market rentals, mostly. Some commercial properties, too.”
“Loeltz?”
“Yeah, that’s my property management division,” I agreed.
“Well, damn,” Henry said. “So, are you, um, like, Leah Loeltz?”
“No, no relation. I bought the company from old man Loeltz a few years ago and just kept the name,” I said.
“A few years ago? That makes sense,” Henry said, looking thoughtful. “It seemed like the company started making some big moves about then.”
“Well, like I said, we’re gonna make a big move over to the other side of the freeway in a couple of weeks. It’s going to be strange for a lot of the staff, since they’ve been working out of the same office for nearly fifteen years.”
“Change is tough,” Henry said, nodding.
“Have you heard anything from the lab in Korea?” Emmy asked one evening. “It has been quite a while since we sent them the genetic material.”
“Just the same emails every week that you get,” I said, stroking her hair as we reclined together on the couch. “The same old thing, no news to speak of.”
“I understand that this is cutting-edge science, but I do wish that they would hurry it up,” Emmy griped. “And poor Angela- she wants it so very much.”
“I know, babe,” I said, nuzzling her neck. “I wish there was some way I could speed things up, but you’ve read the emails. After the first few failures, they want to get their technique right before trying again. They don’t want to waste any more eggs until they’re sure everything’s right.”
“I know,” she sighed. “And I do understand it. It is simply that I had such high expectations, and I want our children to be yours as much as mine and Angela’s.”
“Even if this doesn’t work out and we wind up using Andy as a donor, the babies will still be mine in every way that matters, Em.”
She smiled a sort of resigned smile and said, “I know that you feel that way- I would expect nothing else. But it does matter, to everybody else.” I had the feeling that she specifically meant ‘to my parents and the rest of the Night Children’, but I didn’t say it. Emmy had admitted that her society was very archaic in so many ways, and this, it seemed, was one of those ways.
“Heck, for all I know, the lab in Seoul might have good news for us tomorrow,” I replied, pulling Emmy’s slender body in closer. “Maybe by this time next week you’ll be pregnant.”
“I can dream,” Emmy said, laying her head on my shoulder. “It is a beautiful dream. In my dream, we have two perfect little daughters running around, laughing, singing, and playing. You take them up and swing them around, and toss them up and catch them. You teach them to be strong and bold, and when they are too bold, Angela kisses them and bandages their skinned knees. She teaches them to be kind and loving, and I teach them the old ways, and how to sing and to dance. This is my dream.”
“I think they’ll learn plenty about being kind and loving from you, and hopefully from me, too,” I said. “There’s no way they’ll learn to sing and dance from me, though.”
“Angela has a pretty voice,” Emmy said. “Have you heard her sing?”
“I’ve heard her sing along with the stereo, but never just, you know, sing a song all by herself, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Ask her to sing for you sometime,” Emmy said. “Her voice is not trained, but it is pretty. I like it when she sings. It is real, you know? A true expression of her heart.”
“Angela expresses her heart all the time,” I said. “I’ve never met anyone who is so…”
“She is so open,” agreed Emmy. “I admire that about her. She feels everything so deeply, and honestly.”
“She does,” I agreed.
“It is what I love most about her,” Emmy said.
“What, not her amazing butt?” I asked, kissing Emmy’s hair.
“I do love that,” Emmy admitted. “She is very sexually attractive. Both of you are- I find myself aroused by the two of you constantly. And when I get to watch the two of you make love… That is the most erotic thing I can possibly imagine.” Emmy trailed off, lost in thought. After a few long moments, she said, “In fact, I am quite aroused right now, merely thinking of it. I think- no, I know that I need you to make love to me right now, Leah. I need to feel your powerful body on top of me, crushing me to the bed. I need to feel your muscles, your drive. I need you more than I can say.”
“You don’t want to wait until Angela gets home?” I asked, sliding my hand down to cup her little dancer’s bubble butt.
“I cannot,” Emmy said, sitting up. “I am not certain I can even wait until we get to the bedroom. I need you now,” she said, pulling off her shirt to reveal her pretty black silk bra.
“I think we don’t actually need to leave this couch,” I agreed, reaching behind to unhook the lacy lingerie.