Mom and Tiffany were having breakfast when Angela and I got home. Angela, still feeling chilled, waved and said hello before bolting to the shower to warm up and get the baby oil off her skin.
“She had an early morning photo shoot at the beach,” I explained in answer to Mom’s raised eyebrows.
“The beach? This time of year?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Ange had to wear these little bikinis and act like it was a glorious day at the beach. I was impressed- she was a real trooper, even though she was freezing her ti- her butt off.”
“Ha!” Tiffany said. “You were gonna say ‘freezing her tits off’!”
“Tiffany,” Mom admonished gently.
“Well, she was. I’m not a little kid any more, you know. I’m nearly a teenager. You don’t have to pretend I don’t know all those words.”
“No, probably not,” Mom said with a sigh. “Still, talking about your sister’s, um, girlfriend’s breasts may not be the best topic of conversation.”
“I saw ‘em, you know,” Tiffany said, her tone hard to identify. “Angela’s tits, I mean. Christmas morning. When I went in to wake all of them, she was sleeping with no shirt on.”
Mom looked very uncomfortable with the conversation, but was clearly unsure how to shut it down gracefully.
“Angela has really nice ones,” I said, enjoying Mom’s discomfort just a little bit.
“She has piercings! On both her nipples!” Tiffany said. “That must really have hurt,” she added, rubbing her own tiny little bumps in sympathy.
“She said it wasn’t so bad, because the woman who did the piercing used ice, then some sort of anesthetic, so it felt more like a tug than a jab,” I said, conspiratorially.
“Still…” Tiffany said, pinching her own nipples through her T shirt thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do that just yet.”
“You’re still too young,” I agreed.
“Did you- I mean, have you had yours done?” Tiffany asked. Glancing over at Mom, I could tell she’d just given up and was letting this one play out.
“No way!” I said. “I’m too much of a wimp.”
“Hah! You wimp!” Tiffany exclaimed, then made a pinching grab for my boob. I knocked her hand away and made to pinch her chest, causing her to shriek with laughter and squirt away, out of range, continuing to make pinching gestures with both hands.
I stood and made similar pinching motions in Tiffany’s direction as I lunged forward, getting another shriek of laughter as she darted away again.
“Girls,” Mom said, raising her voice just enough to be heard. “No pinching. Anywhere.”
“You got off lucky this time, little shrimp,” I said to Tiffany as I took my seat again.
“No, it was you who escaped certain pinchitude,” Tiffany countered. “It’s like the Spanish Inquisition. Nobody expects the nipple pinch! Our weapons are fear, surprise, and a ruthless devotion to nipple pinching!”
I will admit that Tiffany’s extemporaneous riff on the Monty Python sketch both took me by surprise and made me laugh. I had no idea she’d ever even heard of Monty Python, much less knew their comedy well enough to just toss out a reference like that.
The commotion drew Angela and Emmy out to see what was going on, but it was all over by that point.
“What just happened?” Angela asked, drying her hair with a towel.
“We were talking about your boobs,” Tiffany said, matter-of-factly.
“My boobs?”
“Yes. And how pinchable they are.”
Puzzled, Angela and Emmy looked to me for explanation.
“Tiffany mentioned how she saw your piercings the other morning when she barged into our room, and that led to how it must have hurt, and so on, until, yeah, nipple pinching and the Spanish Inquisition,” I said with a shrug.
“The Spanish Inquisition?” Emmy asked, not seeing any connection.
“I bet you didn’t expect that!” Tiffany said with satisfaction, causing me to laugh again.
Emmy and Angela gave each other a look, then just sat down at the kitchen counter with the rest of us without further questions. Of course, this made me laugh even harder, making me look like a crazy person.
“Would you two like some breakfast?” Mom asked Emmy and Angela, doing her best to ignore me and Tiffany, since we were still giggling like idiots.
The photographer’s studio was located in that area east of Downtown that real estate people were trying to push as ‘The Arts District’, but mainly it was crappy old industrial buildings from before World War Two that now served as sweat shops, radiator repair places, chrome platers and yes, the occasional cool loft building, gallery, or photography studio.
I could grudgingly admit that gentrification was inevitable, but it wasn’t mostly arty just yet. It was still gritty and more than a touch nasty, sandwiched as it was between skid row and the train yards. We got there early, parking the Z4 on the street in front of the old brick building. Angela announced herself to the intercom and soon one of the PAs came down to let us in and lead us up to the third floor studio.
In the main studio the photographer was shooting another model, giving her instructions to stand like this, put her hand on her hip, and so on. Leaving Angela with the makeup artist, I wandered out to watch the photographer do his thing.
The girl posing looked to be no more than thirteen years old- really, only a bit older than my little sister. Like Tiffany, she had tousled blonde hair and blue eyes, with a nice, even golden tan. Her high-waisted floral print bikini wasn’t what I would call overly sexy for a girl her age, and the photographer’s instructions didn’t seem suggestive at all. Curt, maybe, or perhaps demanding, but all really pretty straight-forward.
“No, tilt your head up a little more. Turn your shoulders this way. Straighten your left leg,” stuff like that.
The more I watched, though, I could see the girl was struggling. She wanted to do as he required, but she was getting tired and could never seem to get it just right. The photographer didn’t insult her, but he never actually praised her for anything, either.
Finally, one of the PAs tapped his watch and the photographer called out, “Alright, that’s it for today. We’re done.”
The girl sagged with relief, the smile she’d had vanishing as she turned to her mom, who was sitting in a director’s chair in the corner.
“Good job, Kennedy,” the girl’s mom said, holding out a robe for the girl to cover up. “We can get some frozen yogurt on the way home.”
The gratitude on the girl’s face at that suggestion sent me down all sorts of uncomfortable paths, which I did my best to ignore.
Not even turning to acknowledge the girl as she left, the photographer and his assistants took a five minute break, then set up for Angela.
I wanted to say something, to offer some encouragement to the little blonde, anything to cheer her up, but what could I say? I just watched her disappear back into the dressing area, hoping I was misreading the dynamic.
Angela came out of the dressing area, pulling off her own robe and handing it to one of the PAs as she took her place in front of the camera. She was wearing the same suit that she’d started off with that morning at the beach in Santa Monica. I’m not sure I really saw any value in keeping the same order, but apparently whoever was in charge of wardrobe did.
The photographer wasn’t really any different with Angela than he had been with the little blonde girl, but being abrupt with a twenty-six year old is very different than with a little kid. His demeanor didn’t seem to bother Angela in the slightest, and when I asked her about it later she said that she actually appreciated it.
“I like that he knew what he wanted, and didn’t feel a need to talk to me like a baby,” she said as I drove us home. “This was just a catalog shoot, you know? Now, if it was gonna be a real fashion shoot, or an art shoot, that would require a lot more, um, communication. But for this? It was perfect. The studio shots are basically just mannequin work. All I needed to know was how he wanted me to pose.”
Grace called and said that she and Rosalie wouldn’t be able to make it for New Year’s after all- they were going to stay with Rosalie’s family for the rest of winter break. Emmy and I were a little bit disappointed to not see Grace again and talked about visiting her in Flagstaff soon, but I think we both knew it wouldn’t actually happen.
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Angela liked the idea, though, suggesting that we could see the Grand Canyon and Sedona while we were in the area. Emmy had never been to either place, and I barely remembered either, since the only time I’d gone there was with Mom and Dad, back before Tiffany was born.
It seemed to me that Angela was using the idea of planning a trip to Arizona to distract herself from her parents’ impending visit. She tried to play it off as no big deal, but I could tell that she was nervous about how it would go.
Emmy, of course, was always much better at recognizing and dealing with emotions than I ever was, and she did what she could to keep Angela calm, too. It was the little things, like a gentle touch as she walked past where Angela was working in the kitchen, or sitting next to Angela on the couch after dinner. Emmy wanted to subtly convey that whatever else might happen, Angela was loved and treasured.
Of course, I did what I could to distract Angela as well. Emmy bowed out of going up to the club in San Jose for New Year’s Eve with us, so Angela and I went up to the Bay Area without her. New Year’s Eve fell on a Saturday that year, and we expected the club would be jam-packed, perfect for making our appearance.
We took our table a bit early and ordered dinner there, rather than in the steak house out front. I planned for us to be there pretty much all night, and to my surprise, Angela was enthusiastic about the prospect.
Angela had gotten herself a new dress for the occasion, a long, sleek black sheath dress, low cut and slit up one thigh. She did her makeup a bit darker and smokier than usual, and the ensemble made her pale skin seem to glow and her big blue eyes shine. Angela absolutely could have been a Hollywood bombshell from back in the days of black and white film, and the way she walked in that dress made me feel funny inside.
I went with my black high-waisted suit with a white shirt. The only bits of color were my tie and my silk pocket square, which Emmy had picked to match Angela’s blue eyes.
The club was nearly full by the time we arrived around eight, so we made our rounds, shaking hands and saying hello to the regulars. It wasn’t just me doing the glad-handing, either. Angela was fully back in her ‘mob queen’ persona, cheek-kissing the ladies and winking at some of the men. It was clear to me that as far as the clientele of the club was concerned, Angela was almost as much of a fixture as I was.
Andrej was there with a woman I didn’t recognize. When I leaned down to clap him on the shoulder and shake his hand, he introduced his date, but I have to admit I can’t remember her name.
“I’m glad to see you here tonight, my man,” I said. “Thanks for coming tonight.” Andrej looked slightly concerned by what I might ask of him, but I ignored it. I waved the server over and said, “Make sure these guys have a bottle of Krug Rosé at midnight.” Then, looking down at my watch, I realized it was still four hours away. “You two are staying, right? We have very special entertainment tonight. I’d hate for you to miss it.”
They glanced back and forth. “Well, we were thinking we were going to an office party…” Andrej’s date said, unsure.
“You see those guys every day,” I said with a smile. “Trust me- stay here. Call your coworkers and tell ‘em you got a better deal for tonight.” Patting Andrej on shoulder again, I said, “Hey, no pressure. Just know that I’m happy you’re here right now. Come on over to the table later, if you feel like chatting.”
Finishing our circuit, Angela and I sat down in our corner booth.
“Who’s playing tonight?” Angela asked. “Not Katy and Edgar?”
“No, we have somebody special coming in tonight,” I answered offhandedly, waving Theo over.
Just then some regulars came over to say hi, and Angela smiled and greeted them warmly, forgetting about her question.
James and Imogen showed up almost two hours later. I’d tipped off Tony at the door to let them in, no matter how crowded the joint got, and to direct them to our table. The house was completely packed, so they would definitely have been turned away under other circumstances.
“Look at you two!” Imogen said as they got to the table. “The best-looking couple in the place!”
“Well, we were, until you two showed up and upstaged us,” I said, giving Imogen a cheek kiss.
The two of them had just settled down and gotten their drinks when the emcee took to the stage. “Ladies, gentlemen, we have a very special show for you here tonight at the club,” the man said. “Please, give a warm welcome to the Sunset Blues Trio on their first appearance on our stage!”
Angela and Imogen were busy talking about trying to find good art for a new house and not really paying attention, so they didn’t see the two men dressed in evening wear take their seats at the piano and drum kit. It wasn’t until the singer walked out and a gasp from the crowd, followed by raucous applause, got their attention and both turned to look to see that it was Emmy at the microphone, Lee at the piano and oddly, Jackson at the drums.
“Thank you very much,” Emmy said as the applause died down. “It is an honor to be asked to play here tonight,” she said, getting quite a bit of laughter. “Seriously, we have wanted to play here for a long time, but the owner, well… She took a lot of convincing to let us have this gig.” Waiting for the laughter to die down again, Emmy said, “But here we are, and here you are. Hopefully this will be an evening to remember!”
Angela had turned back to look at me with accusing eyes. “You two!” she said. “I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me Emmy was going to play here tonight! ‘Oh, I am sorry, I cannot go with you to San Jose, I have a headache’? How did I ever fall for that?”
Imogen, amused by Angela’s indignation, poured gasoline on the fire. “So, your bedmates keeping secrets from you? What’s next? You’re going to find them sleeping together?”
“You aren’t helping,” Angela growled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
In the meantime, Emmy had started singing that old jazz song ‘I need a little sugar in my bowl’, nice and slow. Of course I knew that Lee could play the piano, but I was surprised at Jackson’s soft touch on the drums. Hearing Emmy sing that classic torch song, soft, slow and sultry gave me a thrill- a feeling I recognized from years before, at that coffee shop in San Diego. She was singing that she wants a little sweetness down in her soul, and I knew that it was me (well, and Angela) she wanted it from.
The place went wild when the song ended. Almost everybody was standing and clapping, making a heck of a noise in that crowded club. Emmy waved for everybody to sit back dawn, saying, “Please, ladies and gentlemen, please sit down. We will be here all night, and that is too long to stand on your feet. Just sit back, relax, enjoy the music, have some drinks with your friends, lovers, wives, husbands, whoever. The night is long, and we have just begun.” With that they started into the next song. I missed the start, distracted by Theo bringing another round of drinks.
“He may be your man, but he comes to see me sometimes,” Emmy sang. “When he’s with you, he always has me on his mind.”
I’d never heard the song before, but Emmy sang it with a very convincing attitude, smiling and winking at the guys in the audience as she swayed her hips enticingly.
“We’ve known you two for years now,” Imogen said. “But this is the first time I’ve heard her sing in person. I mean, of course I’ve seen her videos, but it isn’t the same.”
“No, it’s not,” James agreed, mesmerized.
After a few more songs in a similar blues style that I didn’t know, I recognized ‘Piece of my heart’ by Janis Joplin. Emmy didn’t sing it with the ferocious intensity of the original, though. Emmy’s version was slower, sadder, not so much angry as simply resigned.
“She really is amazing,” James said, turning to me. “She’s got such a range of expression. I’d never have guessed she could sing like this.”
“She was singing Country music at home a few days ago,” Angela said, her eyes shining with excitement. She was clearly proud of Emmy’s abilities. “She can sing anything. I bet she could sing opera no problem.”
Chatting with James and Imogen and the stream of regulars that stopped by the table, the time passed quickly. I realized Emmy was singing a song about midnight, and glanced at my watch.
“Let our hearts take wings ‘round midnight,” she sang with two minutes to go until the clock struck twelve. When she finished the song, Emmy held up her own wrist and pointed to her watch.
“Ladies, gentlemen, we have less than a minute to go. Please pour yourselves a full glass, because it is time for a toast. So long old year, hello new!”
One of the waitresses handed Emmy, Jackson and Lee champagne flutes as the two guys joined Emmy at the microphone.
“Ten, nine, eight…” the three counted down together, looking at Emmy’s wristwatch. Of course, the whole club joined in on the countdown and when it got to zero, everybody (including those at our table) raised their glass and shouted “Happy New Year!” and drank whatever they had.
Emmy and the boys took a few minutes to circulate around the club, shaking hands, saying hello, and so on. When Emmy finally got to our table, she slid into the booth next to Imogen, giving her a kiss hello.
“I am so glad you two came tonight!” Emmy said, obviously on a high from performing.
“You did tell us not to miss it,” Imogen said, teasingly.
“Em, you were amazing,” Angela said, her big blue eyes bright.
A few minutes later Lee, Jackson and Emmy took to the little stage again, starting out with that old Creedence song, ‘Midnight Special’. Somehow the mood had changed, and the crowd seemed more talkative and noisy, more like it was on regular nights. Before midnight it had been a lot like a concert, people sitting quietly and watching the performance, but after the toast the clientele got back to their conversations.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” James said, sipping his champagne.
“That’s a dangerous habit,” I rejoined.
“I know,” he replied with a smile. “How does next weekend look for Inde? You said your in-laws are visiting starting in the middle of the month, right?”
“I suppose that could work,” I said. “My car is ready to go any time. It’s just a matter of arranging for the crew and the hauler.”
“I let Reggie know this weekend might be a go, so I’m basically ready to rip,” James said.
“Give me ’til lunch on Monday to get everything lined up,” I said. “It should be no problem. Are we talking one day on the track, or both days?”
“Both, if you can swing it,” James said.
“This is sounding better and better,” I said.
When Emmy and the boys finally called it quits around one thirty, they’d been playing for nearly three and a half hours and they were ready to relax. They made one last round of the club, posing for selfies and signing autographs and generally working the crowd. Eventually they made it to our table, crowding into the spots that James and Imogen had abandoned about a half hour earlier.
“You guys were really great tonight!” Angela said. “And you! You totally kept me in the dark about you coming up here to play tonight!” she said to Emmy.
“But you enjoyed the show, did you not?” Emmy asked, leaning over and giving Angela a kiss.
“It was amazing- really amazing, Em.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it, Angie. We played tonight because we wanted to have fun and do something different. We have been too focused on our new album, and it has felt too much like work.”
“And that’s the thing,” Jackson said. “If it becomes a chore, the joy dies. That ain’t what we want, so sometimes you just have to break loose, y’know?” Then, after a moment, he said, “Speakin’ of breakin’ loose, I’m gonna head out and see what trouble I can find. Lee, you game?”
We left not long after that ourselves, after making another round of chatting with the regulars. I was pleased to see that Andrej and his date were still there, and said so.
“Was it worth sticking around? Was the show tonight better than that office party?” I asked the two of them.
Andrej’s date looked star-struck, just staring at Emmy, but Andrej responded. “Well, I don’t know, since I wasn’t at the office party, so I can’t really compare…”
This earned him a shoulder shove from his date, making him smile. “This was the best New Year’s I’ve ever had,” he admitted. “Thanks for convincing us to stay. Oh, and thanks for the champagne, too.”
“Anything for you, Andrej,” I replied, happy he’d had a good time.
The moment we walked in the door of the condo Angela immediately started stripping Emmy and herself out of their cocktail dresses, pushing Emmy to the bathroom for a shower.
Chuckling, I took my time undoing my tie and removing my suit, folding it nicely as I did so. Finally nude, I joined Emmy and Angela in that shower, letting the hot water and warm hands slide all over my body.
Angela was on fire that night, wearing Emmy and me out in all the best ways. As Emmy lay back, exhausted and satisfied, she said, “If this is my reward, I will have to perform surprise shows more often!”
Angela, sitting on her heels, looked up at Emmy adoringly. Stroking Emmy’s leg, she said, “I love to see you perform, Em. You light up inside when you sing and play. I don’t know how to describe it, but it makes me love you more every time you do it.”
“It is settled, then. More singing, more playing,” Emmy announced.