The following day the band had some appearances to make, so Angela and I had the afternoon to ourselves. Since we weren’t limited by Emmy’s inability to stay in the sun very long we took the double-decker bus tour, disembarking at a few different places, including that hotel with the flat part on top that spans the three towers. The view from the top deck was impressive, but we got rained on while we were up there. It was a very warm rain that cleared out quickly, leaving us damp and no cooler than we’d been before getting drenched.
We dodged another shower in a covered shopping alley, laughing about how hard the rain had suddenly come down, pounding thunderously on the glass roof of the arcade. Waiting for the rain to ease off while we ate lunch at a banh mi cafe, I found myself feeling a little guilty that I was enjoying spending time alone with Angela.
Don’t get me wrong- I loved Emmy to no end, but it was nice just being a normal tourist with Angela and not having everyone stare. Sure, people still stared some, but that was because I was the tallest person everywhere we went and was with an incredible hottie, not because I was with one of the world’s most recognizable people.
Taking some pictures of Angela with the Marina District in the background for her socials, I mentioned that it was nice, being relatively anonymous.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Angela said, “But sometimes it is a pain, her being so well-known. It is nice to be able to just walk around like normal people.”
“Speaking of which, how is your social media stuff going these days?” I asked. “You don’t talk about it as much as you used to.”
“I have a lot more followers these days, and…” she replied, looking as if she didn’t want to give me bad news.
“And?”
“Well, I’m earning a lot more from my endorsements, and that’s good, of course, but…”
“But?” I asked, closing in and pinning her against the handrail of the bayside walkway. I stroked her hair away from her face, then used the pad of my thumb to smooth her worry lines on her forehead.
“Some of my followers have put it together that I’m with Emmy. I’ve been asked in DMs about you, where you are, if you know that I’m with Emmy. I’ve been denying everything!” she added, in a rush.
“Maybe don’t,” I said.
“Maybe don’t what?” Angela asked, unclear on what I meant.
I took my phone from my pocket and shot a few selfies of the two of us together, and when Angela realized what I meant, she stood on her tiptoes, quickly glanced around to see if anybody could see us, then planted a kiss on my cheek. Upping the stakes, I turned and gave her a kiss on the lips while snapping a few more pics.
Leaning back against the rail, we looked at the photos and selected the best of us kissing. I sent it to Angela’s phone, and she took a minute to do her photo adjustment magic. She gave me a questioning look and asked if I was sure, and when I said yes, she pressed the ‘upload’ button with an air of finality.
“There. It’s done- there’s no taking it back now,” she said, a mixture of trepidation and relief in her voice.
“What did you post?” I asked, bringing up Instagram on my phone to check what she’d just uploaded.
“Look and see,” she said, all nerves.
“Enjoying my time in Singapore with one of the loves of my life!” it said. The tags underneath included my Instagram account (which I hardly ever used), Emmy’s, The Downfall’s official account, and #Singapore.
I checked her stats, and sure enough, she had well over two million followers.
“People figured out that I was in every city of the Downfall tour,” Angela said, scrolling through her posts and finding a shot of herself in London- a shot of Angela that I’d taken by the Thames, with the Eye in the background.
“Look at this,” she said, thumbing through the comments. She picked a comment that said, “I saw the saturday nite Downfall show. I think I saw you in the tea shop with Emmy’s wife. Was that you?”
“You see that? Nowhere did I mention that I was in London for the concert, or that I went to the concert, or anything, but they know,” Angela said.
“Then it must be time to come clean,” I said, reading through the comments. “We’re going to need a picture of the three of us.”
“I have a picture like that,” Angela volunteered. “The one I took at the giant tree things?” she suggested.
“No, I mean we need one that makes it one hundred per cent clear we three of us are in a romantic relationship together,” I said.
“I have an idea,” Angela said, taking my hand as she stepped away from the railing.
When Emmy got back to the hotel that evening Angela told her that she wanted to tell everybody on her social media that she was in love and in a committed relationship with both of us. Emmy was supportive, of course, so Angela explained the picture she wanted to take.
It was just our left hands- mine, Emmy’s and Angela’s, showing our wedding rings, Angela’s in the foreground. After posing our hands just right, Angela took a few photos, then did her photo editing magic.
“There- it’s posted,” she said. “I’m almost afraid to look at the comments from my earlier post,” she admitted.
“What did you post earlier?” Emmy asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Here, come up here,” Angela said, sitting up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. She patted the two spots on either side, so we joined her, scooting in close so we could look at her phone with her.
Angela brought up the post of us kissing with the Marina in the background and showed it to Emmy.
“That is a good photo,” Emmy said. “I would like a print of that one.”
“Let’s see what the comments have to say,” Angela said, her voice showing her nerves.
There were already over six hundred comments, but most of them were just simple emojis for fire, or hearts or things like that. As Angela thumbed through the hundreds, I saw a few that said they’d love to see us in an amateur sex video together, but Angela quickly passed those comments by. She did stop to read a few others, and some of them were along the lines of, “What about Emmy?”
Others condemned Angela for her deviant ways, but those were less common than I’d expected. What were a lot more common were things like, “U look great together”. One comment that Angela paused her scrolling to read said that the commenter had been fairly sure that Angela was in a relationship with Emmy and her wife, and now here it is, confirmed.
“Have you gotten any reaction from your sponsors?” Emmy asked.
“I haven’t checked my emails. I’m kinda afraid to,” Angela confessed.
“Does it matter?” Emmy asked. “If they react poorly and wish to sever their ties to you, I am certain that other companies would be happy to fill their place.”
Angela smiled, grateful for Emmy’s confident support. “If they want to fire me,” Angela said, “that’s on them. I’m tired of hiding our relationship.”
When I got back from Mr Han’s gym the next morning Emmy had already left for the concert venue. The band had sound checks to do because of an unusually early start time for the first of their three nights at the Indoor Stadium- something to do with it being a Thursday. I guess they have laws about public performances not running late on weeknights or something like that.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Over lunch, I asked Angela if she’d heard anything from her sponsors, and she said no. “My guess is they’re waiting to see what kind of reaction people have,” she said.
“Makes sense,” I replied. “But you know what? One,” I said, holding up a finger. “I’m pretty sure Emmy’s right. You’ve got over two million followers on Instagram alone, so that makes you a hot commodity. If the companies you’re working with now want to bail, I’m sure you could do better with new ones. Two,” I said, holding up another finger. “And I don’t want this to come across as bad, but fame counts in the modeling business, right? Once it becomes known that you’re in a relationship as, um… exotic as ours, and with Emmy, one of the world’s most recognizable faces, your recognition is gonna shoot through the roof. With all that exposure, you could move up in the fashion world and start modeling seriously for some of the big names. I have no doubt that you could get gigs modeling for Versace or D and G or whatever.”
“I don’t want to use you guys like that,” Angela said with a sigh.
“I’m O.K. with it, and I’m sure Emmy is, too. We’re both really proud of you, you know. Also, and this is something you might want to think about, you could launch your own clothing company. Instead of modeling other peoples’ designs, you could show off your own,” I suggested.
“You know I got my degree in visual communications, right? Not fashion design. I wouldn’t have any idea on how to start my own clothing company. Besides, it sounds like too much work, since soon I’ll have babies to take care of,” Angela said.
Running with the change in topic, I used the opportunity to bring up a topic I’d been meaning to discuss. “Something Emmy and I talked about a while back, back when we first made plans to have a baby, was a nanny. She had a nanny when she was little-”
“I did, too,” Angela interrupted. “My Tita was wonderful!”
“Is she still around?” I asked.
“No, she died when I was still in school. She was old,” Angela said, her face falling.
“Emmy’s is still alive, and still works and lives with Emmy’s parents. I don’t know if you’ve met her- Marie-Anne? Emmy hinted a while back that maybe she could come and take care of our baby…” I said.
“I have mixed feelings about a nanny,” Angela replied. “I loved my Tita, and I know she loved me like I was her own daughter, but when I grew older I had complicated thoughts about her position in the house.”
“I know Marie-Anne,” I said. “I don’t think she’s like… well, she isn’t like some sort of employee. She travels with the family, and seems more like a member of the family than… Hell, I’m having a hard time explaining it. But she was the one who raised Emmy, more than her parents did, I think.”
“That bothers me a bit, too,” Angela sighed. “I don’t want to hand my baby to someone else to raise.”
“No, I can’t see that happening,” I agreed. “But it would be nice to have help, especially since the two girls will be babies at the same time,” I said.
“I know,” Angela admitted.
“I don’t want you to be stuck at home with the kids,” I said.
“Would Marie-Anne want to move to Los Angeles?” Angela asked, showing a crack in her resistance.
“Emmy thinks so,” I said.
“I would want to meet her first,” Angela said, and I knew that the decision had been made.
“You’ll love her,” I replied, knowing it was true.
The show that night was also unusual in that there was no opening act- another aspect of the time constraint. The band went straight into their improvised intro, which evolved into the first song of their set, ‘Money Can’.
Finishing up with ‘Baby, I was Born To Die’, the band took their bows while Angela and I hustled backstage.
Thankfully there was no afterparty planned for that night, so we all just made our way back to the hotel for late snacks and drinks (for some of us) at the rooftop bar.
Gazing out over the water of the marina, I only half listened to Emmy and Angela talking about Marie-Anne coming to live with us. Emmy seemed convinced that she would be happy to move to Los Angeles, and that she would love the girls.
“She is a wonderful person,” Emmy said. Then, changing the topic, she asked, “How long can your mother stay in Los Angeles? I would very much like her to be there when the girls are born.”
“I think we will have a difficult time getting her to leave!” Angela said with a laugh.
Smiling to myself, I reflected on how fortunate I was to have two beautiful, loving women as my wives.
We each had such wildly dissimilar families, but each was supportive in its way. I was happy that Angela’s mom wanted to be there for the births and first few months, and was perfectly comfortable with the idea of Mamá Castro staying with us for the duration. My own mother wasn’t that sort of mom, but I knew she wanted to be there when the babies were born, too. I hadn’t spoken with Emmy’s parents, but I had no doubt they would come to Los Angeles for the births.
I found myself chuckling at the idea of Emmy’s mother holding a baby and making cooing sounds, or Emmy’s dad changing a diaper, but I had no doubt that they would want some involvement in the girls’ lives. Emmy’s dad had more than implied that they expected grandparental rights when we’d talked in Paris and London.
We had nice, soapy fun in the shower, but when we got to bed we just snuggled and talked about changes in the household once the babies arrived. Emmy was convinced that Marie-Anne was just waiting to be invited to Los Angeles and would shower the babies with love, and I had no doubt it was true.
My contribution to the discussion was that I wanted a driver/bodyguard for the girls. If they were ever going to be out in public, I wanted some serious protection for them.
“Jeremy?” Emmy asked.
“Maybe him, maybe somebody else, I don’t know. Can he drive?” I asked. “And we need a car, like a Suburban or something,” I said.
“Do you think the children will be at risk?” Emmy asked.
“Better safe than sorry,” I said, rubbing her still very flat tummy.
“I do not like that we have to think that way,” Emmy sighed.
“I don’t, either,” I agreed. “But I’d rather be overcautious than regretful.”
Once again finding myself in a dark alley at the asscrack of not even dawn yet the next morning, I pondered my life choices as I kept an eye out for the three guys that had accosted me that first morning, but once again, they didn’t show.
Resigned to another couple of hours of stabbing and getting stabbed with a plastic training knife, I pushed the gym door open, only to find another guy there with Mr Han.
“Ms Farma,” he said. “This Sergean’ Choi. You trai’ wi’ hi’ today.”
“Sergeant Choi,” I said, offering my hand for a shake, which seemed to surprise him, but he took it anyway. To my relief and surprise he didn’t play any macho games and try to crush my hand. It was a firm, professional handshake, but nothing more.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, doing his best to suppress his Singlish accent and doing a pretty good job of it, but it was still there just a bit. “Mr Han says you are a very good armed combat fighter.”
“I’m pleased he thinks so,” I said with a smile. “But there’s always more to learn.”
“Have you ever trained with sticks?” Sgt Choi asked, pulling some padded batons from a bag on the counter.
“A very tiny bit,” I said, holding my index finger and thumb just a couple of millimeters apart. “Not enough to say I have any kind of proficiency with them.”
“Today we will change that,” he said, handing me a pair of the padded batons. “I can’t teach you how to fight in just a few hours, but I can teach you what to defend against if you have to deal with a kali fighter. Today I will show you the fundamental moves, and tomorrow, I will show you how to best counter them if you are unarmed or have only a knife.”
“This could be interesting,” I said, excited by the opportunity to learn something new.
Sgt Choi went straight into it, outlining the basics of the art of escrima, or kali as he preferred to call it. Using two weapons at once was easier than I’d expected. When I mentioned that fact to Mr Han, he said it was because I was used to using my empty hand as a weapon anyhow, so it wasn’t really all that different. Using one to block or sweep to open an attack with the other came fairly naturally, and I could see that it could be a very effective technique.
At the end of the two hours, Sgt Choi seemed satisfied with my progress.
“Very good,” he said. “Tomorrow we will practice defending, now that you understand the dynamics.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, mentally adding ‘looking forward to a fresh set of bruises’.
After Sgt Choi left, Mr Han had me continue with the drills he’d worked up for me, emphasizing my high kick speed.
“You have unbelievable reach,” he said. “Your reach and your speed are your greatest advantages. You can end a fight before the other person even knows that the fight has started, so use those weapons in your arsenal.”
“Hey, cariña,” Angela said, looking up from her laptop when I walked into the hotel room.
I gestured at the computer. “Any fallout?” At Angela’s puzzled expression, I clarified. “Any important reactions to your posts yesterday?”
I leaned down to kiss her hello, getting a smile. She looked so young with no makeup on and those adorable reading glasses of her made her pretty blue eyes look even bigger.
“Yes, I’ve gotten a lot of emails and DMs about it. My three main sponsors have all said that they will stay with me, and in fact, one of them would be interested in working with both you and Emmy, but I told them that wasn’t on the table. I did say that I would start posting pictures with the two of you now that everybody knows, and they agreed that it will probably drive up my stats.”
“I told you that I’m O.K. with that,” I said.
“Emmy said the same thing. She doesn’t mind if I use some of her fame to increase my numbers.”
“I told you she’d be cool with it,” I said, stripping down for my shower, which got me a wolf whistle as Angela lowered her glasses for a better look.
“I’m thinking- if you don’t mind, of course, that maybe you and me, we could take some beach pictures in Australia. You have such an amazing body, Lee, I’d love to pose with you.”
“Maybe,” I said. “If I don’t get too bruised up the next couple of days at the gym.”
Frowning, Angela said, “I thought you were just working out?”
“Combat training,” I said, walking around behind her chair and lowering myself down to wrap my arms around her and nuzzle her neck. “The next couple of days some guy is going to do his best to beat on me with sticks.”
“I don’t understand why you do this to yourself,” Angela said with a sigh.
“Sweat more now, bleed less later,” I said, kissing under her ear. “Hey, where’s Em?
“They’re having a band meeting,” Angela replied as she leaned her head over to give me better access.
“Hm. Well, I need to take my shower,” I said, cupping one of Angela’s boobs in my hand. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Bestia!” Angela laughed, but made no move to escape from my caress.