In a good mood, Andy and I went back upstairs to the living room, where Angela was helping Jenna unpack the boxes marked ‘Kitchen’. The two were working pretty well, so Andy and I left them to it and returned to the back patio. I really didn’t do much but carry things inside while Andy cleaned up his cooking mess, but many hands make the work go faster, as they say.
“Hey, babe, we found the wine glasses,” Jenna told Andy when we returned inside with the last loads from the patio. “Now we can have that champagne!”
Andy and I quickly washed up, then carefully cleaned and dried the wine glasses (not champagne flutes) that Jenna had set out.
Andy took the bottle from the fridge and looked at it dubiously. “You know how to do this?” he asked.
Laughing, I said that Emmy had shown me the correct way. I undid the wire retainer and pulled it off, holding my thumb across the top of the cork. “Everybody thinks you want to pop the cork off, right? But that spills the champagne everywhere and makes a mess. The only time to do that is if you’re already drunk, or just won the race. If you want to actually drink the champagne, wrap your hand around the cork and neck like this,” I said, showing him. “Then, holding the base of the bottle against your hip like this, slowly rotate the bottle while using your cork hand to keep it sliding out slowly. Let the gas out like a fart in an elevator- slowly and silently. And there- ready to pour.”
“It looks easy like that,” Andy said, wonderingly.
“It is,” I confirmed. “Now, it’s time for a toast,” I said, pouring the four glasses.
“To Jenna and Andy, and their new home!” Angela said, lifting her glass. We all clinked our glasses together, then sipped.
Soon we moved into the living room, but the lone couch wasn’t big enough for all of us.
“We need new furniture,” Jenna said, apologetically. “All we have is from our little student apartment. We didn’t buy anything new when we got our apartment in Thousand Oaks, because we knew that place was only temporary.”
At first, Jenna and Angela sat on the couch and Andy and I sat on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, but that seemed awkward, so eventually Angela and Jenna sat on the floor, too.
Jenna and Andy were fascinated about the Downfall’s recording studio in the townhouse in Manhattan, and spent a long time looking at the photos on Angela’s phone.
“That’s an amazing setup,” Andy said, wowed by the studio. Jenna, meanwhile, looked at the pictures of the house, saying, “It’s so beautiful! I can’t believe you guys are bothering with Los Angeles when you have a place like that in New York!”
“Jen, you haven’t seen the place they’re building over in Hollywood,” Andy said. “When that’s done it's gonna to blow your mind.”
“I don’t see how it can equal this place,” Jenna said, holding up Angela’s phone, which was displaying a picture of the first-floor gallery.
“It’s going to be very, very different,” I said. “But just about as big, as far as living space is concerned. But the studio is going to be about fifty times bigger. But this reminds me- I should go by to check on progress,” I said.
“We can go tomorrow morning, before your classes,” Angela suggested.
“Yeah, that works,” I agreed.
It was quite late when we got home and I was ready for bed, but Angela suggested we take a bath to relax, and who was I to say no? Soapy time is always good time.
While Angela was shampooing my hair and gently massaging my scalp, she said, “Jenna asked if I’d go with her to do some shopping next week for things they need for the house. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why would I mind?”
“It’s… Um, it’s just that they’re your friends, and I don’t want to- I guess, spend time with them if you don’t want me to,” Angela said in reply.
I turned around to face her in the tub. “Ange,” I said, taking her lathered-up hands in mine. “Do you like Andy and Jenna? Do you like to spend time with them?”
“Well, yes,” she said. “They’re great people.”
“And I’m pretty sure they like you, too. That makes them your friends, too. And I absolutely think that you spending time with your friends is a great thing,” I said.
“You wouldn’t be upset?”
“Baby,” I said as I leaned in for a kiss. “Do you remember about what I said about wanting you to have your own life? I meant it. I don’t want you to just be here for me or for Emmy. I want you to be here for you, too.”
In bed later, it took me a while to fall asleep wondering what kinds of creeps Angela’d had for boyfriends over the years.
Angela and I stopped by the new house the next morning as planned, but the place was such a hive of activity and vehicles that about a quarter of a mile away was the nearest parking spot I could find. Now, to be fair, parking is extremely limited in those winding little streets up in the Hollywood Hills, but still… There were a lot of workers swarming the property.
It took me a while of asking around before we found Ned arguing with a sub-contractor about scheduling. Ned seemed extremely upset that the guy had brought a short crew to to do the flooring work and wasn’t meeting the promised timelines.
“Ron,” he said to the sub. “This is Leah Farmer- the owner. I promised her that she’d be able to celebrate Christmas in this house. If you make me a liar, she’ll be unhappy, and that’ll make me unhappy. And you know what rolls downhill.”
Ron looked me up and down, something I’d long gotten used to from short men. “Ms Farmer,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake. “Ned and I were just discussing delivery delays on the wood flooring used throughout the house.”
“Your guys haven’t even used half of what’s already here on site!” Ned exploded. “Delivery delays don’t mean a damned thing if there’s still a ton of flooring here in the storage area!” he said, waving into the open bay doors of the sound stage, which was being used as a depot.
“Ron,” I said, looking him straight in the eyes. “How far behind the timeline is your crew?”
“Well, like I said, we won’t have enough of the plank flooring here-”
“How far behind schedule are your guys?” I asked again, interrupting him.
“They’ve got about half of what should be done by now,” Ned said.
“You signed the contract, which stipulated the activity schedules and finish deadlines for the various parts of the house, right? Why aren’t you meeting your contractual obligations?” I demanded.
“Well, like I said, we can’t get the flooring-”
“Ned says there’s plenty on-site that isn’t laid down yet,” I said.
“Yeah, we’ve got enough-“
“Explain to me why your guys aren’t caught up with the material we have on hand, if that is indeed the limiting factor,” I said.
“There’s no point in bringing a big crew if they’re gonna run out of material-” Ron began, but I cut him off again.
“Yes, there is. If you can’t meet the deadlines because the mill that makes the stuff burned down, well, that’s out of your control. Slacking off, using delivery delays as an excuse, that is in fact under your control. You’re holding up other contractors, throwing everybody’s schedule off, and that is absolutely on you,” I said. “If your guys are working like gangbusters and they run out of flooring, that’s not their fault. They did what they could. But bringing too few workers to stay up with the schedule? That is one hundred per cent your fault.”
I stepped a little closer and said, “I know what’s in those contracts. There are performance incentives, but also, missed deadline penalties. One of those penalties is termination of the contract. If you don’t have Ned completely convinced by next Friday that you’re back on track, we’ll find ourselves another flooring guy.”
“You can’t do that!” Ron protested. “You can’t just unilaterally dissolve a contract!”
“My lawyers wrote those contracts. My lawyers. In fact, I’m perfectly within my legal rights, according to the contract you signed, to tell you to pack your tools and go right this moment. I’m willing to cut you a little slack- but just until the end of next week.”
Turning to Ned, I said, “We’re going to walk the property. Let’s talk in, say, forty-five?” He nodded, so Angela and I left the two men standing there in the doorway of the sound stage.
Angela followed me inside and into the future living room.
“Has anyone ever told you you can be really scary?” she asked as we passed some guys prepping for paint.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I said, looking around. I was pleased to see the place was actually starting to look like something you could think of as a house. All the drywall (at least in that area) was done, so you didn’t have to imagine what the walls would look like anymore.
“Well, it’s true,” Angela said.
We came across Ron’s flooring crew in one of the bedrooms, laying down the subfloor. By ‘crew’, I mean two guys.
“Hey,” I said to the one that seemed to be in charge. “I hear you guys are running behind?”
“Yeah, just a bit,” he said. “The main crew is on another job over in Marina Del Rey,” he said. “They left us here all by ourselves. We’re supposed to get this entire place done by ourselves,” he grumbled.
“When do you think you’ll finish?” I asked.
“Shit, I don’t know. This place is huge- I’d say two months, easy. And that’s if they deliver the rest of the stick we need.”
“You’re out of wood?”
“No, but we don’t have enough to finish. We could maybe get three quarters of the place done with what we’ve got, but that still leaves what, two thousand square feet?”
As soon as we were away from the two guys, Angela said, “That was playing unfair!”
“Contractors lie,” I said. “But usually the tradesmen don’t. If you want to know how a job is going, ask the guys doing the work.”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Ned caught up to Angela and me as we were inspecting the audio recording studio. The main recording studio room was at least four times the size of the small space in the New York townhouse. It was already painted and the sound baffles had been installed, but the carpeting was missing. Still, it was easy to imagine the room filled with musical instruments, microphones and amps, waiting for The Downfall to make amazing music.
“Sorry about that, Leah,” Ned said. “Ron has been giving me grief since he came on the job. He used to be really on top of things. His quality is still good, but getting him to commit…”
“I talked to his guys. Both of them,” I said. “They don’t think they’ll finish before mid January at the earliest. Said he’s got another project that is taking most of his crew.”
“I figured it was something like that,” Ned admitted. “He had eight guys here right at first, then four, and now it’s just down to the two you saw.”
Glancing around at the studio, Ned asked, “Do you think Emmy will like it?”
“She’s gonna love this place,” I said. “She’ll be in heaven down here.”
“All the structural work is done here in the recording part of the studio. The electrical, all of it. All that’s left are the cabinetry and appliances in the lounge, the fixtures in the bathrooms, and the carpeting, but that happens last,” Ned explained. “Really, she could be working in here in less than two weeks if she really wanted.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But where would she park?”
“Yeah, it’s a little tight up there in the parking lot,” Ned admitted. “But the garages are basically done. Have you seen them yet?”
We followed Ned through the labyrinthine passageways leading us down another level and to the back side of the house and into the garage.
What had been nothing but a long carport before was now an enclosed ten-bay garage, with a series of five double-wide and double-high roll-up garage doors providing access. The last bay had a car lift, with a large workshop space on the other side.
The walls were hidden behind acres of cabinetry, and the epoxy floor coating was immaculate. The only thing missing were the light fixtures, but there was plenty of natural light coming in through the glass panels in the garage doors.
“This is the garage of my dreams,” I breathed, imagining the possibilities. There was certainly enough room for our current four cars, but I couldn’t really see bringing the GT3 up here for any reason.
“This is bigger than the service bays of some car dealerships,” Ned joked. “When I saw the plans I thought it was some sort of mistake, but then I found out you race cars, and it started to make sense.”
“This is beautiful, Ned. Just beautiful.”
“Where does- I don’t understand how this works,” Angela said, looking out through the glass of the roll-up doors. “Where are all the construction vehicles?”
“We’re actually facing the other side of the house,” I explained. “The front of the house is back that way,” I said, pointing upward at the back wall of the garage. “This side has the secret entrance.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Ned said, looking amused. “But now that you say it…”
About halfway back to Century City, I got a call from Ned, saying the flooring sub took his two guys and walked. Ned said that he told Ron that was it, and Ron and the two workers packed up their tools and left.
“Pay them for the work that they’ve gotten finished,” I said. “We’re better off without ‘em.”
Angela dropped me off at class that night, then picked me up afterwards so we could head straight to the Burbank Airport for our flight to San Jose. It was just a little thing, her giving me a ride like that, but I was struck by how domestic it felt. Somehow, without me even noticing when it had happened, Angela had truly become my girlfriend in ways both big and small.
“This is nice,” Angela said, looking around the condo in San Jose. “I mean, sure, it’s not as nice as the apartment in Los Angeles, but really, that’s hard to match.”
“Yeah, for a place to stay while I’m in town, it’s fine,” I said.
“You weren’t joking!” Angela called out from the bedroom. “There I am!”
“And here you are,” I said, wrapping my arms around her from behind. “Now I don’t need to just look at a framed photo.”
Angela leaned her head back against me, looking up at me with her big, expressive blue eyes. “Have I told you I love you?”
“Even if you have, that doesn’t mean I’m tired of hearing it,” I said, kissing her hair. We stayed like that, without any more words, for a while. Eventually, though, it was time for bed, since it was quite late.
Lying in bed, Angela’s head on my shoulder and her hand on my boob, I asked her, “What will you do while I’m at work tomorrow?”
“This building has a gym, right?” she asked. When I said yes, Angela continued. “I’ll work out in the morning, then maybe we can have lunch together? After that, maybe I’ll do some shopping.”
“Why don’t you drop me off in the morning? That way you can have the car for the day to get around,” I suggested.
“You have a car here?” Angela asked, surprised.
“You seriously have to ask that?” I teased, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“It was a silly question- you’re right,” Angela admitted. “Of course you have a car here. It’s probably really fast, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s fast,” I conceded.
The next morning, Angela drove me in the M3 to work. “See you for lunch?” Angela asked.
“I won’t know if I have a lunch meeting until I see the schedule they’ve prepared for me,” I said. “I’ll text you as soon as I know.”
I gave her a kiss and went into the office, briefcase in hand, my steps light. Thankfully I had no lunch meeting planned, so Angela and I were able to go out for a bite.
She seemed super excited, and took me to a place a bit east of downtown in a little strip mall, next to a 7-11. The sign explained Angela’s enthusiasm- it said ‘Colombian Cuisine’.
“I found this place online,” Angela explained as we entered the tiny little restaurant, which had only four tables. Half of the place was devoted to South American groceries of various sorts, making Angela’s eyes light up.
We took a seat and waited quite a while before a woman came out from behind the counter to offer us menus. Angela spoke with her in rapid-fire Spanish, of which I caught maybe two words.
The waitress took the menus back and left, leaving me sort of dumbfounded.
“I ordered for us,” Angela said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“I wouldn’t have known any of the dishes, anyway,” I said.
Eventually the waitress brought two bottles of yellow soda and two glasses of ice, setting them down in front of us without a word. After that, she vanished behind the counter again.
Angela looked a little annoyed, but then turned to me and said, “This is the most popular soda in Colombia.”
The label said ‘Champagne Cola’, but it was bright yellow, so I had my doubts. Sipping it, my doubts were confirmed. It tasted like liquid cotton candy or something like that, and just about as sweet. Angela had wanted to share something of her home with me, though, so I smiled and said that yes, it was great, and no, I’d never had anything like it before. Inside, I was thinking that I would hopefully never have anything like it again, but I kept that to myself.
Angela had been growing increasingly upset as time passed, looking at her watch more and more. By the time the waitress finally brought our lunch it was almost time for me to get back to the office.
Angela stood up and lit into the waitress, again in Spanish too fast for me to understand but the message was clear. Angela threw some money down on the table and grabbed my hand, pulling me out the door, neither of us having had even touched our food.
“I am so sorry,” Angela said as she pulled the BMW out of the lot. “The reviews said the service was slow, but I did not expect that it would be slow even for Colombians,” she said, still on fire. “I told her that you only had an hour for lunch and she said it would be no problem,” Angela continued. Angela broke into an extended swearing session, again in Spanish too fast for me to understand much at all.
She spotted a drive through and asked, “Will that do?”
“No, but that mini mart is just fine,” I said, pointing. “I’ll get an energy bar and a bottle of water. I’ll be fine until dinner.”
Angela whipped the sedan into the parking lot at high velocity, her anger still on display.
“Babe,” I said as I leaned over and kissed her. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”
“I wanted it to be special for you,” Angela said with a pout, and I could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
I kissed her again, telling her that just spending an hour with her in the middle of my work day was special enough.
Back at the office, I made short work of the energy bar and washed it down with a cup of coffee from the break room. Yeah, it wasn’t much, but it would tide me over until we got to the club.
After work, Angela seemed to be in a better mood. She apologized again for the lunch fiasco, but I made it clear that I was O.K. with the whole thing. I didn’t tell her that I found it endearing that she’d gone on the warpath because her special surprise for me had been ruined, though.
Back at the condo, Angela said, “Emmy told me to tell you to wear your charcoal suit tonight. And she gave me this for you,” she said, holding out a blood red silk handkerchief.
“Well, O.K., then,” I said, taking the vivid piece of cloth.
“When do we have to leave?” Angela asked. “It will take me an hour to get ready.”
“Maybe in an hour and half?” I suggested.
Angela hid herself in the spare bedroom to get herself dressed and ready, clearly wanting to surprise me. I was perfectly willing to go along with her plan, so I dressed (in my charcoal suit, as instructed) in the main bedroom. I folded the red handkerchief and tucked it in my breast pocket, set my fedora on my head at a jaunty angle, then sat at the kitchen counter to wait for my date.
Of course, I was expecting something special. I mean, Angela was making a big production of it, right? She and Emmy had gone shopping and gotten her a dress especially for this occasion, presumably with all the accessories, so I knew this was a collaborative effort beforehand.
None of that prepared me for the beauty that emerged from the spare bedroom. Angela had done something with her hair to make it fall in long waves down her back, rather than the straight black hair I was used to. She’d chosen a red lipstick that perfectly matched the blood-red of the silk dress (and my new handkerchief), but otherwise kept the makeup subtle, but sexy.
The dress, though… There was very little subtle about it. As I’ve mentioned, it was a deep red silk, a color so vivid it demanded attention. Thin spaghetti straps held up the low-cut front of the sleeveless sheath dress, which was so form-fitting it was probably illegal in the Bible Belt. A thigh-high slit on the front of one leg allowed walking, which would have been impossible otherwise.
I could discern no hint of any underwear, and there certainly was no bra, which allowed Angela’s decent-sized antigravity breasts to bounce enticingly under their silk coverings as as she moved. Wrapped loosely over her arms and around her back was a black velvet stole, which seemed completely insufficient to keep her warm, but it wasn't a cold day, so it was probably good enough.
She smiled when she saw my reaction, pleased that she’d knocked me for a loop. “Do you like what you see?” she asked, completely unnecessarily.
“Ange,” I said. “You’re a real hazard in that dress.” At her look of confusion, I said, “Every single person that sees you in that is going to wish you were on their arm. Every single one.”
“But only one will have me,” she said with a smile, holding out her arm for me to take to walk her out. “The rest will just have to dream.”
True to my predictions, we (well, mainly Angela) got plenty of stares as we made our way through the steak house. Sure, we were in costume, but that was only part of it. Mostly it was the fact that Angela’s dress forced people to recognize that her body was one in a million, and she was damned proud of it.
When the bouncer opened the unmarked door at the back of the restaurant, his eyes bugged out of his head at the vision of perfection on my arm.
“Boss!” he said, once he could tear his eyes away. “It’s good to see you!”
“Thanks, Tony,” I replied as we sauntered past and into the dark hallway.
Emerging into the speakeasy proper, I took a good look around. It was early, so the crowd was light, but there were a few faces I recognized, including one in particular I’d been hoping to see.
Waving to the two bartenders and the waitstaff as I led Angela around, greeting the regulars as I went, I made my way to the table where Andrej was having dinner with his date.
“Andrej, my man!” I said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “How are things?”
“Leah!” he exclaimed.
“Andrej, I’d like you to meet my lady friend, Angela Castro. Angela, this is Andrej Marković,” I said, introducing them. Andrej quickly introduced his date, who looked like a typical Silicon Valley computer nerd hipster girl, complete with tattoos and vintage eyeglasses.
“Andrej, I was hoping you’d be in tonight. I’d like to have a chat with you about something when you get a chance,” I said, patting him on the shoulder again, before leading Angela across the room to my table.
“This place is amazing!” Angela said when we sat down.
Theo came over from behind the bar, probably to ogle Angela as much as anything. Which is fair, since everybody in the whole damned place had been doing that from the moment we walked in.
“Theo,” I said. “An Old Fashioned for me, and a champagne cocktail for my lovely lady friend. And we’re going to want dinner, so have the chef come over, will you?”
“You got it, boss,” he said, disappearing into the back of the house for a moment, then heading to the bar to make us our drinks.
“Emmy told me this place was like something from a movie, but I didn’t know- I had no idea what to expect,” Angela said, her eyes wide as they roamed the room, finally settling on the small, dark stage. “You have music here?” she asked.
“Yeah, every Friday and Saturday night, but they don’t start until nine,” I said.
Pouting, Angela looked at her watch. “We’ll miss it, then,” she said, disappointed.
“No, we won’t,” I replied. “Because we’ll be here until midnight.”
“Are you serious?” Angela asked, stunned.
“Afraid so,” I said. “This is my other job here in San Jose. I have to show my face here at the club, and make sure the regulars see me.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said, her brows furrowed.
I was spared from having to answer by the arrival of the restaurant’s chef. “What can I cook for you tonight, boss?” she asked.
“What would you like for dinner?” I asked Angela.
“Um, I haven’t seen the menu yet,” she said.
“No menu. Just tell Chef here what you want, and she’ll make it. I’m in the mood for maybe some roast chicken,” I told Angela.
“Just roast chicken?” she asked, still trying to understand.
“Well, no- I leave the details up to the master of the culinary arts,” I said with a shrug.
“Well, um, how about, something light? Maybe with pasta?” Angela asked the chef.
“Perfect,” Chef replied, and hustled off to make our dinner.
“The restaurant doesn’t have menus?” Angela asked, still baffled.
“Oh, it does, but not for us,” I said with a smile.
Theo set our drinks in front of us, staring at Angela again. “Uh, boss,” he said, turning to me. “The usual tonight?”
“Yes, please, Theo. And switch my lady friend, too.”
“What was that about?” Angela asked, more and more confused.
“Like I said, we’re going to be here for hours, right? Well, this is a bar, so we need to have drinks in front of us and be seen drinking, but I can’t drink that much alcohol. So, after my first of the night, Theo switches my drinks to non-alcoholic lookalikes for a while, until I signal I might be ready for another with alcohol, if I feel like it.”
“That might be the first thing that’s made sense,” Angela said with a sigh.